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appocalipse · 22 days

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summary: you were way too drunk last night and said some funny things...so, of course, steve had no other option but take you to his place to take care of you. :)

read part 1 here

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Your head hurts.

Everything feels a little weird, in fact, but especially your head, spinning and throbbing and, when you try to pry your eyes open, the sudden harsh light streaming into the room feels like it's physically boring straight through your brain.

"Fuck," you whimper pitifully, eyes squeezing shut once more. Your ears are ringing, there's a coppery film lining the inside of your mouth and, for a terrible second, your stomach churns dangerously. "Fuck."

Someone hums somewhere near your right ear. A low, gravelly, vaguely amused sort of hum. There is absolutely nothing and no one alive on this green earth that would hum in that particular fashion except your best friend.

You peel your eyelids apart with great difficulty. When you tilt your head to the right, you see Steve sitting on the edge of the bed, gazing down at you with a soft look on his face.

Naturally, you proceed to freak the fuck out.

"Jesus Christ," you cry, scrambling backwards until you feel the back of your head slam against the headboard with a resounding thud. The dull throb in the back of your skull intensifies, and you have to fight back the urge to throw up. "Ow! Shit, I—What—what happened? Why are you in my—"

Hold on a second...this is not your room.

You cast an anxious, furtive glance around the unfamiliar setting of Steve Harrington's guest room. Panic floods your veins and has your heart hammering in your chest when you notice that you're clad in only one of his shirts and sweatpants that definitely don't belong to you.

Oh, Dear Lord.

Did something happen last night that you can't remember? Did something — oh, God, no.

Steve raises his eyebrows at you as though he can read your mind. "Relax. Nothing happened, relax, come back down," he coos gently, placing a placating hand on your arm. "And I...I didn't see anything, if that's what you're worried about. Nancy and Robin, uh...they helped you shower and get changed last night. Not me."

You cover your face with both hands, letting out a muffled groan as your memories come trickling back in. You don't remember every little detail from the previous night, but what you do remember is already more than enough to fill you with mortification and regret.

"...you said some pretty interesting things while you were drunk, though."

"Shut up," you mumble, peeking up at him through splayed fingers, "go away."

"Really, though," Steve continues, the teasing glint in his eyes a sure sign that he is very much enjoying your suffering, "who knew you found me so attractive?"

"Oh, Jesus," you mutter, groaning as you slide down to hide underneath the comforter, "where are my clothes? I want to leave now."

Steve snickers but makes no move to get up from his perch on the bed. You can hear the rustling of fabric, like he's adjusting his position as he waits for you to come out from under the blanket. "Clothes are in the wash, sorry," he says, sounding very much not sorry at all. "You, um, thought it was a good idea to lie down on the grass last night."

"Kill me now."

"Nope," he chirps, quite cheerfully so, "can't do that, because then who would watch Back to the Future with me tonight?"

You part the comforter just enough to peer up at him from beneath the thick layer of blanket.

"'Back to the Future'?" you echo, trying to ignore the fact that you feel a little lightheaded when Steve smiles down at you.

He looks nice. He always does, but even more so now for some reason — you're guessing it has something to do with the fact that you just woke up and haven't had the time to mentally prepare yourself for seeing him up close yet.

"Mmhmm. You up for it?"

"I'm pretty sure that my head is literally going to explode any time now."

It's really not that bad anymore, but Steve doesn't need to know that, does he?

He nods seriously in agreement. "Right, because you drank way more than you should've last night. Might have mentioned something about rules and...mhmm, what was it? Oh, yes, dying if I didn't let you touch my hair…?"

"No, I didn't."

"You really did," he tells you, leaning back on the heels of his palms, "but don't worry, it was cute."

"I am very much worried," you say miserably.

Steve lets out a quiet sigh and leans forward again, hands reaching out to tug the blanket down far enough to uncover your face completely. "Come on," he says, "do you need anything? Aspirin, maybe? Food? Water?"

You consider his offer, taking the time to mull it over while you avoid his gaze.

"Why did you bring me home with you?" you ask, curious despite yourself. "Why didn't you just take me home?"

"You, uh...really didn't want me to. Pretty much refused to let go of me all night."

"Steve."

"No, really!" he insists, holding both hands up in surrender. "It was like trying to pry a koala off a tree. You even asked—"

You let out a helpless moan of protest and turn away from him as much as you can, hiding your face in the pillow. Steve laughs, clearly delighted by the fact that he's managed to thoroughly embarrass you in less than ten minutes.

"You asked me if I—"

"I don't wanna know!"

"—would sleep in your bed with you."

"Nope," you whisper, your voice coming out a little garbled due to the way you've pressed your face into the pillows, "don't wanna hear it. Shut up, Steve, oh my God. Please."

"It was very adorable."

"I was drunk."

"Still. Cute."

You prop your head up on your elbow so that you can see him a little better, keeping the blanket held tightly around your shoulders as you do. "Sorry I called you. I don't even remember doing it, Tina just told me to and…sorry."

Steve looks down at his lap, shifting a little uncomfortably on the bed.

"I don't mind," he says, lifting his gaze up to meet yours briefly. "You said you missed me. At the party."

A dry, humorless chuckle leaves you and you cringe when the sudden motion sends a sharp pain lancing through your forehead. "Ow. Of course you would remember that," you say, cheeks heating up.

"Do you...remember everything?"

You blink, momentarily confused by the sudden change in conversation. "Everything?" you ask, more to buy yourself some time than anything else.

"You, um..." Steve trails off, clearly unsure of how to broach the topic with you, "you said I made you feel…stuff inside. That you felt stuff. Or something like that. Do you...remember saying that?"

You can practically feel all the color draining out of your face, leaving behind a blank canvas that hides none of your inner panic.

"Uh...no, no, I don't. Do you have a...I need to, um, use your bathroom, like, right now, if you don't mind."

Steve blinks. "Oh, okay. Sure. I bought you a toothbrush earlier, by the way. It's in the medicine cabinet if...if you want."

"Yep," you say, climbing out from under the blanket with as much dignity as you can muster (which is very little), "yep, okay, thanks. I'm...gonna go do that. Now. Okay, bye."

You spend a good five minutes inside the bathroom splashing water in your face while silently wishing for death to come claim you sooner rather than later. Then, you brush your teeth with the toothbrush Steve left out for you — which is totally not cute, it's not cute, why did he do that, ugh, damn him — before venturing out into the hall.

"Steve?"

"Kitchen," he calls out from somewhere at the bottom of the stairs, "you want pancakes?"

You hesitate.

The idea of staying to have breakfast alone with Steve Harrington seems oddly intimate after last night, a dangerous prospect that will undoubtedly lead to awkward small talk and more teasing. However, he did go out of his way to buy you a toothbrush this morning...

You swallow down the nervousness you feel and pad barefoot down the staircase into the foyer, following the sounds of clinking utensils and soft humming to the kitchen.

Steve looks up from his place at the stove when you appear in the doorway.

"Hey," he greets, giving you a quick once over. "How's your head?"

"Feels like there's a little person in there hitting it repeatedly with a little hammer," you admit, grimacing a little as you come further into the room and sit down at the island. "Thanks, by the way. For helping me out last night. And today. I really am sorry for...um, you know, that."

"'That'?"

You purse your lips and Steve grins.

"Yes, that," you mutter, swiveling your seat from left to right while you watch him attempt to read a recipe on the back of a box of pancake mix. "Drunk me is like, twice as embarrassing as sober me."

"Embarrassing isn't the word I'd use."

"Please," you scoff, "I was pathetic. I could barely walk by myself."

Steve glances back at you. "I didn't think you were pathetic."

You raise an eyebrow at him skeptically.

"Okay, maybe a little pathetic," he concedes with a little snort, "but mostly just…sweet."

"Sweet?"

"Yeah, sweet. Don't know if anyone's ever told you that before."

"Sweet," you say again, the headache suddenly no more than an afterthought. "That's how you'd describe me?"

Steve, apparently having given up on making sense out of the instructions on the back of the box, turns around to lean against the counter behind him and studies you with his arms folded loosely over his chest.

"Yes," he says, tilting his head to the side a little. "Not the word you expected me to say?"

There's something about the way he's looking at you. It's warm and piercing all at once, like he can see right through you. It makes it hard for you to breathe all of a sudden, hard for you to do anything but gape at him like a goldfish that's been pulled out of water.

"Uh, I'm...confused."

"Me too," he admits with a little huff of laughter. "I was thinking about what you said."

"About your hair?"

"No, well, yeah, but—" Steve pauses, dragging a hand down his face with a weary sigh. "Look, what you said to me yesterday, about the things I make you feel, I—"

"I said I'm sorry—"

"Don't apologize," Steve interrupts, shooting you an unamused look, "I'm trying to say something here, come on, give me a sec."

"Right. Sorry. Go on."

"You're not supposed to apologize for apologizing."

"I'm s—okay, right. Mouth shut."

Steve purses his lips to stifle his amusement at your antics. You fold your arms in front of your chest and keep your gaze fixed firmly on the marble countertop as you wait for him to continue.

"I, uh," he says, pushing himself away from the counter so that he can wander over to the other side of the kitchen, where you sit, "I feel things too, you know. With you."

"Oh."

"Yeah," Steve chuckles, scrubbing a hand across the back of his neck as he stops beside you, "'Oh'. Weird, right?"

You'd like to, but can't think of anything clever to say that would serve as a suitable response. You don't think Steve's looking for one, anyway, because he reaches out to tap his fingers lightly on the back of your hand, taking a seat on the stool next to yours.

"S'weird, 'cause I don't know if you meant what you said when you were drunk, or if it was just the alcohol talking, or what."

You shake your head quickly, and then wince because of the way the headache thuds behind your right eye.

"Robin says I'm an idiot and should stop being such a chicken," he continues, with a slight roll of his eyes. "And Eddie says if I don't 'shut up and tell you how I feel soon', he'll do it for me."

You nod, smiling despite your hangover. "Eddie's, uh, got a point, no?"

"Maybe," Steve allows, rubbing absently at the side of his neck.

He lets his hands slide down to the legs of your stool, fingers curling around the metal of each side. You don't quite understand what he's doing until he gives them a light tug, jerking you closer to him without warning.

You let out a little shriek of surprise as you reach up to clutch onto the first solid thing your hands find — his forearms.

"Ah! What—Steve!"

He's got an amused smile on his face, but his eyes are bright and nervous all at once. Steve pushes your stool even closer to him, until your knees knock against his own and he's forced to lean down to keep his eyes on you.

You hold his gaze steadily as he edges closer. "What are you doing?" you murmur, watching his eyes flit downward to track the movement of your tongue as it peeks out to wet your dry lips.

"Not sure yet," Steve hesitates when your lips are a hairsbreadth apart. He watches, half-dazed, half-entranced by the way you stare back at him, unblinking. "But I've got a theory."

"A theory?"

He lowers his head toward yours. You press your hands flat against the hard plane of his chest to steady yourself, fingers splaying over the soft material of his t-shirt as you curl them around the fabric. Steve exhales, and you can feel his breath on your skin, a soft tickle that raises the goosebumps all over your skin.

"Wanna hear it?"

You nod slowly, aware of the way his eyes darken as they trace your face. He's so close that you can make out the fine dusting of freckles and moles that litter his skin, the long fan of his lashes as they flutter to a close. If you moved even slightly, your lips would brush against his.

"What's your…your theory?" you whisper.

You can feel his heartbeat thudding in his chest as he releases his hold on your stool, lifts both hands up to cradle your face instead. He slides the tips of his fingers along the side of your neck, lets his thumb trace your jaw.

"I think," Steve says, and you can tell he's struggling to string two coherent words together when you feel his thumb quiver against your cheekbone. "I think that, uh, you're—Christ, I—"

His nose brushes against yours and you tilt your chin up instinctively, chasing the brief contact. You smirk. "Christ, you...?"

"Shut up," Steve huffs out a breathless laugh. "I'm getting to it."

"Are you?" you tease, wrapping your fingers around his wrist, your turn to pull him towards you gently.

Steve goes easily, moving his hand from your face to brace the back of your neck. "I think," he starts, eyes crinkling at the corners, "that I might be in love with you."

It's such an unforeseen, unexpected confession that your heart almost gives out in your chest.

You gape up at him, at his crooked grin, at his rosy cheeks. "You think?"

He blinks and then squints down at you like he can't decide whether he wants to be annoyed at your antics or kiss you. You hope for the latter, but he says, "What're you, a parrot?"

Shrugging, you're unable to keep your lips from quirking into a grin of your own. "Rude."

Steve's head falls forward and he rests his forehead against yours. You can feel his pulse thundering wildly against the hand you've pressed flat against his chest, and it makes you feel a little better about your own pounding heart.

"M'sorry."

You smooth a hand over his shirt and hook a finger under the neckline. "Forgiven," you tell him.

"Good," Steve says, nudging his nose against yours playfully.

You want to say something else, maybe tease him about his hair or something equally as inconsequential, but he doesn't let you. Instead, he leans down and closes the distance between you with a slow, tentative press of his lips to yours.

Now, Steve's mouth is soft and warm, and he kisses you like he's got all the time in the world. You shiver when he drags his fingers up the back of your neck, tangling them in your hair so that he can pull you closer yet.

You only pull back when the need to breathe becomes too urgent, giggling at the little noise of protest he lets out as you do. But Steve is nothing if not persistent, and he pulls you back in almost immediately, the movement so abrupt that you nearly topple backwards off the stool.

"Steve—I..." you manage to say, between your giggles and the heated press of his lips against yours. "I still...need to breathe, mister."

He huffs out a little laugh against the side of your neck, nips at the sensitive skin in retaliation. You squeal in delight and jab him playfully in the stomach, laughing as he recoils in mock agony.

"Stop laughing," Steve complains, the warmth of his own laughter tickling the underside of your chin when he nuzzles his nose into your neck once more, "come on, you're ruining the moment."

"Wait," you breathe, right before his lips meet yours again, "so...no pancakes, then?"

He drops his forehead against your shoulder and shakes with quiet laughter."You," Steve mumbles into the side of your neck, "are something else, you know that?"

You grin. "Apparently, you like that. Love that...no?"

You can feel him smile, the stretch of his lips curving against the skin of your shoulder.

"Apparently...yeah, I do. I do."

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justasimpleton-26 · 1 day

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A talk amongst bandmates

This fanfic is brought to you by my imagination. Brain, please let me have peace, I have 3 other novels I need to finish.

It hadn't taken much to convince them to leave their dimension and come help. The fact of the matter was, the moment Peni jumped in after being summoned by Spider-Ham, she'd designed the bracelets that allowed them to jump through dimensions and to control their atoms from offing themselves just by looking at Gwen's watch. And okay, she even got help from Spyder Byte, one of the newest additions to their rag-tag of a team. Probably what blew Gwen's mind was the friendship that was slowly brewing between Spider-Noir, and Spiderpunk. Peter Benjamin had been transfixed in trying to understand Hobie's colors. The nineteen-year-old detective would talk to Peni or Peter Porker and kind of just...gravitate to Hobie. It helped that some of their outlooks in life were similar too, just varying degrees of emotion. As the team began to familiarize themselves with each other, Peni broke away from the group, heading over to Gwen. The young fourteen-year-old had looked different since the last time they had seen one another; Peni's hair had grown a bit, and the usual bubbly exterior had been more subdued. There was a more focused look in her dark brown eyes, and now that Gwen could properly get a good look at her, she could see how tired Peni looked. Gwen was concerned and curious; what had Peni gone through in the time that they had separated and gone their own ways? "What happened to Miles?" Peni asked, and the question made Gwen freeze. Of course, Peter Benjamin, Peter Porker, and Peni had gathered back together without asking, but now that everyone was starting to come together as a team...questions were going to be asked. And Gwen could feel her throat close up, not wanting to give answers just yet. But Peni was staring at her, and soon the whole group had moved their attention from one another to her. Even little May-Day who had been pulling on Peter Noir's goggles seemed to feel the tension and settled back in Peter B.'s arms. Gwen sucked in a breath, and she told the whole story from the beginning.... 20 minutes later...

It was an uproar. Hobie had to hold back Peter Noir. Peter Porker was staring at Gwen and Peter B. as if he didn't understand who he was seeing. Pavi seemed nervous as he helped keep Spider Noir back. The only one who didn't seem to react as badly was Spyder-Byte, and that was only because she didn't understand much of what had happened. "You should have called me! Once you had your hands on that watch, you should have visited me, o-or one of the others." Peni cried out. "Peni, I wasn't allowed to go out on my own. My mission was to track down Spot and take him down before he could affect any other one of the timelines." Gwen explained as she knelt down to Peni's gaze. "I wasn't even supposed to meet Miles-" "Because he's the original anomaly, isn't he? He's the reason this 'Miguel' doesn't want him around or even part of the team." Peter Noir spat out. He'd calm down enough that Hobie had let him go. But Pavi was on the other side of him, so just in case, Hobie had back-up. "I can't believe you trusted that vampire freak in the first place." Peni replied, leaning away from Gwen. "He just seemed to know what he was doing, and had been doing this-" "Hold on. Peter B., you were also aware of this and you did nothing? Why, are you not a parent? Or do you not just like Miles?" Peter Noir spoke up, cutting off whatever it was that Gwen was going to say. Gwen could feel the dread and the anxiety churn in her belly. She took a deep breath as she thought about her response. "Look guys," Spyder Byte interfered, "You all have too many high expectations for Gwen. And I know, it's because we hold each other up to a high standard, being Spider People and all. But you have to remember, we all make mistakes. Gwen is actually trying to fix this one though. That's why she called you all up. She trusts all of you-all of us-to go and save Miles, stop the Spot, and fix this damn multiverse. Now, let's get started, shall we?" They murmured their agreement, heading out before Gwen. Gwen lingered back, but she smiled. The tension that had been there before had disappeared, and it was now time to get to work.

#writeblr #my writing #spilled ink #beyond the spiderverse #gwen stacy #peni parker #spider man #spider noir #mostlyallthespiderpeople

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animereaderinsertwriter · 2 years

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Hey Princess (Jean Kirstein x Reader)

Part III

Part I

Part II

Description: Jean Kirstein is the drummer and songwriter for The 104th, a band he's put his heart and soul into. (Y/N) is his best friend, an aspiring cafe owner who supports him in every way she can. This is their story of rags to riches; or, how both of them realize that there might be more to life than their ambitions, and that they might have been in love all along.

Warnings/Tags: Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Probably alcohol use? idk, havent written that far. This fic is pretty tame, so not a lot going on here.

Excerpt: As she made all the sandwiches her friends ordered, (Y/N) couldn’t help but wonder when they had gotten this bad, her feelings for him. In the beginning, it had started as a teeny, tiny crush— a shallow, unassuming reaction to having been introduced to a handsome stranger by a suggestive Sasha— but then (Y/N) had learned more about Jean, had gotten to know him, had stayed up all night with him on Connie and Sasha’s rooftop and talked with him until their voices were gone and the sun was rising to meet the city’s skyline, and slowly but surely, she’d fallen in love with him. Now, just watching him smile was enough to constrict her throat, and brushing hands with him felt like sunburn on her brain. Really, it was almost pathetic— but (Y/N) didn’t care. Jean was more worthy of her love than anyone she had ever met (his long-standing crush on Mikasa notwithstanding) and she’d be damned if she’d be ashamed of it.

ao3 link here

Drunk as hell and unsure of whether or not he was hallucinating, Jean stumbled out of the chair he was in and tried valiantly to zip up his pants as he hopped over the woman whose name he doesn't know to chase after the woman whose name he did know and whose face he'd pictured as he was being pleasured.

"Oh, boy," said Sasha, who was standing in the doorway, eyes wide. "I didn't see that one coming, Jeanbo, I really didn't."

"Yeah, well, neither did I," he said, shame burning in his gut. "Where did she go?"

"Downstairs," Sasha replied, glancing in that direction. "After that… I dunno. Maybe back to the hotel?"

"Which hotel?" he asked, snatching his shirt from where it lay crumpled in a corner. When Sasha took too long to respond, he grabbed her by the shoulders and repeated, "Sash, which hotel?"

It was then that he noticed the tears filling her eyes.

"Oh, Sasha." He pulled her close, and she wrapped her arms around him. "Don't cry. It's gonna be alright, I just— I just gotta go after her."

"This is all my fault," she sniffled into his shirt. "You haven't been happy lately— nobody has been happy lately— and I thought that bringing (Y/N ( would be a nice surprise, but— but I fucked it all up!"

Jean loved Sasha, he really did, but he needed to find (Y/N) now.

"Okay, no," he said, disentangling himself from her. "You can't think like that, but, like, I'm too drunk to help you not think like that, so I'm gonna need you to buck up for me, soldier."

Sasha's lower lip trembled, but she nodded.

"Okay, good," he said. "Now, I need you to drive me because I don't feel like getting a taxi."

"But I didn't bring a car!" Sasha protested.

"Then let's find someone who has one, yeah?"

As it turned out, finding someone willing to loan a celebrity their car was easier than Jean had anticipated. Before he quite knew what was happening, Sasha was driving like a maniac in someone else's Ferrari, weaving in and out of traffic in a way that made Jean's stomach churn. When she finally pulled over, Jean masterfully conquered his urge to vomit as he got out of the car and stumbled up the steps to the hotel, but before he could enter it, Sasha caught him by the hand, stopping him in his tracks.

"You can't go in there like that," Sasha advised, looking him up and down like she might feral o'possum that was sitting in the front seat of her car. "You need to sober up and get your head on straight first."

"Fuck being sober," he spat more vehemently than he meant to. "I just need to fix this, need to tell her—"

"You're not listening," Sasha insisted. "(Y/N) is extremely vulnerable right now, and if you go in with some kind of half-baked apology, it won't be pretty. You need to stand right here for just a second and figure out what your intentions are before you go in there and fuck everything up."

That… was something Jean hadn't given much thought to. He had to admit that his only intention up to this point had been to fix things— the how of it hadn't even crossed his mind. As for what he would even say, he wasn't sure of that either. What could he possibly say anyway? That he was in love with her? That he had been desperate to find some half-baked replacement for her just for one night so that he could feel less like a loser?

Was he even ready for a confession like that? Would it even matter, in the end? (Y/N) had her own plans, her own life— things that were working out well for her, things that didn't leave room for him and the life he'd chosen.

Damn Sasha for making sense for once.

"I love her," he admitted without quite meaning to, his voice cracking with the weight of the conflict in his chest. "I really do."

"Oh Jean," Sasha murmured, opening her arms to hug him. "I know you do."

Sasha's embrace was warm, and she smelled like cooking spices, sweat, and glitter from the stage. Jean had always thought that she smelled like home.

"It's pathetic," he said into her hair, his nose burning with the urge to cry. "I write songs about her like some depressed emo kid, and— and they sell like hotcakes, but the only one I want to listen to them is her."

"I know, Jean."

"I think about her all the time, Sash, I can't get her out of my head."

"I know, Jean."

He pulled away then, looking down at her.

"Then what do I do?"

Sasha thought for a moment, and Jean waited patiently. Eventually, however, she only shrugged.

"I dunno, Jean."

She grinned, and he scowled.

"Wow, really helpful."

"Yeah, yeah." Sasha rolled her eyes. "But seriously, Jean, I can't make this decision for you. You need to be honest with her. If you're not ready for that, you need to be ready to face the repercussions of not doing so. Do you understand?"

Jean nodded.

“Yeah.” He paused, then added, “Yeah. Honesty it is, then. There’s no time like the present, I guess.”

Sasha grinned at him.

“Carpe diem, Jeanbo!”

“Ooh, Latin,” he winked. “Fancy.”

Sasha smacked him playfully.

"Go on, Jeanbo," she told him gently, with a smile that broke his heart. "You got this."

He gave her a somewhat wobbly smile and turned to tackle the steps— a challenging feat for someone as drunk as he was. From that point on, Jean thought no father than the next step, and no deeper than which buttons to punch on the elevator to get to (Y/N)'s floor. It was only when he found himself knocking on (Y/N)'s hotel room door that he considered that he maybe should have thought of something to say before seeing her tear-stained face as, against all odds, she opened her door to him.

"Hey, Jean," she greeted him with a weak, watery smile. "Sorry about earlier, I just— it was really awkward and I got spooked, that's all— I really hope you aren't upse—"

Jean didn't hear a word she said. He placed a palm on the side of her face, brushed a thumb through the wetness on her cheek, and asked,

"Why are you crying?"

A few different emotions that Jean wasn't able to decipher flickered across (Y/N)'s face before she very obviously forced a smile and said,

"Well, I— something came up at work, and I— I have to go, Jean. I was just packing, you see, and I was sad that I wouldn't get to see everyone before I left, you know?"

It was a lie. Even blind-drunk, Jean knew that. It took him a little longer to figure out why she would lie, but once he did, hope blossomed in his chest as it had scarcely dared to bloom before.

"I'm sorry," he replied nonsensically. "I'm so sorry, princess. I've hurt you."

That smile— so broken— never wavered.

"You haven't, Jean," she told him, tears rolling over the pretty dimple her smile made in her cheek. "I'm sorry, but I've got to go now. Something has come up back home, and I—"

Jean surged forward and kissed her. He took her face in both his hands and kissed her hard and deep, and when she parted her lips, he slipped his tongue between them, tasting her.

The moment lasted forever only an instant. (Y/N) pulled away; Jean gave chase, moving even as she did, but she only backed further away.

"I can't," she said, her smiling mask having finally fallen. Her eyes were full of hurt, and her arms came around her own body as she backed away. It broke Jean's heart. "I can't— I can't."

No. No, no, no, it was all going so terribly wrong— so Jean said the only thing he knew to say.

"I love you," he said. "I've always loved you."

(Y/N) froze. Her hurt melted into confusion, and Jean took full advantage of that as he grabbed her by the wrist, keeping her from moving further away from him.

"I'm sorry," he said once more. "I know this is all fucked up, and there's nothing I can do to fix that, but—"

He broke off for a moment, taking in the lovely curves of her face, then forced himself to continue.

"But it's the truth. It always has been."

(Y/N) looked at him— but not with shock as he had expected. She looked at him with sadness, disappointment, and doubt.

"I don't believe you," she said, pulling her arm away from him. He let her go, though his fingertips dragged along her wrist, reluctant to let her get too very far; despite Jean's hopes and wishes, she moved to the half-packed suitcase in her bed and began filling it once more, haphazardly flinging clothes inside it as she evidently had been before Jean knocked on her door, all the while rationalizing why what Jean had told her couldn't be true at all.

"… never even call anymore, and even if you did— even if nothing had changed since the day you left our hometown— then that still couldn't be true because of— because of what I saw earlier." (Y/N) shook her head, as if trying to clear her mind. "I mean, like, you called her princess, right? Like the song you wrote?"

Oh no. No, no, no— this night might have taken a lot from him, but it wouldn't take this. Not the work he'd done for so many years, not the song he'd hoped she'd hear, truly hear, and know it to be hers— he'd have to be dead to let that happen. Fuck his pride, fuck his insecurity, and fuck who he'd been ten minutes ago. He'd sacrifice it all for her to know the truth.

"What you saw—"

Jean cut himself off, floundered for a moment, then said,

"It isn't what you think— I mean, it is— but not exactly," he explained, approaching (Y/N) slowly, as though not to spook her. She wouldn't turn to face him, but that was fine; Jean just put a hand over hers and kept talking. "Whatever you saw, whatever you heard, I wrote that song for you. I wrote it daydreaming about you, wishing I could be your knight in shining armor, the guy you could fall in love with; I wrote it longing for you, wishing I could call you and tell you exactly how I felt."

Jean swallowed thickly, and after a raw breath, he said,

"That girl— what you saw— that was a bad decision, I'll admit, but I came by it honestly. I was only ever thinking of you, imagining you. I did what I did mostly just to see if I still could. You don't have to believe me, but that's the truth. All of it."

Jean looked and saw that (Y/N) was crying still. Her shoulders didn't shake, her face didn't move, but tears fell all the same. Slowly, she moved her hand from beneath his and continued packing, and he let her, simply watching, waiting.

"Why now?" she asked, her voice cracking beneath the weight of her feelings. "Why wait until this moment to tell me these things?"

"Because…"

Jean didn't really have a good answer, so he decided the truth must once again suffice in lieu of something better.

"Because you're here. Because you're trying to leave and I'm afraid, so afraid of losing you that everything else has ceased to matter to me. Besides…"

He reached out to reclaim her hand, kissed her knuckles, and said,

"I figure if you've already got one foot out the door, then I have no reason to suppose that telling you the truth will hurt more than it'll help."

(Y/N) stopped packing them and looked up at him, her eyes bright and glistening. Jean wanted very badly to kiss her once more, but he held back. He only wanted to kiss her if that was what she wanted, and to him, it still looked like she wanted to run away as far and as fast as she could manage.

"I don't know what to say," she told him, her hands resting on the stack of clothes before her, her eyes still and somber as they searched his face.

"Then don't say anything." Jean stepped forward, and (Y/N) faced him then, allowing him to come closer. "Let me tell you everything, and you can be my judge, my jury."

(Y/N) looked at him doubtfully, but turned and sat on the edge of her bed, shoving her suitcase aside to make room for him to sit beside her. Jean did so, and then he found himself unable to stop talking, the floodgates finally opened as he bared his heart. He couldn't have said where he began, or where he ended in the telling of his tale, but the one thing he did know was that by the end, he had truly told all.

"I wish to God I had kissed you that night on your front porch," he told (Y/N) earnestly, his heart pounding. "I wanted to so badly— but I was terrified of doing it. I didn't want to lose you."

He reached for her hand once more, and she allowed him to take it.

"I don't want to lose you now, either.”

(Y/N) was silent for a moment, and Jean was afraid she might tell him to leave— but then she turned to look up at him and said what he’d never thought he’d hear from her lips.

“I love you, Jean,” she told him, her eyes bright and shining, “I always have. But… but I don’t know where we should go from here. What does this change?”

The moment was horribly fragile, and Jean was still definitely not sober, but the answer came surprisingly easy to him.

“Well,” he said, “if you’d have me, I’d like to try and make this work between us. I’m tired of living half in hell, half in hope.”

He tried for a smile, and was surprised when (Y/N) threw her arms around him, embracing him. In return, he wrapped his arms around her, buried his nose in her hair, and inhaled deeply.

“Stay with me tonight,” (Y/N) said into his chest. “I have an extra toothbrush, and there’s a lot we need to talk about.”

Jean’s heart soared.

“Of course,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “I’ll always stay for you.”

And he did.

Tag list: @usernamehere91

#attack on titan #aot x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein x reader #fluff #aot smut #aot fanfiction #aot imagine #shingeki no kyoujin #snk #snk x y/n #snk x reader

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dixiethapixie · 2 years

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life beating me, pounding my skull into the ground so helplessly I find myself around the worst of humanity and the worst part is that the only thing sustaining me is the thought of giving up a chance at sanity and I just want to be apart of a family but the world will still turn so finally at the point where my stomach is in knots I can feel it fucking churn, if I were to die today I'd end up in an urn, in a storage unit in Ohio, worn, forgotten, and burned, no one would claim my body I'm a menace with priorities with no faith in society and people with their eyes on me close them eventually, second hand embarrassment encompassing their body and their mind when they see a girl like me on a pathetic grind, and people worship people with their little shrines and we never really think about how we get so intertwined, the world is so devine in the most horrific way, the beauty and the pain and the sun and the rain they coincide with the lies that fall through your lips as they glisten with a sliver of the sun, or was it just the sparkle disappearing as the world continues to effortlessly, cruelly, brutally, beat you down with nothing but the sound of your heart in your ears as the panic in your brain heightens all your senses and it seems like the room is brightened and you can't tell If you're frightened or if you need to be enlightened because the anxiety is racing through my veins my chest is tightening and it's almost exciting, to gasp for breathe the uncertainty of if you're going to be able to clear your mind and breathe before you see dark spots and eventually end up on the floor looking at the ceiling wondering how the hell you would up so broken, bruised, berated, and beaten down when it was the world continuing to turn and it feels upside down.

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ayizan · 1 year

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How to think about editing

Ok, so you've written this really cool story, fanfic, and poem and you are feeling really jazzed about it, getting those post-writing highs and you decide to go back to reread. But oh no! How could you think this was ever good? You can't spell for shit, sentences make no grammatical sense and worst of all the paaaaaacing. What felt like a long page of dialogue reads super short, and why oh why did you spend half a page describing that man's ass????

You slump on your desk, feeling that looming threat towering over you, the process that so many dread: EDITING

It's scary, I know. But it really doesn't have to be.

Editing, like writing, painting, or dancing, is an art that can be broken down into smaller pieces. You don't have to be good at all of it immediately.

I like to think of it as levels, and when someone asks me to give feedback on their story, I usually try to asses which level of feedback they want.

Level 1: Big broad notes - usually the writer at this point is still fishing for ideas. There's one idea that has really inspired them and they are trying to figure out how to form a story around it. What they are looking for are suggestions and open-ended questions, things that can really get their brain churning. If you are the writer and editor of your own piece, then you want to highlight the parts of your story that you really like and try to figure out some questions that you want to answer. It's ok if none of those do get answered, things are bound to change as you go. You just want to find your direction, and as an editor, your role is to scout for all possible paths.

Level 2: Ok the story has a framework, all the stuff is coming together and it's starting to feel like a story, though a shaky one at best. As an editor, this is when you start digging into the text, but it's important to think about what needs to be done at this stage. A common mistake for a lot of new editors is to spend time on grammar and spelling when the story is still shaky. It's a waste of the editor's and writer's time to focus on all the tiny details when there is still a lot of big stuff that could change. If you have or receive a level 2 story, here are the things you should be analyzing:

Pacing - is the dialogue reading too fast? Is the ending getting squashed because the beginning starts to slow? Do you really need a whole paragraph about a man's ass?

Order - (this is my favorite) How is the information being delivered to the reader? Should something be introduced earlier? Should the twist be moved later? Should 5 paragraphs on this man's ass all be in the same spot or can we spread it out?

Expansion/Removal - (these basically function the same) What details are we lacking? What can we do without? When it comes to dialogue, it's important to also incorporate non-verbal communication. As humans, the way we say things, our expressions, and our body language speaks to us as much as what we say. Cutting dialogue with visual description also helps build pause and suspense. It's important to remember that words = time, so the longer we describe things, the longer time is passing between two strings of dialogue.

Plot/Character - you want your characters and plot to make sense. All the stuff I listed above are tools to serve the world and characters you are creating. It's important to know why your characters are doing the things they do and show the readers, in various ways, their reasoning and emotions.

phew, that's a lot for level 2. But trust me, once you get into it it's a lot of fun. Think of a collage, where you have all these pieces and you got to mix and match things to make a bigger image.

Level 3: Ok, the story is close to ready. You got all the parts in place, the pacing is pretty good, the characters are fleshed out, and you got a clear arc and conclusion. NOW you can think about spelling and grammar. This is the nitty gritty part, where you go through and make all those final tweaks. Dot your "i's". Cross your "t's". This is a good time to send out your story to your trusted beta readers, or honest friends and see what they think. It's important to remember that story writing is not linear. You might reach this stage and then realize that there is that big important THING you left out and that the story won't work without it. So you slide back into level 2 and work on adding/revising until it works. Don't worry, level 3 ain't going anywhere.

Level 4: This is the post-done phase, what I leave for the true editors, the monsters, the gods of the field: COPYEDITORS. Their role is to go through your story and make sure everything is perfect. Most publishers have a book of house rules when it comes to grammar and punctuation and the copyeditor's job is to conform your story to those rules. They will also do research on any real-life facts you have in there, to make sure that everything is as correct as it can be. God bless these men and women, they do not get paid enough. I can't really speak much more about the copyeditor experience but if you are interested in becoming one, the Copyeditors Handbook is a great place to start.

And that's it! Hopefully, this helps to demystify the editing process a little bit and get you excited about not only writing your next Great American Novel but also editing it too. :)

#writeblr #writing advice #writing tips

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chil2de · 3 years

Note

Hii! It's me again, the "teasing mom's broyfriend" anon. I just- you about killed me with that sequel. Hot doesn't even begin to describe it, really 🥵🥵

I have more :))

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

Megumi knows. He knows what a slut you are, knows you've been fucking his father behind his and your mom's back. He knows you only got with him to provoque his father. He knows all of that. And yet, he can't let go of you. He won't do his father this favour.

He avoids going to your mom's house with you as best he can, bc he just can't stand the two of you doing this to her, the poor woman doesn't deserve it. He never touches you when you come back from your mom's, bc he just knows you've been with him. There is, however, an exception. The only thing that can make him help you tease his dad is when they fight.

When it happens, Megumi goes visit your mom with you, and whenever she can't see it, he makes it a point to touch you a little more than would be appropriate in front of Toji. The mix of Megumi's hands all over you and Toji's warning glare could probably make you cum right then and there. Once, when your mom was out doing grocery shopping and Toji stayed behind with the two of you, Megs was all to eager to fuck you, make you scream his name, all for Toji's benefit.

Oh, you do so love it when they fight. You know you should hope for peace and harmony between father and son, but you have much more fun when they are at each other's throat.

You wonder what you would have to do to have both of them filling you up at the same time...

ugh okay sorry if this post is just a massive wall of text i had to cut down on spacing because i kept reaching tumblr’s limit on characters, and uh... incase you couldn’t tell, shit’s about to get serious if i wrote this much LOL this probably looks so clunkyyy :(( i apologise but i have like a line left or two? so i’ll compress everything by saying a massive thank you because this would not have been possible without your sexy ass intellect. i was seriouly fucking dying writing this, it might be the first or second piece i’m genuinely proud of and i thank you :) i hope you enjoy it as much as i did writing it

this piece makes sense as a standalone, but works a lot better if you read the previous piece! read my disclaimer here if you’re new <3

w.c: 2.8k / characters: 15k (incl spaces) and a special thank you to my beloved anonie. couldn’t have done it without you ❤️

day and night: two.

your bedroom door shuts with a quiet ring. you can only slump down against it, knees held into your chest. your thighs are still quivering like a poor little lamb.

as you move to type out a text for megumi to not come over, there’s a faint knock at the window. your heart burns, throat clogged and knees weak.

you don’t know if you can get up. hell, you don’t know if you should get up. there’s another few delicate rips against the glass and you manage to stumble over in fear of attracting toji’s attention.

“megumi?!” you mouth his name in alarm, dismay crawling onto your features.

your boyfriend gives you a dead once over, noting your matted hair, smeared mascara and weak posture.

of course he knows.

you can discern it clearly from the way he refuses to meet your gaze.

“can you just let me in?” he whispers, tone flat as his index motions over to the lock of the window.

you don’t know what to do.

after all, you’ve still got toji’s cum flowing inside you from earlier.

you fumble backwards, moving to allow his lanky figure to slip inside. megumi manages to hoist his leg up and over, squeezing inside with ease. he closes the window shut behind him, pulling the curtains.

“m-megumi? what are you doing he-“

he doesn’t have time to waste.

megumi knocks the wind out of your lungs as his cold hands seize the sides of your head, stealing your lips for a kiss. he tugs at your bottom lip, tongue drinking you in for a couple of moments like you’re the last meal he’ll ever eat.

“shit.” he hisses, pulling his face back and screwing his eyebrows in mutiny.

oh, but if you didn’t love the way he looked at you like you were pure filth.

“you taste like him. it’s disgusting.” he spits, wiping his delicate lips with the back of his hand.

he knew, but there was always a part of him that wished you wouldn’t submit yourself to the likes of toji. he just had to see it for himself.

“come on, megumi-chan~ thats no way to talk to your girlfriend, is it?

your mother doesn’t deserve this. megumi doesn’t deserve the heartache, either.

megumi can’t see anything but the spitting image of his father all over your body, licking and fondling all the same crevices that he has. but he can’t get enough of you. he can’t stop, can’t turn away from you. he knows that at the end of the day you're spoon-feeding him phrases he wants to hear.

but you’re so good to him.

your pussy fits him like a glove. your hand intertwines with his perfectly. your head is the perfect size to cuddle onto his chest.

there’s something about you that makes you more addicting than nicotine.

bony and slender fingertips ghost over your thighs. you can’t help the squeak that hiccups from you. megumi raises an eyebrow in scepticism before flipping the hem of your miniskirt up.

he scoffs, slicking his long middle finger against your hot cunt.

“don’t hold it in.” he reprimands you, flashing a grimace as you squabble with him.

“b-but toji-“

“but what? am i not good enough for you?”

you swallow thickly, chanting a small prayer before allowing toji’s cum to drip out of your pussy. you shiver, goosebumps licking your skin when you can feel the warmth of his seed ooze and coat your soft thighs. you can’t avoid the burn of megumi’s regard as he watches the cum slowly flow out of you.

he’ll make you want him.

megumi can’t fully comprehend why you keep running back to his father instead of him, why you choose toji over him. like father like son, it evokes a bubble of magma in the form of competition and jealousy.

he’ll make you beg for him. that’s for sure.

“get on the bed.” he whispers, tone cold and even. there’s no warmth to his voice, even with his usual monotonous tendencies you can tell you struck a nerve. it makes your stomach churn, butterflies swooping in and adorning your vital organs.

like a moth drawn to a flame, as though you have no mind of your own, you step backwards until the back of your knees kiss the metal frame of your bed. megumi towers over you, pushing you backwards as he crawls in between your thighs.

the crisp ring of his zipper sliding down clashes against the room. why should he undress himself properly for the likes of someone like you?

“there’s no point in prepping you. i think you know that.” megumi sighs, relieving his twitching cock from the confines of his painfully tight boxers.

you can feel the avarice swirl in your abdomen, cold fear stilling in your veins at the mere thought that you could get caught by toji at any second. it makes your fingertips tingle and stomach churn. when you wail a needy whimper, megumi only shakes his head before plastering his icy cool hand against your wet lips.

a part of megumi wants to let all hell break loose. if he allows you to moan as you please, it won’t be just toji hearing your cries of ecstasy. knowing your mother, perhaps she’d be a little glad to know that your boyfriend is meeting your needs sufficiently. whereas toji?

it puts him in a predicament. from a bystanders point of view, toji has no right to storm in here and to shriek at megumi for blowing your brains out.

why?

because he’s not your dad.

he’s not a paternal figure in your life. there’s no right for him to say what you can and cannot do. he won’t hold that kind of reign over you like your mother does. and megumi likes that. he relishes the idea of toji being forced to listen to you babble megumi’s name, to mewl and cry for him to hit it deeper whilst he can’t do anything but complain.

it’s not like you haven’t heard your mother with other men plenty of times. it’s only natural, right? hell, she’ll probably gossip with you about it.

a carnal desire glosses over megumi’s steel blue gaze. like a wolf waiting to pounce onto a hare. he can see the way your thighs squeeze, how you gulp before him with those doe eyes of yours. you’re practically purring underneath him. for once, megumi gathers the reasoning to understand why his father finds you so intriguing. there’s nothing better than having your own toy melt and oblige under every command.

your boyfriend’s hand finds its way to your chest, where he rests the palm flat underneath your breasts. he steadies himself, using you as leverage as he guides his dick through the cum stained mess of your cunt. your heart pounds in anticipation, drool coating the back of your tongue as your pussy throbs around him. he manages to fit his tip in, dragging the enlarged and sensitive muscle against your walls. your ankles flutter around megumi’s waist, lower body strength trembling as you attempt to pull him in further.

“m-megs- please..”

“what?” he screws his eyebrows, staring you down. you can’t find the words in you to plead for him.

“what the hell? why act all coy now?“

“that’s not how we do things around here, is it? so spit it out. i won’t get what you’re trying to say otherwise.”

megumi slips his dick out, grinding against your clit as his torso flushes against yours. he pulls you in for a quick kiss, enough to relinquish his appetite, but not enough to taste the filth that corrupts your sweet and innocent lips.

“those cute little whines of yours won’t help you, either.” his breath flickers against your skin, sticky tongue licking trails as he works to mark up your neck. you can feel the tears prick your eyes already. you’re suddenly hyper aware of your heartbeat pounding in your ears, how it throbs against your cunt and the droplets of perspiration trickling along your skin. you can feel megumi’s pulse heavy against your clit, the way his dick twitches as he smears the tip through the folds of your slick. it’s slowly driving him insane. but that’s okay. even through the static that bounces around in his skull- he knows that you hate it more.

after all, your boyfriend knows best.

your fingernails soar around to megumi’s back. you want to scratch him, but you can’t access his toned skin through the layers of his jacket. instead, you’re left fumbling and scrunching the fabric like a feline with an insatiable desire to itch its claws.

“megumi- please, it’s too much-“ you huff through laboured breaths, peering up at him through tear stained eyelashes.

it’s almost enough to make him melt. almost.

“what is?”

“this?”

he shifts himself back up, grabbing his dick and slipping only the tip in once more. he allows you a few centimetres extra before dipping back out and repeating the process again. megumi’s gaze locks with yours, as though he’s asking ‘is this what you want?’

“s-stop teasing me.. just put it in alreadyy~” you choke out a groan of frustration, ready to slam your hips down onto the full length of his shaft.

“why should i?”

“megumi, i swear to god- if you don’t fuck me right now-“

“-or what? you’ll go to my dad? good luck, when you couldn’t even fulfill your duties as being his toy.”

so fucking humiliating.

the way megumi instantly stands up and proceeds to stuff his still hard and leaking dick back into his boxers.

he’ll deal with it later.

you’re left stuttering, unable to form any coherent words, thoughts or insults to spew back at him. legs wide open, cunt empty and glistening in the blue tint of the moonlight.

he leans over, swiping some of your excess drool with his thumb before dipping it into your mouth. he half expects you to lick at his thumb, convince him to stay a little longer, but his skin sits in your mouth like a forgotten thermometer for a couple of seconds.

“if only you could see your face right now.” he hums, tone flat with a certain mockery.

sometimes, as the days pass, you can notice his resemblance growing closer and closer to toji.

the following day

you haven’t left the quarters of your room for the entire day. you’re stuck in bed, face mushed into the confines of your pillow. you’ve always held high regards of the fact that your libido isn’t necessarily extremely high, but when you’re promised dick just to be neglected of it? shit feels like you’re in heat. you can’t go to toji, because you’re mother’s home. not only that, but he’d be sure to teach you one of his lessons. you’re already shivering thinking of the conversation with him, how you’d even try to dig out of that hole you were already so deep in.

you can’t call megumi either… at least not for now. you sigh wistfully into the pillow, kicking your legs about on your bed as you hiss a groan of turmoil.

there’s a sudden knock at the door that snaps you out of your haze. it leaves you pumped, blood coursing through your veins and you shoot up like an attentive little puppy about to be taken for a walk.

“it’s open!” you clear your throat, humming.

the disappointment rocks your features so clearly that it’s embarrassing. it’s just your mother.

“you okay? thought you died in here, baby. lunch is ready, and your lovely megumi-kun came to say hello.”

what?

“megumi? that’s nice. did he leave a message or anything? like he just dropped by to say hello or-“

“hm? oh, no. he’s having lunch with us.”

“is everything okay, dear?”

“yeah! yeah, i’m good. sorry, i spaced out a little bit. small headache, that’s all. i’ll change clothes and i’ll come out to eat.” you dismiss your mother, keeping in the hyperventilation you’re about to undergo. she gives you a small glance of concern before returning to the dining room to serve her guests.

“(y/n)! we were just talking about you!” your mother hums, gifting you a smile of warmth and radiance as she pours drinks into some cups.

you can feel toji’s mocking stare dig holes into your skin.

you can fucking feel it.

you can imagine him saying it.

“slut.”

at the six chaired table, you scurry to sit the furthest away from megumi and toji. your mother shoots you a sideways glance, motioning for the seat between toji and megumi. you swallow thickly, awkwardly striding over to take a seat.

your knee accidentally knocks into toji’s and you instantly utter an apology.

“you should be.” he mutters underneath his breath, disguising the words as a sigh.

“so? you said you were talking about me?” you straighten yourself, perking up a semblance of cheerfulness and perfect innocence.

“oh, right! toji was just telling me how stuffed you were yesterday!”

your lids flicker in shock and you abruptly stare at toji, whose half lidded jade green eyes slowly land on yours before locking to meet your attention for a few seconds.

“sorry, what?” you stutter, finding it difficult to believe the situation.

“you know, the food? are you sure you’re alright, honey? you’ve been acting strange since this morning.”

“i’m fine, i swear. just some painkillers would be nice.”

when your mother turns around to rummage for some painkillers, she emits a squeak of alarm at the lack of them.

please. you’ll do anything to get out of this predicament.

“are we out? i can go grab some-“

“-no, that’s okay. i’ll head out. i need to grab a few extra things for dinner anyway. you three, make nice with each other!”

sure.

when the door shuts, you realise you’re out of options.

you can’t run away.

“so, megumi. how’s eating up after my leftovers feel?”

“leftovers? because one woman wasn’t enough for you?” megumi scoffs, averting his gaze.

“it’s not my problem that your woman came running to me. doesn’t that say something about you?”

“like what?”

“like, you can’t fuck her properly?”

“i can’t fuck her properly? but you’re telling her to keep your cum inside her? don’t you care what’ll happen if she gets pregnant?”

“see, megumi. she’s on birth control. you didn’t know that? and besides, if i didn’t know any better-“

toji finally allows you his undivided attention, staring right through to your soul.

“-i’d think your little girlfriend here likes walking around with my cum inside her.”

you’d be able to run a butter knife through the tension hanging in the air. the room holds its breath, and as do you in compliment of trying not to set things off into a piping hot mess.

“isn’t that right-“

“-princess?”

your fight or flight response kicks in at the malicious tone that coats toji’s tongue. you swallow thickly, throat parched and lips cracked.

but fuck.

if it isn’t the most arousing thing- the two of them squabbling over you.

toji screws his face at you, features lighting in a mix of awe and delight.

“really? you’re seriously enjoying this?” toji hums with mockery, eyebrows perking at your unusual behaviour. he can smell the sweet nectar of your arousal slicking against your underwear.

you abruptly stand up, ready to leave.

megumi’s hand curls around your wrist. he slings your hand behind your back, slamming you over the table. some silverware and plates clatter and dash against the hardwood floor.

“answer the question, (y/n).” he hisses.

you whimper a soft whine. there’s no way you’re answering that.

“get your fucking hands off of her.” toji barks, kicking his chair back.

“try me.”

something washes over you. a premonition, say. that if you don’t speak up, someone will end up seriously injured.

“i can’t choose between you two. i just can’t. so i think it’s the best option if we just stop this completely.” you sigh, prying megumi off of you. his stance relaxes and you wince at the pain in your spine. you rub your wrists in slight agony, refusing to meet either of their gazes.

“it’s been fun, but i think it’s time to draw the line-“

“no.” toji remarks offhandedly.

“huh?” you contort your face in offence. there’s something thick on megumi’s face, too. it almost looks like determination?

“i said no.” toji reiterates, taking a stride towards you.

his index and thumb caress your chin, tilting your jaw up to look at him.

“i don’t care how long it takes. whether it’s me or him-“

“-i’m making you choose.”

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devilslinks · 3 years

Text

# 𝗡𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗔 !

— 𝗖𝗟𝗨𝗕 𝗙𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥 | 𝗡𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗔, 𝗧𝗢𝗣 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥.

wc; ( 3.2k )

synopsis; your best friend, raihan and you find yourselves eager to get intoxicated in one another's company. what better place than a night-club, dim lights, the overwhelmin' musk of the various alcoholic beverages; it's every guy pairs wet dream. that is until raihan gets shit-faced and excuses himself to the restroom while he pukes up his spiked guts. only to return to watch his sister take you balls deep, down her throat.

a/n: no brain, only nessa and her magical throat 🤝

warnings. MINORS DNI, NSFW CONTENT, family!au, raihan and nessa are siblings, club sex, intoxication, dirty talk, the name princess, deep throating, oral (m receiving), throat bulge, throat fucking, cum eating, flirty!nessa, jealous!raihan, exhibitionism, voyeurism.

euphoria.

that was the only word that came mind when raihan and you got involved in recreational activities like you did. galar was a go big or go home type of region, and the two of you stayed true to that motto. the itchy, messily thrown together suits that matched all the way down to the type of socks you had on— the overexcessive amounts of booze, and the loud music which just barely drowned out the fits of laughter and discussion littered throughout the packed club. as soon as the doors opened, flooding your senses with nothing but the sickly sweet, aroma of sex and other intoxicating chemicals; that's how you knew the had night begun.

the two of you had been indulging, before you arrived on the scene— time seemed to blur together with head-spinning speeds or come to a full halt at the worst of moments. you don't even know how long you'd been locking eyes with the transparent shapes and manufactured blurbs dancing across the wall a good, twenty, maybe thirty feet adjacent to your seat at the drink counter. the weight of something too heavy for your alcohol infused mind to register until the bar hostess was practically brewing with irritation at your non-compliance with her attempts to have you regain control of your dazed state; sat lazily in-between your pointer finger and thumb, respectively.

hell you don't even remember waddling over to the bar with the company you had brought with you. but you didn't mind, the painfully challenging to recall memories mattered not when there was already another drink swirling around the rim of your shot-glass. raihan's shifty frame wiggling in and out of your peripherals as you tug the half-empty cup to the skin of your lips, craning your head back to knock down whatever liquid remained at the bottom. the delicious burn of toxins coated the lining of your throat, trails of steamy fluid leaving their mark as the mystery liquor made it way down your esophagus. whatever it was, it packed a punch and wasted no time forcing your lips to curve into a bitter sneer— eyebrows shadowing your face in a sour demeanor, as you used the hem of your suit sleeve to whisk away any spilt mixture that tarnished your cherry red lips.

you hardly have the chance to open your mouth for a second time to address the swaying body, huddled closer the counter than it is to your own. raihan is a total mess, loopsy, and feverishly hot skin to compliment— he's stained a harsh, sickly green against his natural melanin tone. doubling over in either pain or the sudden flow of too many drinks pooling in his system; whatever the emotion he was enduring was, he wasted not a second longer before hustling off into the large gathering of people. disappearing before his lips could slur the final word, missing from his dialect.

“hh..h fuck- my stomach is gonna explode, i'll catch you-” his gravely tone churning into the backdrop just as quickly as he initiated the conversation; the familiar hum of lyrics to a song you couldn't quite place your finger on replaced whatever words raihan had previously gargled out before dashing off towards the public restrooms.

your head feels like it weighs a metric ton this late into the night, threatening to tumble forward as if your neck had lost any and all of it's support. your eyelids pulling down roughly over your eyes like window shades before the sudden wave of loneliness hit you like a truck. fiddling with the collar of your dress-shirt was entertaining enough to fill the void that was the now empty stool, where your best friend once resided. but that quick fix subsided rather easily and the once overwhelming presence of boredom had returned to take a seat.

and then, so did she.

“shit, rai- back so soon? you alright?” your vision was foggy and adorned with blurry bits here and there— but it was still evident enough to make out that, whoever was indeed now in your friend's seat, was not the person you had chauffeured to the club with.

“damn, do i really look, that bad? it's me, y/n. the painfully better looking sibling. what did that idiot put in your drink?” the speech is followed by a laugh. it was a warm and inviting chuckle, one that seemed to relax every muscle in your liquor tense body the moment she parted her spit silken lips. you had been in her company earlier that evening, which made it a tad easier for your incoherent mindset to process it. but nevertheless it was hard not to distinguish who the women paying you a visit was at this point, even if you hadn't engaged with her previously; nessa was infamous for those enchanting looks. and in your dumbified state, those gorgeous navy locks tied together by aquamarine highlights were one of a kind and stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the room of normal presenting citizens. though your brain didn't want to pick-up any of your surroundings, you found it quite easy to fawn over her in that ebony dress and the way it hugged her curves in all the right places.

“fuck.. nes' when'd you get so.. so.” you couldn't even find the energy or hell, the words to cough up the remainder of the sentence, you were so taken aback by how stunning she was, even behind your bleary, drunk eyes. but nessa wasn't oblivious— you were sure she had picked up the hint you had layed out so bluntly, and the warm palm slowly inching up your clothed thigh secured that suspension for you.

“not even so much as a greeting? you didn't even buy me a drink first; asshole.”

her words are firm, yet so light hearted at the same time; but just enough to set your arousal over the edge. your headspace so vulnerable to teasing that you're certain she knew what she was doing to your conflicted mind and body. her sly fingers are enough to coax you to shuffle your bar-stool closer to her's— not a single word wriggled around your throat in response, instead the tangy after-tase of alcohol still heavy on your tongue distracted you and you were sure the whole bar could acknowledge your intoxicated musk.

her features held so many different emotions at once, as she pryed you for a reply— trying to tell you each one obscured behind that pretty face, way too quickly for you to decipher. her brows furrowed quizzically, one tilted slightly higher than the other as her half lidded doe-eyes stared up at you like prey at a final stand off with their predator; just humbly surrending their body to the circle of life.

“hah, you're one to.. talk, nes' just because 'm out of it- doesn't mean my numb skin can't feel your heavy hand toying with my waistband.” the both of you swiftly changed direction, heads leering down at nessa's free hand. you were infact correct, you observed as the woman swirled shapes into the expensive leather of your belt. pulling bits between her fingers now and then as she silently struggled with the metalic buckle. your groin swelled tightly, gripping your boxers closer to the fat bulge behind your suit pants; it would take an idiot not to take notice of the wrinkled fabric secured around your aching dick. her skin felt like a furnace, contrasting your slightly cooler temperature— but with her body pressing so desperately to yours, you were sure the warmth from her melted over onto your feverish flesh. the damp, sheen of anxious sweat made the fabric of your suit, dewy. sticking slightly against your hellish skin.

“mm, i guess i was wrong about the greeting part— hello there, you look happy to see me.” not a hint of shame obscured her voice, you're miserably watching nessa shift her weight as she now palms at the mound between your legs. you've seen countless renditions of this night loop in your head, but now that the scenario is a reality; it's agonizing to try to contain your primal urges, face to face. it's a chore not to profess all the vile things you wanna carry out with her, but she's already one step ahead. that glare is dangerous, it makes you feel like she's trying convey that the two of you are already in on something devious.

“let me take care of you.. y/n.”

“let me treat you, nessa.”

the both of you drawl out in what would be perfect unison if your mind wasn't foggy and running slower than usual. you had both finally voiced the elephant in the room, the one which was just positively dripping with thick tension up until this moment in time. you're still squirming under nessa's grip, she can feel you whine and pant everytime she gives your cock a light squeeze between her fingers and it's not long before the two of you are absent from the bar and clawing at one another's linen around the corner. closest to any vacant area within eye-shot. well, as vacant as a small room seperated from the bustling club-life can get.

did you think the night would come to a close with your friend's sister skillfully sucking the soul out of your sloppy cock? not in a million years, but you'd be damned if you didn't want it to end on any other note. nessa fell to her knees before the two of you even made it out of view— planting herself in-between your thighs like she was a trained professional; no flaws in her technique as her tongue slid obediently from her mouth and latches onto the moist fabric masking her mouth's destination. nessa's fingers are long and slender, as they snake up your hips and meet at the belt tangled around your waist. you can feel your cock pumping against the seams of your pants, the uncomfortable sensation making it appear as though you'd rip through the cloth if your cock was imprisoned a second longer.

with the head-splitting atmosphere of the club playlist stretching and stuffing your ears to the brim with fast pitched edm that made your skull pound and jitter. as well as the added hum of the gym leader whispering inaudible nothings against your bulge as she at last pushed your pants down, and past your ankles; material getting caught on the fancy design of your shoes. you felt like you were on the brink of death, but the enticing appeal of hooking up with your best friend's relative kept your iron-will alive long enough to rough it out and pass the irritation that came with being black-out drunk.

your storm of worries fizzled just as quickly as they sprung up, maybe it was the alcohol but you swear this girl had the hands of the divine; you were washed away into infatuation once more. nessa's teeth hike up your boxers until they meet the waistline, pulling down on the hem with a familiar aggressiveness as she relishes in the way your big dick pops to life and looms over her lustful features; all chubby 'n decorated with veins fer' her viewing pleasure.

“shit.. i'm gonna have so much fun with your cock. you wanna make your stupid slut already? my mouth is just asking for it.” the first piece is low and almost voiced as if it was meant for her ears only— but the second half is most definitely directed at you; as she tilts her head to plant a few delicate lovebites along the base of your shaft. fingers looping gracefully around your hilt as she admires the girth you carry.

“fuck..” you hiss, cock twitching violently as you pleaded with sinful eyes. she had barely started her reign over your dick before guttural groans and mewls slid past your lips. the sensation of her tiny tastebuds as they trailed over the little glob of pre-cum that drooled from your cockhead was insatiable. the sudden action sent your hips forward almost automatically, like they instinctively acted on impulse; it felt so right. merely a few inches breached past her lips but there was enough speed and prowess in your thrust to drag a surprise gag from the mouth attached to your dick.

impatience was on the horizon, the buzz from copious amounts of alcohol had knocked down a few pegs. you were now fully aware of the figure positioned at your feet like she was praying for a god, and soon you'd make her chant like she was being fucked by one as well. broad fingers clamped down, squishing both sides of her jaw while simultaneously easing your length deeper, and deeper down her gullet like your dick was her last meal on earth. you throw your head back before letting it fall forward against the wall, watching those desperate dark iris' pool with puddles of lust that seem to be neverending.

“come'on princess, you know how badly you want this-- you gonna let me ruin this pretty throat?” you thumb over her warm cheeks, eyes glossy and threatening to ruin the simple makeup she applied before she arrived. the uncomfortable stretch of her esophagus molding as your cock fills the empty gaps in her throat with every inch you have; is one that isn't unfamiliar to her. dragging your pulsating veins along the dip in her mouth, her tongue greedily laps up any and all of the skin yet to be consumed by her.

“jesus.. fuck, oh fuck. take it, nes'. shit.” your cock fully slips into her, heavy and swollen as it spears her right down the middle; eyes rolling back into her skull as it's just too fucking big. bigger than anything she's previously had inside of her, anyway. your core bleeds with spots of warmth as you take the time to bask in the way every individual wall in her mouth feels as it constricts you almost painfully. sucking you in before she slides you back out of her throat once more; repeating the tedious cylce that has the two of you in a heated frenzy.

despite all the sudden and erratic pain, nessa bobs her head in sync, coaxing you to go as deep as humanly possible. rocking your hips as they snap against her face with every good fuck you give her— watching yourself grow rapidly from the outside of her neck, the moist skin now holding a curved bump near the middle. nessa takes the initiative. removing a hand from one of your thighs, she uses four fingers to lightly push and stroke the bulge; almost as if she was jerking you off while you ravaged her inards.

she knew exactly what she was doing, and it had you riled the fuck up.

you picked up the pace, delirious from the amount of stimulation your precious cock was receiving. with your erection fully encased by her face and your dick bouncing off the gummy walls of her gullet, you could tell her throat was already forming bruises with a throbbing soreness to compliment, time come the morning. your rough hands dig behind the back of her head, hands feeling lost amongst her ocean of hair— beautiful locks just perfect for pulling. you yank her face forward, lowering yours as well to not only established authority but to get your point across to the cockdrunk slut mindlessly slobbering all over your messy shaft.

“mfph-- please, cum.. i want- all!” you can just barely string together what sounds like whines for more— i guess she can sense just how close the knot in your stomach is to bursting because she grips the back of your thighs and tugs them forward with whatever coherent muscle strength she has remaining. just in time for the tension in your core to coil tighter and tighter, the lowerhalf of your body trembling with all the signs of an incoming orgasm.

“does my dumb little girl wanna be fucked, that, bad? hah, fuck nes' what would your brother think?” you mock so cruelly, totally disregarding the fact that there is a slim possibility, raihan is searching for the lost pair. and it just so happens that nessa's poor little brother had been observing for a little over half the engagement. fist wrapped around his pathetic cock, suit collar pulled between his fangs, ocean blue eyes fixated on you; your hip strength, the way you rolled and plunged balls deep into his sibling. his body felt so empty, only riding his high off the two of yours', praying he'd finish before you caught him lurking like a sleaze. it was so unfair, why did nessa get to taste your sultry cock before he did?

you can feel the bass reverberate in nessa's throat as her lips nip at your hilt, impatiently trying to babble out a response adequate enough to your liking. her mind is flying, no correct sense of direction as it attempts to form a reply, but all that breaks past the barrier is a few pitiful mewls. her nose is burried in your pubes and she's lost all feeling in her throat, only motivating her to show off the lump on her neck even more. you watch as your length disappears into the depths of her mouth for the hundredth time that night, hands pushing down the lacy strap of her dress in a last ditch effort to find something other than her hair to latch onto for support. her scalp is on fire and she can only accept the stinging sensation as the roughness of your thrusts increase in magnitude.

the club is filled to the brim with lewd moans and needy pants; those of which included raihan's. every inch of her esophagus is being used— you happily ram your cock down her throat a few more times, your balls were quivering wildly. contracting and spasming, boiling with a fat wad of potent seed all ready to venture inside of her. nessa squeals, feeling a thick bulge travel up the length of your cock, up to the head and straight on her tongue; some spurts flowing down her neck while the rest collected in her mouth. painting her insides a translucent white that would surely stain.

just for good measure, nessa deep throats your empty dick with a few simple strokes; a white, sticky ring forming around the base of your shaft after she detached from your dick. a lewd pop, followed by a line of stringy saliva connected her lips to your bottomed out cock before she ruined the trail by letting her tongue lull from behind her teeth. letting you get a nice overhead view of her empty mouth, watching as the last bits of your load traveled down her throat and out of sight for good.

“god.. such a g'girl. you sucked on my cock so nicely, princess. wasn't that a way to end the night?” a blissed out smile creeps over your face, marveling in the aftermath you caused. you gave the right side of her face a few taps from your cock— dried tears and sloppy makeup tainting her cheeks. cum dripping from the corners of her mouth, as a cocktail of her own spit and your semen coats the back of her throat. it was all one big look of;

euphoria.

#𓌗 . m.list #𓌗 . works #c . nessa #pokemon sword and shield #pokemon sword and sheild x male reader #pokemon sword and sheild x top male reader #pokemon swsh #pokemon swsh x male reader #pokemon swsh x top male reader #nessa x male reader #nessa x top male reader #pokemon nessa #pokemon nessa x male reader #pokemon nessa x top male reader #pokemon smut #dark pokemon #dark blog #smut blog

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ventura-starlight · 3 years

Text

HAIKYUU CAPTAINS IF THEIR S/O HAS STRETCHMARKS

here is part 2 everyone!! I was kinda struggling on this one but I guess everyday life can be the best inspiration 🥴 anyways I also just wanted to say thank you for the support!! it means the world to me and gives me confidence to keep going so thanks for that lmao [sorry I can't be super sappy for very long] hope you all enjoy!! [read part 1 here!]

***Y/N/N stands for your nickname btw!!***

warnings: insecurities, angst [??], hurt/comfort, mentions of swimsuit shopping in kita's and the use of the word "beautiful". Oikawa's is a little more angsty to me, the fangirls say some really horrible things so please be warned!!!

->it was the time of year to go swimsuit shopping and so you had brought your boyfriend KITA along to help. swimsuit shopping has always stressed you out but you figured having him there might help! Kita helped pick out a few different swimsuits for you to try on. As you stepped into one of the pieces, your stomach churned uncomfortably. maybe this one is just too small! you thought to yourself. trying on a few more, you discovered the source of your disappointment. You looked down at your hips, your thighs, arms, and chest. Light little stretches littered across your delicate skin but you just felt unhappy. tears and small sniffled escaped your lips as you stood in the mirror. Kita had been wondering why you didn't come out, he chose not to bother you. When he heard your soft cries? He perked up immediately, rushing over to the room you were in. "Love? Are you alright in there? Is something wrong?" he asked, worry evident in his tone. Croaking out softly "Yeah I'm fine" you began wiping your eyes, trying to calm yourself when you heard him speak again "Y/N can I come in for a moment?" you chuckled lightly and popped your head out of the door, shielding your body with the door. Kita turned his head to the side and entered the dressing room, looking at you in the suit as you closed the door. "You look lovely Y/N/N" you only shook your head, Kita knew you weren't the most confident in your body. He never understood why though, in his eyes youre ethereal and angelic. Kita shook his head softly, pressing a light kiss to your forehead, "Love you're beautiful. I won't let you argue with me on this okay? Wear whatever makes you happy, because these little marks?" he questioned while trailing his finger lightly over your arm, "They are beautiful too" he left the dressing room, leaving Kita's word swimming in your head. Turning back to the mirror you smiled softly, a little bit of confidence growing in your heart, enough to buy that swimsuit and feel beautiful, because you are, and Kita wasn't ever going to let you forget that.

->USHIJIMA was a very actively fit man. I mean he had to be. Being one of the top ranked volleyball players in the Japan requires a lot of exercise. Looking at your boyfriend play was something you always had a great joy for. You had always been so proud of him and wanted to support him as best as you could. Many would think dating Ushijima would be very one sided, but he always made time for you when he could. As Ushi began practicing your mind wandered off, he was so fit, not an inch of fat on his body. You looked down at your legs as you sat on the bench. Little light stretches marked up your skin, cellulite aiding in making you feel insecure. As much as you would hate to admit it you were very insecure about yourself. It wasn't that Ushijima hadn't noticed, rather he just didn't understand why. You knew your boyfriend cared but he isn't always the best with helping in emotional moments. Your breathing got a bit more unsteady as your mind raced, your face began to turn red, catching the attention of your boyfriend who looked over to you, a slightly confused look in his eyes. You gathered your stuff and rushed outside. After standing in the hallway for a few moments you felt a tall figure loom over you. "Y/N? what happened?" shaking your head you moved to stand up, only to see Wakatoshi sitting down next to you, pulling you into his side. "You can talk to me, I'm always here for you" looking up at his tender eyes you explained your insecurities, how you felt unworthy. He softly grabbed your hand moving up his practice clothes so that you could see the marks that mirrored yours, littered across his own skin. "You always say how handsome I am. That I'm 'stunning' and 'perfect'." he chuckled lightly "But I have stretchmarks too, just like you. If I can still be beautiful to you, worthy of your love, well hell, you're definitely more than worthy of mine no matter how you see yourself" pressing a soft kiss to your hand, Wakatoshi met your glassy eyes, reassurance evident in his gaze. Your boyfriend was never a liar, you processed his words, letting them sink into your heart. It was moments like these that helped you remember you were worthy and so was he.

->OIKAWA's fangirls were annoying, but you made sacrifices for love. Everyone has their breaking point. You tried to ignore it, you really did, but they just wouldn't let up. The fangirls would whisper about you in the halls as you walk by. It was petty things, they were just jealous, not all of the fangirls were like this, these were just the outliers. It started off small, just stuff like 'I wish it were me and not them' that sort of thing. then it evolved into more. The words felt like venom being sunken into your skin, "Oh why is Oikawa with them, I mean Oikawa is strong but can he lift that?" giggles were shared as another girl spoke up, "Yeah like have you seen their legs? They are covered in stretchmarks". It was cruel but you didn't want to tell Oikawa. You pushed through, a smile and all! However the girls decided to continue their torturous words, adding notes to your locker as well. Oikawa had seen something was wrong but he didn't know what. Tōru approached you about the issue but for you to brush it off "I'm just tired Tōru, I'm alright". This went on for weeks, slowly you became more and more insecure about who you were as a person. It was getting worse and you could hardly look in the mirror without feeling sick to your stomach, the fangirls' words floating around in your brain. As you walked to volleyball practice the girls confronted you, spouting all the hateful words over and over again. Laughing at you as tears welled up in your eyes. You couldn't breathe, and tried to run away only to have another small crowd arrive right behind you. Suddenly, in the midst of the scene, a volleyball slammed against the wall startling the group, actively quieting them. Oikawa stood there, a disappointed but albeit aloof scowl on his face. He began to spoke "If you girls are going to confront my partner when they are all alone, thinking I am not going to find out? You are sorely mistaken. No fan of mine would ever be so insecure about their own self. You must all be just so jealous you can't handle that my partner is perfect and that I'm with them and you aren't in there place. Now, before I get really upset I suggest you all leave them alone. Now." it seemed that oikawa's threat they ran away like mice. Tōru got closer to you, eyes filled with concern. You were still shaking as he wrapped his arms around you. He wiped the tears that seemed to be flowing down your face in river-like streams. Pulling you in close, Tōru began littering kissed across your face and head, "Y/N you are perfect to me and always will be. If something like that ever happens to you again please let me know. You're happiness and safety is my number one priority and don't listen to what they said alright? You are perfect in every single way" He said as he shakily ran his fingers along the marks, "I love you so much and always will okay?" you nodded gently as you began to calm down. You muttered an "I love you" against him as you closed your eyes, exhausted after the ordeal. You felt better though, Oikawa always made you feel better. He always made you feel beautiful.

I'm so sorry that these got so angsty 😭😭 but I hope you all enjoyed them nonetheless 😀 @sunnymfskies

#angelicstrwbrry 🍓#springs.sprung 🐰#kita x reader #kita imagines #ushijima x reader #ushijima imagines #oikawa x reader #oikawa imagines #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu imagines #angelics.haikyuu.txt

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boop-le-snoot · 3 years

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PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 27

First time reader click here

TWs/Summary: If you read carefully, you knew this; if you didn't: reader was drugged at the party. Hangover from Hell ft. boys being cute, Loki being best friend material and reader fully integrating him into the Gen-Z community via Monster energy drinks and depressive music whilst being sad. I live for Loki/reader friendship tbh.

So folks, this is the last big plot thing before the endgame. I reckon it's about 10-15 chapters left until out happy ending and the next bit is going to focus on developing reader's and Stephen's relationship. There will be smutty parts too - either chapters or interludes, idk, depending on how well they'll integrate into the story.

I love y'all.

Ow, was my first thought upon waking up. My head throbbed something fierce, the pressure behind my eyelids was unbearable and my mouth tasted like a bog on a sunny summer's day. I was warm, from both sides, and one of the bodies felt foreign in everything besides the smell - sandalwood leaked through the lead curtain of alcohol and sex.

Needless to say, I had trouble piecing together the fine details of last night but had enough coherence to remember our... Activities. I was sore and Strange's long arm was still possessively draped over both me and Tony. The luck was on my side as I carefully wiggled out of his grasp, padding to the bedroom on quiet feet. The sorcerer barely moved, only grumbling briefly at the loss of my warmth and immediately quieting, shamelessly snuggling into Tony.

I would have not exaggerated if I said it was the worst hangover of my life. It was baffling, really, because I'd gone way wilder and didn't suffer half as much after effects; my first attempt to brush my teeth ended with my face resting against the toilet bowl, my empty stomach rejecting what little liquid in it was left as the room spun on its axis. That was incredibly embarrassing and I hoped my boys wouldn't wake up to witness my best impression of a bum - and they didn't, both men still sound asleep and interwined like snakes when I put on the shirt closest to me and departed in search of coffee.

My mood only worsened. Steve and Bucky were already up, shoveling an impressive amount of eggs and bacon, as Bucky quietly teased Steve about his own hangover. The blonde man was slightly greenish, disheveled - we traded equally glum looks and nodded to each other in silence. The smell of food made my stomach churn and I retreated, one black coffee in hand, towards Bruce's lab, having been informed by Friday that neither Tony not Stephen planned on waking up.

"Morning, Princess," Bruce smiled kindly, pushing his glasses out of the way to hold me close and give me a sweet kiss. "Had fun? The boys still asleep?"

I giggled at Bruce calling Tony and Stephen boys. "Yeah. I wouldn't be wearing Stephen's shirt if he was up and about, I think." I pointed out the obvious.

Bruce chuckled, holding my face to give me a long, thoughtful look. I stared back, hoping convey my respect and adoration without having to say a word; like Tony, I wasn't particularly apt when it came to talking feelings. Whatever Bruce was looking for, he found it, and sealed it with another kiss, twice as long and twice as sweet. We stood like that, my head on his shoulder and my arms firmly holding him to myself, until the elevator dinged behind the glass wall, revealing a shirtless Stephen and Tony in his pajama pants, both men bickering animatedly.

"Aw shit, here we go again," I rolled my eyes, unhappy about the possibility of the magic being broken. I rather preferred all three men to be like yesterday: friendly, kind and relaxed.

"I will kick them out if I have to," Bruce shrugged, turning me around to face them.

Tony smiled, seeing me, stopping mid-conversation. "Princess, I am disappointed in your lack of manners. You left me with Merlin and he is mean." The engineer unceremoniously snatched me from Bruce and smooched me, hangover breath and all.

"Gross, Tony," I rolled my eyes, giving the man a light shove in the chest. "Morning, Steph," I addressed the third man who had gone back to his usual stoic expression. Just to see his resolve crack, because I loved pushing his buttons, I gave him a good morning kiss too, and was unexpectedly blown away by the eager response from his side. As I pulled back, I noticed his cheeks dusting a light pink.

"I came to get my shirt but I think you'd rather keep it," The sorcerer's fingers caressed my skin beneath the collar of his shirt, voice still low and scratchy from sleep and those magnetic eyes fixated on the exposed flesh of my chest, no trace of previous awkwardness.

"You sure 'bout that?" I pushed one of the sides off, exposing my shoulder, seeing Tony gulp the remainder of my coffee, one hand already messing with the screen that Bruce was focused on. "I think I look better without it," I would never miss an opportunity to tease the uptight man.

"Quite," He grinned, "It's a shame I didn't get to see much last night..." Two could play this game, okay.

"Oh, but you will," Tony piped up suddenly, a hint of smugness in his voice barely covered by Bruce's fond chuckle. I really didn't know what to say, suddenly overwhelmed with the attention, my emotions amplified by the hangover - party drugs tended to exaggerate my anxiety on the comedown.

And what a comedown it was. My social energy ran out very quickly so I complained about a nasty headache and retreated into my room, Bruce's gentle hands pressing a bottle of Ibuprofen into my own. Despite my attempts to tame my rioting body, it got worse before it got better and shortly before lunch, I had thrown up twice more. Pissed off, I ran a bath with cold water and sat in it until I felt somewhat human to prepare myself for a journey to Wanda's apartment - as a last resort, I was going to chug on of Pietro's Monster energy drinks that I knew he kept hidden there.

The retrieval was a success. Cans securely hidden in the kangaroo pocket of Tony's oversized hoodie I had thrown on, I had to make a haste detour to throw up once again - the closest bathroom was in Loki's apartment and I only managed to knock twice before throwing open the door and making a mad dash for the porcelain throne, a very confused Asgardian following my movements with raised eyebrows.

"Hangover from Hell," I croaked once the first wave subsided. Loki nodded in understanding, waved a hand to summon me a water bottle and shut the door behind himself.

As I sat there, desperately trying to understand why was I feeling like utter shit... It clicked. Bile rose to my throat once again, and I just dry heaving, mulling my revelation over and over again.

I didn't take any drugs. I had been drugged. My memories became hazy and dream-like shortly after someone had given me the drink... Someone, who? It was a split-second moment; Sam, even in his drunk state, didn't keep his eyes off me for too long. Maybe it had been someone the team knew? Possibilities began playing out in my head. Cursed was my overactive brain - the anxiety from the leftover drugs was making me panic.

"Fuck, FUCK," My hands shook - I only noticed it because I had spilled water on myself, adding cold and wet to the unpleasant sensations I was already experiencing. "Why am I such a fucking fuck-up." Taking a drink from a stranger seemed downright idiotic now. Middle school bullshit.

"Are you alright?" Loki's worried voice interrupted my inner monologue.

"Yes," I replied, voice cracking. "No. I don't fucking know."

The door all but flew open, the Asgardian taking several long strides to take a good long look at me. The frown on his face tells me all I needed to know about my physical and mental state.

A slender hand tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "What happened?"

I laughed tersely, feeling tears to begin welling in the corners of my eyes. "I'm an idiot," Seeing his face get annoyed briefly, I conceded: "I got drugged yesterday. My drink."

The hand that he had slid between my shoulder blades froze. I felt his whole body go rigid and his nostrils flare, the smell of ozone and something foreign - magic - filling the small space. The air around us became charged with the power of his anger. "Pardon?" His voice was dangerously quiet.

I physically fought with the need to flinch away from him, settling for lowering my eyes and staring at the dark stain on my hoodie. "I got carried away dancing. Someone handed me a drink and my stupid ass just shotgunned it," I confessed, picking at the wet spot. "And I can't tell anybody because I had a threesome with Stephen and Tony," I suddenly realised, my voice raising in pitch. "They're gonna think I didn't want it and feel bad. You know how Tony blames himself for everything under the sun..." Another wave of dizziness and nausea hit me as I leaned against the wall closest to me.

"Alright," Loki conceded after a brief pause. "We absolutely are telling the others. I'll make sure they understand," The Asgardian stated firmly in a tone that bore no argument. Seeing me lift my head to protest, he interrupted me before I could say anything: "Did you... Did you want it?" He asked me, hooking a single finger under my chin to look me in the eye.

I nodded, feeling my face heat up.

"You're not lying. The team knows of my ability to detect lies. Nobody will blame anyone..." Loki trailed off, obviously already plotting something. I wished it were a prank both of us were conspiring on instead of... Trying to make sense of this cluster fuck of a shit show. The circus called, they seemed to have left their clowns behind. "Although I will have a word with Sam." The Asgardian muttered darkly.

"No, it's not his fault. I just got too relaxed, I need to pucker up and be responsible for myself," I protested, damn well knowing it wasn't the Bird's fault. Everyone was drunk and I should've known better.

"It's not yours either," Loki sneered, seeing right through my self-loathing. It took a deep, slow sigh for him to calm down. His expression softened and the hand that was on my back resumed the gentle stroking as he scooted closer to me to press my side against his chest. "Vile people of this kind aren't exclusive to Midgard. It could have happened to anyone."

I nodded, my logical part briefly taking over as the waves of nausea and dizziness waned. I stifled a giggle, coming to another sudden revelation. "You holding up my hair as I barf out my hangover? That makes you qualified for the position of my Best Friend," I stated with a snort.

Loki chuckled, relaxing bit by bit. "I accept the position," His voice was unusually soft and a little bit shaky; I chose to tactfully ignore it. "Shall I call for assembly in the war room?"

I sighed, the dread and anxiety creeping it's way back in. "Can we just... Wait a bit? I have something- hold on-" I rummaged around my pocket, taking out two cans of Monster. Loki eyed them curiously and I extended one to him. "It probably won't do much for you but for me it's a last-resort hangover cure." I popped open the metal cap, seeing him do the same. "Be warned though, it tastes kinda funky if you're not used to it," I announced the disclaimer but it simply egged Loki on.

The scrunched up face he made was pretty funny. "It's sour but sickeningly sweet at the same time? I can't tell," He briefly eyed the written ingredients on the can.

"There are a bunch of flavors. Pietro likes the plain one, I like the purple one better, it's not so tongue-burning." I paused to inhale loudly. "If this is what college life looks like, I don't want to go," Mustering up my courage and gathering my balls in a knot, with one broad motion I closed my nose and poured the carbonated acid down my throat until my eyes watered. "Gimme a minute," I hiccuped, trying to keep it down.

Wide-eyed, Loki took a chaste sip of his own drink, eyeing me warily. He looked part impressed part disgusted with the little stunt. "I am pretty certain that is counter-productive."

"Caffeine make brain and body go skrrt," I argued back. "Friday, play my "grant me the sweet release of death" playlist. I'm upset," I announced and the AI obliged silently, the first notes of Placebo's 'Exit Wounds' beginning to play. If I was going to mop in a stranger's bathroom, I was going to do it with style. Even if said style was just simply stealing in my own misery with emo background music.

Loki stared at me, I stared back, both of us lost in our respective minds. At one point, he began swaying to the music slightly, resting the cool tin of the can against his cheek; I followed suit, mouthing along to some of the lyrics. It took us about a dozen songs to finally finish the liquid acid that was Monster energy drink and my ass felt like the bathroom tile itself: flat and hard.

"Do you ever feel like the universe just hates you for no fucking reason?" I groused, taking Loki's outstretched hand and slowly feeling the blood rush back to my legs.

"You wouldn't believe," He rolled his eyes in solidarity, vanishing away the empty containers. "Norns, give me a Hel-damned break."

I laced his arm through mine as we exited his apartment, feeling considerably less upset than I was before. I couldn't protect myself, but one look at Loki's sullen, irritated expression was bound to scare off anyone who dared to interrupt our mission.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie @mikariell95

#party favours #bun writes #tony stark x y/n #bruce banner x reader #stephen strange x y/n #tony stark x you #tony stark x reader #bruce banner x you #bruce banner x y/n #stephen strange x you #stephen strange x reader

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capri-ramblings · 4 years

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Okay so, I'm sure it's been kinda obvious I've been down with writer's block due to the lack of actual content on my blog recently, but somehow while scrolling through Tumblr I came upon @tsuisute 's art of Lilia wearing a rather risque bat lingerie and somehow something in my self-doubting brain clicked and I came up with this short fic. It starts off pretty angsty and I'm not sure when part two is going to come out but basically it's Lilia coping with his young s/o going through a really low point in their lives but yeah, I'm sorry if this turned out kinda flat cause my writing gears are still pretty rustic but I couldn't get it out of my head until I started writing it down. So, hopefully it's good enough! 💖💖

Safe and Sound

Summary: A slight rise in detachment and tension has been visible in you lately and being the ever observant Fae he is,Lilia has a hunch it has to do with your work as a medical mage working in devastating war fractions. He tries to reach out to you, but you keep your distance. At the end of it all, will this cause a bigger gap in your relationship or will it bring the two of you closer?

Part One: To push away one's heart.

The door to the age old manor, closed heavily behind you. The after echo of your footsteps shuffling inside softly whispering into the ancestral walls.

It was odd to have come home to such a quiet place after staying a whole day at a warring border. You felt out of place,detached even. As if this house you grew up in felt horribly unfamiliar. Sometimes it scared you, and sometimes it made you sad. Either way, you tended to avoid anyone in the household from interacting with you after your working hours.

Well,you tried your best to avoid everyone at least. Lilia would always be an exception, and not because you didn't have the heart to ignore him but instead you couldn't ignore him. He'd flock right over to you the moment he'd know you were home and then anything you said to make him leave failed.

He'd always had a mind of his own after all. Things people said went through his head but it didn't necessarily mean he'd take them into consideration. It all came down to the fact that Lilia was always the one with wisdom and truth, he's lived long enough to write books on it, so maybe in a way him interrupting your Isolation was a good omen in disguise, but still, it had you gritting your teeth each time he came up to pull you in an embrace or pat your head.

Today seemed to be no different, as you made your way to the staircase and saw Lilia waiting at the top of it with his usual beaming grin.

You didn't want to meet his gaze then. Something inside of you churned and boiled at seeing someone be so comfortable and gleeful.

"Welcome back,little lantern!" Lilia greeted,his deep red eyes sharing the smile he wore on his lips.

You felt your brows furrowed, but answered him with a slight nod. "Where's Silver and Malleus?", you asked as your bristled pass him at the top stairs and headed for the hallways that lead to the rows of bedrooms. Lilia followed behind you.

"They've gone off, somewhere,well, Malleus went off somewhere then Silver went to go look for him"

"Sebek?", You glanced over your shoulder. Lilia lent a smile your way.

"Training, as always. He wanted to tag along with Silver, but he has a competition later this month, Silver told him to stay and practice"

You let out a small hum, your pace absent as you walked right pass your bedroom door and Lilia had to tell you you had missed it. And as he went to push open your door, your limbs felt forlorn and worn out. There was such a strong urge to simply just fall flat onto your bedroom floor and pass out, but Lilia kept his careful gaze on you and ushered you inside the room, with your bag already in his grip.

Years living with him, and you still couldn't fathom how he did certain things without being noticed.

"A whole day and you've already forgotten where you sleep. Tsk,tsk,tsk...my little lantern has lost their touch of home"

With your back to him as you took off your jacket, Lilia came and wrapped his arms around your waist,the sudden warmth of his body pressing up against you causing you to go stiff.

"Lilia–"

"You should stay home for the week". He murmured,soft and low it sounded almost as if he was pleading.

You placed your hands over his on your waist.

"I can't. They're already short handed over at the border, and even if I am just a medic, it'd be too chaotic to just leave them like that"

"You need your rest, lantern"

"Then leave me alone."

The words left you bitter and taut. A string of unsaid wounds lingering at the back of each enunciation you gritted your teeth on. Your hands clenched over his and the way your chest heaved gave the impression that you could hardly take in another breath.

Lilia released you, and you walked over to your desk and sat down. Your head hurt, and your heart didn't seem to know why it was aching.

"I just need to be alone is all. I don't need you to dote over me,Lilia,I just..."

What did you want? Peace maybe. After seeing all that bloodshed in a single land while its people dropped dead like flies, two years working as a medical mage felt like an eternity of attempting to save people who had half of their bodies blown off as they cried and begged and sputtered out blood.

You wished you'd gone blind, but then again the screaming would have haunted you all the same.

Warring fractions were just a few in the Fae Kingdom, mostly because the lands and people involved in it would've died out before help could even reach them, but still, those that remained became cursed and bloody. A sight you wished you could burn out from your very thoughts.

You never had talent like Silver or Sebek, let alone Malleus himself, but Lilia said you always had a knack for healing, always being the caretaker even amongst your peers. Thus, you dedicated yourself to the one thing you were good at and became an active medical mage. From in-house check ups to risking your neck at war borders, you did what you could and suffered from what you couldn't.

You wanted to save everyone on the field, dying or not,but too many times you saw that hope of yours crushed right before your eyes, and it took its toll on you. At night, you hear the warning sirens and in the morning when you wake up, you dreaded to see the smiling faces of your companions, because you've started to wonder if by horrible fate itself, they laid dying in front of you, could you actually help them?

Vehemently, you pushed back the cry burning in your throat and shut your eyes tight.

'Forget it' . You told yourself. 'You don't have to remember. Just forget.'

It hurt for Lilia to watch you then. Something other than paternal grief overwhelming him. He'd known you've been dragging your own spirit down for a while now, but you were so adamant on avoiding the topic, he hesitated on confronting you about it. After all, it was your pain, your own sorrows, who was he to demand you to show him the scars and wounds you hid away?

He wanted to help you, to do anything he could to soothe your ache. But he couldn't do a single thing if you wouldn't let him.

"I'll leave you be then" Lilia said,soft and endearing, almost as if he was cooing to a child. "Rest well,my little lantern"

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland fanfic #twst wonderland angst #twst angst #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader #twst lilia vanrouge #twst lilia

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fanficsrusz · 4 years

Text

I WANT TO KI__ YOU CHAPTER ELEVEN - DARK JOHN WICK

Warnings: Kidnapping, Dub-Con, Non-con, Stockholm Syndrome, Being Restrained, Breeding, everything bad.

PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. IF YOU FIND ANY OF THESE WARNINGS TRIGGERING, THEN DO NOT READ. BY CONTINUING TO READ FROM THIS POINT ON, YOU ARE AGREEING THAT YOU ARE COMFORTABLE WITH ALL OF THE ABOVE WARNINGS. I DO NOT ACCEPT ANY RESPONSIBILITY IF YOU FEEL TRIGGERED BY THE FOLLOWING CONTENT SINCE THERE HAS BEEN PLENTY OF WARNINGS. IF YOU FEEL LIKE ANY OTHER WARNINGS SHOULD BE ADDED THEN PLEASE POLITELY DM ME AND I WILL ADD THEM.

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Summery: After failing to fulfill his contract, John takes a liking to y/n and his liking soon turns into a dark obsession

I want to ki__ you playlist

A/n: Yesssss. It's all slowly coming together and there aren't many chapters left, only a few and that makes me sad 🥺🥺.

I hope you all enjoy this chapter and I look forward to reading all your comments and feedback. If you liked this chapter then please reblog it. That is how writers like myself are able to spread out work to other people, especially because there have been a lot of issues with tags lately. Thank you ❤️

Chapter one

<<< Chapter Ten Chapter Twelve >>

“Do it” John whispered, his smile stretching up from the curves of his lips and reaching his gleaming eyes that shone with admiration for the girl. He closed his eyes tight, the grin never leaving his pink lips as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt and exposing his bare skin to y/n.

y/n gulped, the blade tightening in her hand as she stepped forward. She admired his skin under the yellow glow of the bathroom lights, the scars that scattered his skin and told a story. Each bullet mark was a scar of his past he mostly forgot. It was hard to imagine how he survived each one and yet he wanted her to add to them. They loved each other, they saw that a harm to one is a harm to the other. Yet John wanted her to hurt him.

With teary eyes, she pushed the knife to his skin, watching as John flinched slightly at the feeling of the cold metal on his bare stomach before he straightened his back.

“That’s it princess - You're doing amazing” his whispers were low and encouraging and y/n closed her eyes as her thoughts battled.

How long does it take to fall in love?

A second? A month? A year?

It's like asking someone how long it takes to fall asleep. Some people are gone as soon as their heads hit the pillow. Others lie awake for hours and it's only when their brain stops churning for a while that sleep sneaks in and drags them under.

“Do it, y/n-” his hand lifted robotically and wrapped around y/n’s hand at the knife handle, encouraging her to push the blade into his stomach, “end it all. Hurt me like I hurt you and you can have your life back. You can go back to your old life with your friends and family and it will be like we never met”.

John smiled bitterly as their eyes locked, the harsh glares she had given him only a few weeks ago had evaporated. y/n held his gaze, but instead of the icy hostility that she normally had there was the warmth of a lover. John’s face was impassive and tilted forward a little so he stared down at her and y/n felt her heart race.

“I can't” she finally breathed out after a few seconds. John’s hand let go of the hold he had over hers and the second his hand left hers, the blade fell from her grasp in an instant and dropped to the ground with a clank that seemed to echo around the room.

y/n felt as if her heart had stopped beating from fear that she didn’t quite understand. She stepped closer and John wrapped his arms around her waist, feeling her calm down instantly at his touch. Tears slowly fell from y/n’s eyes and John rubbed the tears away with his fingers. Soon nothing but the day time noises filled the room. The simple touch sent a wave of butterflies coursing through her veins, their fluttering wings easing the dread that had settled inside her.

“Princess?” John asked, leaning his chin onto her head, “why didn’t you do it?”.

y/n bit her lip, gently pulling herself away from him and folding her arms over her chest before she shrugged.

“Because I-” y/n felt the words sting the tip of her tongue. They so badly wanted to come out, to tell John how she truly felt but it still felt wrong, felt dirty.

John held out his hand for her to take. She complied, but instead of the fearful burn that she used to get, she felt the warmth of joy in her chest. John brought her hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss upon it. y/n felt her face flush warm and the hairs on her neck stand. Something fluttered in her stomach. She knew exactly what that feeling was. y/n thought it was a bizarre sensation, but it wasn't unpleasant. In that moment she knew that if she spoke, her words would fumble and she wouldn't be able to make much sense.

Right there and then, she was at a loss for everything; no words, no breath, no thoughts.

“You know that you don’t have to be afraid to tell me what you’re thinking” John said with a hushed tone. His rough fingers reached out to touch y/n’s arm and draw smoothing circles onto her cool skin.

y/n harshly swallowed her fear before she blinked slowly, turning her head to look up at John.

“I love you” she finally blurted out and John smiled.

“I already knew that,” he said proudly.

“No-” she shook her head, stepping closer to him, “ you don't understand. I really love you. Like it hurts to think about not having you, John. The thought of leaving you makes me feel sick”.

John stood motionless as her words sunk in and for the first time since he had laid eyes on her, he was speechless. y/n reached out to hold onto John’s hand and she smiled softly as she finally found the words she so desperately wanted to speak.

“Meeting you was scary and falling in love was bound to happen. You are the one who makes me feel this way. You are the one who keeps me shielded, defends me from the brutality. You are the one I will die a thousand times for. I chose you, and I am willing to repeat the action over and over. A million times over.”

y/n inhaled deeply as the words flew from her lips with ease and John did nothing but stare at her.

“you hurt me several times, yet here I stand, wanting to kiss you, like you are my hope” y/n chuckled as she thought about her relationship with John. “Could anyone ever feel, or understand what we've been through? No, most certainly not. But I feel incomplete without you. I want to spend a lifetime with you. I worship you. I need you by my side, hooking fingers with mine. and together we will face the challenges life gives us”

Y/n scanned John's face for a reaction and the silence hung in the air like the suspended moment before a falling glass shatters on the ground. She had expected him to be, happier? Or at least smile but there was nothing other than a stare.

There was an explosion in her brain, however, ... the good sort... the type that carried more possibilities than she could be conscious of... but there were hundreds of ideas there in that buzz of electricity... she could feel it. It was the calling card of adventure, of paths awaiting her feet. Whatever was ahead could be a great challenge, and there could be tears, but it was her adventure to take and so she smiled softly.

"John?" she gently called and he tilted his head to the side, "let me show you how much I love you"

Y/n lowered herself in front of his legs, nearly falling onto her knees. She grabbed his thigh to steady herself unthinkingly and he groaned.

"Princess…" he finally spoke, his tone filled with joy, excitement, love and every other emotion y/n could think of. For the first time in months she was sure of her emotions and he was the one feeling conflicted.

" please-" she whispered, hand gliding just below his cock that hid beneath the material of his boxers, "just let me show you how good I can truly be".

John's lips parted slightly as he watched the way she moved closer on her knees, doe like eyes staring up at him, waiting for him to give her permission. For so long he had dreamed of this moment, to have her begging for him and the day had finally come. After months of creeping around and imagining what it would be like, it was finally coming true.

Before John could even think about it, a smirk etched its way onto his face and his hand lifted to hold onto her chin.

"show me, princess"

Y/n couldn't help the smile that painted her lips. It was all made worse by the tickle that had been present in her pelvis since their first night together. The buzzing that wouldn’t go away as it yearned for release.

Slowly y/n lowered her gaze from John's blown eyes and drifted down to his bulge that poked at the seams of his boxers. She gently brought her hands to his thighs and shifted on her knees, moving closer as she cleared her throat. She felt nervous but she was never more certain of something in her life. Her hands dragged over the soft cotton of his boxers, inches away forms where John wanted her to touch.

“Isn’t this what you wanted, John? To have me begging for you?” Y/n had no control over the words she spoke, instead they just came out of her without her control and all John could respond with was a low groan that came deep from his stomach as she teased him.

“Tell me-” she lifted her gaze from his hardness to his eyes that bore down at her, “-how many times did you picture this very moment before you saved me?”

“Don’t test me, Princess” John murmured. He stepped back an inch, lowering his head so it was level with hers and he could see the playful glint in her eyes. Finally, his wish had been granted and his training had paid off but he couldn’t give her the satisfaction of letting her know how excited he was just yet.

John pushed his tongue to the base of his chin, shaking his head gently as he grabbed onto her cheeks and squeezed. Yn’s lips pursed together and she moaned lowly.

“Don’t forget whose in charge here Princess” John let go of her face, taking his previous stance of feet slightly apart and eyes glaring down. “Now continue” he demanded and y/n smirked.

Slowly her hands found the waistband of his boxers and steadily pushed them lower, the cotton grazing against John’s sensitive cock and making him hiss. y/n reached up, cradling his sac as he gestured her even closer.

y/n’s heartbeat returned and pounded in her ears. She took his shaft into his hand, , her fingers tightening around his girth before gliding her thumb over his tip, making John shiver in excitement. He leaned his hand on the wall, steadying himself as he watched her work.

y/n couldn’t look at him. She thought of the doorway and the open corridor; when she wanted to run away. How could she have been so stupid to want to leave, beside, he’d find her wherever she fled to.

y/n bent closer and John moaned as her breath brushed along his tip. His fingers found her hair as her lips met the swollen head of his member. Steadily, she opened her mouth over him and slickened him with her tongue. He was salty but smooth. She took him little by little, his hand spread over the back of her scalp, grasping onto her hair harshly as his head fell back. Y/n parted her lips as much as she could and he forced all of his cock through. He caressed her cheek with his other hand gently as he slid deeper. Y/n gagged as he reached her throat and John, even though he had his eyes closed, knew she was struggling and so eased back just a little, pulling himself out of her mouth painfully slow.

"shit" he cursed.

Y/n then pushed herself forward until she gagged again, then pulled back and forced her way back down; over and over. His fingers knotted in her hair as he started to guide her faster. Y/n's mouth made sickly noises around him as his cock poked the back of her throat harder and harder. She could barely breathe around him and was dizzy from the quickening motion but the knowledge of knowing she was driving John insane only made her want to continue.

Slowly, y/n slid her lips off of his dick, making sure to look up at John as she travelled up his dick until her mouth was free from his dick completely.

"Does it feel good? Am I making you feel good?" she asked, looking up at John whose head lazily hung back. A single moan of satisfaction came from his throat and y/n giggled at the satisfactory feeling.

She pressed her lip to the head of his cock and he wiggled it just slightly. Tauntingly. She took him in her mouth slowly again. John exhaled as she got further down his shaft until her lips met her hand, gently stroking what she couldn't take in without Choking - not yet, at least.

Y/n bobbed her head back and forth, her strokes keeping time with her heart beat. John groaned and dragged his fingers along her scalp, making y/n groan. The vibration shook John to the core and he caressed her like his pet, encouraging her to continue as her sloppy sounds and moans filled his ears. John's hands trailed down to her shoulders and he massaged them as he breathed faster and faster.

“Mmm,” John hummed, losing himself in the tranquility of the moment.

Y/n's jaw started to ache as her mouth was stretched wider. Her vision blurred through her watering eyes and heat took over her wits. She tried to remember how she had gotten there, how this had happened to her but her mind only focused on the streaking city lights and the endless days of work.

What did she miss again?

"fuck-" John clenched his jaw, "-I'm gunna cum". Y/n's body rose again, jumping back into action, both on a cloud as neither stuttered or stopped.

Without warning, strings of his salty release coated her mouth as John's groans filled the room. His cock twitched in her mouth as y/n licked up his cum, desperate to taste more.

For a moment John just stood there, eyes closed, mouth agape and head tilting to the ceiling as y/n brought her movements to a still before completely stopping and pulling away. She remained on her knees and looked up at John's face.

John finally opened his eyes, a sigh leaving his lips in satisfaction and a smile spread across his face, like he had won the lottery. But better.

“Swallow” he simply said and with a smirk, y/n complied, gulping loudly before proudly showing John her tongue just to prove that she had done what he had asked of her.

His lips lifted upward and eyes crinkled. His teeth were perfectly displayed behind rosy lips. The warm glow his happiness he gave. His smile was a ray of sunshine, and y/n was sunburnt.

John’s hand stretched out and he rubbed his thumbs along her cheekbones before reaching down to grab her hand, helping her to stand. His eyes gazed into hers, like he was looking far beyond her physical attributes and more into her soul.

Y/n stood still, her own smile growing on her lips as she only stared back at his dark brown eyes that glimmered like the stars in the sky.

His eyes darted down to her lips and y/n knew what he was about to do and for the first time since she had met John, she actually wanted him to kiss her.

Y/n's hands turned sweaty and shaky as John leaned closer to him. His lips touched hers gently and y/n somehow knew exactly what to do.

They moved their lips together like two dancers sashaying through a melody. His lips were delicate and warm. Hers were crusty and chapped but neither seemed to care because in that moment, they both felt as if they were floating in space and everything around them had turned to dust.

John was the first to pull back, gasping for air whilst y/n allowed John to tug her closer, still lost in the moment.

Slowly y/n pressed her head against his sculpted chest, relishing the firm, hard muscle. Nestling closer, she listened to his heartbeat. It was there, that thunderous, rapid pounding that made her giggle with amusement.

They stayed there, cradled in each other's arms, breath mingling together as they stared at each other, both a little unsteady. Desire and hunger glowed in his eyes while he held her against him.

"Thank you," y/n said in barely more than a whisper.

"For what?" John replied, his voice low and husky.

"For being you." Her voice wavered, exhilarated from the tension between them. Y/n gently leaned up and kissed John's warm lips again.

They pulled apart and took shaky, shallow breaths. Unable to contain herself anymore, y/n took John's head in his hands and pulled him into a fiery and passionate kiss.

John's hands worked their way around y/n's body, feeling each crevasse, each line along her perfect physique.

John's hands venture over her curved body, exploring. They both pulled apart and opened their eyes. They stare at each other, deep into each other's eyes: John's full of wonder and love and y/n's full of curiosity and passion. No words were spoken but a story worthy of a thousand words was communicated.

John leaned in, softly kisses up and down y/n's neck. She let out a little whimper of anticipation as John worked his way back to her tender, smooth lips.

Y/n drew her tongue over his teeth and swallowed his groan of pleasure as they slid closer to each other, no visible gap between them until his hand slid up her shirt, grasping at her breasts and y/n stopped moving completely, pulling away. Her eyes fell to the ground and John looked down at y/n worried.

"what's wrong?" he asked, rubbing his thumb on her shoulder.

"I don't deserve your - touch. At least not right now" y/n said.

"I don't understand," John chuckled nervously.

"you've been so kind and gentle to me-" y/n looked up at John, her smile returning for a brief second before disappearing again, "-and I returned it with hate. I was ready to hurt you, John. I could never do that" she choked up a little and John instantly pulled her back into his chest. He rested his chin on top of her head and shushed her gently.

"shh, Princess. Don't worry. I forgive. We don't have to do - that right now." y/n felt her heart skip a beat.

"But there is something I want to ask you" John started again, pushing her back gently and taking her by the hand. He smiled softly before he knelt down on one knee.

John cleared his throat, a small nervous laugh escaping his lips.

"will you, y/n y/l/n, marry me?"

TBC

A/n: thank you to @ficsnroses for taking the time to read through my work again. It means a lot to me

Tag list (you can use the link in my bio to add yourself or you can ask and I will do it for you <3)

@locallightskinbaddiee @iworshipkeanureeves @bodhi-black @omg-imagine @eevee-of-rivia @angrykitsune01 @pinkzsugar @anongirl007 @bvbwestfall @sexyseabass @sallyp-53 @heartbreakingbitch @fiercejellicle @black-ninja-blade @chaoticneutralpizza @bored-detective @missrandomista @classycarlos @Brookeskolney @disneymarina @memeyoongi2 @penwieldingdreamer @sallyp-53 @missrandomista @21bruhs @jjovonovich @toomanystoriessolittletime @ladyreapermc @ficsnroses @meetmeinthematinee

#keanu reeves #John wick #Dark John wick #Dark fic #John wick ff

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caranfindel · 4 years

Text

Fic: Flies in the Vaseline

gen, preseries | about 1700 words | PG-13 for language | characters: dean winchester, john winchester, sam winchester | warnings: gratuitous use of second person

Synopsis: The best hunters don't smoke. Inspired by a Tumblr post (waves to @road-rhythm)

. . . . . . .

The first time your father caught you smoking, you braced for impact, literally and figuratively. You half expected him to smack the cigarette out of your lips. You definitely expected an angry lecture. But he just looked at you, so calm it was almost scary.

"That's not your first one," he finally said. "How often are you doing that?"

Emboldened, you finished the cigarette in one long, last draw, tossing it onto the asphalt and grinding it out with the tip of your boot. "Not a lot. Not every day. Just… sometimes."

"Mmm hmmm." He was still unnaturally calm. "You think that's a good idea?"

You swallowed a laugh at the possibility that smoking might be what got you in the end, rather than a claw or a fang. "I'm not letting it get out of hand," you said.

"Oh, so you think you've got a handle on it." Ah, there it was. That patented John Winchester attitude, disappointment garnished with a dollop of sarcasm. And it pissed you off.

"Yessir, I think I do. I don't think one cigarette to help me relax every once in a while is going to hurt me." Not any more than the constant infusion of Jack Daniels is hurting you, you wanted to point out, but you were not stupid enough to say that out loud.

He stared at you a little bit longer. Maybe thinking you're old enough to make your own decisions, but more likely thinking you dumbass, I don't even know what to do with you. Finally he said "All right, if you think you've got this situation under control, let's see how that works out for you. But don't let Sam see you doing it. You know how the kid looks up to you."

You replayed every word in your mind, looking for the command. It wasn't there. "So you're not telling me to stop?"

"Would it matter if I did?"

That felt like a trap, and you didn't answer.

He didn't mention it again, and didn't see you smoking again, until a couple of months later. You'd successfully cleaned out a pack of ghouls with some friends of his (no, not friends, associates; John Winchester didn't really make friends), and when Ripley pulled out a Marlboro and then waved his pack at you, you took one. Your father watched and scowled and didn't say a word.

But later, when you were in the car for the long drive back to the motel, something clicked. Or snapped. Because you were almost eighteen years old, you'd been hunting monsters since you were barely old enough to jack off, you were younger than all the guys you'd hunted with tonight and still better than most of them, and you'd just killed your first ghoul. And he didn't say good job, Dean or I'm proud of you or anything. He just bitchfaced about your smoking. And you'd had enough. You drank like a man and fucked like a man and hunted like a man and you weren't going to hide cigarettes from your Daddy like a little boy any more.

You reached into your jacket pocket and pulled out the half-empty pack that had been stashed in there for a couple of weeks. And this time you didn't expect it at all, so you jumped when your father slapped the cigarette out of your hand.

"Not in my car," he snapped.

"Jesus, Dad," you said, embarrassed. "Chill out. All you gotta do is ask."

"No, I don't have to ask," he growled. "I'm telling you. Not in my car."

A couple of miles went by before he spoke again. "Dean," he said, "I know you're going to do what you want to do, when I'm not around. I just want to make sure you're making an informed decision. You know what smoking is going to do to you, right?"

"What," you said, "give me lung cancer? Like I'm gonna live long enough to worry about that?"

He sighed. "Yes, I do hope you live long enough to worry about that. But I'm not talking about lung cancer. I'm not talking about long term. I'm talking about right now. The way it affects your lungs. Do you think shortness of breath is an advantage for a hunter?"

"Didn't seem to hurt Ripley."

"Oh, Ripley." His lip curled. "So that's your goal, then? To be as good a hunter as Ripley?"

You wanted to scream that it was so fucking unfair, that you'd done every goddamn thing the man ever wanted. That you were already better than Ripley and most other hunters and the world wasn't going to end if he loosened the reins just the tiniest bit. You wanted to ask him if he was ever going to be satisfied, if you were ever going to be enough.

You didn't. You tucked the half-empty pack back into your pocket and rode silently back to the motel.

. . .

And now it's the next morning. There's no post-hunt day off, no downtime, as usual. Your father barks a reveille at o'dark thirty, and by the time the sun comes up you're shivering on an empty high school football practice field. Sam peers up at you through messy bangs, silently questioning. You shrug.

"Sam?" Dad asks. "How fast can a black dog run?"

Sam looks pleased that today's training includes a mental component, since that's the only way he ever comes out on top. "They've been clocked at twenty miles an hour," he says. "Maybe up to twenty-five. For short bursts, anyway. Not long distance."

"So let's say twenty miles an hour. Convert that to yards per second."

Sam gives him a puzzled look, then closes his eyes and furiously calculates in his head. "Um… ten. Almost ten yards per second."

"Good job." Sam practically glows in the wake of Dad's faint praise. "Okay, Dean, your turn. Couple laps around the field. Fast."

Fine. You sprint down the field, legs and arms pumping, watching Dad and Sam out of the corner of your eye. They're still standing at the edge of the field, talking. Well, Dad's talking. Sam is listening. Your brother reaches out to high-five you as you pass. The little shit's in a good mood after getting to show off his mathlete skills.

You circle the field again, fast, because you're not going to give the old man a reason to bitch at you, to give you the disappointed turned-down mouth and the narrowed you've failed me eyes. At the end of your second lap you pull up, sweaty and out of breath, ignoring the stitch in your side.

Your father gives you an enigmatic smile. "You doing okay, son?"

"Yessir."

"All right. Stay here for a sec." He puts his hand on Sam's back and steers him down the field. "Here's the scenario," he calls, when they stop. "Your brother's 30 yards away from you. His leg is broken, so he can't run. And there's a black dog 40 yards away from him, about to pounce. You're out of ammo, so you have to take it down with a knife. So you've got to get to Sam before the black dog does."

Forty yards. Four seconds. Motherfucker.

He looks at his watch and barks "go!" and for a moment you think you might be able to do it. Maybe if you'd already been in motion, you would have had a chance. But you can't sprint forty yards in four seconds from a standstill. You just can't. Even if you hadn't been out of breath to start with, it would have been difficult. You're still almost ten yards away when your father grabs Sam from behind. Sam shrieks with laughter (it's a happy noise, you tell your panicky lizard brain, a happy noise, goddammit) and his skinny legs go flying as Dad spins him away from you, out of reach.

You pull up and lean over with your hands braced on your knees, acting like you're stretching, because you don't want to look up into your father's smug smile.

"Okay, Sam," he says, "your turn. Two laps. Go."

When your brother is out of hearing range, you straighten up and try to force yourself to breathe normally. When you can speak, it comes out in short bursts.

"You know that's… a bunch of crap… right?"

"What's that, son?" he says mildly, his eyes following Sam down the field.

"The smoking's got nothing to do with… with me being out of breath right now… I hardly smoke at all… it takes me the better part of a month to finish a pack… and that's gonna bring me down like, one percent, tops… and me reducing my lung capacity by one percent isn't gonna affect anything… I couldn't have got to him in time… smoking or not."

"That's true," he says, turning to you. "Sometimes even a hundred percent isn't enough. And most days, it won’t matter. Most days, ninety-nine percent is going to do the job. But one day you're going to need a hundred percent. And you never know when that day's gonna come, Dean. So, is tomorrow gonna be a ninety-nine percent day? Are you ready to bet your life on it? My life?" He turns to look at Sam, loping back up the field toward you. "His life? Something happens to him, it's gonna be bad enough knowing you couldn't have stopped it. How's it gonna feel knowing you could have?"

You don't have an answer for that, but your father's not waiting for one. "Sam!" he yells. "Kick it into gear the rest of the way! You're in a sprint, not a marathon!" Sam ducks his head and runs, slender arms and legs frantically churning as if something dark is snarling at his heels.

. . .

(Tonight, in your nightmares, you'll be unable to breathe, running slow and sluggish like you're pushing through chest-deep water, like you’re drowning in Vaseline. You'll watch helplessly as Sam falls, screaming, taken down by something dark, something snarling, something hungry with fangs and claws. You'll wake with a pained gasp and flush the last of the cigarettes down the toilet. You’ll spend half an hour silently watching your little brother sleep, still hearing him scream your name. And you'll know you're a failure, you let everyone down; you can never, will never be enough. )

(And the next day, you’ll go out and try anyway.)

~ ~ ~ ~

The title is from Vasoline by Stone Temple Pilots, but the actual product is spelled Vaseline and therefore I insist on spelling it that way.

#my fic #spn #sam winchester #dean winchester #john winchester #pre series #angst #as usual

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laynavile · 4 years

Note

Hi! Heard prompts were open and I'm a bit obsessed with spideypool and their dynamics and your writing is sooo good, so I was wondering if you could write about them with maybe some roleplaying?) it can be any kind you want, make it as kinky as you want to, just pls with Peter as a bottom (I honestly can't see him as anything but) thank you so much for taking the time to take request!

First of thank you so much for the prompt, secondly 🥺🥺 thank you so much for thinking my writing is sooo good.

As soon as I read "roleplay" my brain said doctor/patient 🤷 I wrote over 2k for this prompt then scrapped it--I still have it for another time, maybe--and I rewrote it all.

Warnings : Doctor/Patient Roleplay, Size Kink (only a dash though), Come Eating (kinda? Like Wade licks Peter clean after)

Also posted on ao3 - Dr. Wilson will see you now

Enjoy 😌

"The doctor will see you now." Peter resists the urge to giggle at the silly voice Wade uses--this isn't supposed to be silly, it's supposed to be sexy.

Peter stands up from the sofa and walks down the hallway towards their bedroom, the door is open and everything looks so bright inside. The blankets have been stripped from the bed, all that's left is a single pillow--Peter had requested it be Wade's pillow so he could smell him--in a white pillowcase and a soft white fitted sheet and top sheet. If it weren't for the fact that the bed is king sized or the dresser and bedside tables--Peter could believe it was an exam room, maybe.

Wade isn't in the room, having ducked into the bathroom before Peter started down the hall, "Change into the gown and sit on the bed please, and the doctor will be in shortly." Wade half yells in that silly voice again.

Peter strips out of his jeans and t-shirt, leaving his boxers and socks on before pulling the hospital gown on, he feel a little weird--part of him is nervous, he's never really liked hospitals or doctors, another part feels silly because this all seems a little ridiculous, but mostly there is a nervous excitement pooling in his belly. He sits on the edge of the bed and waits for Dr. Wilson.

He sits there for maybe two minutes before Wade walks in. He has on a long white lab coat, a pair of dark red scrubs complete with a stethoscope around his neck--it's real too, Wade has instead on getting the real deal no matter the cost.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Parker, how are you doing today?" No more silly voice, just his normal voice if not a smidge deeper though.

"Hello, Dr. Wilson, I'm doing okay, just need my sports physical done for school, I really want to run track this year."

Wade puts on a pair of blue nitrile gloves, "Let's get to it then." He places the stethoscope onto Peter's back, "Take a couple deep breaths for me."

Peter breathes in and out a few times before Wade moves the stethoscope around on his back then to his chest. "Lungs and heart sound good."

Wade had purchased a whole set of doctors tools--a percussion hammer, an otoscope, laryngeal mirror, an opthalmoscope, a thermometer and a sphygmomanometer. Peter had asked how and why the hell he had purchased all of them and didn't even want to know how much Wade had paid for them to play. Wade had assured him the cost didn't matter and he wanted everything to be authentic.

Wade checks Peter's temperature next, then looks into his eyes--the whole time Peter can't stop thinking about how Wade has no fucking clue what he's even looking for--he checks Peter's ears and then his throat. "Hmm, I think I'm going to need to perform another test on your throat, seems a little tight in there, need to make sure nothing is swollen." Peter almost laughs.

Gloved fingers trail up Peter's calf and onto his thigh, before moving back down to his knee, "I need you to stay still for me, so I can check your reflexes." Wade picks up the percussion hammer and when Peter least expects it taps his knee, "Excellent." He does the same to the other knee.

Wade takes Peter's blood pressure and he almost complains then--those fucking cuffs get tight.

"I need you to remove your underwear now please, I need to perform a testicular exam as well as a prostate exam."

"Are those necessary for a sports physical?" They'd talked about this, about how it would become sexual and how Wade wanted Peter to ask questions and be apprehensive about the below the belt portion of the exam.

"Absolutely, we need to be sure there are no abnormalities, an unhealthy prostate can lead to urinary issues." And Peter knows that's actually true, he also knows that there is nothing wrong with any part of his body--another perk from the radioactive spider bite, he doesn't get sick.

"You are the doctor and you know best so I guess it's okay." Wade steps back and let's Peter stand. He pulls his underwear down, letting them slip down his legs onto the floor.

"Thank you, now if you would I need you to lie down on your back."

Peter's stomach churns as he lays down, he can smell Wade on the pillow and that comforts him. "Like this?" He asks softly.

"Just like that." Wade's gloved fingers touch his thigh first, sliding upward towards his soft cock. The gloves feel strange--foreign against the skin of his balls, Wade holds them between his fingers, pressing softly, rolling them in his hand. "Feels normal."

He traces the head of Peter's cock with one finger tip and hums.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong, no need to worry, I just need to see." He lifts the gown, folding it up and over onto Peter's belly when the cool air of the apartment touches his cock, he shivers.

Wade takes Peter's soft shaft into his hand, fingers wrapped around it, "Tell me, Mr. Parker, have you experienced any difficulty in getting an erection?"

"No, not at all, but Dr. Wilson, what does that have to do with running track?"

"Sexual health is important, you're young, still developing, we need to make sure everything is working." Wade pauses, looks into Peter's eyes, silently asking if he's okay, Peter nods and Wade continues, "I'm going to need a semen sample."

"Y-you want me to jerk off?" He feigns confusion.

"If you'd rather, otherwise I can stimulate you and collect the sample that way."

"You want to do that? I-is that something you can do?" Peter's cock twitches in Wade's hand.

"After the prostate exam, if you'd like me too."

Peter blushes--he's not embarrassed to be doing this with Wade, he's embarrassed because they sound like a cheesy, bad porno. "Thank you, Dr. Wilson, that would be very helpful."

Wade smiles, and reaches over to the bedside table to grab something Peter hadn't noticed before, a white and blue tube of surgical lube. "I need you to bend your knees, feet flat onto the bed, and let your legs fall open naturally."

Peter moves, he feels so exposed to Wade, it excites him.

He squirts a small amount of the lube onto one of his gloved fingers, he rubs the lube against Peter's hole, before applying more lube to two of his fingers. "Try to relax, breathe slowly and evenly." He presses the tip of one finger inside Peter's tight hole.

He tries so hard to relax, but it feels so good and Wade has barely even penetrated him yet. His cock instantly begins to fill.

"Perfectly natural reaction." Wade says as he slides his finger further into Peter--he knows how much Peter can take and how quickly--after a few moments of adjusting Wade begins to work his second finger inside Peter.

He whines, totally involuntarily. "Tell me, Mr. Parker, are turned on by anal penetration?"

"Yes." He whispers.

“Can I tell you a secret, Mr. Parker?”

“Uh, sure.” He says, voice cracking slightly when Wade touches his prostate.

“It turns me on too, especially when I’ve got a gorgeous twink like you beneath me.”

Peter gasps, in fake shock but more so from the pressure Wade is applying to his prostate, his thumb pressing against Peter’s perineum. “Dr. Wilson, i-is that an appropriate thing to say to your patient?”

“Probably not, no, but I think you like it. Just look at how hard you are.” He picks the lube up with his free hand popping the flip cap and squeezing it directly onto Peter’s throbbing, drooling cock. He wraps his gloved fingers around Peter’s shaft--Peter’s hips jerk up chasing friction.

Wade pumps his fingers in and out, alternating between applying lighter and harder pressure against his prostate. Peter gets progressively louder the longer Wade strokes his cock, and fucks him with his fingers. “Mr. Parker I think we need to find a way to occupy your mouth, you’re getting a bit loud, we wouldn’t want to draw anyone’s attention, now would we? You’re liking this too much to stop now.”

Peter bears down on Wade’s fingers, hips jerking, “No, no, please don’t stop, Dr. Wilson. I can be quiet, I promise.” Peter begs, he doesn’t want Wade to stop.

“Next time you get loud, I’m gonna have to shove something in your mouth, Mr. Parker.”

This too is something they’d talked about, they both love when the other gets loud, they want to hear all the noises, but in this specific scene, Wade had suggested maybe they keep quieter, pretend there were other people in the office that could hear them and catch them--Peter had never really thought of himself as an exhibitionist, but the simple idea of other people hearing them, seeing them, catching them, turned him on more than he thought possible.

“I’ll be good, I promise, Dr. Wilson, oh, oh, fuck.” Peter tries so hard to stay quiet, but Wade is just too good, he knows exactly how to touch Peter to get him off. Peter practically writhes. He loses it when Wade pushes a third finger into him, his rim stretches and it burns a little, but the pressure of three fingers inside of him feels incredible. He wants more, and he wants it now, but he doesn’t want to upset Wade by ending this too quickly.

“Mr. Parker, what did I say?” Wade releases his cock, and pulls his fingers out of Peter, his hole clenches over and over trying to close onto something solid again.

“No, no, I’m sorry.”

Wade pulls the gloves off and tosses them, they land somewhere on the floor. He pulls his scrub pants down just enough that his cock springs free, Peter practically drools at the sight--Wade is big, like so fucking big that the first time they fucked Peter was convinced it was never going to fit, now he can get Wade’s entire cock down his throat. But it’s not just Wade’s size that makes Peter drool--a lot of people are turned off by Wade’s scars and while Peter isn’t fetishizing them, he finds them sexy, and it’s not just the way they make his skin look so unique, it’s the feeling of them, everyone always seems to think Wade’s scars will be rough and flaky or whatever, and yeah there are days where his skin gets extra dry and can crack and bleed and hurt really bad, but most days his skin is so soft, like silky almost, they’re raised up enough that Peter feels them constantly when they’re having sex and he loves it. Wade is always so self-conscious about them, Peter always tells him how beautiful he is, how handsome, how incredibly sexy.

Wade climbs onto the bed with Peter, next to his head, he nudges his cock head against Peter’s lips, leaving pearlescent smudges. “Open up, Mr. Parker.”

Peter’s lips part, Wade feeds his cock into Peter’s willing mouth. His tongue swirls around the head as it passes over his tongue.

When the head of his cock touches the back of Peter’s throat and he doesn’t gag, Wade praises him, “Good, very good, Mr. Parker. I don’t know why I was ever worried there might be something wrong with your mouth or throat.”

Peter doesn’t want to stop this, he really doesn’t but he’s getting impatient--he wants dicked down, and he wants it now.

Peter pushes Wade back, his cock pops out of Peter’s mouth--a string of saliva connects his lip to the tip. “Fuck, fuck, Wade, I’m sorry, chicken salad.”

They’d agreed on an outrageous safe word for this specific scene, normally they just used the colors, but for this they’d decided to have a different word as well to signify that they wanted to end the specific scenario but not end the sex.

Wade backs off, “No, baby boy, no need to apologize. That’s what the word is for, you okay though? Color?”

“Green, Wade, so fucking green. I need you to fuck me now.”

Wade kisses him before moving to strip, Peter grabs his wrist, stopping him.

“What are you doing, get your cock back here and fuck me.”

“Lemme get naked, Webs.”

“Nuh-uh. Just because I wanted to stop, doesn’t mean I want you to take the outfit off, it’s hot on you, besides, I sorta really wanna ruin it.”

“Say no more, baby boy.” Wade climbs between Peter’s legs, kneeling with his thighs on his calves, he pulls Peter down to him, lifting his legs up over Wade’s thighs to wrap around his hips. He grabs the surgical lube, spreading it over his spit slick cock.

“Hurry up.”

“Don’t rush perfection, baby boy.” Wade pushes inside and both moan.

Peter immediately starts trying to fuck himself down onto Wade’s cock, Wade grabs his hips, pulling him and pushing him--rhythm the opposite of his thrusts so that he never truly pulls out of Peter.

“Fuck, Wade.” Peter grabs at Wade, blunt fingernails bite into the muscular flesh of Wade’s biceps.

Wade’s thrusts become a bit erratic--he’s going to come, Peter’s sure of it.

“Come on, Wade, gimme your cum, fill me up.” He bears down. One of Peter’s hands leaves Wade’s bicep, to wrap around his neglected cock, his strokes are lazy and slow, he wants to feel Wade’s cum, hot inside of him before he orgams.

One, two, three, five, six, seven, ten, eleven, twelve, on the thirteenth thrust, Wade pushes in deep--he’s coming. Peter can feel it, hot and wet inside of him. Wade moans out a mixture of Peter’s name and fuck.

Peter starts stroking faster, Wade stills for a moment before picking up speed again, fucking into Peter quick and hard.

“Ah, ah, Wade, ‘m gonna come, fuck.” Peter’s thumb swipes across the head of his cock, he squeezes lightly, the first spurt makes it all the way to his chest. When all is said and done his hand and lower belly are quite messy. Wade hasn’t stopped thrusting, though now the movements are very small, he takes Peter’s messy hand into his own and begins licking it clean. Once his hand is sufficiently cleaned off, Wade slowly slides out of Peter, then down onto the bed, licking Peter’s chest and belly clean. He moves lower, gentle little kitten licks on the head of Peter’s spent cock, then lower still to Peter’s aching, puffy, hole--he laps hungrily at his spunk as it leaks out of Peter. He eases his tongue inside, making sure to get it all. Peter trembles beneath him, moaning half pleasured, half pained.

Wade sits up, looks at Peter, licks his lips, “Love you, baby boy.”

“Love you too, Wade, now get naked, and cuddle me.” Peter is somewhat grateful the hospital gown Wade had purchased was one with just ties on the back, he slips out of it easily.

Wade climbs off the bed, nearly falling flat on his face, he drops the lab coat to the floor, pulls the scrub top over his head and tosses it, he pushes the scrub pants down his legs and steps out of them. He crosses the room and pulls open one of the dresser drawers and pulls out a fleece blanket, he grabs Peter’s pillow from the chair in the corner and goes back to the bed, he lays Peter’s pillow next to his own, he lays down and drapes the blanket over them both. Peter snuggles up to him laying his head on Wade’s chest and yawns.

“Aw, did I tucker you out, Webs?”

Peter laughs, and yawns again. “I think so, doctor.”

Wade laughs before kissing the top of Peter’s head. “Get some rest, baby boy. Doctor’s orders.”

He’s just starting to fall asleep when suddenly, “Oh, shit, Wade, did I pass my sports physical?”

"Sure, baby, you passed."

"Good, oh and next time, I get be the doctor." Peter laughs, sleepily.

Wanna send me a prompt? Check my pinned post for details.

One more thing if anyone can figure out where the safe word came from, I will love you forever 😂

And a word of warning, I know fuck all about medical stuff so like quite inaccurate on that front, though all the tools mentioned are real, I did a little research.

#alayna answers #anon answered #alayna writes #spideypool #doctor/patient #roleplay #size kink #come eating #nff #alayna is taking prompts #will be posted on ao3 once i think of a title #as always no beta so all mistakes are my own

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nicolewoo · 4 years

Text

All Along

Pairing: Joe Anoa’i X Reader, Roman Reigns X Reader

Warning: Talk of sex and an erection. Lots of cussing

I had been moved up to Smackdown a couple months ago. Becky was super excited to see me. We'd wrestled in Canada together years ago and had become great friends. Becky made it so easy to get to know everyone. She spent most of her time with Seth (I still wasn't used to calling him Colby), which meant that Joe (Roman) and I spent a lot of time together. We bonded almost immediately and were practically inseparable. When we weren't busy, you could always find us together. We were becoming the best of friends. We ate together, we hung out together, we were always hugging, touching and tickling each other. Most of the talent at WWE was physically affectionate, especially Joe who flirted with everyone, so I never thought anything of it.

When Smackdown ended up in Tampa for the Thanksgiving break, the four of us decided to host Thanksgiving at Joe's house for anyone who wasn't going home. That was about 25 people. Joe invited Colby, Becky and I to stay at his house. I offered to cook the meal, but since I was the only one who knew how to make Thanksgiving dinner, I was going to end up doing all the work. Joe decided that I deserve to relax and ordered dinner from a restaurant.

Everyone had a great time, laughing and joking. It warmed my heart to be able to host people who had nowhere to go for the holiday. Joe commented on it too. “We did good.” He said as he wrapped an arm around my waist and I nodded in agreement. Even though we ate at 4, guests stayed long into the night. Once the guests left, we began cleaning up the kitchen. I was putting the last of the dishes in the dishwasher, while the four of us talked.

Joe was on other side of kitchen, leaning over an butcher-block island nursing a scotch he'd poured a while ago. Colby and Becky sat on kitchen stools picking at he turkey leftovers before we put them away. Joe was telling the most embarrassing Colby stories he could think of, so Becky and I could hear.

“So we're sneaking into the arena late, because this dingbat had to order his double fluffy chai, soy, whatever coffee. We were trying not to get caught. All of a sudden, we turn the corner and Colby sees Vince. He freaks out and spills his fancy coffee drink all down my back.”

“Wait Wait Wait!” Colby stopped him. You can't blame that on me.” He turned to Becky and said, “There was a cat that darted out in front of me.”

“Yeah right! Nobody else saw a cat.” Roman said as he sipped his drink. “You were just scared of Vince.”

Colby protested, “I was not!”

“Either way,” Joe continued, “So now, I'm supposed to go in the ring to do this promo, but it flat out looks like I shit myself.”

At that, Becky broke into laughter and backhanded Colby in the stomach. “No!”

Colby joined in, “Dean just about fell over laughing. He's pointing at Joe's pants and saying it 'looks like you pooped yourself' over and over again.”

Joe chuckled, “Hey, that ended up working out in our favor. Vince got so concerned about finding me clean clothes, he never realized we were late.”

“You're kidding.” I chimed in.

“Nope.” Said Colby. “We got off lucky.” He emptied his glass of wine. “I'm going to go get another glass. Does anyone want anything?”

“I'll go with you,” Becky said.

That left just Joe and I in the kitchen. He looked at me for a minute still smiling from the story he'd just told. Then there was a dead moment in the conversation.

“I don't know how to start this dishwasher.” I said.

“I'll get it.” He came over and hit a few buttons and the woosh of the machine began. Joe turned around and leaned against the counter next to me. He put his arm around my waist and I leaned my head onto his shoulder.

“This was a fantastic idea. I think everyone had a great time.” He said softly to me.

“Yeah,” I agreed.

“Thanks for helping me host it. I couldn't have done it without you.” As a thank you, he pressed a kiss onto the top of my head.

I picked my head back up and looked at him. “Oh, you could have done it yourself.” I assured him.

He smiled big, turned to me and placed his hand on my cheek. “It wouldn't have been the same without you.” He paused for a second and his voice quieted down to almost a whisper. “I'm really happy you came to Smackdown. I appreciate your friendship so much.” His smile faded, and was replaced with an expression I'd never seen from him. Tentatively, he grazed his thumb over my cheek and brushed my lips with it, his eyes watching it trail over my lip.

In that instance, I panicked. Was this what I thought it was? Dare I hope? Joe's friendship meant so much to me, but I couldn't deny the ever growing attraction I had for him. I was trying desperately to figure out what to do when his thumb stopped on my bottom lip and pressed downward so my lips parted. He ran his thumb over my lip again the pad of it now covering the whole lip and leaving a trail of heat behind it.

“Joe,” I started to say, but before I could talk, he leaned in and pressed the most gentle, loving kiss on my lips. It took my breath away. He pulled back and looked at me. When he took a deep breath, I knew the kiss had affected him as much as it did me. I leaned in and kissed him, longer this time. His arms circled around my waist as I ran my hands over his back.

We both pulled away for a second, searching each other's eyes, trying to gauge how the other felt. When Joe leaned in again, it wasn't a soft gentle kiss. It was hot, passionate and full of need. My body blazed at the feel of him against me. I parted my mouth, and he slid his tongue in. He tasted so good. He moaned as he deepened the kiss more, his right hand going into my hair, his body began pressing me up against the counter. I was overcome by desire, and I pressed harder against him trying to get closer.

We heard Becky's laugh and pulled apart from each other. Joe had a second to look into my eyes before Colby and Becky came in. When they did, he was beside me against the counter as if nothing had happened.

Everything in me was on fire, and I was sure they would notice the tension between Joe and me, but Becks was in the middle of a story when they came in. I looked over at Joe who was still a little breathless. I noticed his hand gently brush his pants to adjust to his semi-hard penis. I smirked at him and he smiled back.

“Guys, I'm beat.” Becky began. “Do you need any more help?” she asked.

Both of us tried to answer at the same time. “No.” he said at the same time I said “We've got this.”

“You two are hanging out together too much. You're starting to think alike,” Colby joked.

“I'm tired too.” Joe added. “I think I'll be right behind you.” He said as they bid us goodnight.

We listened as they walked away. I waited until I was sure they couldn't hear us. “Joe. What....” I started, but he turned to me and held me pressing his forehead to mine. His jaw tensed as he tried to fight his desire.

“I'm sorry. I....” He trailed off.

I placed my hand to his cheek as I pulled back a tiny bit to look into his eyes. I smiled at him warmly. “It's ok.”

“I can't hide my feelings any longer.” He kissed me again. “I'm crazy about you. I have been since the minute I saw you.” He whispered, his lips still on mine.

"Why didn't you tell me?”

“I didn't want to ruin our friendship.” He said lovingly. “What if you hadn't felt the same way?”

“But I do,” I looked up at him. “I have all along.”

That brought the biggest smile to his face, and that made me smile big too. He kissed me again, then wrapped me in a giant bear hug. Joe's hugs always made me feel so safe and so warm. “I'm so happy, baby girl.”

The pet name made me smile bigger. “Sooooooo what now?” I asked.

He was grinning ear to ear. “I don't know, but I really am tired. Maybe we should sleep on it.”

“I'm tired too.” I answered.

“Then why don't we go to bed.... separately, and figure out what the next step is tomorrow after Colby and Becky leave?” He smoothed a hand over my back.

I nodded. “That sounds great.”

Joe kissed me one more time as we paused in front of my bedroom door. “Night baby girl.”

“Goodnight.”

I went to bed with the hugest smile on my face. I couldn't believe all this time Joe liked me. I mean yeah, he flirted with me, but he flirted with everyone. My mind thought back to every hug, every time he held my hand, every time we'd snuggled together watching a movie...... all of the time we'd spent together trying not to let the other know how we felt. Wasted time. And now... now that I know... now that he knows.... He's just a few feet away from me. If I go to his room now, what would happen? What did I want to happen? What would he want to happen? My brain wouldn't stop churning, no matter how tired my body was.

I slipped out of bed and paced my room for a minute; considering my options. If I did sneak into his room, I'd probably find him asleep. I could just curl up into his arms. Colby and Becky wouldn't have to know I was in there. I could slip back into my room before they saw me.

My body yearned for him, and my heart yearned too. I wanted to feel him beside me. Would I be able to just snuggle with him now that I know how he feels? What would he think if he woke up? Question after question rolled through my head, and I didn't have answers. I knew only one thing. I wanted to be close to him. I needed to be close to him. I slipped out of my bedroom and went to his. I expected to find him sound asleep snoring, but instead, the second I opened the door, he shot up in bed. He'd been awake too.

“Come here.” He said and pulled the covers back. I snuggled into his arms.

“I couldn't sleep. I wanted to be near you so bad.”

He smoothed his hand down my back. “Me too. I wasn't sure if I should go to you or not. I'm glad you came here.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Let's go to sleep.” I could feel his body relax in a matter of seconds and soon after, I heard a slight snore. I snuggled closer and fell asleep on his shoulder.

————————————————————————

A knock on the door woke us. I opened my eyes adjusting to being in Joe's bed. He smiled at me. “Lay flat.” He whispered with a giggle on his lips. He threw the covers over me and bunched them up a bit to hide me. Then he stuck a pillow over my head, causing us both to giggle more.

“Yeah,” Joe called out to the person at the door.

“Hey,” It was Colby. “Have you see Y/N? She's not in her room.” he asked peaking his head in the door. “Becks and I wanted to let her use the bathroom before we showered.”

“Nah, man. Maybe she went for a walk or something.” Joe said smoothing his hand over his face. I did my best to lay perfectly still.

Colby obviously didn't think there was any chance I was with Joe, and he didn't look for me me in the darkened room, so he didn't notice the lump in Joe's bed.

“She can use my bathroom if she needs it.” Joe replied. “Go ahead and shower.”

“Thanks man.” Colby quickly exited.

Once he was gone, I flung the pillow off my face and into Joe's. “What do you think you're doing, baby girl?” He quirked an eyebrow as he laid next to me. We both broke out in laughter; trying to stay quiet. He leaned in for a sweet kiss, a chuckle still on his mouth. “Good morning. How did you sleep?”

I stretched my legs out, “Once I came in here, I slept well. How about you?”

“Exactly the same here.” He smiled and kissed me again. “We should try to sneak you back to your room before Colby and Becks get done with their showers.”

I snuggled closer to Joe's chest. “I don't want to leave this bed. EVER.”

I expected another chuckle, but instead he hooked a finger under my chin and raised my face to look at him. “I don't either. Trust me! but we should.” He kissed the tip of my nose.

He was right. I knew that, but I wasn't going to leave his bed without one last kiss. I looked into his big brown eyes and ran my fingers through his hair as I moved toward him for a kiss. He leaned in and placed a sweet, tender kiss on my lips that quickly turned into something much deeper, much warmer, much more passionate. I ignored the feeling of his growing appendage as it brushed my thigh.

“I gotta stop.” He pulled away breathing heavily. He paused to catch his breath. “Can we have lunch here today? Take some time to talk?” He asked. I agreed, and he got up. Throwing a shirt on, he asked, “What are you going to tell them?” He nodded toward Colby and Becky's room.

I had already thought it out. “If I can get back to my room, I'll get dressed quickly and say I just got back from running errands.”

“So we're going to start lying to our friends?” He quirked an eyebrow and I felt a pang of guilt. My friends knew I hated lying. I detested it.

“Joe,” I got up and wrapped my arms around him. “Just for a few hours until we can talk. After we talk, I've got no trouble telling Colby and Becks about this.”

“Good point.” He placed his forehead to mine. “Meet you here at noon?” I agreed.

He brushed some hair behind my shoulder. “Go get ready, baby girl, before they are out of the shower.” He peeked out the door and confirmed the hallway was empty. I quickly slipped out of his room into mine.

———————————————————————

After working out, coming back to his house and showering, Joe and I finally settled down to eat and talk. There were a few awkward moments as we tried to figure out what to say.

“I... uh... like I said last night, I'm crazy about you. I want to be together with you.” He looked unsure of how to continue.

“What do you mean “together with” me?” It was a fair question. “Are we talking about sex, a relationship or what?”

“No. Not sex.. well, yeah, I want to have sex with you....” He looked down at the floor but peeked up at me. “I mean in time...uh....” He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck “when we're ready, but I want to date you.” He finally said.

That brought a smile to my lips and he perked up a bit, looking less scared. “I want that too.” I agreed.

He reached his hand across the table and held mine. “Do..... do we tell other people?” he asked.

I thought for a second before deciding, “We don't lie.” He smiled again. “Let's just go on like we are, and if someone asks, we tell the truth.”

“Baby, I get asked if we're dating ALLLLL the time.” He smirked at me. “It doesn’t help that I can’t keep my hands off you.”

I thought I saw a hint of a blush cross his face. “Do you want to handle this another way?”

“No. I'm just sayin'. If we do it your way, the whole roster will know by the second match.” He chuckled. “I seriously get asked all the time.”

“Babe, would you say we're best friends?” I asked.

“You know it, sweetheart.” He looked questioningly at me. “Why?”

“Well, if someone asks, and you don't want to talk about our relationship, you can truthfully tell them that we are best friends.” I smiled warmly at him as I ran my thumb over his knuckles.

“Good idea.” He said smiling warmly at me. “We're going to have to tell Colby and Becks though. You know that? After the show tonight?” He asked and I agreed. He got up from his seat and came to my side. “Are you done eating?” He reached for my mostly empty plate.

“Yeah. I'm full.” I answered.

He took both of our plates to the kitchen counter and came back to grab my hand. “Feel like watching a movie?”

“That sounds great.” I answered, standing up and letting him lead me to the couch. We snuggled close as we always did, but this time it felt so much more meaningful. It wasn't unusual for us to kiss each other's hands, cheeks, temples, but this time, I got to kiss his lips... the lips I'd thought of kissing so many times before. Each kiss though started a fire in me that was hard to suppress. In time... when we're ready he'd said earlier, and he was right. We had to wait until we were both ready.... no matter how much my body ached for him.

—————————————————————————

Becky stood with her arms crossed in front of her. She had a puzzled look on her face as she stared first at Joe and then at me. “What happened after we went to bed last night?”

“Nothing.” I answered with a straight face. “Why?”

“Well, for starters, you weren't in your room this morning. Now you told me you were running errands,” she began pacing a bit, tapping her finger on her bottom lip like she was a detective at Scotland Yard about to reveal the murderer in an old movie. “but I know that you would rather have a tooth pulled than to go shopping on Black Friday. Then we get here and you two are acting all weird.” She looked to Colby who shook his head in agreement.

“Weird? How are we acting weird?” Joe asked trying to hide a smirk.

“Normally you two can't keep your hands off each other. You're always hugging or snuggling....”

Colby chimed in. “But today... I don't think I've seen you two touch at all.” He looked back at Becky prodding her to agree.

She confirmed that we hadn’t touched. “Did you two have a fight or something?” Becky asked.

“No. We're good.” I couldn't hold my smile back as much as I wanted.

“OH HOHOHOHO!” Becky proclaimed when she saw my smile. She turned to Colby. “I know what's going on here. They finally fucked.”

Colby's eyes got wide in realization as mine got wide in embarrassment. “FINALLY!” He said.

“No!” Roman nearly yelled. “It's not like that.” He said standing to come to me. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me sweetly. “No. I just couldn't hide my feelings for her any longer.” He looked deep in my eyes. After a second, Colby's proclamation registered in his head, and he turned to his friend. “What do you mean by 'Finally'?”

“The whole company's been waiting for you two to get your heads out of your asses and admit you like each other.” Colby said nonchalantly as he started digging through his bag for something. “Wait!” He turned his gaze to me. “Were you in Ro's room this morning?” I didn't have to answer, because of the shit eating grin on both Joe and my faces. “Where were you?” He asked me.

“Next to me in bed. I covered her up with pillows.” Joe admitted.

“So, you lied to us?” Colby looked upset and Becky looked flat out mad.

“We weren't ready to tell you guys, because we hadn't had time to talk about it.” Roman tried to calm them.

“You didn't have time?” Becks asked. “How about the hours you guys spent in bed together?”

“Becks... listen... nothing happened. We both fell asleep about 5 minutes after I climbed into his bed. We decided at lunch today that we wanted to be together and that we weren't going to hide anything.”

“And we decided to tell you guys tonight after the show.” Joe added. I nodded in agreement.

“Ok. Ok. Let's back this story up. What exactly happened last night?” Colby said, and Joe told him the story.

“Man, when you went to get more wine at the end of the night, I was thanking Y/N for her help, and telling her how much I appreciate her friendship.” He ran his hand over the back of his neck. “And I just couldn't stop myself. I kissed her.”

“Then you guys came back and said you were going to bed.” I continued the story. “We decided to go back to our own beds, but I couldn't sleep knowing Joe was so close, so I threw caution to the wind and went to snuggle with him, and we fell asleep.”

“So this morning when I came knocking?” Colby asked.

“Dude, we didn't even know what we were doing. We had kissed a few times and snuggled. That's it.”

Becky's stern face stared at me for a minute before she walked up to me. I half wondered if she was going to hit me, but instead, she wrapped her arm around my neck and pulled me into a giant hug. “I'm so happy for you.” She reached her hand out to grab Joe's hand. Colby came over to congratulate Joe, and we all ended up hugging.

Check out part 2 here!

#Roman Reigns Joe Anaoi

47 notes · View notes

wonderlandmind4 · 6 years

Text

Delicate Stages Chp 50

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x OFC Ana Rios

Summary: Bucky Barnes agrees to participate in Deprogramming Sessions. What he gets is not anything like he expected.

Warnings: Language. Blood. Aftermath. Hospitals. Trauma. Some fluff, some angst. I’m sorry.

Words: 8k+ @justreadingfics @nerdyandproud9

A scorching hot sensation pulls Bucky back from the darkness of his mind. His eyes snap open. An excruciating amount of pain ignites his left side, so horrible, he dazedly wonders if it's truly happening. He grits his teeth, slowly turning his head to peer at his left arm.

A flash of bright crimson against pure white snow stabs through his mind as he stares at nothing. His entire arm is gone; just a broken, shredded stump of what remains. The frays glow orange and red, radiating through every nerve, down to his bones. He wants to rip it off, wants to claw away the rest of his shoulder but he can't. It's stuck, burning and attached to his body. His chest hurts. His stomach churns dangerously. A thought abruptly occurs to him.

Ana. Where is Ana?

Once Bucky swallows the bile rising up his throat, he slowly shifts from his back to his right side. He squints, a brilliant light stands next to him, in the form of Ana. Gold light. Bright. Powerful. Glowing. She’s glowing. Every inch of her skin emits golden bluish rays. It burns brighter in her hands, a solid beam of energy shooting from her palms.

Heated air surrounds them, sizzles and crackles, snapping vigorously. Bucky blinks away his blurry vision, inhales slowly through his nose, exhales through his mouth. He tries to regain his senses, other than feeling agony radiating from his shoulder.

Through the bars of the railing from the platform, he spots the place where Erik Woods once stood, encased in the same light coming from Ana. Woods is now on the ground, motionless, appears lifeless. With an abrupt realization, Bucky knows what is happening. Ana is draining Erik's life force from his body; she doesn’t seem to realizes what she’s doing. Her body is stiff, her muscles rigid, her face set with in goal in mind. Her eyes glitter gold. There’s no end in sight.

The illuminating glow is fading away from the bottom of her ankles, slowly crawling up her legs. Bucky immediately guesses what the diminishing light entails, and he can’t - it can’t be- he can’t lose Ana. He can’t allow her to finish killing Woods- draining his life- and he can’t allow her to do it by accidentally killing herself. Bucky reaches out, his arm shaking violently from his own trauma.

The closest part of her he can touch is her calf, his fingers gently grazing over her jeans. He can’t hold his arm up anymore, though it was enough to cease all power, the light cut off. Ana sways for a split second before she crumples to the ground like a puppet cut from strings.

Terror seizes Bucky’s heart. Ana’s skin is stark white, her eyes closed. She isn’t moving. Doesn’t even looks like she’s breathing. Two thick streams of blood escape from her nose, running down her face, the side of her cheek. No. No, no no no, this can’t be happening. She can’t be-

With one more ounce of strength, ignoring every single inch of him on fire, Bucky lifts his hand. His fingers caress her pale lips, trembling against her split lip. Ana cracks her eyes open, just two narrow slits, staring nearly lifeless at him.

"Stay with me.” He pleads desperately as his voice breaks.

Her eyes fall shut.

No. No! This can’t be real. This can’t be happening. The brightest thing in his dark world, the love of his life, can not be taken away from him. His hand is slowly being covered in her blood as he continues to trace her face, trying to wipe away the blood. Her skin is ice cold. He moves his fingers to her neck, dark bruises in the shape of fingers mar her delicate skin. Bucky doesn't feel a pulse. He doesn’t hear her heartbeat.

He doesn't realize he is screaming until something heavy grips his shoulder.

"Barnes! Bucky! Let me take her! I have to take her!"

Suddenly Ana is being lifted into red metallic arms before it takes off. Bucky follows the jets with his watery eyes, finally putting it together. Iron Man is flying Ana up to the jet. It's enough motivation to push himself up, just as someone else lands next to him. He doesn't pay any attention to them, just attempts to stand on unsteady feet, ignoring the waves of nausea crashing over him. It's not from physical pain.

"Shit, man. Let's get you up there."

The familiar voice makes Bucky finally look at the person. Sam holds his arm out, raising his eyebrows expectantly. Bucky relents gratefully, tightly grabs onto Sam's forearm. Then they're shooting up into the air, it only taking several seconds to reach the jet. Once inside, Bucky stumbles to where Agent Hill points at. He ignores every warning, every person trying to hold him back as he makes his way to the medical table where Ana lays.

Two medical personal surround her, quickly working to help. Bucky barely makes it to Ana's side, his fingers brushing over her cold knuckles, before his world goes black once more.

***

Silence stretches on for days.

The days are long, the nights longer. Tension fills the muted air, heavy, cold. Hovers over the floor, between spaces, attaches to the ceiling, lingers in windows like droplets of despair. On the final day of absolute silence, it begins to break. The wind weaves between the trees of the forest; it isn't the only sound that shatters the quiet. The dry leaves on the ground rustle. The second hand in a clock ticks. The nervous tapping spells out a rhythm. The soft thud of a rubber sole against tile. The soft beeps of a machine echo hauntingly through a room. The shuffle of movement in the distance. A hiss of fabric. A faint inhale. A low exhale.

Something begins to feel heavy, weighed down. Something begins to itch; sticky, crawling sensations. Something akin to ice begins to settle. Something like the rush of waves begin to gain clarity. Something begins to feel soft, repeated slow movements. Something flutters against a surface.

Lashes stick together. Eyes slowly open. Bright light nearly burns the retinas. A reflexive wince. A dry lump is swallowed. Stiff fingers twitch against cotton. Dull aches throb from different places. A deep inhale causes bones to protest. Pain erupts from a lower source, muscles spasm trying to accommodate injury. A tongue appears to wet dry lips.

Ana fully opens her eyes. She stares at lights that are too bright on the ceiling. Her eyes shift around what she can see of her surroundings. It isn't much, she doesn't think she can move her body yet. Everything hurts. Everything aches. A deep exhaustion is laced within her bone marrow and Ana thinks maybe she could just close her eyes and sleep forever. She doesn't, because she's utterly confused.

The last thing she can remember, when she racks through her muddled brain, is a being shielded by something. Something that protected her from a direct hit of...what? A direct hit of what? Who stopped whatever it was? Who protected her by putting their own life in harms way? Was it their own life they risked, or did Ana make that up in her mind? She can't recall.

She allows her eyes to flutter shut again, attempting to recall what had happened. She remembers light. Bright, bluish gold light. She sees a flash of sliver, gleaming as it thrust in front of her. She sees a chaotic whirl of colors. She sees the black of the ground her face was pressed to. She sees someone stagger as they try to right themselves. She sees what the flash of silver was, suddenly gone, seared with glowing embers. She sees agony on a stunned face. She sees Bucky fall to the ground.

Bucky. It was all Bucky.

A sharp gasp of air coincides with her eyes opening. She forces herself to look to her right, the space is empty. She slowly turns her head to the left. There, with his head pillowed on his arm, is Bucky. There's a slight furrow to his brow, as if he is deciphering whether he heard her gasp or not. He picks his head up a little, eyelids blinking slowly like he just woke up. It takes a moment, but clarity brightens his blue eyes.

"Oh my god." He breathes, relief sagging his body. "Ana."

He has dark bags under his eyes. His skin looks pale, clammy. His red lips are raw and bitten, trembling just slightly. His hair is messy, strands sticking out oddly. It's as if he kept pulling at the roots from stress. He looks every bit of beautiful as Ana always thought he did.

"Hi…Snowflake." Ana murmurs, voice raspy, her lips twitching with a smile.

Bucky chuckles wetly through his nose. "Hi, doll face."

He dips down to press a gentle kiss to her left shoulder. She hadn't noticed her arm is in a sling. When she looks back up from the sling, Bucky has his face pressed into the bed. Ana wants to move her hands, but her left is currently confined and when she picks up her right hand, something tugs at her skin. She doesn't have to look to know it's an IV needle. She ignores it, because Bucky is shaking. She startles with realization; his arm is missing.

"I'm so happy you're awake." He mutters into the bed. His voice is raw yet thick with tears.

Screw it. Ana moves her hand across her body to gently run her fingers through his hair. When he peaks up at her, his eyes are wet and bloodshot, several tears escaping. Ana’s heart clenches.

"Bucky."

He shakes his head, taking hold of her hand, minding the IV. "I honestly thought...I couldn't bring myself to believe...you're awake." He presses his trembling lips against her knuckles.

"I'm alright." She promises gently. "I'm right here."

"I almost lost you." He whispers, his voice cracking on the last word. His fingers tremble in her hand.

Ana gently squeezes his hand before she moves hers up to wipe away another tear that's falling down his scruffy cheek. "What about you? Your arm-"

"Don't worry about me, Ana." Bucky picks his head up, a small disbelieving smile on his lips. "How are you feeling?"

She inhales slowly. "Sore. Exhausted." Her throat is so dry and itchy.

"Are you in a lot of pain, love? The nurse was just in here, but I can call her again."

The concern etched on his face makes Ana want to lie to him. Or at least half lie. She's in a whole bunch of pain now that she's fully aware. She's still trying to ignore the sharp stinging pain in her knee, doesn't even want to move her leg because she's afraid she might scream. It hurts to breath, a dull pounding isolated to a spot on her stomach. Her left shoulder aches, and she knows enough that she had been shot; twice.

"It's tolerable." She evades.

Bucky stares at her for a beat, then he leans over to hit the call button. Ana fixates on the little black sleeve cap covering the stump of his left shoulder. If she asks about it, she knows he'll lie just as well. However, Ana saw it. She saw the excruciating pain Bucky was in before he passed out.

"What happened, Bucky?" Ana asks instead. She's still a little fuzzy on the details.

Bucky shifts his chair closer, leans over to softly kiss her temple. "What do you remember?"

"You jumped in front of me. You idiot." She sighs fondly.

"I will be an idiot everyday if it meant protecting you."

"And sappy." Her heart swells as she says it.

"Because I love you." He leans over again, this time pressing his lips tenderly against hers. It makes her heart flutter and for a moment she forgets any pain. "So much, Ana."

An onslaught of emotions abruptly crashes over her. Ana doesn't know if it's the drugs or the look in Bucky's incredible blue eyes, but she begins to cry. It starts off with one tear after the other, slipping from the corners of her eyes, sliding down her temples. Bucky frowns, eyebrows knitting together with concern. He lifts his fingers, keeping his touch delicate as he brushes her bruised skin. He wipes away the tears with his thumb, and the tender, loving touch rips a sob from her throat.

"Annie," He breathes, his tone absolutely heart wrenching.

It breaks her. Ana sobs. Every inch of her body hurts. Her stomach and shoulder throb from bullet wounds, one of which she can't even remember. It feels like hot needles are stabbing into her knee, something wrapped tight around it. Her lip and cheek ache, her neck feels tender.

Her throat is parched, either from lack of liquid or the hand crushing against her windpipe twice. She has no idea how long she has been lying in this bed, but she does realize how close she was to losing her own life. To losing Bucky.

Bucky makes soothing, hushing sounds, pressing his forehead against her temple. She attempts to calm her breathing because every heaving sob shakes her body, and pulls at the hole in her stomach. Her mind is jumbled with fragmented imagines, ones she can't piece together quiet yet, but the last thing she clearly remembers is Bucky. Just inches of his metal arm remained, glowing bright orange and red, the smell of singed metal filling her nose. It was terrifying, watching him drop to the floor and not moving, not getting up.

She may have just scolded him for protecting her, but in reality, he saved her life, and it cost him his arm, and nearly his own life. Bucky has been protecting her from the moment he came into her life. Ana couldn't even protect him from Hydra, she couldn’t protect him against the trigger words. They almost dragged him back, all because they were after her.

"Ana, baby. It's okay. You're okay." Bucky coos softly, still wiping at her tears. "You're with me, you're safe now. I swear it.”

She shakes her head. "I-I'm so s-sorry."

"Hey now, pretty, none of that. None of this was your fault. Shhh, it's okay, sweetheart."

The door opens during that moment, a nurse calmly entering the room. Ana tries to regain control over herself, her cries reaching a level of hyperventilation.

"Breathe, Annie, breathe. I've got you, you're safe." Bucky coaches, his voice incredibly soft. “I have you, my love. You’re safe with me. Just breathe.”

Following his soothing voice, his instructions, Ana starts to copy his own breathing patterns. She begins noting the details of his face, like she hasn't already memorized every little inch. From the little freckle on his forehead, to his dark stormy blue eyes, streaked with red lines. His lips are a dark pink, slightly cracked from being chewed on. His beard has grown a tad thicker, though the warmth of his skin is lacking, worn; he looks every bit of his true age. His brown hair falls by the corners of his eyes, hiding the spot where the crinkles appear when he smiles. He's not smiling now. Ana wishes to sear Bucky’s face into her memory forever.

Something begins to trickle into her veins, and she briefly thinks it's Erik Woods injecting her once more. In a surge of panic, she looks over at the nurse, just finishing up twisting the IV caps back on. The monitor next to her picks up speed in time with her racing heart, the beeping growing frantic. The nurse smiles gently at her, lightly tapping the plastic bag.

"It's just morphine." She kindly informs. Her eyes then shift to Bucky. "I just upped her dose, it should work a little faster this round."

Ana turns to Bucky, who is already gazing at her.

"You're in a lot of pain, baby?" He questions, probably already knows the answer.

She's too tired to lie, so she dips her head a fraction. She wants to stay awake though, doesn't want to miss another second sleeping. She mumbles this much to Bucky, his thumb never ceasing swiping over her cheek.

"I'll be right here when you wake up, Ana. I promise." He whispers, leaning forward to kiss her forehead.

Her eyes flutter, the drug beginning to take over her system. Ana swallows, attempting to lift her hand but it’s too heavy. She's still so confused. She doesn't know what happened after Bucky protected her, she doesn't know how she got to this strange hospital. She doesn't know if anyone else is alright, or if someone has captured Woods.

All she knows is that Bucky is next to her, seemingly healthy and uninjured despite his missing arm. He's sitting right next to her, touching her, whispering sweet words of love, smiling and kissing her softly. The last thing Ana sees before her heavy lids close, is Bucky's blue eyes, shinning with relief.

***

The next time Ana wakes up, she hears Bucky's low drawl, rough and crackling like he hasn't touched water in days. He's speaking to someone, so Ana opens her eyes, turning her head towards his voice. Her heart swells, tears blur her vision and she's just so frustrated because she's been in a hospital before, healing from life threatening cuts. She's been in pain before, but for some reason, this time feels different.

"Pep." Ana exhales.

Pepper whirls around, immediately pulling up a chair to sit next to the bed. "Oh, Buggy!”

God, Pepper sounds like she hasn't stopped crying. Her eyes are swollen, just like Bucky's were, and her usual kept hair, is frizzy, out of place from her low ponytail. She gently grabs her right hand, squeezing her fingers.

"I'll give you two sometime." Bucky offers, grabbing his jacket and swinging it over his shoulder to cover his left side.

"No, stay." Ana pleads, attempting to sit up. At least, she thinks she tries. Pepper places her hand on her uninjured shoulder.

"Hey, hey, sweetheart," Bucky gently reprimands. He moves closer to place a kiss on her hair. "I'll be right back, promise. Don't move too much, you'll tear your stitches. I'm just going to find some coffee that doesn't taste like shit."

His comment makes her chuckle, but the movement of her stomach hurts. Pain stabs through her body, so Ana just opts to smile. She nods as he trails his fingers down her jaw. He kisses her head once more, then exits the room, softly closing the door behind him.

"You know," Pepper starts, her voice soft and fond. "That man is completely gone for you."

"It's mutual." Ana says, wincing as she shifts. Something is cool on the back of her hand and when she looks, a shiny diamond gleams back at her. "Pepper...is that a ring?"

She smiles shyly, then shakes her head. "I'll tell you about that later. How are you feeling? I mean, I know you aren't feeling good at all, and what happened sucks. I was worried sick, I-"

Her cousin cuts herself off, but Ana wouldn't mind her rambling on. She just wants to hear her comforting voice. The voice of one of the few family members she has left, and one of the only members she's close to. Pepper is crying, and Ana quickly figures there's going to be a lot of tears shed, if they haven't been already.

"I'm sorry." She apologizes to Pepper. "I don't know how this happened. I didn't mean to-"

"Oh, honey, don't blame yourself." Pepper begins rubbing soothing strokes up and down her arm.

"Tell me please, Pep. When did he ask you?"

"A week and a half ago."

"A week and-" Ana shakes her head, ridding the rest of the fogginess from the drugs away. She must've heard wrong. "What?"

Pepper's eyes shift to the screen displaying her vitals, then back to Ana. "You've been here for ten days, Ana."

Ana breathes in slowly through her nose, trying to process that information. Ten days. She's been lying unconscious in a hospital for ten days. "What happened?"

"I tried calling you the moment after Tony asked. You didn't answer. I called three times, that's when Tony got an alert from FRIDAY, said you and Bucky were taken."

Before Pepper can continue, there's a soft knock on the door as it opens. Tony's face pops through the small gap, checking before he comes in. He's wearing a Black Sabbath shirt that is wrinkled in certain spots, and worn out jeans. Judging by their appearances, no one looks like they've slept well, if at all.

"If you could refrain from that ever happening again, I'd appreciate it." Tony quips, pulling another chair around to sit in.

"I'll try to schedule my next kidnapping around your convince." She banters back, smiling and ignoring the ache in her lip. "Want to fill in the rest for me?"

Tony gently pats her forearm, then he gives her a rundown of what happened. He informs her after she activated FRIDAY, the AI sent a signal to the bracelet that embedded the mini tracker into her wrist. FRIDAY then sent a distress call out to Tony and the rest of the team. Steve had arrived first, finding Max Cullbury and Jared Sharp. Apparently, Agent Sharp figured out something was wrong when Max wasn't in the Lab. Both men were the first to get there trying to stop it. All according to Agent Cullbury. Agent Sharp was shot, and remains in critical condition.

Ana doesn't know how to process that last part, conflicted is one word that comes to mind. Her brother's ex boyfriend, who has hated her and blamed her for years, tried coming to -not only hers but Bucky's- rescue and was shot in the process. She has to sit up at this point, so Pepper carefully presses the button that raises the top half of the bed. With the help of Tony, Ana slowly and carefully adjusts herself, minding the gunshot wound in her stomach, and keeping her right leg as steady as she can.

Tony continues to recap the events several days ago. Nick Fury had called for every single person working within the facility to be interrogated and screened once again. They apprehended anyone who seem even remotely suspicious, which ended up being eleven other people. Wanda had offered her services in retaliation of her anger and fear for her friends, she had no qualms about tapping into Hydra agents minds. Security protocol has changed as well, and Tony lets a tiny bit of his own guilt slip in there.

"Tony." Ana stops him before he can continue. Her own guilt and Bucky's is enough to fill the Atlantic ocean, she doesn't need anyone else feeling the same way. "Your defense bracelet is what saved us in the end. If it weren't for that, for the tracker, we might still be there."

Tony clears his throat as Pepper lays a comforting hand on his arm. "Right. Good on it then."

He doesn't fool Ana. She notices the bags under his eyes, spots the tick he does with his mouth when he has been incredibly worried about someone. He doesn't make eye contact with her for the next 30 seconds, focusing on picking a thread from the blanket laid over her.

"Sorry about your knee, by the way. I should've-"

"Seriously, Stark. Stop it. You wouldn’t have guessed that would happen ."

Finally, Tony meets her gaze. "Erik Woods is in critical condition."

Ana swallows thickly, her knee throbbing, abruptly aware of every single bullet hole, cut and bruise on her body. She grips the blanket, bundling the fabric in her fists. .

"He's in a high security facility being watch around the clock with armed guards. He is no longer a threat." Then, Tony smirks. "Rogers and Wilson had to stop Barnes from tracking him down and ripping out his throat. Or, I'm sorry, that's my phrase. I believe his was “rip every single bone from his body for hurting my girl”. I almost allowed him to do it."

Ana's heart skips a beat at my girl, and she has to bite her lip to keep from reacting. Until she winces at the still healing cut on her lip. Both Pepper and Tony roll their eyes are her reaction, but deep down, she can't figure out if she's glad Bucky was stopped, or if she's disappointed. It raises her next question.

"Why is Woods in critical condition?" She inquires knowingly.

Tony takes a few moments to answer, placing his hand over Pepper's. "Because you are incredibly powerful. And for same reason you were." He informs gravely. "After Barnes went down, you drained Woods' energy. He shot you in retaliation, but it didn't stop you, Ana. You kept going, until Bucky somehow stopped you. It drained your own in return. I thought-"

He clears his throat, shifting in his seat. "I flew you to the jet. You weren't breathing by the time I got up there. It was only for a few moments. Luckily the team of medics we brought with us were able to get you breathing...started your heart again."

"You were in the ICU for nine days, Ana. In a coma for three of those." Pepper whispers, a single tear falling from her left eye.

Ana just blinks at them. She didn’t know her heart had stopped beating. "Fuck."

They both nod. Tony reaches out and hooks his index finger over Ana's pinkie. "Thought you were gone there for a moment, kid."

She doesn't even react to his nickname. She can barely react at all. It's so much to take in. She nearly killed Erik Woods by draining his life energy and in return...almost killed herself? Jared and Max came to their rescue and couldn't stop it and now Jared in the one fighting for his life. Bucky's arm was blasted off because he protected Ana, jumped in front of her risking his own damn life for hers. She nearly died protecting Bucky. She did die; if only for a minute or two. Pepper pulls her out of her reeling thoughts.

"Bucky was going insane," She tells her. "I lied to the staff, said that he's your fiancé and gave him my family pass. He hasn't left your side until now."

Ana is indescribably speechless. From remembering Bucky being triggered, to watching him sacrifice himself, to her waking up in the hospital. She's suddenly so, so tired, her eyelids growing heavy. She will swear it's the drugs and her own exhaustion, and not the fact that all information may has led her to passing out. She doesn't fight it off, just lets it come and take over her body, being pulled into unconsciousness yet again.

When Ana wakes up the third time, she's surrounded by people, but her eyes frantically seek out Bucky. He's there, standing back and in the far corner. A light chatter is fills the room, voices reserved until Ana shifts, alerting everyone that she's awake. She lifts her hand, accidentally ripping someone else's grip from hers, and reaches towards Bucky.

He grins softly, because he has probably been watching her the entire time, and pushes himself off the wall. The person holding her hand before, Wanda, she finally acknowledges, scoots back to make room for him to sit on the bed. When he does, Ana places her hand on his jaw and Bucky turns his head to kiss her palm. It makes her heart flutter.

"You look exhausted." She tells him softly, stroking her thumb over his scruffy cheek.

"I'm fine, baby." He reassures her, pushing her hair behind her ear. "Do you need anything? Water? The nurse? Are you hungry? You must be hungry. I smuggled in a jar of Nutella. I would've brought pizza but I'm not sure-"

"Bucky, darling." Ana coos, tugging his face closer. "I love you." She presses a chaste kiss to his lips.

"I love you." He breathes against her mouth.

When they break apart, she finds Bucky's right hand, interlocking their fingers together, then surveys the room. Steve is sitting next to her bed, smiling down at his hands. Natasha is stands behind him, arms crossed and a slight look of concern on her face. Clint is next to her, resting his arm on her shoulder. He smirks and nods, then goes back to chatting with Sam, who looks even more concerned before giving his attention back to Clint.

Wanda appears as if she hasn't slept for days, and she might even give Bucky a run for his record. She's holding a paper cup of something that doesn't smell like coffee, she lifts it with a shaky hand. Ana is abruptly overwhelmed with everyone surrounding her, and she is grateful for the friends she has. Extremely grateful for the man holding her hand, lifting her knuckles to his lips.

***

They keep Ana in the hospital for another two days, double checking her wounds and vitals. The doctor just wants to make sure she feels comfortable enough to go home, and gives her instructions on what to do if she feels off in anyway. Her stitches are clean, no sign of infection, and her arm only had to stay in the sling for another three days. He does tell her that she can't lift, or workout or do anything strenuous for eight weeks, and to keep to the strict diet until her abdomen heals.

They also discuss the option of another knee surgery. Since the doctors had to perform one to remove the Stark rods, and that alone will leave Ana in a wheelchair until her shoulder is healed enough to use crutches. She has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming in anger. She's just so fucking mad this happened, and on several occasions, wishes death upon Woods.

When Ana finally goes home, she snuggles up to Bucky the best she can, in the less painful way she can. She sleeps, and sleeps, and sleeps, until Bucky has to wake her up a few times. The first time is so she can take her medications. The second is so she can eat, even if she isn't that hungry. The third is to make sure she's doing okay.

"Bucky, babe, please let me sleep, for the love of everything holy." She grumbles petulant, pressing her face into his neck.

"Just making sure you're real, Annie." He whispers, voice breaking.

Ana opens her eyes. She understands it, she does. Because sometimes she'll wake up on her own, has to make sure Bucky is breathing, alive and next to her. She often thinks about how both of their worst nightmares had come true, or nearly came true. To make sure they're both real and in front of each other, they press their palms over each other’s hearts.

Bucky will tap his thumb twice against her collarbone, then he'll press his face into the joint of her jaw. He'll inhale, says she smells a little like the hospital still and can't wait for her to smell like flowers in the rain again. He'll drag his nose behind her ear and tells her-

"Can't wait for you to smell like me, too."

Then he'll press the lightest kiss against her pulse racing in her neck. He'll trail his hand down her body, dipping over her curves, tracing his fingers over tattoos and the scars on her back, then her wrist. Finally, he says-

"Doll face."

Ana will grab a strand of his long hair and tug, harshly so she can see his fake expression of pain. It's one her ways of knowing he's just as real. She'll trace his strong jawline, feeling the texture of his soft facial hair beneath her fingertips. She traces over his pouty red lips, down his neck, also kissing his pulse point, and places her hand over the stump of metal. Then she'll kiss the middle of his chest, feeling his heart pickup.

"Winter Flurry."

He rarely leaves her side, though she has no problem with that. Even when the others filter in and out of her room, Bucky stays by her side, unless he goes to get them food or drinks or to the bathroom. Ana finds out just how worried and scared everyone was when she begins to sense their energies again. It isn't bad, just something she can feel, like a faint breeze along her skin. It's when they leave at the end of the night, that Bucky confesses something.

"You know," He begins, the pads of his fingers gently scratching her scalp. "I honestly thought I lost you, that he took you from me. I was so fucking terrified, Ana. I didn't know what to do with myself."

"I thought I lost you too." She admits, gripping his shirt. "When he shot your arm off, I was so scared. Bucky, I thought...I thought he hit your chest, because you just..." She doesn't finish.

They remain silent, just holding onto each other, hurt, broken and bruised, but alive and together.

***

The soft moments only last a week. Something has been weighing on Bucky's mind, she can tell.

After six days, Ana feels like she can use her arm again, so she pretends to kick the wheelchair away as she sits on the bed of the medical ward. Janice is checking her vitals, after she cried in relief. Tony is there, currently fitting a highly advanced orthotic piece to her leg. The specially designed knee brace begin at her mid thigh, straps over and under her knee, and ends around her calf.

"You're sure you don't want another surgery?" He questions, making last second adjustments to the lateral and medial stabilizers.

"I'm sure. Knee surgery in intensive, and I've had enough fill of pain for one month, thank you." Ana lifts her eyes from Tony's working hands. She spots Bucky with his jacket on, talking with Sharon and Steve, both of whom are holding hands. "Is there anything you can do for his arm?"

"I offered." Tony answers her, leaning back. "He refused every offer.”

She gets it, she understands. Bucky doesn't want anything to do with a robotic arm. He doesn't have to say it, but Ana understands.

Bucky voices his thoughts after that.

"Bucky. No. Please, don't do this." Physical pain isn't enough. Bucky has to go and voice his idea of what he wants to do. It's breaking Ana's heart.

"I'm so sorry, love." Bucky coos sorrowfully, "but I can't risk Hydra finding you. I can't allow something like that to ever happen to you again, and if they get wind of what Erik Woods was trying to do...they'll use us against each other and I can’t. I can't risk that, Ana."

"But you came out of it." She sniffs miserably, tears falling from her eyes. Deep down, Ana knows he's right.

Bucky wipes her tears away, but his own betray him. "I'm guessing they have another chair. If there's even the slightest possibility it can be used, and I'm still triggered, they will send me after you. When Woods tried, it was barely on before you stopped it, but I was still confused. You called out to me before he finished the phrase, Annie, and it helped. Everything that you have done helped me find my way back to you. Unfortunately it didn't stop me from attacking, from trying to follow those commands."

"You protected me, you broke out of it and you shot him. Not me."

"It's too risky."

Ana scoots away from him to the furthest corner of her bed, accidently disturbing Ezra. He just blinks in annoyance, then moves closer to Bucky, because that fickle cat would take his side on this.

"Are you angry?" Bucky asks her, his tone suddenly controlled.

"Yes. No." She sighs, falling backwards. Which tends to be a mistake and jars her gun wounds. "Ow."

Bucky leans over her face, his expression torn.

"I want to be mad, I really would love to just yell and get angry-"

"The doctor told you no strenuous activities, that includes throwing things at me. As much as I love it."

Ana tugs his hair. "You know that meant no sex as well, right?"

"Would you really have sex with me right now, as angry as you are, even though you're trying you hardest to hide it?"

She narrows her eyes at him because he knows her so well. "Where are you thinking of going?"

He smiles dejectedly. "You know I won't be able to tell you, darling."

They continue to bicker about it for another day, until Steve backs up his best friend. He makes Ana see and understand the logic behind it. Tells her it's all for her safety and Bucky's mental stability because he nearly tore Erik Woods apart. She very nearly voices that she wouldn't have minded that, and Ana herself had fleeting dark thoughts of killing Hydra agents as well. She ends up finally relenting with Bucky's plan. It doesn't mean she's happy about it.

"Steve." Ana speaks airily. "You see that bowl of plums over there?"

"Goddamnit." Bucky mutters.

"Yes." Steve smirks, already getting up from the couch and heading towards the kitchen.

"Please throw at least five of them at him, would you. It's an important part of my healing process."

To his credit, Bucky doesn't even block the fruit as it pelts him all in the chest. He just sighs exasperatingly, grabs one of the plums and bites into it. Then he offers the fruit to Ana.

“I love you but that doesn’t mean I’m not pissed as hell,” She reminds him.

Bucky’s answer is wrapping his arm around her shoulders, kissing the top of her head. Ana still melts into to him.

***

“You’re absolutely sure about this?”

“I told you, I just don't think I can trust my own mind yet. It almost worked. I could’ve hurt her. I could’ve killed her.”

Ana scoffs, rolling her eyes. She probably isn’t meant to hear either of them as she leans against Sam's car, but she does, and she’s fed up, angry, and upset. She tried to keep her anger over the plan at bay, but she can't because it's real and it's happening right now. She is extremely upset, because she's still in a little pain, and her knee throbs in the brace, and her heart is about to shatter. She pushes herself off the car and limps right over to Steve and Bucky.

“But you didn’t!” She reminds Bucky fiercely. “In fact, Woods almost killed me himself.”

“That doesn’t make it better.” Bucky counters, reaching for her hand. "What if I shot you instead?"

Ana pulls it back quickly. “This is fucking bullshit!"

“I’ll give you two some time.” Steve flinches, then hurries away towards the small car.

“Annie-“

“No. No. Don’t. I-“

Bucky cups her jaw, bring her forward and kisses her. He keeps his lips firm, moving against hers and Ana feels her anger melt away, along with her spine. She kisses him back, tangling her fingers in his hair, and resting her other hand on the metal base of the stump. She pulls back to press her forehead against his.

“I’m so sorry I failed you.” She murmurs, tears burning her eyes. That's her confession, the true reason she's upset. “I failed you.”

“Hey,” Bucky leans back, trying to make eye contact, she doesn’t look. “Ana, you didn’t- look at me, darling. You did not fail me. Not at all."

She shakes her head, a single tear betraying her and falling down her cheek. “It didn’t work. Deprogramming, it didn't-”

“Yes, yes it did. Everything you have done, worked. I was only able to save you because you helped me take control of my mind. I was only able to fight through it because of you.”

“Not completely, isn't that the problem here? That’s where-“

“You did not fail me. Please, please don’t blame yourself for this. I'm doing this for security. I have to take every precaution."

Ana pulls him back down by his neck, kissing him twice. “How long?” She whimpers against his mouth.

“I’m not sure,” Bucky frowns when he pulls back. “Until I can find a way to fix everything inside my head. I was still somewhat triggered. I can’t take any more chances with hurting you, and any enemy of ours will know we’re each other’s weaknesses and strength. I can’t risk someone else using that against you again.”

He kisses her forehead. “Promise me something, Ana. Don’t wait for me.”

“No.” Ana refuses firmly. “I will wait for you and there’s nothing you can do about it. There’s no one else I want. Idiot.”

He chuckles despite himself. “I had to try.”

She scoffs, tugging his hair. Ana rests her head on his chest, fighting back the urge to sob. Bucky hugs her tightly with his arm, and even though he only has one at the moment, it’s the strongest hug she’s ever had. There’s a short honk to their side, signaling they have to get going soon. Bucky lifts his arm, but Ana doesn’t see what he does; more than likely he flicked them off. She pulls back when he gazes at her. She brushes his hair back, tracing her fingers along his jaw. She taps her index finger on his lips.

“Come back to me.” She quietly requests.

His eyes soften, crinkling at the corners with a private grin. “Don’t blame yourself.”

“I’ll make you a deal.” Ana bargains.

“Over the Nutella?”

She pokes his dimpled chin. “You come back to me, and I promise I won’t blame myself.”

“That sounds like a good deal.”

Bucky leans down to kiss her again, deep and slow, keeping his hand firmly against her cheek. Ana allows him to kiss her like that, as if it’s just the two of them, even though Steve and Sam are probably witnessing this. Her heart pounds painfully in her chest and when she places her hand against Bucky’s, his heart beat matches.

“I love you,” He murmurs against her lips, brushing their noses together. “Very much. Don’t ever forget that.”

“You don’t forget how much I love you either.” Ana whispers. “And I do. Love you.”

“I have to go now.” Bucky tells her, frowning with wet eyes. A tear escapes his left eye.

Ana wipes it away. “I know.”

She meets him halfway for their last kiss, this one filled with love, a little bit of pain, but with a sense of hope. His energy wraps around her one last time, a rueful comfort and goodbye all at once. His tongue slides against hers and Ana is going to miss the way his tongue curls in her mouth and makes her knees weak. They kiss like that for several moments before it slows down, turning into short, but sweet pecks. Bucky kisses her once, twice and on the third kiss, he pulls away, nearly taking Ana with him.

She watches as Bucky heads toward the waiting car and opens the door. He looks back at her and smirks, though it’s not up to par of his usual one. He leans into the car then back out, suddenly tossing something to her. It flips through the air before Ana catches it with both hands. It’s a small jar of Nutella, causing her to laugh, ending with her lips trembling.

Bucky waves his hand, giving her one last smile, then gets into the car. The door closes, and just like that, Steve is pulling away, driving Bucky right out of her life. Ana follows, taking one, two, three, four, steps and breaking into a slight jog, ignoring the pain in her knee, stopping once the car is far enough away and out of sight. She tries to swallow the sob caught in her throat, pulling herself together as she walks back towards Sam in the other car.

He doesn’t say anything once she gets seated and buckled. Ana stares down at the small jar of hazelnut chocolate spread, tears filling her eyes. It’s going to be a long, painful road of waiting, and she doesn’t remember how she was living before Bucky came into her life. A few tears escape, landing on her hands.

“I’m turning the music up on this road trip, I hope you don’t mind.” Sam informs, and the music growing louder by the second.

Ana smiles because she knows exactly what he’s doing. She nods and looks out the window as he starts driving, a sob finally escaping her mouth. She cries hard for a few minutes, just watching the scenery go by with blurred vision. Sam reaches out once, offering a comforting squeeze to her arm. Finally, after several songs play, Ana wipes her tears away for now. Then, she decides to change the music.

“We’re listening to something else.” She tells Sam, then switches out the CD from Earth, Wind, and Fire to Queen.

“Did you just-“ Sam begins indignantly, glancing over at her.

“Pay attention, Wilson. You’re driving.” Ana only knows he allows her to change the music because her focus is on him now, instead of the broken heart in her chest.

She knows this is what Bucky wanted, she understands all the logic behind it. The capture and events had plagued Bucky's mind every night and even though she slept next to him, he couldn't seem to do the same; Ana felt it eating away at him. She knows Bucky wants to heal completely and fully, and he refuses to take anymore of Ana's own energy, despite how powerful she had proven herself to be.

Ana understands. All she wants is the absolute best for Bucky, and if finding an alternative option is the way to erase the triggers completely, then so be it. She will wait from him to come back to her, however long it takes.

***

"Stevie, please. I need this." Bucky is now begging. It took nearly two hours but he finally broke.

"Fine." Steve gives in, gripping the steering wheel so hard it dents a little. "But only because of what he did to the both of you. I was fucking terrified and pissed as hell Buck, I hope you know that."

"I know, pal. I know." Bucky says solemnly. "Then you understand."

"I do."

Steve pulls up to a heavily secured building. They both get out, getting checked and scanned, and handed IDs. It's really only because of Steve that they're even allowed to enter the building. Two guards lead the way, down hallways, into elevators, and finally to the floor and room they want. Steve nods at the guards and they leave, then he sets his hard gaze on Bucky.

"You got two minutes before they come back and I come get you." He tells him.

Bucky nods curtly, then he presses the key card he was given earlier to the lock pad on the door. He pushes it open, quickly closing it behind him. The sight of Erik Woods lying on a bed, hooked up to wires and a machine will never be satisfying enough.

Bucky walks over to the bed, the sound of soft beeping and echoes of the oxygen machine fill the small room. Bucky leans over, anger boiling in his blood, staring at the man that nearly killed Ana. Recognition flickers in his green eyes.

"You took her." Bucky snarls lowly, unadulterated hate coloring his tone. "You touched her. You broke her. You made her bleed. You almost took my girl from me. For that, I am going to make you suffer."

His eyes flick towards the machines, and he sees a little switch for the life support pump. Revenge is nearly there, sitting deliciously sweet on his tongue. He reaches over, hooking his finger over the little lever. He looks back down at Erik Woods, fear gleam in his eyes.

"This is me, Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, The Winter Soldier, turning off your oxygen."

He flicks the switch down. The machine begins to beep, gets louder and faster. Erik's chest stops rising and falling. Then Bucky waits another two seconds before speaking.

"Are you in pain? Does it hurt horribly? Good." He hisses menacingly. "I want you to feel every inch of it. I want you to suffer. I want you to struggle, to feel the air leaving your lungs, feel it burning as your face turns red. That's what you did to her. That's what you put her through. This is what you deserve for Hydra harming her family. This is what you deserve for touching her.”

It would be so easy for Bucky to just walk away and let him be. To let Woods leave this world in agony, gasping for his last few breaths of air. Bucky grits his teeth, swallowing every vengeful thought.

"This is Ana." Bucky continues quietly. "Turning it back on." He switches the support back on.

He leans over again, making sure he can see him. Erik's eyes are responsive.

"Killing you is too easy. What's worse, is having you watch all your hard work come undone. You failed, Woods. That's worse than your death. Ana is alive. I'm alive. You failed, and you get to live knowing that fact for the next few weeks of your life. Because you will die in your failure.”

Then, Bucky leaves. He walks right out and away from the room. The man lying in pain, lying broken in the bed, no longer matters. What does matter, is finding a way to fix everything inside him, to rid the brainwashing wired in him. As much as it shatters his heart to do so, as much as it hurts him, he's doing it all for Ana. He will find some way to fix this.

Bucky will come back to his girl.

*******************************************************Previous Epilogue

#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x ofc #Bucky Barnes #delicate stages #my fic #fanfiction

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