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drabsyo · 3 years

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Drabs, I know that you usually draw Fleur with slightly darker blonde hair than Narcissa. Was it a choice so that it’s easier to distinguish them from each other or was your Fleur maybe slightly influenced by the actress from the movie who had darker hair?

In the books Fleur didn’t seem to have much description other than having long silvery hair (waist length?) and having this glow around her. So like with Narcissa, what works have influenced your design of Fleur?

It’s fascinating sometimes to read the artist’s perspective and your previous reply to the anon about Narcissa has been very interesting.

Thank you!!! 🥺

I was actually pretty embarrassed over how enthusiastic I got over the whole hair thing, but I'm glad it made some sense at least 😂 And now that I've been given even more reason to talk about it... (Let's face it, I shouldn't even be allowed on this website to begin with, ya'll have been way too nice to me.)

Only click on keep reading if you want to read Some Nonsense.

I did consider Fleur's actress when I thought about her hair color. Though I pictured it to be something of a mix between movie Fleur and Elsa’s (from Frozen) hair. But the way I drew Fleur's hair, the way it falls across her shoulders, that was more of... well, I imagined Fleur to have effortlessly perfect hair, like she doesn't seem to need to style it so much because it's already whimsical as it is, what with her being part-Veela. There were a lot of fanfictions that helped me to sort of see a better image of Fleur in my head so really, I owe it to all the talented writers out there!

It's also the same with Narcissa's case. Though I decided to give her paler hair, compared to Fleur's, because I wanted to emphasize that air of vulnerability Narcissa has—this image she conjures, like she's this fragile thing made of glass, which typically in fanfiction is what Narcissa uses so that Voldemort would overlook her a lot, hence why she wasn't given any "missions" or "tasks" while Voldemort was in Malfoy Manor. Slytherin preservation. This "fragile" image was something Narcissa capitalized on and maintained perfectly, but in post-war Cissamione fanfictions, she no longer has to put on that façade—she starts living for herself, but the quiet sadness about her never really goes away.

I really did struggle at first, I had to find a way where I could draw them without confusing people and myself.

So, again, I sifted through a lot of canon and non canon material about these two characters which funnily enough made me see some kind of parallel going on between them. I know. Fleur Delacour and Narcissa Black. Parallels?! It's nuts. But again, this is only within Fleurmione and Cissamione fanfiction, and it really helped me to draw them better. (At least in a way that made them distinguishable from one other at first glance, I’d like to think.)

These 'hair scenes' are mostly the bits where Hermione "first" sees Fleur. Hermione is entranced, a little curious, sometimes she feels indifferent, but the general theme is Hermione immediately finds Fleur beautiful—which probably explains why Hermione in fanfiction sometimes thinks Narcissa could be part-Veela like Fleur. And as you can imagine, that's where my struggle began.

You'll see what I mean in a minute. And just like last time, remember that this part comes with spoilers.

🔹 In Fighting is our form of Flirting by InsomniacAndBi in Chapter 2 Hermione sees Fleur for the first time. This is the first Fleurmione fanfiction I've ever read, and also the first time I've encountered Fleur's character. Tall, bright blonde hair, won the genetic lottery, aristocratic features, face held in a scowl, floats into the room with effortless poise, immediately starts demanding things out of people... Sounds vaguely familiar, doesn't it. Like some other blonde we know.

"Non!" A voice from the doorway said. "This is not what was agreed."

For a moment, Hermione thought about ignoring it but turned to glance over there if only to quell her curiosity. A girl stepped into the room and Hermione's phone call was forgotten in a moment. She knew that it wasn't nice to stare but Hermione couldn't help but do it because, in all honesty, this was the prettiest girl she had ever seen. She was definitely taller than Hermione was, with bright blonde hair and...clearly she had won the genetic lottery.

Her skin practically glowed and it looked so smooth and soft. It made Hermione wonder if she used those fancy beautification charms or had a very lengthy skincare routine. Or maybe, just maybe, this is what being rich did to people's faces. There was no doubt in Hermione's mind that this girl was rich - like extremely rich, like even rich people thought she was rich. That kind of rich. That was the type of rich that this girl was.

Also, only super rich people curled up their lip like this girl was doing.

She breezed into the room like she was floating and Hermione hastily ended her phone call and promised to call back later.

"This is not what was agreed," The girl said again and Hermione felt incredibly small sitting in front of her. Not to mention, the girl's clothes screamed 'I'm rich and I know it' and Hermione's screamed 'I'm so out of place that I might as well be a bull in a China shop'.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Hermione managed to get out when it became apparent that the girl was waiting for her response.

"You are English." The girl looked shock for a moment at Hermione's accent before shaking her head angrily. "This is not what was agreed."

🔹 In Oath of Silver by i_shall_wear_midnight immediately in the first chapter, when Witcher Hermione first meets Fleur, it's something Hermione quickly notices. Vivid sapphire eyes. Silvery blonde hair that shimmered in the torchlight. And once again, right off the bat, Fleur is pushy. She wants things done her way. It’s just so cute how she doesn’t even let the fact that Hermione is a Witcher, an extremely dangerous outcast in society, get in the way of that.

(I'm sorry for this but I just have to gush about Oath of Silver. Hermione as a witcher is just so fitting for her character; she possesses that natural eye for detail that remarkable witchers have, witchers like Geralt and Vesimir (a skill that gets even more honed through the Witcher Trials). Hermione even has Geralt's dry sense of humor, a bit rough around the edges, brilliant, snippy without really meaning to (because she asks a lot of questions and would rather get to the point), but has a good heart.)

The witcher figured that would be the end of her human interactions for the evening, but only a few minutes later, the stunning newcomer from before appeared before her. Upon closer inspection, Hermione couldn’t imagine she wouldn’t be conspicuous in any group of people she happened to find herself immersed in. The woman was looking back at her with vivid sapphire eyes, and silvery blonde hair that shimmered even in torchlight. Her attire was travel-ready, but elegant.

“Bonsoir. You are a witcher, oui? Or perhaps a ‘witcheress’ is more accurate? I am not familiar with all the terms…” She watched the beautiful stranger patiently while she fumbled through Hermione’s professional title. As if the distinctive, amber colored cat-eyes hadn’t given her away, the brunette mused wryly. Eventually, the blonde gave up and sat herself down at Hermione’s table, her medallion twitching faintly as the stranger got settled. Hermione filed that away for later. Her new dinner buddy seemed to be oblivious to the curious and concerned looks now being thrown her way at boldly taking a seat at a mutant’s table.

“I came from Ellander,” she began in a non sequitur. “The temple, and spoke to the priestess Nenneke, who told me about you.” Hermione continued eating her second serving of stew and waited for her to get to the point. “I would like to hire you as an escort as I travel back to Toussaint.” The witcher finally put her spoon down.

“Sounds like you ought to be asking some mercenaries to be your bodyguards,” she responded, eyeing the bow the woman was carrying on her pack meaningfully.

“A pair seems doable, and I’d prefer you.”

“I’m not a bodyguard.”

“Yes, technically, I am aware,” she replied, beginning to show signs of impatience.

“Then why are you soliciting a monster-slayer?”

🔹 Witnessed here in Time and Blood by whistle.the.silver is probably the most interesting one because it uses the concept of Veela hair as a wand core brilliantly. Again, this comes with huge 🛑spoilers🛑. Read the italicized words at your own risk. I can't add the entire clip here, as the topic of Fleur's hair is littered throughout several other chapters. But this story shows us a Fleur who is willing to do anything in order to protect Hermione during the course of the war.

My memory is a bit foggy, I haven't read this story in months, but here's what I remember:

This takes place during the time of Shell Cottage, where Fleur is married to Bill and takes care of Hermione. Fleur didn't expect to fall in love with the young brunette and, as the Golden Trio's time in Shell Cottage comes to an end, she worries over Hermione's safety. Fleur, using magic only known to the Veela tribes, does her best to offer Hermione protection in any way that she can--even going as far as to study what Lily Potter did so Harry could live. At one point, Fleur cuts her own hair with a length now roughly above her shoulders to give Hermione a new wand. But this isn't the only bridge Fleur is willing to cross to make sure Hermione survives the incoming battle. Fleur's grandmother, Ron, and even Bill himself, is a little sceptic over the propriety of Fleur's actions, but Fleur is determined to do whatever it takes to make sure Hermione makes it out of the war safe and alive.

So that was a lot to wade through, I know.

But if you've skipped all those parts for the sake of missing spoilers then let me go ahead and explain why the parallel between Fleur and Narcissa are there. Sure, it's plain to see that they have similar physical characteristics, but they're also similar in other ways.

In Witnessed here in Time and Blood, Fleur is willing to do whatever it takes to protect Hermione during the war: sacrifice the secrets of the Veela, make Hermione a wand, make her marriage and friendship with Bill suffer, be scrutinized by her Veela tribe, etc. And didn't Narcissa do the exact same thing during the war to make sure Draco made it out alive? They both chose to 'betray' everyone else for the sake of this one person. Not to mention, in Extinction by rubikanon Narcissa even makes Hermione a wand. (I’m telling you, there are so many parallels between these two ships and I can probably list more but I'd rather not make this post longer.)

Here, I’m just going to go ahead and say it—it’s almost like Fleur and Narcissa in fanfiction have the same love language.

A glaringly obvious difference between them is their upbringing, and we could argue that this why Fleur tends to be more open with her emotions while Narcissa tends to be more carefully guarded with hers. And I don't know if writers realize these parallels but as someone who's a huge fan of both characters and as someone who makes the occasional fanart of them, it's a pretty difficult detail to ignore. This crazy conspiracy all started because I had to find a way to make both characters look distinct from one another... It's just so interesting that writers from two different ships unknowingly make these parallels with two completely separate characters who are often at the opposite ends of the seesaw.

But again, let's take a look at Extinction by rubikanon. (I know. Extinction?! AGAIN?! Always.)

Spoiler warning!

🔹 Extinction by rubikanon has a marvelous take on this, as it turns out Fleur and Narcissa are actually good friends, and if I remember correctly, occasionally exchange letters (I’m unsure about this bit, I might have read it in a different story). They just get along remarkably well; I imagine they both share a kind of mutual respect for each other, a quiet understanding for the way the other woman carries herself: poised, meticulous, they pride themselves in their work, they both know how to handle an Ocean Of Secrets™, they're both accustomed to being under the spotlight of the public eye, and they’re both dedicated to their loved ones. Needless to say, Fleur and Narcissa are both giddy over the prospect of being with someone they love and adore, and end up meticulously planning numerous (I think it was hinted) double dates (Fleur with Bill, and Narcissa with Hermione) with the same kind of endearing enthusiasm that leave Hermione and Bill with no choice but to agree to the whims of their respective lovers.

(Scene seen in Chapter 23: Build Up Your Defense 2 of 2)

Narcissa and (Hermione) I were sitting together on one of the couches when Bill and Fleur arrived later. They showered Teddy with kisses on his little cheeks. He'd gotten past his clingy phase and adored us all, struggling to walk around the room by bracing himself on everyone's knees.

Suddenly Narcissa reached up and grabbed onto someone's wrist behind her head. "Don't even think about it," she said.

"That's just scary. How did you know I was there?" George stood up from behind the couch, a toy spider dangling from his hand. Teddy shrieked with laughter.

"She has eyes in the back of her head," Draco said.

"Mothers," George grumbled, sitting down close to Angelina. "Dump her, Hermione. I need you to date someone more prankable."

Fleur looked in surprise at the two of us on the couch. "Oh, la vache! How did I not know zees? You are lovers?"

"We're dating," I said mildly, though we really were lovers. In every sense. I glanced at Narcissa and bit my lip as heat spread through me. My imagination started planning a middle-of-the-night rendezvous.

"No wonder she (Narcissa) was so adamant about healing that curse," Bill said thoughtfully.

"Adorable! Simply adorable!" Fleur exclaimed, sitting down on Narcissa's other side. "We must go out for a double date next week, all four of us. We'll dine at L'Escargot!"

Narcissa's eyes lit up.

"Oh, no," I said.

"You won't have to eat snails," Narcissa said. "Please, mon amour?"

"French doesn't work on me."

"Please?" She kissed my cheek again and again. "Please? Please?"

Laughing now, I pulled her in for a kiss on the lips and said, "Yes, alright. But only because I have fond memories of trying new foods with you."

"As do I," she agreed.

Then we realized everyone was staring. Narcissa cleared her throat and straightened up, blushing. Draco made a face. Ginny looked a little more favorable. Harry held in laughter, and Andromeda hid her camera.

"Adorable!" Fleur declared again.

🔹 Also, I just have to add Sugar and Spice by waltzlikeits1698 because Chapter 4: Happy Birthday, Harry is absolutely hysterical. During Harry's birthday party, Hermione sulks in a corner because Fleur has apparently been avoiding her. Ginny decides to do something barking mad, something Hermione typically falls for.

“Ooh, someone’s grouchy,” Ginny teased, retracting her arm and facing Hermione fully. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” Hermione insisted, although even she could hear the pout in her voice.

“Sure seems like it,” she snarked, summoning two shots and offering one to Hermione with a waggle of her eyebrows. Hermione pulled a face and Ginny shrugged before downing both, one after the other. (...) “You know, I spotted a tall, blonde drink of water hanging around the stairs.”

“What!?” Hermione exclaimed, whirling around and leaning out of the room to look at the staircase. Sure enough, standing at the bottom and resting a slender hand on the bannister was a tall, blonde witch who made Hermione’s heart stop with her mere presence. She had started forward before she knew it, her heart taking up an even quicker beat as she crossed the few steps and reached out a hand to clasp her elbow. The woman turned, that beautiful blonde hair catching the candlelight as it moved in one long sheet.

Hermione retracted her hand in horror, her eyes widening. “Mrs Malfoy!?”

Narcissa Malfoy raised an eyebrow at the witch who had practically accosted her. “Miss Granger. Can I help?”

What was she even doing here?

“Uh,” Hermione said dumbly, “sorry, I just… need the loo. Can I-?”

She gestured lamely to the staircase. Both women stared at the perfectly reasonable gap that Hermione could easily pass through. The moment stretched on.

Slowly, Narcissa returned her inscrutable gaze to Hermione, who squirmed uncomfortably in response. She then took a small step to the side and gestured for Hermione to pass. She did so and, as she turned the corner of the staircase, sent a deadly glare at Ginny, who was practically pissing herself with laughter.

(...)

Fleur had arrived. Hermione couldn’t explain exactly how she could tell, considering she had been in the duplicated bathroom for the last ten minutes after humiliating herself in front of Narcissa, but she knew it like she knew that it was levi-O-sa.

(...) (Hermione) She tried to avoid eye contact with Narcissa on the way back down and was thoroughly unsuccessful: the witch had physically reached out and laid her own hand over Hermione’s on the bannister, forcing her to stop and look up. Then, with an intention behind her eyes that Hermione had neither the brain capacity nor the energy to delve into, she said “It’s Ms Black now.”

Then she had released Hermione’s hand and turned back to her conversation with Andromeda and two wizards Hermione didn’t recognise.

Come to think of it, there were a lot of people Hermione didn’t recognise.

Anyway, long story short, this is the result of reading both Fleurmione and Cissamione—

But RIGHT. At the end of the day, again, these are just some crazy little things I picked up on and I may or may not be right, no one has to agree with me, everyone can disagree with me. Actually, yes feel free to disagree with me. I need to get out of this damn site and you know, touch grass.

Okay. Well. I'm gonna stop here now. So. Bye. But thank you anon for this lovely ask!! I’m really touched that you wanted to know what inspired the way I drew Fleur 🥺💕💖 But still. So sorry for this massive word vomit!! 😂

#fleurmione #cissamione #fleur delacour #narcissa black #narcissa malfoy #hermione granger #stupid rants #drabstuff #yall im telling you im the mad scientist but remove all the science

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libra-kirishima · 3 years

Text

Three Times All Might Kept Izuku From Losing His Virginity and the One Time He Didn't (Midoriya Izuku x Reader)

Day 13: Corruption/Loss of Virginity

(Hell of a title...)

Reader is All Might's daughter.

This was also originally just the ns/fw scene which I wanted to add more to.

NS/FW Content Warning (loss of virginity, a bit of femdom)

The sound of the doorbell ringing caused your heart to leap out of your chest.

Panic set in as you wrapped your wet body in a towel before rushing down the stairs to the front door.

“I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming!” You shouted as you made your way down the stairs, through the living room, and into the foyer. “Did you forget your keys again?- Oh.” Your eyes were met not with your father, but Izuku. Green eyes looked your form up and down quickly. Soon after, a fiery blush spread across his face and down his neck. “Hey, Izuku.”

“Hi, (Y/N).” His eyes shifted to keep from staring at you. “I’m, um, here to see All Might.”

“Dad’s not here right now.” Tension formed in Izuku’s shoulders once those words left your lips. He wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed or grateful. “He’s still at the school, I think. Although he did mention swinging by the store to pick up groceries on his way home, so he could be closer than you think.” Your words sort of fell on deaf ears. Izuku was so consumed by his thoughts of you that he caught maybe every third or fourth word you said. “Come in. Please. Make yourself at home.” You stepped aside to let him in.

“Oh, I shouldn’t.” He answered, though it came out as more of a mumble. He tried and failed to conceal how excited and nervous it made him to think about being alone with you. When you grabbed his hand to lead him inside he gladly went along, lacing his fingers into yours as you pulled him along.

“Don’t be ridiculous. He won’t mind, and neither do I. Have a seat.”

He timidly sat down at the far end of your couch. You smiled kindly at him as you stood in front of him, moving directly between his open knees. Izuku swore up and down that you were trying to kill him. “Besides, I hardly get to see you anymore. You’ve been so busy.” You cupped his burning cheeks in both your hands. It took all of his strength just to look you in the eye. “I’ve been so lonely. I miss seeing you all the time.” You cooed. “I’ll be back. M’kay? Don’t go anywhere.”

You dashed back up the stairs to change, leaving Izuku alone with his thoughts.

“Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it.” He mumbled to himself. “This is not how you should think of your mentor’s daughter!” No matter how hard he tried to push his thoughts of you out of his head, your words still rang like a bell.

I’ve been so lonely. I miss seeing you.

He could still feel the cool touch of your hands on his flushed cheeks. Part of him wondered if things could be different were you not All Might’s daughter. If you were any other girl, he wonders if he could hold you in his arms at night, knowing that he could call you his own. Feeling the love in your eyes and knowing that he was the only man you felt that way about.

“Stop thinking about it!”

“Stop thinking about what, Izuku?”

“Nothing!”

You shot him a confused look, but shrugged and left it at that.

“Alright.” You moved back towards him, taking a seat right beside him. You knew he was trying to keep his distance from you, but you refused to give him the satisfaction. “See any good movies lately?”

He shook his head hurriedly. You shrugged your shoulders again and resumed watching a docuseries about sea creatures. It was this time while you were distracted that Izuku allowed himself to look at you.

He swears you were trying to kill him. You wore nothing but a bra and pajama shorts, with a flannel loosely hanging off your shoulders covering you barely at all. Arguably less covered than you were in that towel.

You turned back and met his stare with a wide smile. The embarrassment on his face filled you with an odd sense of pride. When he looked away in shame, you smirked.

“Get comfortable.” You encouraged, curling yourself into his side. “You seem so stiff.” One hand reached across his chest to to rub his shoulders. “Think of this place as your house too.” The hand on his shoulder slid up his neck to his cup his jaw again. He leaned into your touch when you used your thumb to stroke his still burning cheek. “My dad says you’re practically his son anyways.” You giggled.

Your laugh was the sweetest sound in the world to him. You were working some kind of magic on him that he couldn’t describe. He was staring again. Equal parts wonder and shame. The implications of his mentor thinking of him as a son while Izuku had fallen for his daugher loomed over him. He could push them aside for a while. “What’s wrong Izuku?” You followed the direction of his stare down to your breasts.

Oh...

“You’re acting like you’ve never seen boobs before.” You added with a small laugh.

“I- uh-”

You cut him off with a gasp.

“You haven’t?”

He shook his head.

“No way!”

Unsure of what to say, he shook his head again.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe- don’t you live in a dorm full of girls?” You asked, eyes wide with curiosity.

“It’s actually mostly boys. There are only six girls in my class.” He answered. He missed the root of your question, but you were too intrigued to care.

“I thought you and the little brown-haired girl were a thing.”

“That didn’t really work out.” He admitted shamefully.

“Oh?” You knew you were probing, but couldn’t help enjoying how flustered he got. “Why not?”

“Both of our feelings got... complicated. There was someone else. It kind of drove a wedge between us...”

“Hm...” Your full interest was on him. “Have you even made it to first base?”

Your tone wasn’t condescending or snarky. It was warm and inviting. Smooth like velvet with a charm that made him want to tell you everything without question.

“No.” He answered. Part of him wondered if he should have lied to impress you. He probably would have if he stopped speaking without thinking first. “Not because I don’t want to, I’m just-”

“Scared?”

He chose to respond with silence. You gave him a signature sweet smile.

Just where you wanted him.

“You don’t have to be scared with me, Izuku.” You cooed. “I’ll help you.” You shifted so your breasts pressed right up against his chest. “If you want...”

While his brain was still trying to process what you were offering him, you pushed yourself up to kiss him.

Quick. Chaste. A soft peck to serve as just enough to leave him craving more.

Izuku was stunned into silence, but his strong arms wrapped around your waist to keep you close to him. ”I- I’m- I, uh,” He stammered, desperately hoping that the logical part of his brain would return and remind him how wrong it was to form a relationship with his mentor’s daughter behind his back. How if he got caught, he might never be forgiven. He mumbled a weak “We shouldn’t- I shouldn’t-”

“Izuku...” Your body moved to fully straddle his waist. Your other hand reached up to cup the other side of his jaw. “Kiss me.”

Rational part of his brain be damned. What All Might doesn’t know won’t hurt him. He reasoned with himself. It took no time at all for him to melt into the taste of your lips and the feel of your skin. The feeling of your hands in his hair made him regret not bending to your will immediately.

The hand in his hair tugged at the locks, evoking a whine from his lips and establishing yourself as the one in control. “Lay back.” You mumbled against his lips. He didn’t hesitate for a second to shift himself so he was laying horizontally on your couch while keeping you tight over his waist. One of your arms pulled one of his from around your waist and pinned it above his head, lacing his fingers in yours. An oddly tender gesture considering how determined you were to ravage him.

Just as he felt confident enough to slide his free hand from your waist down to your ass, you pulled away. Once you both heard the sound of keys jangling in the door from the foyer, you both scrambled apart and tried to look unassuming.

“Dad! Izuku is here!” You called before rushing off to help him with his groceries.

You turned back to Izuku and shot him a wink before leaving the room.

That familiar warmth rose to his cheeks again. A feeling he would quickly start to associate with you.

II.

The shadow of the Heights Alliance building loomed heavy over your head.

Before knocking on the door you took a deep breath and hoped he was home.

You rapped your knuckles against the door, and after what felt like an eternity the door opened a crack. Three heads popped out from the small opening, one of which was a pretty girl with pink hair.

Before you could speak a word, a voice called your name from behind. You turned your head towards the source, and your eyes were met with brilliant emerald green.

Izuku was sweaty and tired, clearly returning from training with a tall blue haired man in tow.

“Izuku!” You pulled him into a tight embrace. “I’m so glad you’re here. I was looking for my dad and I got lost.” You lied.

“I think All Mi-” He stopped and shook his head, hoping to play off the panicked glare you gave him at the mention of who your father was. “I think all my teachers are in a meeting.” He corrected himself.

“Yes! Mr. Aizawa mentioned a staff meeting taking place this afternoon for the first year teachers.” The blue haired man added.

“Oh, what a pity.” You pouted softly. “I’m (Y/N), by the way. Apologies for not introducing myself sooner.”

“Iida Tenya. Pleasure to meet you. I take it your father works here?”

“He does, yes. He’s a first year teacher.” You answered with a kind smile and flirtatious eyes. Before your conversation could continue any further, you felt an arm pulling you to the side and the sound of Izuku’s voice mutter “You can come in if you’d like.” You waved goodbye to Izuku’s friend and followed him inside.

He spared you of introductions to his other classmates and pulled you up to his room. You had been there once before, when the walls were still bare and he had just moved in. The room was now undoubtedly his. Uniquely Izuku.

"Sorry, I just didn't want you to feel uncomfortable."

"Mhm?" You smirked.

"What?"

"Are you sure?" You took a seat at the edge of his bed and giggled when he shot you a quizzical look. You patted the space beside you for him to sit, and he did. "I feel like that's not the whole story. What, with the way your eyes were burning into me while I talked to your friend and all." His expression turned anxious. The panic in his eyes vanished as soon as it came, hoping you wouldn't notice. "I think you were jealous."

"No, I- I'm not- I-" He stammered.

"So you are jealous!"

"I'm not jealous of Iida. He's my friend-"

"Seems a little bit like you are. Unless you brought me up here for another reason?"

"You're safer with me than anyone else in my class while you wait for All Might-"

"Because I'm in so much danger with a class of pro heroes in training..." You drawled.

Based on the way he clenched his fists into the comforter beneath him, Izuku was getting worked up in just the way you intended. Better put him out of his misery sooner rather than later.

Before he could speak another word, you reached over to press a kiss to his lips. Slow and sweet, but still entirely too short for Izuku's tastes. "I think you just wanted to get me alone again." His face flushed cherry red at your accusation, but made no move to deny it. You kissed him again. "Well I think we're alone now."

He was at a loss for words. Thoughts of you took over every corner of his mind and left him unable to form full sentences.

You placed a cool hand on his warm cheek and tilted his head to look you in the eye. "What are you waiting for? An invitation? Kiss me."

And he did.

A little uneasy at first, but you gladly took that as an invitation to take control again. Once again, you tugged at his hair to inform him who's in charge.

You slipped your tongue into his mouth, and he soon found himself addicted to the taste of your lips. It was obvious that he didn't know what to do with his hands. You moved to straddle his thighs, breaking the kiss to grab his hands in your own.

"(Y/N), I-"

"Shh..."

You moved his hands up to your clothed chest, resuming the kiss once you felt his hands root themselves there. "Don't be afraid, Zuzu." You assured him. "I don't bite... Unless you want me to."

"What does that mean?"

"Oh, my sweet innocent boy." You cooed, hands returning to cup his jaw. "You know, I'd love to show you, but... Can I be honest with you?"

He nodded frantically.

"Um... This is kind of weird but it feels like my dad is watching me corrupt his successor through these posters and I can feel his disappointment from the walls of your dorm..."

III.

Soft kisses trailed down the column of Izuku's throat until you stopped at his collarbone. His eyes opened in confusion until he felt you nip at the skin there, and soon after soothe the bite with your tongue. He wasn't sure what to make of the feeling until you did it again on the soft skin of his shoulder. When you bit at the meeting point between his neck and his shoulder, he let out a small moan.

"Is this what you meant by biting?" He asked curiously. You chuckled against his pulse.

"Mhm." You answered before tilting his head a bit further and sucking a dark bruise into the skin there. Your hands undid the last button of his uniform shirt and pulled it off his broad shoulders.

Once his shirt was off, your hands drifted lower and lower down his skin until they reached his belt buckle. His heart stopped beating in his chest when your cool hands passed his naval. "Are you okay?"

He nodded.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. I'm just-"

"Scared?" You asked. He gulped. You could feel his hands starting to sweat. "I told you, Zuzu, you don't have to be scared with me. Just sit back. Relax."

You pressed soft kisses to his lips as you undid his belt buckle and pulled his aching cock out of his pants. You pulled away to look at him while your hand started stroking up and down his length, using your thumb to smear the precum at the head.

The sight before you was addicting. Absolutely immaculate. You watched his innocence melt away with each stroke. The hungry look in his eyes told you that didn't know how to handle what he was feeling, but begged for more of it.

He felt himself on the brink of orgasm when you heard the front door open. All Might's voice called to you, announcing that he was home.

"Fuck."

Once again, you scrambled to put yourselves back together before you were caught. You kissed him sofly before calling "Hey! Izuku is here for you!" You took his hand and pulled him out of your bedroom, right as your father climbed up the stairs. "I wanted to show him the sad clown painting I bought at the thrift store."

Izuku would be concerned with how good you are at lying, if it wasn't something that worked in his favor.

Ding-Dong

"I'll get it!" You called, racing down the stairs. Your dad answered the door first anyways. "Ugh."

"Young Midoriya!" You heard from the foyer. "I wasn't expecting to see you here-"

"Oh, he's not here for you, he's here for me." You added, stumbling into the room in your heels. "I'm his prom date."

"Oh."

"I told you about this."

"You didn't tell me Young Midoriya would be accompanying you."

"Must've slipped." You shrugged. "Sorry, daddy." You wrapped your arms around Izuku. Besides, isn't it better Izuku than another boy in his class?" You didn't give him the chance to answer before you were ushering Izuku out the door while muttering rushed goodbyes to your father. "Bye dad! I love you. I'll be back... Eventually."

Once you slipped out and shut the door, you shot Izuku a familiar look. He knew at the start of the night that you intended to ravage him. You quickly concealed the look with a kind smile and a bat of your lashes. The perfectly innocent girl everyone thought you to be.

"Let's go?"

"Yeah," Izuku sighed. "Let's go."

The train ride back to U.A. was agonizingly long. Your hand rested on his thigh, just high enough to make him nervous. He couldn't tell if he wanted you to stop or if he wanted more.

Despite the agonizing pace of the trip there, the dance itself seemed to pass him entirely. The last thing he remembered was taking pictures to send his mom before you kissed his lips and pulled him off to the side.

"Look at you, taking initiative, I'm so proud of you." You teased. Your shoe had snapped at the heel moments ago. Izuku lifted you up in response and carried you away from the dance, but where you weren't sure. That was until you recognized the area surrounding his dorm from the darkness. You looked back at his face and cupped his cheek, just as you had a thousand times before. He had to fight off his own urge to look you in the eye. If he met your gaze, he was sure his heart would stop. And he was too protective of you to drop you. Instead he holds you closer to his chest and asks you

"Did you plan this?"

"No." You giggled, burying your face into his neck. "Did you?"

"Not your shoe breaking." He admitted.

You kept yourself busy by pressing soft kisses to the skin of his neck. His blush was so rosy that you could see it even in the dark.

You caught the eye of the brown haired girl you thought was Izuku's crush, with her lips locked on those of a pretty girl in a suit that you recognized from the third year class.

"Oh, that's why things didn't work out."

"Part of it, but I'm not too upset about it anymore." He muttered, rushing you into the elevator and up to his room. "Besides, she helped me prepare. So I really owe her one."

"Prepare what?" You asked. He said nothing as he fumbled with the door to his dorm. He entered without turning the lights on and just stood there, holding you closely with your legs wrapped around his waist. "You can put me down now."

"Oh, sorry." He kissed your lips softly before releasing your thighs. You hit his mattress with a soft thud. Izuku stripped himself of his suit jacket, trying to hold himself back from looking your way. He knew you were watching. The innocent façade was long gone, leaving the girl Izuku has come to know in its place.

"Prepare what?" You asked again.

"Oh! I want to show you something." He moved frantically across his room before you could say anything, stumbling over a pair of his shoes on the way. He flicked the light switch on to reveal a setting completely different from what you were expecting. The walls were draped with dark fabric. Sheets, you presumed. Christmas lights were hung up around his room with push pins, casting a warm, dim glow in the room. He sat beside you on his bed as he spoke.

"I wanted you to feel comfortable." He admitted. When you met his eye you almost burst into tears. He watched you with all the love in the world. To Izuku, you held the stars in the sky. You were the reason the sun shines and the rain falls.

He loved you already and he'd show you every day until he was confident enough to tell you.

"Izuku..." You looked around at how pretty everything looked, amazed that he did this all for you. "Izuku, I-" You started, but you were completely at a loss for words.

"Too much?" He asked nervously.

"No! You didn't have to do this all for me." You swallowed your emotions and looked back at his nervous expression.

"I'm gonna ruin you." You told him in the sweetest softest voice he's ever heard. You moved to pounce on him, but he stopped you before you could take things any further.

"Does this mean I can call you my girlfriend now?"

"Oh..." You laughed softly and he stared to panic again. "I thought I was already your girlfriend." You admitted. "I was actually going to ask if you thought we should tell my dad about our relationship when you took me home." Izuku buried his face in his hands.

"Yeah we probably should."

You smiled softly as you undid the buttons of his shirt.

"You can go back to what you were doing now," He assured you. "Girlfriend."

"Good to hear." You said against the skin of his neck before leaving a purple bruise there. "Anyways, boyfriend," You tugged your dress off before fully straddling his waist. "I'm gonna ruin you."

#precursor to my ''all might has an american daughter'' fic idea but some things are different #i should rlly come back to that #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku #izuku midoriya #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #mha imagines #mha x reader #my hero academia #bnha smut #ns/fw

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elenamiria · 3 years

Text

A False Marriage

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Rating: PG-13 Summary: On a recon mission you and Obi-Wan must pretend to be a married couple. This brings feelings to light that neither of you realized were there. Written for @sugared-strawberrys who was a winner of my 600 follower giveaway! I hope you enjoy this, I absolutely loved writing it. It turned out really soft and I hope you don't mind 🥰 Also I really can’t help myself with the tropes in this one haha oops. And this is the inspiration for the dress reader wears in this. Word Count: 3.2k Warnings: Tension, kissing, mentions of sexual situations, fem reader, talks about braided hair and putting hair in an updo Tags: @crazycatladyjenga @oneirnaut , @a-dorin , @blxwjobsforclones, @lynnie51 @katrynec @mistermiraclee @theelvenvalkyrie , @ifvckedurmom Masterlist & Obi-Wan Kenobi Masterlist

You had tried to hide the terse look on your face as you sat next to Obi-Wan on your transport to a high class gala on Alderaan for your mission, but unfortunately you were never good at holding you expressions in check. You would have felt much more comfortable in your A-wing than the civilian ship you and your mission partner were travelling in.

A short sigh left your mouth as you tried not to worry yourself about the mission, after all there wasn't much you could do to change your circumstances. Your brief noise caught the attention of Obi-Wan and he tilted his head towards you, taking in your tense features. A small smile covered his lips as he quipped, "Come now, it's not as if you actually had to marry me."

You rolled your eyes at his statement and shot a facetious glare his way, "Not everything is about you Master Kenobi."

Settling back into your seat you allowed your eyes to slide to the window in front of you watching space pass by. Though you could certainly see why he would think your little huff was directed at him considering you had been less than pleased at your mission partner when in the mission debrief. It wasn't that you lacked respect for the Jedi General in fact you held him in the highest regard. However, your perfectionist nature and the fact that Obi-Wan seemed to be naturally gifted in most things he did led to a fiercely competitive friendship through the both of your lives. In truth you weren't really upset that you had been paired with him, the frustration stemmed mainly from within and your worry that you would make a fool of yourself in front of the esteemed Jedi next to you.

Apparently you missed his reply, lost in your own thoughts, and you were startled from your racing thoughts by a call of your name. Turning abruptly you met his genuinely concerned gaze and you blinked blankly at him for a second until he prompted, "Are you are alright?"

This time your huff was directed towards him and you narrowed your eyes in annoyance, this was just like him to question you like that. You knew he was truly just wanting to ensure there was nothing wrong but the part of your brain that enjoyed pushing his buttons seemed to take over as you muttered, "Fine. Just thinking about how I have to pretend that I, your wife, let you keep your hair like that."

Obi-Wan's mouth parted and a rather indignant noise flew from him before he glared back at you, one hand subconsciously tugging at the end of his long locks, "Yes, well at least you don't have to deal with a partner who's recon missions tend to go as well as falling into a sarlacc pit goes."

An audible gasp flew from you as you spun towards him, your face heating in anger, and you spit out, "You're lucky I don't have my lightsaber on me Kenobi!" A smirk covered his lips and you knew whatever was coming next would only serve to further provoke you. Your thoughts were proven absolutely correct as Obi-Wan smugly questioned, "I think rather it's you who's lucky that your weapon isn't on you as we both know how embarrassing it would be for me to best you after that little quip."

Having known Obi-Wan for so long you could pretty easily predict what was going to come out of his mouth and this time you were ready. You let out a short laugh before retorting, "I'd only hope that you'd grant me the small mercy of knocking me out so I don't have to listen to you prattle on anymore." "My dear it seems that would be the most beneficial option for both of us." Came Kenobi's smooth reply. Crossing your arms and sinking further down into your seat you snapped back a short 'fine' and allowed the space craft to fall into silence. It remained that way for majority of the few hours left in flight, the quiet only disturbed by the occasional question as you went over the mission plans again. The mission in question was to find out if a high ranking Alderaan official was secretly pushing a separatist agenda - something that Bail Organa's wife had become suspicious of. You had questioned why this wasn't simply a solo mission and much to your displeasure had found out that this man had a penchant for married women it seemed, thus here the two of you were.

Thanks to your rigorous study of the mission details it didn't seem all that long until you were arriving on Alderaan and being escorted to your room within the royal palace. When you arrived you barely had time to take in your surroundings before Obi-Wan was softly muttering that he would get ready first and you could make yourself comfortable. He quickly retreated to the bathroom of the luxurious accommodations and you took a moment to take a look around. Though the room was grand it was decorated minimally, not that it mattered when a large window gave a stunning view of the snowy topped mountains.

You took a long breath to soak in the beauty that you didn't often get to see within the bustling confines of the city before turning and setting your bags down. One bag was dedicated solely to the gown you were supposed to wear tonight - a truly impressive dress that made you feel like royalty and at the same time completely out of your element. Pulling it gently out of the bag you laid it across the couch, ensuring there were minimal wrinkles. Satisfied you let your eyes roam the room and then you settled your gaze on the bed in the room. Blinking for a few seconds your head quickly turned to look around the rest of the room as if you could will a second bed into existence. A deep exhale left your mouth as you pinched the bridge of your nose already deciding that you would offer to let Obi-Wan take the bed, after all you had been the one to pick a fight with him on the ship, it seemed the least you could do.

Settling on the couch next to your dress you pulled out a small mirror and began to undo the tight braids your hair was in to hopefully save you some time in the bathroom. It wasn't often that you wore your hair down and your could feel your scalp thanking you as you lightly massaged any sore spots. You weren't sure how much time had passed, once again allowing your thoughts and worries about the mission consume your thoughts despite your best efforts to simply relax, and you startled slightly when the refresher door slid open. Obi-Wan strolled out dressed in a similar style to Bail Organa and you wondered if perhaps the senator hadn't lent him some of his clothing. Though all thoughts flew from your head as he passed the window and the sun caught on his cheekbones, highlighting his skin and lighting up his brilliant blue eyes. You could have sworn time slowed down as he offered you a gentle smile and your breath caught in your throat as you tried to regain some of your sense. It was only after a few moments that you noticed he had trimmed his hair, where the curls had fallen just past his shoulders they now just brushed them. Had he done that because of your snarky statement? Your brow furrowed slightly as you questioned why you were so caught up in his appearance in the first place and the moment was broken by your gaze snapping to the floor.

Obi-Wan's gaze lingered on you, a slight frown covering his face as he wondered if he had somehow upset you when you quickly gathered your belongings and practically fled into the bathroom. A small noise distracted him from your retreating form and he bent down to pick up the fake engagement and wedding rings you had been given to wear. Standing he turned to call out to you but as the refresher door slid shut he simply held onto them, figuring he could give you them before the two of you left for the gala.

Staring into the mirror you sighed deeply, shaking your head. The only reason you were distracted by Obi-Wan's appearance was because of your nerves about the mission you had decided. Nothing more and nothing less. You had certainly never looked at Obi-Wan in that light before - though there were all the times when you found yourself captivated by his grace in combat and how his......no you definitely had never seen him like this before.

Focusing back to the task at hand you applied your makeup and finished putting your hair into a simple updo, one that you had done before and that was elegant and yet functional at keeping your hair out of your face. And then came the dress. You disrobed rather quickly, folding your clothes into a neat pile, and stepped into the dress. Pulling it on you could admit that it truly was a beautiful dress though as your arms slid into the small off the shoulder sleeves you could tell that there was no practicality in the dress. Your arms seemed to fit into the sleeves a bit snugly and thus your movement was quite severely limited, an issue you found when attempting to reach back and lace the back of the dress. After several futile attempts you hung your head in defeat, taking a deep breath before calling out for your Jedi partner. You waited several seconds before calling out again, this time hearing several hurried footsteps before you heard your name come from the opposite side of the door. Sighing you gave in and as quietly as you could manage (while still ensuring he could hear you) asked, "Will you please come help me?"

The door slid open and you stubbornly stared at the counter as your face heated in embarrassment, "I just- I can't get the laces and I'm not really even sure how they're supposed to go. Please don't laugh, I know I look completely ridiculous and I-"

You were cut off by a soft, calming call of your name and then you felt Obi-Wan's fingers brush at your back, gathering the laces. His gentle tone caught you off guard yet again and you stilled, chancing a glance in the mirror. Blue eyes caught yours and the serious look on his face had you freezing where you stood. Deftly he laced up the back, tugging and pulling as lightly as he could, only breaking eye contact for a few moments at a time. His sureness had you feeling more calm by the second and when he finished, tucking the laces in between the layers of your dress, his gentle smile brought you back to reality. Turning your face heated for an entirely different reason as you realized how close you were, gaze dropping to the floor again.

A warm hand captured your left hand and gently raised it, calloused fingers brushing softly over yours. Looking up at him in confusion you were met with a mischievous grin and his opposite hand procured the rings you were supposed to be wearing. You let out a small laugh as you relaxed completely in his grip, "Looks like I'm not getting out of this marriage am I Obi-Wan?"

"Most certainly not my dear." A smile crossed your face as he slid the rings onto your finger delicately. Your other hand rose to run through the hair at the nape of his neck as you questioned, "Did you cut your hair for me?"

General Kenobi tensed slightly at your question and as your eyes met his a light pink dusted his cheeks. That was answer enough for you and an airy laugh fell from your lips, "Thank you darling, it looks wonderful."

Purposefully you drawled out the pet name in an attempt at his accent. There was a pause and the Obi-Wan let out an equally as bright laugh before he squeezed your hand, "Well I'm glad you think so. However, I do believe it is time for us to head to the gala."

As if sensing your nerves about to spike Obi spoke again in a teasing lilt, "And you don't look ridiculous, you truly look absolutely ravishing."

With that he swept out of the room, leaving you to pick your jaw up off of the floor and your hands smoothed down your dress before you followed after him - an air of confidence overtaking you.

The two of you arrived shortly after the gala had began, a steady flow of officials and ambassadors filling the room. Swallowing you took a step closer to Obi-Wan and a comforting hand met your lower back. Sharp eyes scanned the room as the two of you searched for the target.

"I don't see him." You said lowly and Obi-Wan nodded in agreement, "Nor I. While we wait would your prefer to mingle with others, dance or should we make ourselves known at the bar?"

You opted for the last option, as it offered a solid vantage point of everyone entering and having a small drink never hurt. Courteously Obi-Wan guided you through the crowds and even pulled out your seat for you, ensuring you were sat comfortably before taking his own seat next to you. Ordering quickly your partner slid around on the stool to face outwards and you turned to face him, your thighs brushing together lightly.

The contact had you taking a healthy swallow of your drink once it arrived and then you distracted yourself by keeping an eye out on the entrance. A warm palm settled on your knee and a shock shot up your spine causing you to nearly choke on your drink. Glancing at Obi-Wan you noticed his eyes trailing someone. A look towards his eyeline confirmed that he had located the target, who in a stroke of good fortune was heading directly towards the bar. Deciding it would be best to play up your false marriage you softly called out for Obi-Wan's attention, which was promptly given. You inhaled deeply as you made eye contact and whispered, "Do you trust me?"

Obi's eyes searched yours as he nodded and surely stated 'of course'. That gave you the courage to lean forwards, left hand coming up to cup his face, and connect your lips together. The Jedi jolted and froze for a split-second before responding to the kiss more eagerly than you had anticipated. His lips were soft and warm, moving in tandem with yours, and when his hand slid up to your thigh a small nip on your lower lip had you melting into him. In the moment everything faded away - the mission, the crowd surrounding you, the cacophony of sound - it was only you and him, that's all that mattered. His other hand rose to cup your hand on the side of his face and he gave it a soft squeeze as he parted from you, a warmth gleaming in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

You felt your face heating as he gave you a sparkling smile, you pulled back slightly but he kept your hand clasped in his. A brush of his lips against the tips of his fingers sparked something in your lower stomach and you had to suppress a gasp as he then pressed a kiss to your palm, lips trailing to the pulse point on your wrist. As his lips made contact you swore you forgot how to breath, his cerulean eyes locked with yours as your lips parted in a silent exhale. With that gentle touch he slowly rose, brushed a stray hair off of your cheek, and bent to your level. Beard tickling at your cheek he whispered to you, "He's directly behind you, I think we peaked his interest darling."

Standing up to his full height again he made it clear that he would be right back before pressing a kiss to your forehead, seemingly leaving you alone with the target, your heart racing from the intimate touches. You knew that he wasn't going far, the banquet hall in the palace had secret eavesdropping locations hidden behind screens and you knew he would be retreating to one of those.

Spinning to face the bar again you caught the bartenders attention to order another drink and a gruff voice spoke up from next to you that he would be paying for your drink. A false smile coated your face as you turned to thank him and you made sure to show off the ring on your left hand as you finished the first drink. As the man gave you a smug smile you knew you had him exactly where you wanted him.

He turned out to be a ridiculously easy mark, caring more about impressing a stranger who he thought he could fuck than keeping his mouth shut about his views. It was only after you got the information you needed to relay to Senator Organa that Obi-Wan swooped back in. His arm sliding around your waist and he pulled you close to him had the stranger grumbling as the two of you excused yourselves. To keep up appearances you made your way around the ballroom once before sneaking out. You weren't going to lie the two drinks had you speaking a bit more freely than normal which led to several bouts of unrestrained laughter from the two of you as you made your way back to your quarters, Obi-Wan’s arm never leaving the comfortable way he had it wrapped around your waist.

When you reached the doors Obi-Wan hesitated and you tilted your head at him in confusion. There was a pause before he spoke, "I know throughout our years we've both strived to best each other and given that you are a fierce competitor I wouldn't have it any other way. However, I enjoyed tonight and how easy it was with you."

You simply smiled and entwined your hands, pulling him into your quarters for the night. Once the door slid shut you pulled him into another soft kiss, this time it was short and sweet, leaving a tender smile on both of your faces.

It seemed there were many unspoken things left to be said but for tonight as the two of you lay on opposite sides of the bed (both of you had refused to let the other sleep on the couch) nothing else needed to be said. It wasn't long before you had rolled over and scooted close to the center with Obi-Wan following shortly after. As he wrapped you up in a cozy embrace you nuzzled into his chest, sleep nearly overtaking you but you couldn't let him go to sleep without a teasing reminder of, "I hope you know this won't make me go easy on you when we spar. I'll still have no problem beating you." A chuckle rumbled in Obi-Wan's chest as he muttered something that suspiciously sounded like 'you can certainly try'.

#obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi x y/n #star wars fanfiction #reader insert #obi wan kenobi #obi-wan x reader #obi-wan x you #obi wan x y/n

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ahtsumu · 4 years

Text

again and again and again ; ushijima wakatoshi

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x f!reader

synopsis: every august 13th, a void opens in your chest. the universe is one sick bastard.

tag(s): soulmate!au, very angsty, equally fluffy, reincarnation!au, prince!ushijima, rebel!ushijima. android!ushijima, dad!ushijima, pro-volleyball player!ushijima ; warning(s): lots of death n dying, suggestive themes, light profanity ; wc: 4.8k

a/n: happy birthday ushi!!! inspired by cloud atlas and the raven cycle but you don’t have to have seen either to understand this fic. tbh it’s just a bunch of different au’s tied together by the strings of fate lol. a thousand thank you’s to @dorkyama for beta-ing!

TOKYO, JAPAN, 2020

It’s another August 13th and Ushijima Wakatoshi might die today.

Glumly, you push away the plate of breakfast in front of you, cross your arms over the new space, and rest your forehead down as if in front of a grave.

“Please,” you beg with eyes shut. “Let Ushijima Wakatoshi live today.”

(You’ve whispered this phrase infinite times–– so often that it has a home in your mouth like a cavity.)

SOMEWHERE IN WASHINGTON, 2012

When you first meet Ushijima–– the first first time–– it’s evening and you’re lost in a meadow somewhere in Washington. Where exactly doesn’t quite matter and, even if it did, you wouldn’t be able to remember. At least, not at this moment. Because you see something most peculiar.

Under the half-lit sky, in the glade of overgrown sweet vernal grass and marigolds and daisies, a figure stands paler than the moon overhead.

The body belongs to a young man dressed in a sweater and slacks. His dark hair parts on the side, stopping right above a pair of firm dark eyes. Thin lips press in a perfunctory line, sharp nose radiates an aura of authority.

And yet, he looks lost.

“Hello?” you call out. The boy doesn’t respond, only continues to hover in the middle of the clearing with the same confounded expression on his face. So you ignore the pounding of your heart in your chest and inch closer until you’re just feet away, shivering. It’s a strangely cold day for July, you think.

“Can you tell me your name?” you ask. Seconds pass in silence as he stares past–– no, through–– you. With your thudding heartbeat and shallow breaths still the only sounds in the meadow, you realise that you may have to try something else.

Gently, you touch the pads of your fingers to his shoulder. A fresh wave of ice floods through your veins, raising goosebumps all over your skin. More curiously, though, your fingers fall through said shoulders. It feels like plunging your hand into a bucket of ice.

Eyes wide, you lunge backwards. A ghost?

No, ghosts aren’t real.

(If that’s the case, then what is he?)

At your touch, the boy’s head jerks up. Life floods his gaze. Blinking, he says, “Ushijima.” His voice is low and smooth, but quiet. Firm. He looks around the meadow as if seeing it for the first time.

“Is that all?”

Ushijima’s focus returns to you, this time with the addition of furrowed brows. His eyes are fixed on you in a way that makes you feel as if he’s reading your soul.

“That’s all there is.”

A million questions race through your mind and before you can decide which to ask first, his incorporeal figure vanishes from the meadow.

And you’re alone again.

Oddly enough, the way back to your aunt’s house comes naturally to you. Once inside the ancient wooden manor, you realise that the feeling that guided you back was the same that had led you to the meadow in the first place.

Then, you wonder, had you truly been lost?

Aunt Risa’s an eccentric woman in her thirties, always yabbering on about Mercury in retrograde and events that are yet to happen. Grandma had been the same. Clairvoyance, or what everyone claims is “clairvoyance”, supposedly runs in your family. You wouldn’t know, though, because apparently it skipped your mother. Coincidentally (or not), she’s extremely proud of her normality. And she’s also extremely proud that you, supposedly, are normal, too.

It’s safe to say that you don’t see your mother’s family often.

Still, she sent you here from New York to “connect with your roots”. And even though you know that’s a cover for “raise hell somewhere else for one summer”, you let yourself consider that it means getting acquainted with the mystic mumbo-jumbo you’ve ignored all these years. After all, nothing normal can explain what just happened in the field… right?

Good thing Aunt Risa isn’t normal.

“That’s Glendower’s Meadow you were just in,” she says with a twinkle in her eyes. “Lies atop a very powerful ley line.”

Ley lines, you learn, connect places around the world through electromagnetic forces. They are also able to transcend time, gravity, space… all forces that cannot be seen.

Aunt Risa adds that they do more than just connect places. “Soulmates countries apart can step on any point in the same line to see each other. It’s been said that the power ley lines emit is so strong that even soulmates worlds and years apart can meet in these little pockets of energy. Guess it tides you over til you’re destined to meet.”

Somehow, everything she says makes sense and doesn’t at the same time. Soulmates? Magic? None of this is real, is it?

“Now,” she continues, “it’s odd that you can use ley lines, though. Remember how you couldn’t tell a black jackal from a swan the last time you read tea leaves?”

You frown. At seven years old, you hadn’t exactly been trying.

“I guess there is something supernatural about you! You can’t deny how magical it is to have a love that transcends lifetimes…”

You don’t hear the rest of what she has to say. “Lifetimes?”

“Yup. Soulmates are the only people in this universe who go through reincarnation. The Universe is a hopeless romantic, letting her children fall in love again and again and again.”

And this explanation satisfies you because you’re sixteen, a little naive, and the Universe has never failed you before.

(She will.)

July passes in a honeyed haze: you spend every day with a content curve to your lips, thinking about a boy with eyes and hair dark as night.

Aunt Risa doesn’t have the heart to tell you that she’s seen his future in this life. And when you step out the creaky wooden door for the last time, ready to go back to the bustling jungle that is New York, she calls out to you with an expression you don’t yet recognise. “Don’t you worry, hun. You’ll see that Ushijima boy again.”

But not like this.

You’re about to get out of bed and dress for the first day of school when an out-of-control eighteen-wheeler runs his driver’s black SUV off the road. Ushijima Wakatoshi dies on August 13th in his timezone.

As it happens, you feel a strange sense of loss settle in. It’s like you’d been driving on the highway and just missed the last turn home.

(You’ll learn in the next life that you, in fact, do not have the gift of foresight. But you do have the curse of memory.)

PARIS, FRANCE, 1749

The year is 1749 and sunlight pours through the windows of Ushijima Wakatoshi’s second-floor bedroom.

In this life–– your second life–– you are a brilliant composer. The Universe, as you’ve guessed, follows no rules, no directions. Doesn’t even spare a glance at a linear timeline. Or perhaps, it’s time that isn’t linear. Either way, you try not to think about things out of your control. Life is good now.

At the sound of your fingers waltzing across ivory and ebony, Ushijima slowly sits up in the king-sized, soft linen sheets falling to reveal his chiselled torso.

“Good morning,” he rasps, a content smile tugging at his lips. “You look enchanting as always.”

The melody stops. Between the lid and music rack, your eyes meet–– his gentle, yours mirthful. “You flatter me,” you deny with a cheeky grin. Still, you rise (wearing his robes, Ushijima notes) from your seat and stroll over to your lover, pressing a gentle kiss to his mouth. “Happy birthday, darling.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs against your lips. “I live another year just for you.” Ushijima really means that–– in fact, he believes with his whole heart that he was made for you and you him. There’s no other way to explain how your bodies mould so perfectly together, how you understand each other without even speaking, how time feels like it doesn’t exist whenever you’re around. Your meeting at Duke La Trémoille’s ball could only have been the work of Fate’s nimble fingers.

(It was. A ley line runs underneath the Duke’s family château.)

You hum, thankful that this time you have the privilege to love him as he lives. Your last life was spent agonising over the only memory you had of him. “And what does this day have in store for the man of the hour?” The words that leave your lips morph into bubbling laughter as he moves aside on the bed and pulls you into his embrace. Still giggling, you kiss his bare chest, relishing in how secure his arms feel around your waist.

“Mother is hosting a ball tonight in my honour,” he says. That you are not invited to, he doesn’t add. He doesn’t have to, though, because you know that she doesn’t approve of you. Not being French is the main reason why, but there’s also the fact that you’re a musician. A talented, accomplished, royally recognised musician, sure, but that doesn’t change how at the end of the day, all you have to your name is inked paper.

And Ushijima Wakatoshi is first in line for the throne of France.

“Ah.”

It’s hardly fair for you to feel slighted–– you knew what you were getting into the second the Crown Prince, notorious for his aloof nature, invited you to Versailles to perform for him and his friends.

(In his defense, Duke Tendou had forced his hand by threatening to throw a fit in front of the Queen, but only after he’d seen the painfully restrained wonder in the prince’s eyes.)

Still, you yearn for something more.

Ushijima feels your body stiffen in his arms and knows the moment has soured. “You can never be Queen of France,” he murmurs into your neck. Shivers crawl down your spine the same time tears prick at your eyes. “And I can never give you a throne.” It’s not the throne you yearn for.

“I know.” You curse whoever the lucky girl will be. And you curse Ushijima for reminding you that she will definitely not be you.

“I can only promise you my heart.” He presses his lips to the side of your neck. “My undying devotion.” A kiss to your exposed shoulder. “And my soul in every life we meet.” His hand slides under your chin and turns your head towards his. Soft lips move against yours while the pads of his fingers wipe away the tears that had spilled over your cheeks.

“Toshi, I must say that the literature tutor your mother hired is doing a marvellous job,” you murmur once you pull apart.

A short breath of amusement leaves his nose. “He’s only polishing a gem that already exists,” Ushijima counters.

You smile slyly, another witty remark ready to launch from your mouth, when three sharp knocks at the door cause both of you to freeze.

“My friends, the Devil approaches.” Tendou’s faint voice travels through the opulent front door.

Sighing, you slide off the bed and tug your day dress on. Without being asked, Ushijima ties the laces in the back together. “Tell your mother I said hello, won’t you?” you tease, kissing him deeply on the balcony.

“I’d prefer not to think about my mother with your lips pressed to mine, darling,” he replies.

You giggle softly, and with one leg dangling off the balustrade, say, “And careful not to wear yourself out dancing, Toshi. Expect a visit from me later.”

His sonorous laughter rings through the air as you jump and land deftly on the freshly cut grass below, running the whole way back to your humble apartment in the eleventh arrondissement.

Regrets of not sneaking into the ball will burn into your brain after Tendou arrives at your door later that evening with a faraway stare on his face.

Towards the end of the ball, Ushijima Wakatoshi is led away from the dance floor and into the gardens by his scheming younger brother Goshiki.

He doesn’t return. The beloved Crown Prince of France dies on his twenty-first birthday with a dagger in his chest and poison in his veins.

With two lives under your belt, you reach the cruel understanding that in every life you live, August 13th is the day that Ushijima Wakatoshi dies again and again and again.

In a sense, memory is foresight.

NEO SEOUL, 2144

Tomorrow, the Union Revolutionary Group exposes the government for their crimes against your people.

But tonight, your head rests against his chest–– a habit you picked up sometime after Germany, 1943, even though you are presently in Neo Seoul, 2144. To be honest, you’re not sure if it’s even 2144. Neo Seoul’s calendar isn’t like the one you went through your first few lives with and you’re certain one year here is equivalent to two back on the Earth you knew… or something like that. Either way, every August 13th passes under your nose without detection. Every day passes uneasily, because although you never truly know when anyone dies in any life, you really don’t know when he will in this one.

But hearing Ushijima’s heart beat firmly manages to take the edge off yours. Every pulse is a murmured confirmation that everything is still okay.

You jerk back when he stirs from sleep. Disorientated, Ushijima blinks at your dimly lit figure before registering that it’s you. A confused expression crosses his features. What had you just been doing?

“Is everything alright?” His voice is raspy with drowsiness but he sits upright against the headboard anyway.

“Yeah.”

“No, it’s not. Tell me what’s wrong.” Nothing ever slips past him–– at least, not when it comes to you. Still, you bite your lip and contemplate if it’s worth mentioning. Three years of working alongside the renegade Commander (and hundreds more from other lifetimes) have taught you that words of comfort do not belong in Ushijima’s vocabulary. But it’s the night before you, the only known freed Fabricant working with the Union, are going to expose the Unanimity’s enslavement of Fabricants to all inhabitants of Neo Seoul. And…

“I’m scared, Wakatoshi.”

He thinks you’re talking about tomorrow. His eyes dart to the holographic digits floating throughout his room. 12:02 AM. You’re talking about today, then. He’s not wrong–– you are afraid of today. But you’re also afraid every day.

Ushijima pauses, wondering what to say. He’s never felt fear the same way others do. Others might only see a myriad of ways they can fail or die but he simply sees a chance to prove himself. A chance to emerge victorious. “If you let yourself be scared,” he says, “then you lose without fighting. Fear is a wasted emotion. Even at your last breath, you should never be afraid.”

As you mull his words over in your head, a section of your hair falls in front of your face. Ushijima’s fingers twitch. Would it be too much to––

“Then what should I feel instead?” He stills.

The question hangs in the air, thickening until the spacious room feels suffocating. Normal people–– people you knew a couple of lifetimes ago–– would probably say something like “love” or “hope” or even “don’t”. You think Ushijima might, too.

But when Ushijima speaks, he says, “Feel right now.”

A shift in the moonbeam pouring through your surrounding glass walls casts a muted glow over your features, breaking through the darkness of the room. Ushijima’s olive eyes flash and fall to your shining lips.

His Adam’s apple bobs. Anticipation bubbles in your stomach.

You think that you might die tomorrow. He might die any day. What are you waiting for?

Feeling a fiery rush of blood surge through your veins, you close the distance between your bodies until the tips of your noses touch. Gently, your hand comes up to the back of his neck, feeling his pulse speed up under your fingers. He instantly reaches out, grips your waist firmly. Hot, uneven breaths fan across your face.

“What––”

“I know it’s forbidden between Fabricants and pure-bloods,” you breathe out, “but––”

Ushijima nudges his lips against yours. They move stiffly, unsurely, but it’s sincere. It’s his first kiss and it’s your… you’ve lost count by now. It doesn’t really matter, though. Past, future, or present, every one of his touches feels new.

Both of you might die tomorrow. But tonight, you both are so very alive.

And when his heart pounds, unmuffled, bare against yours, you are reminded to live now.

Twenty-one hours later, a laser beam whizzes past your ear.

“Go faster!” you shout over the wind, tightening your arms around Ushijima’s waist. “We have to get to the broadcast station now.”

“I’m trying,” he grits out, pressing his foot harder against the hoverbike’s pedal. You speed up, but only a little. “Fuck. Remember what I taught you about the laser pistols?”

“Always aim a little higher than you want to.” From the mirrors on the side, you see the corners of his lips quirk up. You reach for the gun in his belt.

Not a single police officer remains on your tail when you step foot into the broadcast station.

“We don’t have much time, miracle girl,” Tendou, a fellow Union soldier, says once you arrive. He punches the elevator button. Instantly, the chute opens. “Cameras have picked up on at least five Unanimity squads headed our way from the city.”

The sinking feeling that today out of all days might be August 13th suddenly weighs on your stomach. A shaky breath leaves your mouth.

Ushijima stops you before you can step in. Cupping your face with his large hands, the brunet gazes deeply into your eyes. “I believe in you,” he murmurs. “I believe in you.” His fingers brush against your cheekbones. You let your eyelids close, relishing in this stolen moment between two new lovers.

Ushijima presses his lips against yours, kissing you as if he’s trying to carve a message into your bones. He whispers his conviction one last time before stepping back and allowing Tendou to push you lightly into the elevator. The thought that Ushijima’s words allude to more than just faith nudges your brain as the two men grow smaller in your sight.

Halfway through your revelations, the Unanimity cuts through the metal doors of the station. Behind the glass panels encasing the radio room, you watch the shootout begin. Every bone in your body screams for you to join your comrades, but you remember what your orders are. No matter what happens, do not stop the broadcast. If the truth doesn’t come out now, the Union will have sacrificed everything in vain.

You will your voice to steady when Unanimity soldiers take out the Union soldiers hiding behind Tendou’s barricade.

You will your hands to unclench when Ushijima deftly slides over his squad’s barricade and tosses a plasma grenade towards a cluster of enemy soldiers, then picks off the survivors with his Union rifle.

You will your breath to endure when the brunet is blown back by a grenade tossed by another squadron. Ushijima’s cranium collides with the floor. His body stills; blood red as cherry wine pools around his head like a cruel halo. Swallowing, you push forth. You’re a soldier.

But you can’t help the way your throat dries or hands shake or lungs tighten when you see his head turn ever-so-slightly in your direction.

He smiles in his last breath.

(The Archivist asks if you loved Ushijima before you are taken away. You tell him you always have, do, will.

The Unanimity guillotine doesn’t scare you like you think it should. Knowing what and who waits ahead, it feels more like a kiss to your neck.)

QAASUURI, 3003

As you step out of the metal carriage, the ground beneath you begins to vibrate. This, as you’ve learned, can only mean that you are standing atop another ley line.

Olive eyes stare at you impassively when you look up. A dazzling array of awards and medals is pinned to his chest over a white military uniform. Compared to all the other soldiers around him, you gather that the deep purple cape over his shoulders means he’s someone important. Possibly your betrothed? You briefly recall another lifetime in which he’d been the crown prince of somewhere, and you, by a spectacular stroke of misfortune, had only been a composer then. Fighting back a smug grin, you muse that this time, you are a princess.

“Ushijima Wakatoshi, Captain of the Qaasuuri Royal Guard, at your service,” he says with a low bow. “King Washijou appointed me to ensure your safety during your courtship with the prince, your highness. These are trying times, especially with the war against Ibis.” Your heart falls. So it’s one of those lives.

Mustering the warmest smile you can, you curtsy and say, “Thank you, Ushijima. I hope we can get to know each other better.”

You do.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that the Qaasuuri are a race more android than human. But nothing about him feels artificial. He is as real as he was in Berlin. Atlantis. Cairo. Camelot. Hanoi. Olympus. Tallahassee. He feels as human, too.

You get to relearn the way his cheeks flare up when you call him Toshi and not Ushijima for his first time (force of habit)... and every subsequent time (at your pleasure).

You get to relearn his wry humour, how every-so-often his stony demeanour breaks after one of your quick jabs, usually in response to his agonisingly blunt remarks. (“You should have brought a coat, princess,” he notes with disapproval when you shiver in the chilly spring air. You promise him that you look better with hypothermia than in any Qaasuuri coat. An amused breath blows out from his nose. And though he doesn’t say a word more on the subject, his white jacket over your shoulders speaks more than enough.)

You get to relearn how his hands feel on your skin. The first lesson is your mistake: missing a step down the spiralling staircase on your way to dinner. Automatically, his hand grips your arm to pull you back. He uses a little more force than necessary, though, and tugs you into his firm chest. Neither of you can look at each other for the rest of the evening. The second is his mistake: reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you read in the palace library, somehow knowing it’s one of your pet peeves. Both of you freeze when his fingers accidentally brush against your cheek. Ushijima thinks he’s never felt skin softer than yours–– you think it’s been too long since he last touched you.

The third is neither a mistake nor just one of your doings. It happens on a cool autumn evening as the two of you walk through the palace gardens with your hands dangling haphazardly at your sides, knocking against each other again and again as if begging for an opening. Finally, you acquiesce. You slip your hand into Ushijima’s cold palms. And though nothing shows on his stony face, his heart whirrs like an overheating engine for the rest of your walk. He doesn’t let go until the iron palace comes back into view.

“We should stop,” he pants between fervent kisses, “before this gets out of hand.” You nip at his neck. “You’re betrothed to the prince––” you suck on the skin between his collarbones and throat, drawing a low groan from his lips “––and I can never give you a throne.”

You pull back, knees on either side of his waist, and stare down into his eyes. “I don’t want a throne.” Ushijima watches you with rapt attention. Sometimes you wonder if maybe, just maybe, he remembers. Slowly, you repeat his words from lifetimes ago. “I only want your heart.” An unreadable expression crosses his face. “Your devotion.” It’s not recognition. “And your soul.”

It’s conviction.

By now you’ve seen many breathtaking things: entire cities built from ice, the end of the ocean, a Venusian sunrise. None compare to Ushijima Wakatoshi with his pupils blown wide, hair tousled, lips flushed. Red with love.

None compare when he promises, “You have that and more.”

A pause.

“Show me.”

With an effortless flip, Ushijima’s muscled body hovers over yours, olive eyes flashing wildly in your dim chambers.

Amid fast breaths and guttural moans, amid steely olive eyes and parted lips, amid the subatomic space between your bodies, you feel it cloak your skin like armour.

Love.

(The Ibis storm the Qaasuuri castle one month before the wedding. Ushijima fights the invaders valiantly, superhuman modifications undoubtedly being of help. But there’s just too many of them. The last thing he tells you is to run. The world burns when you look over your shoulder, only to see a Ibisian sword drive through his heart.

The Qaasuuri are a race more android than human. But they still bleed the same.)

TOKYO, JAPAN, 2018

The oldest you ever witness him live to is thirty-two years old.

It’s the morning of August 13th and you walk into the kitchen to the sight of Ushijima Wakatoshi lifting your daughter up into the sky, spinning her little body around in circles, the pancakes on the stove slowly bronzing to a mouthwatering shade of gold.

“Mommy!” she giggles when she sees you. Leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed, you watch your husband set your daughter back down on the ground with a soft smile on his face.

“Sleep well?” you ask, ruffling her hair. She nods happily and bounces back to the stove. Her latest obsession has been cooking in the kitchen, though you’re not sure when exactly she moved on from “potion-making” in the backyard.

“Morning,” Ushijima murmurs, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Happy birthday, handsome,” you tease, leaning into his chest. As the words leave your mouth, the sunny morning haze cools into desaturated blue. But it’s been thirty-two years, you reason with a hard swallow. Maybe the cycle has broken. Your eyes dart to your daughter’s little figure on the stepping stool, her small hands gripping the spatula flipping a bronzed pancake over to its pale side. How would she…

You steel yourself, though a small fissure can’t help but open in your heart from the force.

She isn’t your first child and she won’t be your last. Time, you’ve learned, likes to play games, likes to set you on the same storyline again and again just to see if another ending will show itself. There will be more tomorrows and more yesterdays. There always is.

But that doesn’t make todays hurt any less.

Ushijima tilts his head to the side, olive eyes peering into yours. “Is everything okay?” He never misses (or missed) anything–– not when the two of you were heisting in Switzerland or revelling in Alexandria like Dionysians, not when you were crammed in the same codebreaking room during World War I or sailed across the Atlantic to your doom in 1912. Not now.

But you’re tired of carrying each bygone lifetime into the next. Willing yourself to forget the fact that you’ve seen him die again and again on August 13th, you put everything into the lie that slips your teeth: “More than okay.”

You choose to cherish the present.

“Order up!” your daughter exclaims, proudly presenting the plate of pancakes to you and Ushijima. “I even made one shaped like a heart for Dad for his birthday!”

With a grin, you come closer to inspect the heart-shaped pancake. “Excellent work, sous chef!” you compliment, tapping her nose lightly. It’s sharp like her father’s. She, however, inherited your eyes. You turn around to face your husband. “What does Head Chef Ushijima think?”

Smiling softly, he takes the plate from her hands and, without a second look, says, “It’s perfect. Thank you, sweetheart.”

Breakfast passes in a blur of laughter and honey.

(You think you have gone through another August 13th unscathed when night falls and all of your friends exit through the cherry wood doors of one of Tokyo’s finest restaurants. On the car ride home, however, your white SUV swerves to avoid a deer in the road and flips once, twice, three times.

You wake up neither a mother nor a wife.)

TOKYO, JAPAN, 2020

A subtle sigh of relief exits your lungs when Ushijima Wakatoshi enters through the front door at 12:01 AM, red Team Japan suitcase in hand. He’s back from the airport. More importantly, he’s alive.

“Did I make it?” he asks with an upturned corner of his mouth. His olive eyes are half-closed from the exhausting transatlantic flight and his muscles are still a bit sore from how vigorously he played the game against Argentina (Oikawa’s team, for god’s sake)... but he’s here.

And he can’t be any happier.

You know that he’s talking about the time, probably hoping to joke that coming home to you is the best birthday present he can imagine. In that regard, he technically hasn’t made it.

And yet, you leap into his arms and press kisses all over his face as you repeat “yes” again

and again

and again.

#ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #ushijima scenarios #ushijima imagines #ushijima fluff #ushijima angst #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #hq!!#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!! imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu!! scenarios #hq!! scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq!! x reader #hq!! imagines

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softkuna · 3 years

Text

Sukuna || Concert || Fic

Part 2 (oc) Part 2 (reader)

Content ║ Sukuna x Reader

His vocals held that pompous cockiness he was renowned for. It dripped down with the sweat along his neck and chest. His bandmates followed yet were lost in their own worlds. They let the instruments take control of them. You would never admit that you liked the music, either. It was that 90’s punk-grunge Christian parents thought lead to devil worship. The screams weren’t for the devil, no. They worshipped The King of Curses. Now you understood why.

Count ║ 1,664 words.

Consider ║ Cursing. Sukuna being kind of being a dick. Female reader. Grammar issues most likely ^^”

Creator ║ So uh…. I saw a photo of Rockstar Sukuna and this happened. Enjoy my self indulgence. Also… Song for Reference.

Ryoumen Sukuna positioned himself on stage. The sea of people were glued to every motion he made. You were one of those people in the front. Dead center. Your editor paid a lot of money for that spot, too, but you still wanted nothing to do with it. Sure, you needed a big story to get out of that damn plateau but this was not what you had in mind. You focused on fashion, not punk boys with eyeliner.

His face turned to the stage, knees rocking his body to the beginning of a simple, yet effective beat. Broad, muscled shoulder curled forward, securing his zone. But then the guitar came in. A near feral grin ricocheted onto his features as it did. In an explosive leap, his feet left the ground only for the scuffed Doc Martens to slam into the stage at the second beat. Right hand whipped the mic’s wire out of his way, left arm jostled as he started to sing.

Bitches love me 'cause they know that I can rock

Bitches love me 'cause they know that I can rhyme

Bitches love me 'cause they know that I can fuck

Docs crashed with every step, their synchronicity with the band behind. One hand kept on the mic, the other whipped its wire out of his way. It wasn’t that he was energetic, no. He was captivating, calculated in every step, yet casual. His control over his body and the crowd… immaculate. It was a precarious balancing act that he pulled off with little to no effort at all. Steps were to the beat, his entire torso being thrown into the movements.

He wore a white tank top with a breast pocket. The branding of it was recognizable simply by the pristine floral embroidery along the bottom and hems. It hung past the hem of black leather pants. A custom-made silver necklace beat against his chest with each toss of his built physique. You snapped a photo.

His prowess was obvious, even for someone like yourself who knew not a single lick of rock culture. Even with the vulgar and energetic lyrics, the whirling stop-start slow-fast tempo, Sukuna perfected the music as though he were at one with it. Embodied and embraced it. The sharp smile he threw to the collage of faces before him was the only thing you needed to know that he was in his element.

The song was strong, heady even. It buzzed throughout your mind and swung at your heart like a right hook. Each punch of the drums was exhilarating. Every kick of the bass left you wanting more. As alive as Sukuna was on stage, you were there feeling it with him.

The concert went on, moving through each piece like a surging smooth river. It was hard to tell when one song began and the other ended. Whenever you could, you’d snap a photo. There were some good shots in there. Some of his imposing form dangling at the edge of the stage, arms wide out displaying his designer bracelets. Others when he’d toss his entire spine back. The best, though, were when he’d come face to face with the guitarist, his brother, in a beck and call. In their wardrobe, they were a delicate balance of blacks, whites, and coral.

A certain thrill came about you as you realized the wardrobe of each member reflected their position. They weren’t to outshine him, but they all had a theme. Everything must have been custom ordered and hand tailored. Their entire image was just as important to the show as music. Every photo was set up to illustrated the complementing lights and darks they had set up on stage, a living and breathing portrait of youth.

You couldn’t help but notice how every time you’d point the camera at him, he’d lock those brilliant eyes onto yours. He recognized you before. How could he not? Out of everyone in the front row, you were the only one wearing some preppy knit dress. He never would have expected to see a face like yours in his crowd. Some rising reporter with a side blog. He never cared about press, but you’ve been making a name for yourself due to your precise analysis of social culture and clothes. He actually thought your last article on street fashion was interesting and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t gawk at your Instagram after. All in all, he kept his glances for your camera instead.

The stage lighting shifted, illuminating the beads of sweat sparkling along his tatted skin like diamonds. The unnatural redness in his eyes blew an intense gaze across the still crowd. They came to a complete stop. Unease settled into your stomach. This was your cue to go. You knew what would happen next and you weren’t ready for when it did.

His foot tapped. The guitar started. A mosh pit rioted.

It was a concert tradition according to the fan page you looked at moments before walking through the door. ‘If you don’t leave with a black eye, did you even go to a Two Faced concert?’ they’d ask.

Your frame was shoved against the rail, knocking the wind out of you. Bodies collided behind and you felt trapped. Your lungs squeezed and your hands scrambled for your bag. Inhaler. Inhaler. Tightness inflamed your chest as a particularly bulky man squeezed you into the rail. Your hands clasped to inhaler, but before you could press it to your lips, another body collided into you. It clattered a few feet over the rail, hitting the stage. Fuck.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw it happen. Panic painted across your face as you hauled your torso over the rail. Your arm reached for what was dropped before it immediately covered a coughing fit. What idiot would come to his concert an, his domain, and expect to just come out unscathed? It was your own damn fault if you got the wind knocked out of you, but he had to give you credit for trying. Just as he was about to look away, someone grabbed the back collar of your dress.

Sukuna wasn’t one of those artists who genuinely cared about their fanbase or paparazzi. That was for the other members to do. It was well known, too. He didn’t indulge in pictures if he didn’t want to or wasn’t on stage. He didn’t sign anything without a check. No one knew music like he did. No one performed like he did. No one mattered like he did. Whatever it was that overtook him then, he wasn’t sure, but he dropped the mic. A sharp blare washed over the P.E. system. All eyes turned to him. Bandmates faltered for only a moment.

Two steps back. Sprint. The tips of his shoes left the edge of the stage. Ryoumen Sukuna took flight. Arm reached for him, stopping his prized body from colliding with the harsh concrete below. The hand on you left, desperate to make contact with The King of Curses. The band went on, the crowd’s scream piercing the air as they swayed the singers body this way and that. You clambered over to grab the inhaler, took a hit, and dove for an exit.

That’s how you found yourself where you were now, in a backstage hallway, staring directly into the fierce gaze of the lead singer. He smelled of sweat and cedar. A brow rose, hands stuffed into unimaginably tight pockets. Confidence wasn’t lost through Sukuna’s stature; shoulders back, weight slightly on one leg more than the other. What was lost, however, was the excitement. In fact, you felt like studied specimen, eyes scanning your limbs and stopping on your ribs. The bruise forming under your dress seemed to flare in response. His tongue clicked disapprovingly.

“What do you want? You’re not some rabid fan.” His voice was smooth as a sip of whiskey. He already knew the answer. For a moment you wondered why he didn’t just call for guards. He wondered the same thing. Just as he wondered why he leapt off the stage. Not that he regretted the act seeing as it got him trending for the umpteenth time.

Sukuna had become accustomed to certain responses. Some offered him their bodies in exchange for a few moments of his time. Shit like that was beneath him. If he wanted a quick fuck and a column, he’d find it himself. His free time was his and that was non-negotiable. So, he almost always cut them down to size. It didn’t matter to him if he made them cry or threatened their careers, he’d always say no. Pictures? No. Signature? No. Coffee? Get the fuck out of his face. Attention and fame may have been his drug of choice, but desperation and disrespect were one in the same and you do not disrespect the King.

“No. I didn’t even know who you were until 12 hours ago,” you admitted with a shallow breath. You stroked his ego like velvet rubbed the wrong way. He opened his mouth, ready to toss you out then and there. The look in your eyes was enough to shut him up. Hunger. And he was your dish of opportunity. “However, I do want an interview, maybe even film you for an expose,” Your hand reached for his.

His mouth pulled into a beautiful predatory grin. This one had ambition.

“I’ll allow it.”

#this is just me being indulgent #ryoumen sukuna #sukuna #ryoumen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #🍺.fic #🍺.jjk #⛩.sukuna #⛩.fic

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perriewinklenerdie · 3 years

Text

Photograph (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Claire Herondale

Word count: 1,8 k

Summary: Claire and Ethan attend Naveen’s birthday party ft. jealous Ethan

Warnings: None (though MSWord told me that ‘bastard’ might be offensive to my readers so who knows)

A/N: @justanotherrookie look, I made it :D it’s an honor to be considered your friend, you slay my life, pls continue to do so <3

A large clothing bag was thrown over his shoulder as he strode towards his office. The light of the day was slowly giving way to the dimness of the evening. Ethan exchanged his working clothes and a white coat for a tux, hair styled meticulously and an alluring scent of his cologne filling the air around him.

He expected her to be waiting for him inside, but upon entering the room, he noticed her absence. Before he could reach for his phone to call her, the door opened and a very frenzied and out of breath Claire appeared. Their eyes locked and she breathed out in relief at the sight of him.

“Sorry I’m late, our patient in 507 needed additional tests run and then there was hold up in the lab and I couldn’t get the results fast enough- “

“Take a breath, baby, calm down.” He laughed under his breath, wrapping his arms around her to pull her closer. She stared up at him for a moment, then stood on her tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his lips. She let out a low hum of contentment.

“Mmh Ethan Ramsey, the best tranquilizer known to humankind.” Claire complimented, brushing her nose against his. “I’m not sharing with anyone, though.”

“Spoken like a true addict. Though, I have to say…” he gripped her hips tighter, smirking at the way her pupils dilated slightly at the motion. “You’re addictive too.”

She leaned up to kiss him again only for her lips to meet his cheek when his head turned. Slightly confused, she leaned away to look at him.

“If you kiss me again, we’ll never make it to the party.” He muttered, stroking her jaw with his thumb. “Go get ready, there’s still time.”

It takes her entire twenty minutes for her to put her dress and shoes on, touch up her makeup and tame her hair. Ethan was waiting for her by the wall, his head rising to look at her when she came back. His breath got caught in his throat for a split second, awe induced by her entire being stopping his thought process momentarily.

He walked over to her, smoothing out one unruly lock of hair, his over hand tracing the edge of the cleavage of her dress.

“I take it you like it?” Claire grinned, toying with the lapel of his jacket. He hummed affirmatively, bringing her closer to his side as they began walking.

“If it wasn’t for the party, I would have shown you just how much.”

Naveen, unlike his protégé, liked to celebrate his birthday. He didn’t manage to organize himself a party every year, so he settled for throwing a rather big get-together every few years. Other than that, he settled for small celebrations with Harper, Ethan and, since last year, Claire.

This year, however, was the party year. Claire couldn’t wait. Ethan, on the other hand, wasn’t looking forward to it as much. Tradition was tradition, however, and combined with very convincing arguments from Claire, he didn’t argue.

Due to the situation at the hospital, they were running a bit late. Their saving grace was that they bought the present a few days earlier and that the host was their very dear friend.

“I was beginning to think you two wouldn’t make it!” Naveen exclaimed, greeting the two by the entrance to the bar. He embraced Claire, then Ethan, smiling widely at the pair.

“I like to think we’re fashionably late.” She winked, then passed the gift she was holding to him, warning him of its weight. The oldest doctor deposited the bag at the table near the side of the room, then guided the pair to the group of people by the bar.

“I’m sure you all remember Ethan, so let me introduce you to Claire Herondale, a brilliant young doctor that I literally owe my life to.” Naveen spoke up, a pride tone in his voice when the memories of the pair working together on his case flooded his mind. Claire blushed a bit, taking a small step towards the group.

“Naveen is entirely too generous in his assessment.”

“No, he’s not.” Ethan argued, smiling down at his girlfriend. His hand glided up and down her side affectionately. “You are brilliant.”

Among the people in the group, most of them shared a common feature of surprise at the affectionate side of Ethan Ramsey. They’ve met a couple of times at public functions more or less formal than this one, but all those instances had one thing in common. Ethan Ramsey was alone. Ethan Ramsey was solely focused on his work and his patients. So, to see him with a woman on his arm, and to see him so infatuated with her, was a sight for sure.

Ethan didn’t mind most of the people Naveen invited. They were all amazing doctors and scientists; talking to them was usually an interesting and challenging for his brain experience.

That statement, however, wasn’t entirely true when it came to Jonathan Millstone. In general, he didn’t mind the man all that much. As a researcher, he was great. As a man, not so much. From his more than forward attitude, to his treatment of other people, women especially, everything combined into a not so alluring picture in Ethan’s opinion. He never voiced it, however, as the behavior of the researcher never impacted him directly.

Up until that point, that is.

Because Jonathan had wandering eyes. And his gaze has made itself at home on Claire. Her face, her neck, her waist. The slit of her dress. But most of all, the neckline of the said dress.

There was no shame in his ogling, not a hint of embarrassment when she noticed him staring. He didn’t say a word to her, just stood there and watched.

She breathed in heavily, trying to keep her annoyance at bay. Sensing how motionless Ethan has become, she snaked her hand around his arm, pushing herself closer to his side, twisting her body slightly to shield herself from insisting eyes of the other man. Ethan’s arm immediately wrapped tighter around her, amplifying the effect of her actions. It was the subtlest way she could have given Jonathan a hint that she was in a relationship and wasn’t, even in the slightest, interested or flattered by his behavior.

Surprising no one, he didn’t take a hint.

As they walked away from the group, Claire turned towards Ethan with a glint in her eyes.

“That was some impressive jealousy management you had there, Dr. Ramsey.” She gripped the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer. His hands squeezed her sides, his lips hovering right above hers.

“I was holding onto the last bits of patience.”

“I’m glad you did. Tonight, is about Naveen.”

A teasing grin grew on his lips in one moment, and in the next, he was twirling her out and into his arms. His fingers twisted the fabric of her dress slightly, the material rising off the ground a bit. Claire wrapped her arms around his neck, their face coming so close together that they were breathing the same air.

A soft sound of a working camera broke the bubble they were in, causing them both to look over. A photographer stood there, asking them if he could take a portrait of the two of them, per request of the host.

Ethan didn’t have to search very long for Naveen, who had a satisfied smile on his face. He shook his head with a sigh, then turned back to the photographer, nodding slightly in agreement.

With his arm wrapped tightly around her waist, they faced the camera, easy grins lighting up their features. Claire’s hand glided over his back, then slipped into the pocket of his jacket, the tips of her fingers pressing into his side playfully.

“Remind me to get that photo from Naveen later.” He muttered into her ear when they were alone again. She nodded, pressing them together so they could dance.

A few songs later, Claire managed to persuade him to let her get them drinks. And it did take some heavy convincing, especially when the first response she got was ‘I’m not going to be drinking any colorful nonsense’. She promised to not disappoint, then went towards the bar.

He turned around, coming face to face with Jonathan Millstone. He watched something right above the diagnostician’s shoulder, and Ethan didn’t have to guess or turn around to know just who was on the end of his gaze. When two men looked at each other, smugness and arrogance met irritation and disapproval. An explosive mix.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Ramsey with a date.”

“Would it kill you to be more respectful towards anyone?”

“She’s a real piece of beauty. You’re one lucky bastard, getting to score her.” Jonathan admitted out loud, watching how his words affected the doctor. Ethan’s hands rolled into fists and he was about to take a step towards the man, when a deadly calm voice called out from behind him.

“And you’re a real piece of an asshole.”

Both men froze in place when Claire walked to stand next to them. One would expect an angry scowl to reside on her face, but instead, she was neutral. Not a single emotion shown.

Wordlessly, she passed Ethan his glass of scotch, her eyes zeroing in on Jonathan. She weighed her own drink in the glass, swirling the liquid inside a couple of times. When she raised it, the researcher took a step back, expecting her to throw a drink in his face. Instead, she took a sip, smirking at his scared expression.

“You’re also lucky. I won’t make a scene at Naveen’s party.”

He thought he was off the hook. Oh, how wrong he was. Ethan took a definite step towards him, gripping his arm in a vice-like hold. “I’m not that generous, though. I suggest you learn your lesson and beat it.”

With a curt nod, he bid them goodbye (very respectfully) and got lost in the crowd. Claire’s face finally broke out into a smile.

“That felt good.” She shook her shoulders a bit, laughing in relief. Ethan bent his head, lips tracing the shell of her ear, his breath hot against her skin.

“It was also incredibly attractive.”

“And what are you going to do about it?” her fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his pants to drag him closer, her expression feigning innocence despite very suggestive looks they were both giving one another.

“Let me get you home so you can find out.”

Notes

We’re absolutely going to ignore the difference between the dress in the fic and the dress in the pic (yes, I’m a poet)

Denise, find the Hamilton reference (a literal line, no shame) :D

Tagging separately

#open heart #ethan ramsey #playchoices

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jokertrap-ran · 3 years

Photo

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Main Story Chapter 2-15: 时间针脚 The Patchwork of Time Translation

“Come on then, Miss Direction Blind. I'll be the one to give you the directions now.”

*Light and Night Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *Main story tag will be #For Light and Night

After a week of working at Warson, I’d technically adapted to how things went about here. Zheng Lin had also arranged my first solo gig.

Zheng Lin: The design hub has a mentor system set in place.

Zheng Lin: So, all Assistants and Junior Designers will have a mentor assigned to them.

Zheng Lin: Of course, it is not up to you to choose, but your future mentor.

Zheng Lin: Every Senior Designer, including Director Qi, will participate in this program as a mentor.

MC: Director Qi too?

Zheng Lin: Correct. The selection criteria will be the results of your first independent work.

Zheng Lin: It might be solo work, but you can always approach me if you run into something you don't understand.

Zheng Lin: And also, I'll get Brother Mao to help you out, considering how you've only just arrived here and have yet to familiarize yourself with this place.

Zheng Lin: Of course, his aid doesn't include helping you out with your design.

Zheng Lin: In any case, just make sure to do this job well because the results of this will determine who your future mentor will be. Understand?

I understood what she was getting at. Mentors would greatly influence and affect the growth of a rookie. One will be able to learn much more when paired with an experienced mentor who shares the same aesthetic sense.

Although the deadline is still a long time from now, I want to become the best mentee choice to ever face Sariel.

The job this time was to create a dress for Lin Yao, the new up and coming actress, for her award ceremony.

❖☆———————————★❖

She was a child actress who'd recently risen to fame when the popularity of the young idol teen drama she starred in half a year ago exploded. Due to her cold countenance, she was dubbed by the media as the "Nation's Fairy Nymph"

This time, the local crime movie she'd starred as the lead for had received a double harvest at the word-of-mouth box office. It has also been nominated as one of the most popular movies and the movie with the best female lead among many others.

This movie was about a talented dancing genius who secretly plotted the murder of her abusive stepmother for many, many years. This caused the creation of a second personality within her; the murder happened then. At the end of the film, she danced in the pure white snow beside the dead body of her stepmother. Something that she'd only ever dreamt about. And there, etched upon her face, was the first smile of her life.

❖☆———————————★❖

MC: Her performance is way too good! I can't even tell that it's an act...

After watching some of her award-winning works interviews, I finally managed to get some semblance of understanding about Lin Yao.

She was someone of few words, a polite and obedient kid who never once had a single bad article to her name. She was forever smiling in front of the cameras. She was hardworking and responsible when it came to her work, and has had a smooth journey ever since her debut. It was the very epitome of what a perfect life was; one that everybody admired.

MC: A traditional fairy dress would be too conservative. Although that'd be very in line with her image, it'll merely be the same thing all over again. That wouldn't make her stand out on the red carpet.

MC: I can't help but feel like she's not all as inwardly peaceful as she appears on the outside. Perhaps she's fiercer or more sensitive deep down...

I didn't know how I could express this mismatch in her persona.

Perhaps it was those eyes of hatred of hers that shot daggers in the movie, or maybe that one sliver of vulnerability that she let slip in her interviews every once in a while. Those factors made it hard for me to decide just what kind of style I should go with her dress.

MC: And I also feel like digging deeper to uncover the other more charming side of her that no one knows...

The genius young maiden of the nation. A turbulent era of change. Self-redemption and self-destruction. All of these factors were only impactful when combined together with the era it was set in. It was only then, that everything felt fated to be.

MC: What if I added these elements to the dress?

I closed my eyes and imagined it in my head. A black feather dress inspired by the nation slowly formed in my mind's eye.

MC: I know!

Brother Mao: Heavens! You gave me a scare right there!

That was when I realized that I'd quite literally leapt out of my seat in my excitement. I gave an embarrassed laugh.

MC: Brother Mao, I'm going to go out and do some fieldwork to get some inspiration!

❖☆———————————★❖

If I were to find things related to the nation, then the museum would be the most appropriate choice.

Back when I was little, I'd always be left in the care of my mother's ex-partner when neither she nor my grandmother had the time to take care of me. He was responsible for managing this museum that could be called my second home of sorts.

MC: But, why does it look different from how I remember…?

The place had been renovated during the long period of time I hadn't been to it. All the exhibition halls had changed locations.

I followed the signs towards the hall where all the local things were displayed, only for my attention to be caught by a familiar figure.

Dressed entirely in black, said person had his arm behind his back as he stood motionless in front of the collections before him.

His straight posture made him look like a tall, yet silent, statue from afar. Under the lights of the spotlight, a faint silvery-white halo surrounded him. I could even see the small particles of dust floating in the air amidst the light. It made him look stand-offish and sharp.

I couldn't stop myself from raising my camera and snapping a shot.

Click!

The man noticed; immediately whipping his head around.

MC: ...Osborn!?

Surprised, I retreated a step; only to realize that my hands were now empty. Osborn had snatched my camera from me.

Osborn: Watcha hiding?

He cocked his head to look at the camera, the corners of his mouth upturning into an arc.

Osborn: You're sneakily taking shots of me? Let's see how they turned out.

MC: Return it back to me first!

Osborn purposely lifted the camera higher out of my reach.

Osborn: Why are you so frantic? It's not like I mind or anything.

MC: I still have things to do! Hurry and give it back already!

Osborn: What did you come here for?

MC: Photos. I came here looking for inspiration.

Osborn nodded, turning and walking away with my camera in hand.

Osborn: Weren't you here for pictures? Come on, let's go.

Does he want to accompany me?

I hurriedly chased after him and held out the guidebook for him to take. However, he'd only waved his hand in dismissal and signalled for me to follow behind him.

He led me around the museum as if he knew the place like the back of his hand. All I had to do was to name the exhibit and he'd be able to find it immediately.

His sense of direction is incredible. What is he? A human-sized GPS?

MC: Do you come here often, Osborn?

Osborn: It's my first time here.

MC: …..

Osborn let out two short laughs as he crooked his head and contemplated me.

Osborn: And how many times have you been here?

MC: I've come here a couple of times in the past, I guess. I'm not very familiar with this place. Ahem...

??: (Y/n)! Is it really you? You've come back to the country?

The curator uncle that I'd not seen in a long time suddenly comes round from a corner. He looked astonished to see me here.

Mr. Curator: You've grown into a splendid young woman in the years I've not seen you. It's great to see you back! Come by my place for dinner when you're free!

Mr. Curator: Oh, yes. Should I get you a guide? I remember that you got lost here once.

MC: No need! My friend here has a superb sense of direction!

My face heated up as I hurriedly pointed to Osborn. He didn't say anything more, only laughing as he nodded to Osborn before leaving.

Brilliant. I originally intended to keep the fact that I was directionally challenged under wraps when around Osborn, but now… He's gonna make fun of me again.

MC: Right, but I'm still pretty good at reading maps…

In the end, Osborn couldn't hold back his laughter and ended up laughing till his shoulders were shaking. He took hold of my arm in one swift motion and started walking forward.

Osborn: Come on then, Miss Direction Blind.

Osborn: I'll be the one to give you the directions now.

Somehow, I vaguely felt my heart skip a beat at that.

MC: I want to go to the national exhibit…

❖☆———————————★❖

The national exhibit had now been renovated and refurbished retro-style. All the new collections exhibited here now turned out to be clothing and accessories.

Looks like I made the right choice in coming here.

Osborn: Want do you wanna snap?

MC: That one. The brown layered cheongsam patterned through burn-out printing.

MC: The blueish-grey female damask lined jacket!

MC: And that short-sleeved georgette velvet cheongsam that's also patterned through burn-out printing!

I'd virtually snapped a picture of every outfit on display here. The tentative image I originally had in mind seemed to become clearer now.

MC: Okay, that's all.

Osborn kept the camera and glanced at the time.

Osborn: Let's go then.

❖☆———————————★❖

Dusk had already fallen by the time we walked out of the museum. The smell of sundown envelopes us in its serenity, as the breeze carries the fragrance of hyacinths.

Osborn walks up to a black motorcycle and leans on its back seat.

MC: Thank you for today. I didn’t cause you any trouble by hogging you and making you take pictures for me, did I?

Osborn: Sure you did.

MC: …Ah. What are you going to do about it?

Osborn: Then, how about you do a little something to repay me? The bracelet I was looking at earlier; have you seen anything like it before?

The image of Osborn staring seriously at the white-coloured jade cong earlier flashed through my mind.

MC: That’s not a bracelet. It’s a jade cong. They’re used as ritual artefacts in ancient witchcraft or religious sacrifices.

MC: The one you saw earlier was a typical one belonging to the Liangzhu Culture. It’s speculated that it’s used to communicate with gods or the souls trapped in this realm.

Osborn: You know quite a lot.

MC: I used to come here a lot as a kid, and I’d just tail the big sister, the guide, back then when I had nothing better to do. That’s why I remember so many things.

Osborn: Hu? You don't look like an expert at all.

MC: I’m still learning, but they do say that the better your memory, the smoother the sail of your learning curve.

Osborn: Let’s see… Wasn’t there an expert earlier who couldn’t even tell left from right?

MC: I was born with a poor sense of direction! I told you that my map reading skills were still passable!

Osborn: Okay, okay. What’s with the glare? I’m only poking fun at you.

Osborn: My sense of direction is brilliant, so just follow me next time.

MC: ……

MC: Right, but that jade cong earlier was a little odd.

Osborn: Man, the way you change topics needs a little working on.

MC: Do you want to listen, or not?

Osborn: Spill.

MC: I’ve never seen a jade cong from the Liangzhu Culture with the double-headed snake motif carved onto it before.

MC: There exists a sacred double-headed snake motif in Sumerian Culture. It represents Ningishzida, the Lord of the Good Woods.

MC: And in the mythology Ningishzida hails from, the gods used clay to create humans and make the beginnings of the first civilization.

MC: Just like the Fuxi Nuwa from our ancient mythology.

MC: Funny thing is that, coincidentally, the Sumernarian two-headed snake is also very similar to the Fuxi Nuwa.

Osborn unknowingly furrows his brow whilst muttering about something under his breath. However, he quickly returns to his usual playful self.

Osborn: Okay. I've got it.

MC: Why are you interested in something like this?

MC: I remember that the bracelet you showed me up on the roof that day had the same motif.

Osborn: Ever heard of this saying?

Osborn made a come hither motion, signalling for me to get closer to him.

Osborn: The more secrets you know, the more you'll be...

He did a cutthroat gesture whilst smirking at me.

MC: Do I look like I care?

Osborn: It has something to do with someone I'm looking for. I'll tell you next time if I get the chance.

MC: Hmm…

Osborn: But, no telling anyone about what happened today.

MC: Okay. Now gimme the camera.

Osborn: I helped you and yet not even a single "thank you" from you?

Osborn leaned further backwards, purposefully dodging my hand that went straight for the camera, a devilish look on his face.

MC: Thank you!

Osborn: Now stick your hand out.

A small lemon candy was placed into my outstretched palm alongside the camera.

Osborn: Where are you headed? I'll send you.

He flipped himself onto his bike, surveying the congested road up ahead.

MC: I can't possibly bother you like that...

I waved my hand and turned his offer down out of habit, yet inwardly, I was silently pondering about just how I was to get onto that tall bike of his.

However, just as I was about to step onto it and swing myself onto the seat, the engine gave a resounding roar as said motorbike speeded away from me.

Only a single line hung in the air in his wake: "Bye!"

MC: Hey! I was just being nice! It wouldn't hurt to have asked me again...

❖☆————— ⊹ For Light & Night⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Chapter 2-13) | Next Part: (Chapter 2-18)

#光与夜之恋 #Light and Night #Otome #Translations #Tencent #萧逸 #Osborn #齐司礼 #Sariel #陆沉 #Evan #查理苏 #Charlie #夏鸣星 #Jesse #For Light and Night

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daisybeewrites · 3 years

Text

Sorry, I’m Married

word count?: 3.5k

warnings: canon-typical violence, i don’t describe it graphically tho, just a minor skirmish. happy ending :)

requested? no

ship: dousy/daisy johnson x daniel sousa & dad!coulson

hey guys! i wrote this on a whim after hanging out in a dousy group. i was inspired by the chat at the end of the fic. as always, thank you for reading!! and drink some water ;) fic under the cut!

Neon lights reflected off rough concrete walls as Daisy’s combat boots walked down the steps to the underground club. Light up signs glowed and glittery heels flashed as crowds of people surged and stepped on the technicolour dance floor. The sequins of her dress reflected spotlights that roved the entry area. There were booths with cushy red banquettes lining the walls near the bar, giving college girls a place to rest their feet and hotshot businessmen a table to sip beer. Currently, the club was full, young men and women crowding the bar and dance floor. Decades night, Daisy deduced, as most of the inhabitants were wearing flashy dresses or denim bell bottoms. Deke would’ve loved this, she thought. I wonder how Deke is doing…

Daisy’s mind drifted as the light up jukebox in the corner switched songs. She didn’t spot the target anywhere, so she pushed in a quarter, chose her favourite 80s hit, and watched as the jukebox queued her song. The vibrations of the speakers were reverberating through her, pumping her adrenaline up. Good, more energy for a fight if I need it.

Three leather stools were open at the bar��one by itself, and two side by side. She nodded at the bartender and sat in the single empty seat. Her comms crackled in her right ear, reminding her of why she was here in the first place.

“Dais, can you hear me?” She located where Coulson was speaking across the room, sitting in a wooden booth near the side exit. He casually leaned back and sipped his drink.

“Loud and clear,” Daisy mumbled.

“New intel from HQ just came in. The weapons the target is dealing? Alien tech.”

“Great, she said sarcastically,” said Daisy, clearly annoyed.

Coulson laughed. “On your 3.”

Daisy rested her elbow forward on the bartop, scanning the selection of alcohols as a premise to look down the row of people to her right. She noticed two young lads dressed in all black suits, carrying briefcases. There was no way these guys were in charge of the illegal operation. Well, at least they won’t be a problem if it comes down to a fight, she thought.

As Daisy’s eyes roamed the club, she locked eyes with a muscular, bodyguard-type with a small, raised scar over his eye. She smiled then turned around. She recognized the uniform he was wearing as standard bouncer garb, but his side-piece was not. CF380, Princetown standard issue. Daisy signaled his presence to Coulson.

“These guys? Again?”

Princetown was a group of rich, privileged sons of international diplomats and of heads of large corporations. They slipped through the FBI’s fingers like sand. Now, they had alien tech. No diplomatic immunity would allow them to get out of an arrest now.

Coulson nodded behind her. She subtly turned her head and glanced in that direction. Wearing an overly expensive silk suit and holding a glass of champagne, stood Luca Casagrande. Son of the Italian Minister of foreign affairs. Notorious for his parties, wealth, and lack of self-control. He winked at a blonde waitress who slipped him a piece of paper, which was very obviously not a bill. Daisy rolled her eyes. Criminals these days are so stupid, she thought.

Coulson bit back a laugh at Daisy’s reaction. “Alright, Daisy, you’re up.”

“Remind me again why I was chosen for this part of the mission?” she murmured while sipping her drink to hide her words.

“Because, you’re good at it.” Coulson went quiet for a second then added, “And I'm not Casagrande’s type.”

Daisy flashed her eyes in Coulson’s direction, frustrated. She mentally went over the calming exercises May taught her. Deep breath, exhale. Let’s do this.

Daisy slid off the barstool, and approached Casagrande slowly. He only looked her direction when she sidled up next to him.

“Hey, sweetheart. What’s a beautiful girl like you doing out here all by yourself?” A smooth, accented voice inquired.

Daisy bottled up a sarcastic remark and stocked it on the shelf for later use. Only Daniel is allowed to call her sweetheart.

“Well, I was hoping,” she blinked up at him, batting her eyelashes. “to find some product. Heard you had all the good stuff. I'm lucky I even caught you here, considering your reputation.”

“Geez. Laying it on a little thick aren’t we?” Coulson couldn’t help it. The snort Daisy covered up as a cough was too hilarious.

Luca smiled. It was charming, but unsettling. “Oh? And what reputation would that be?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Daisy countered. She looked around before continuing, “Look, I've got pressure on me to deliver. I’d appreciate it if we talked business before pleasure.”

“Hard to get.” Luca’s eyes sparkled. “Alright. Let’s talk business.”

He leaned over the bar and signaled the bartender to bring him two glasses of whiskey on the rocks. Once a glass was in his hand, he gestured to Daisy’s. “You don’t drink?”

“Not when I'm on the clock. My employers frown upon it.”

Casagrande nodded. “I see. So, what type of product were you looking for?”

“Anything I can sell. Uncle Sam called and said they need a next gen advantage for soldiers. Weapons, maybe?” She ran a finger down the lapel of his suit. “They pay generously.”

“You work for the US military.”

“We have a... mutual understanding.” Daisy flashed a brilliant smile. It was kind of fun playing an undercover persona.

Luca studied her face. “I don’t get details?”

Daisy scoffed, “Of course not. Son of a foreign diplomat, it’s a risk the US can’t take. If other countries found out…”

“Yes, I understand," He responded carefully.

“And I understand that you also do some dirty business with governments.”

A menacing half-smile rose on his face. “Only the beautiful ones.”

Looking up into his eyes, Daisy felt the same disgust that had been worn by everyone at the mission briefing. Au contraire, Luca seemed to find Daisy extremely attractive.

“Why don’t we—”

“No.” Daisy internally cringed, but on the outside she seemed relaxed and blasé. She risked a glance at Coulson, to see his reaction. His entire body was rigid. She didn’t blame him. Hearing some douchebag proposition your daughter...yulgh. She wished Daniel was here to watch her back, too... this guy was getting under her skin. Everything about Casagrande pushed her buttons.

“No?”

“No,” Daisy affirmed, tilting her head. “Business first. We can talk about any other deals after.”

“But there is a possibility?” He cheekily remarked.

Not a chance in hell, Daisy thought. “Maybe. But for now, I need to move product ASAP.”

Luca mulled thos over and sipped the burning whiskey. “I may have some contacts that could help you. In return, what will you give me?”

Though the question was innocent, his intentions were obvious. That was exactly what she wanted.

“Depends on how good the product is.” She stepped a little closer “It’s a little crowded in here, don’t ya think?”

He pushed off the bar, inches from her. He smelled like overly expensive cologne, and not the good kind. “I'm meeting some business associates out back in a few minutes. We’ll make a deal after that.”

“Would they happen to have anything I could—”

“Sorry, sweetheart, I do business privately.”

Daisy faked a sweet smile and resisted the urge to punch him.

Luca took two steps toward the back door, then turned around and strutted back. He tilted his head towards her. “A good luck ki—?”

BRing. BRing. Bzzzzz.

Best. Timing. Ever. Daisy shot Luca an apologetic look before picking up.

“Hello? Oh, Dad! One sec.” Daisy took the phone off her ear, and whispered to Luca, “It’s my Dad. He’s in the hospital. Doesn’t know what my real job is.”

She brought the phone back up to her ear as Luca irritatedly glanced around.

“Dad? Yeah... No, I'm fine, how are you feeling?... That’s great, Dad.” She winked at Luca and held up a finger. Daisy was glad he didn’t notice Coulson over her shoulder, also on the phone.

“I'm with some friends…” Luca raised his eyebrows. “Luca Casagrande... He does business with my marketing firm.”

Daisy waved Luca away after noticing him checking his Rolex twice in ten seconds. He nodded and headed out back. She made sure he was out of earshot before alerting Coulson.

“Coulson, he’s headed out.”

“Yup, QJ-6 is on the way. I’ll stay to watch his lackeys.”

Daisy gave the bartender a tip and walked towards the back door, grabbing her gauntlets from behind the bar. He dipped his chin and continued wiping down the counter.

As she walked into the chilly night air, Daisy was greeted with silence. Droplets of water dripped onto the leather of her boots from the rooftop. The concrete crunched in the darkness of the alley. Light from the streetlamps was scarce, melding shadowy corners with the dim alleyway.. Daisy could hear faint music through the brick walls of the club. A smirk formed on her face as her pick from the jukebox played. Walking towards the street, she checked behind the moldy trash bins for a sign that Casagrande was hiding. The opening guitar grew louder as the safety of a gun clicked off behind her.

“So,” Daisy raised her hands up. It was a trap. “what happened to your business associates?”

Luca chuckled behind her.

“You’re not stupid. You can figure it out.”

Daisy slowly turned around to face him.

“You bluffed to see if I would follow you.” She wasn’t surprised. She had counted on this. “You’re a decent liar.”

“So are you.” Luca lowered the gun a bit. “Who are you? CIA?”

“That’s classified.”

Luca laughed, haphazardly slinging the pistol to the side in a grand gesture. “Of course it is.”

“I wasn’t lying when I said that the government and I have a mutual understanding.”

“But that isn’t the whole truth, is it?”

Daisy smirked. “Of course not.”

Technically, this was true. Her status as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent was protected knowledge, no one but people inside her agency and a handful high-ranking world intelligence officers were aware.

Daisy decided he might as well know who she was. He was going to be locked up in a max-security cell pretty soon, anyway.

He fell against the wall as Daisy hit him with a small quake, just enough to get her point across. His expression was one of pure shock.

“You- Y- You’re…”

“Mar—”

“Daisy, what’s going on?” Coulson must have felt the vibrations. She didn’t think she had hit Luca that hard. Daisy could hear the quinjet approaching, the comforting vibrations of the engine helping to calm her nerves. She stepped toward Luca.

“You have two options: come peacefully with me, or I call the cavalry to take you in by force.”

Luca stayed on the ground, silent. He reminded Daisy of a pouting toddler.

This toddler had a few tricks up his sleeve.

Coulson’s voice came through her ear. “Daisy, do you ha—”

Daisy’s blood ran cold as she received static from the other line.

“Coulson? Coulson?!”

Wide brown eyes turned to watch Casagrande’s smirk grow.

“Problem?" He said smugly.

Daisy quickly knocked him out with the mini-ICER she kept inside her boot and ran back inside. Opening the solid metal door to the inside of the club, she registered the panicked screams from the main room. As she hurtled through the plain hallway towards the crowds, she wished she had a way to tell the backup team that they were flying into trouble. He must’ve known we’d be here. How did he know we’d be here?

The walls were a blur as the confusion and fear from the civilians in the club became palpable. The door squeaked on its hinges as Daisy threw it open. She didn’t see Coulson anywhere. Actually, she couldn’t see anything at all. An EMP. Cool. Fun. Alright. That’s fine.

It’s all fine.

Wandering the crowds, Daisy tried to find a way to contact the team. Surely they had a landline in here?

The bartender pulled her aside as she passed him. He silently pointed to the jukebox. It was the only thing still on and functioning. Of course, Daisy didn’t know how she hadn’t seen it before!

She walked to the jukebox and searched the sides for a dial, a button, something... Aha! She unlatched the panel and bent down to dial Piper’s number. She pressed the call button while her vision grew blurry. Her eyelids drooped. A sluggish head turn towards the dance floor gave a view of unconscious bodies asleep next to each other. Daisy tried to stand, to walk to the nearest victim of the sleeping gas. A burning zap that seemed to travel through her veins rendered her unconscious. I have to find Coulson…

Daisy knew she probably shouldn’t have left Casagrande in the alley by himself. She was playing right into his hand.

Coulson was more important.

Coulson. What would he do?

Daisy slowly tried to open her eyes. She felt like she had a hangover. The light was dim, the floor beneath her cold as ice. Her hearing slowly came back as she took in her surroundings. A pair of black dress shoes blurred into her frame of vision.

“Hey, you’re awake.” Coulson’s voice flooded her with relief.

“What happened? Where…?”

Coulson helped her sit up against a rough stone wall. “I have no clue. Best guess? An Italian castle.”

Daisy was suddenly very awake. “We’re in Italy?”

“Hey, I said best guess.” Coulson pointed his fingers to the ceiling. “I heard footsteps up there earlier.”

Daisy just nodded. Last time she was in Italy, she had a hell of a lot better time. For starters, no one zapped her with— wait, what was she hit with?

“What was that weapon I was hit with? It felt like it was melting my insides.” The thought scared her. The only other time she had felt that type of pain was when... she didn’t like to think about it.

“You know the alien tech that Casagrande was running?” Daisy nodded. “Yeah, it was that.”

A loud groan solidified Daisy’s frustration. Her eyes closed while she tried to concentrate. She tried to feel any vibrations near her, to soak up anything that could signal where they were. Instead of feeling the vibrations of a mountain or a plane, she felt footsteps. Coming closer, closer... Daisy opened her eyes.

Luca entered the chilly cell through the thick steel door. She would have quaked him back about a hundred feet if it weren’t for Coulson’s hand on her arm.

“You two seem comfortable. Can I get you a drink? Water? Coffee?” His smile was smug and irritating.

Coulson replied before Daisy could. “No, we’re good thanks. How about instead, you give us some answers. Starting with: where are we, and who’s your source?” His voice got harder and colder as he went on. Luca acted unfazed.

“No. You are insurance. You have physical evidence of my illegal trades. I was going to leave you on the curb, but then this guy,” Luca pointed over his shoulder at a soldier then slapped the short lad on the back. Daisy recognized him as one the short lads with briefcases at the bar. “This guy had to go and shoot you with the Widow’s Bite!”

Coulson's eyes grew wide in recognition. Daisy could connect the dots herself.

“You stole Black Widow’s weapons?” They said in unison. Coulson and Daisy looked at each other and fell silent. By Daisy’s profile, if they kept acting surprised and in awe, he would keep giving them answers.

“Yes, I did. Amazing right?” Luca stared off into the distance. “Last month I hired a thief to get into the Avenger’s Compound. She got a copy of Stark’s old hard drive, picked up some old relics, modified them with alien metal stolen from Hydra. But every time I tried to open it, it would corrupt my servers. I took the damn thing to every hacker I knew, now they all want to kill me because I crashed their servers. Some of them used to be part of the Rising Tide, when they were still young and hotheaded. They told me about a hacker named Skye. She disappeared, never heard from again. She has no information on her. She has no records. Not even in the top intelligence departments of America. She doesn’t exist.

“But Daisy Johnson does. Daisy Johnson, a hacker who rose in Skye’s place. Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“And you need us to get to her,” Coulson finished. “I hate to burst your bubble, but we’re expendable. You’re better off throwing us in the ocean than you are waiting for her to come.”

Luca seemed to be seriously considering this. Then he nodded. You’re right, I need to up the ante. Raise the stakes a little.”

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder as he turned on heel and swaggered down the hallway. “Bring them.”

Two soldiers came in to get Daisy and Coulson. They reached down to grab Daisy, and she swiftly brought her head forward to hit theirs. Stunned, the soldier took a step back, giving Daisy time to stand up before she gave a hard kick to his stomach. The other soldier was similarly impaired, having taken a startlingly strong punch to the jaw from Coulson. The crack! of the bone echoed off the stone walls. Daisy quaked them against the wall for good measure, realizing they hadn’t taken her gauntlets. Coulson was waiting by the door.

“Let’s go.”

They ran through the halls, following where they thought Casagrande might have gone, stopping in several rooms on the way to hide from Casagrande’s soldiers. They ran into him at the front of what was, indeed, a stone castle. He stood on the uneven steps gazing out at rolling hills and cottony clouds hung high above a choppy lake. The wind blew hard, just enough to make you wish for a sweater from someone warm and comforting. It was all quite picturesque.

Except for the criminal standing in front of them.

“Congrats, you escaped! I’m so glad.” Luca smiled and opened up his arms.

“Somehow this guy still sounds smug. We just escaped from his prison and this guy still thinks he’s won.” Coulson turned to Daisy.

Daisy shook her head and shouted, “Hey, Luca! The fight’s not finished yet!”

“Really, sweetheart? Because it looks to m—”

He was interrupted by a violent quake in his direction. She strided over to where he was struggling to get up.

“It looks like what? I can’t hear you.” Daisy rested her hands on her hips.

“It looks as if you are lost. Even if you escape, you have no way to get home,” he wheezed.

Daisy rolled her eyes. Coulson walked up behind her, squatting down beside Luca and using a hand on his shoulder to keep him in place.

“We’re resourceful. And while we were hiding from guards in some of your fancy tech rooms, we found an old sat phone. They’re easy enough to use, all we had to do was phone a friend and tell them exactly where we are,” Coulson explained.

“Ah, but you don’t know where we are, sweetheart.” His rebuttal was pointed at Daisy. She decided it was her turn to prove him wrong.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. You counted on us not being able to crack your hard drive’s encryption and get past your feeble firewalls. That took less than five minutes. The only remotely hard part about hacking you to find our coordinates was trying to read everything in Italian.” Daisy laughed.

Luca tried the wiggle away from them. “If you have my hard drive, then you know there isn’t anything of importance on there.”

As she pulled a pair of handcuffs out of her boot, Daisy exchanged a look with Coulson.

“You’re right, there isn’t anything of value on that hard drive,” she said. “There are about 100 other files I downloaded from your personal computer that do have important intel, though.”

Coulson pulled a face and sucked in a breath. “Yikes.”

“So, I guess if you’re arresting me, there isn’t any chance we could ever do business, if you know what I mean?”

Daisy mentally pulled that bottle off the shelf and dusted off her sarcastic remark.

“Sorry, I’m married.”

Daisy locked the cuffs into place and stood Casagrande up. Two quinjets touched down thirty minutes later, one with a team of agents to search the castle, and one to take Daisy and Coulson home. Agent Piper met Daisy on the ramp of QJ-6, something metallic and glittery in her hand.

“Thanks for holding onto it.” Daisy hugged Piper before taking her ring back.

“No problem. Wouldn’t want this rock to get lost in the field!” she laughed.

Daisy slipped the smooth metal on her finger and sagged into the jump seat next to Coulson. She rested her head on his shoulder, softly gazing at her hand.

“I can’t wait to be home with Daniel.”

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

A/N: heeeey! this fic was inspired by @starkmaiden ‘s post in a dousy group i’m in. thank you!! if you have a request, question for me, or want to be added to my taglist go visit my ask box! i love each and every one of you :)

#daisy johnson x daniel sousa #dousy #timequake #dad!coulson #quakersquares #marvel fic #ashby's fics #agents of shield #aos writer #phil coulson #skye #fluff #happy ending #angst

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futurewriter2000 · 3 years

Text

Heartless - pt. 10

A/N: You guys are going to hate me so much hahahahhaahahahha.

::::

No dirt. No pain. Only silk and warmth.

Your fingertips only felt the smoothness of the silk and the sheets. The cushions were so soft beneath you that you almost sunk into it. This bed definitely wasn’t your bed. It wasn’t bumpy old mattress with hard pillows and harsh blankets. It felt most comfortable you had in years.

Opening your eyes to the beautiful morning sunlight, you saw a shadowy figure at the foot of your bed. He sat there, reading a book and you knew who this was. Most definitely, you would remember your life-long bully.

“Mooorning, (y/n).” he glanced up with his bright green eyes, one more blue than green.

You tried not to show how fear quickly overtook you. You felt sweaty, more than sweaty. You felt you had died and ended up in hell with him by your side. Keeping your eyes steady, cold, you answered in the same voice. “Mulciber.” you nodded and he plastered an amused smile on, still reading his thick book.

“Wait... Let me just finish this.” he said, lifting his index finger at you as his other hand trailed down the page.

And you waited, just as he said. You waited for him to finish reading because you didn’t know where to even start questioning about your surroundings.

His finger stopped and slowly, he closed the book and put it on the desk next to the bed. He pulled his leg up on the bed and stared into your eyes with his blazing green colour.

“I’m just keeping an eye on you, Potter.” he smiled widely, chuckling and shaking his head. “You, (y/n) Potter. Who knew...” he continued to chuckle.

“Quit the games, Mulciber. Tell me where I am. Why are you here?”

“I’m your baby sitter, darling.” he leaned back on the foot of the bed and crossed his arms in front of your chest. “You and me are now bonded forever.”

Your heart sunk. It was as if you swallowed it whole down your throat.

“Oh, it’s not that bad, (y/n). I just know how stubborn you are.” he scooted off the bed and walked to you, his hand trailing up your leg and up to your bare left hand. “And also... you can throw a punch.” he smiled and sat down, taking a hold of your hand.

You wanted to tear it away from him but he wouldn’t let it go. “Do you want to test this theory, right now?” you seethed at him as he chuckled.

“We are going to have so much fun together.” he kept caressing your hand and as much as you hated to admit it... it felt good. Your eyes travelled to your hand that he held and watched how beautifully, tenderly his hand brushed against your own. “You have beautiful hands, (y/n) Potter.” he charmed, his eyes glinting with a wonderful shimmer.

“Is that it, Mulciber?” you let out a scoff. “Flirting with me?”

“You’re in debt to the Dark Lord, Toots.” he grinned maliciously and you jumped, wanting to pull your hand away from him but he gripped it extremely tight.

“I’d never-”

“You did though, can’t you remember?” he asked, pulling your hand to his lips and brushed it against your knuckles. “He saved you, now you owe him-”

“Owe him what?” you asked, heaving and feeling your heart beat.

“Loyalty.” he continued to smile.

“I will never bow to him!” you started to lose control with your temper but Mulciber only laughed and pulled himself closer, turning your hand around and caressing your forearm.

When you looked down at your forearm, you quickly looked away, taking a deep breath in. “Oh, my God.” you let out a shaky breath, squeezing your eyes shut as tears fell down your cheeks.

“It doesn’t look bad on your pretty little arm.” he continued to speak, trying to look up at you but you kept your head turned away from him.

He came over to you, up until the two of you were face to face. He put his hands on your cheeks and made you face him. Your eyes, despite the fear, were fierce and strong. He brushed away the fallen tears and smiled- softly, something you hadn’t expected from him. “I’m doing this for one person only, (y/n) Potter.” he spoke seriously, observing your forehead, your eyebrows, your eyes that he found appealing the most- then your nose and your lips, soft and plush. “You never know when you’ll end up dead here so you should consider yourself lucky being stuck with me than any other of us.” his eyes now focused on you, looking into you as if he was drilling into your soul. “You stick with me, you do as I say and you’re alive.”

“I’d rather die-”

He pressed his thumb on your lips and looked even deeper, which you hadn’t thought was possible but he looked so deeply into you, that you thought you were standing bare naked in front of him. He touched every corner of your soul with his eyes and there was something you never knew you could see in his eyes; empathy.

“You live. Your family lives.” he finished, this time removing himself from your soul and giving you the look of respect before he removed himself away from you.

He stood up and started backing away from you, further and faster.

“Brush away the tears, (y/n). We both know that’s not you.” he plastered his perpetual smirk. “Pull yourself together, do whatever he says.” he continued as he turned you his back and started walking to the door.

“For who are you doing this?” you blurted out, trying to reach out for him.

He looked over his shoulder and mumbled something before taking a firmer look at you and smiled. “Just do as I say.”

And just like that he was out of the door and standing in front of his leader.

“Well?” the Dark Lord hissed in his usual cold tone.

“She’s awake.”

“And?”

“She’s expecting you.” Mulciber said, not even looking him in the eyes.

“Brilliant.”

:::

You jolted awake, eyes widening as your fingers beneath you gripped the marbles of dirt and pushed your whole body weight off the ground.

You were facing him, him, the Dark Lord- the one you have dreamt about and you were staring at him- at his large red eyes that had a slit instead of a pupil.

He stared at you with fascination. “Interesting.” he hissed, pointing his wand at you. “Very interesting.”

“I take it back!” you scrambled on your feet, swaying left and right and holding yourself against the trunk. You felt sickness wash over you from pain- so much pain that it almost burst outside of you.

“You’d do me a fair good.” he continued calmly, trying to approach you but you only stepped back.

“STAY AWAY FROM ME!” you shouted, looking around to find your wand before remembering that your wand was half-broken. The thought of no wand made you want to cry so badly- sob even. God, you were so exhausted, so much in pain. Your bumpy bed never sounded more like a dream than it did right now.

He was in front of you- in front of you... (y/n). He is in front of you. Do something.

“Why can’t I get inside your mind?”

(y/n).... Do something before he kills you.

He took a hold of your head, holding it firmly between his hands as you felt a sudden pressure inside your head- as if you skull was about to burst.

It hurt, your head hurt, your vision... your vision??- Your vision burst into the stars...

---

It was after midnight when James sat in the living room. His head was in his hands and he couldn’t stop himself from crying. He did it every day. Every night at the same time because it was the only way he could without anybody knowing.

And with every night it came a realisation what happened to you. You cried... every night just like he did and nobody knew. He thought other’s would notice but nobody ever did and that pushed him into more tears.

He was supposed to protect you! He was your brother and everybody noticed that he stopped being your brother a long time ago. Everybody except him.

“I’m sorry, (y/n).” he sobbed into his hands, feeling nothing but tears that soaked his palms. He rubbed his eyes and tried to look up but by now his eyes really hurt. They were puffy, bloody red and broken.

And he didn’t know why he felt as if he was grieving after you but hope- hope that you’re coming back now, today, this moment, this minute, this second. He just wanted you back. He wanted you here. Too many days passed without you in it. A week- a week too much. Seven days without you were spent like seven years in Azkaban for him- especially where he was the guilty one. He was the one that shoved you away and now you weren’t here. You weren’t here with him to console him. You were the only person who ever saw him cry. You were the person who made him feel strong when he was weak. You were the only one who held him when he needed to be held but what happens when the only person who you needed wasn’t there anymore?

If it wasn’t for the sudden rumble in the hall, James would have wailed out loud from pain of losing you. He felt something was wrong. He felt it inside of him like your bones were his bones. It wasn’t physical pain- it was a strong tingle and it was so strong that it hurt. He knew something wasn’t right and by the sound that just appeared in the hall... that made him-

“James?” a sudden woman’s voice came from the hall and he shot his head to the figure, brushing away his tears.

He thought it was his mother, standing and catching him so weak and vulnerable but it wasn’t James. It was you- you in a black turtle neck and jeans.

“(Y/N)?!” his eyes widened, looking at the bag you dropped on the floor. “Oh thank God!” he ran into your arms, almost knocking you on the floor when his arms wrapped themselves around you and lifted you off your feet. “I’m so sorry, (y/n)! I’m a bloody idiot to have ever thought my life would be better without you! Merlin,-” he pulled away, cupping your face. “- I’m never leaving you again. I’m so sorry for ever telling you all the things that I said. They aren’t true. They were never true. I was being a gromless pillock, like you always call me but blimey, have I missed you- I thought you were dead somewhere and it was my fault but I love you, (y/n)-” he continued to blubber non-stop.

“James, calm down-”

“MUM! DAD!” he shouted at the stairs. “SHE’S HOME! SHE’S HOME!” he said turning back to you.

“Have you been crying, James?” you asked, cupping his wet cheeks and brushing your thumbs across it.

“You cut your hair?!” he looked at your short hair that fell down your shoulders. “And- what happened to your chee-” he stopped to observe the scratches on your skin; one specifically that stretched over your right eye, down your eyebrow and to your cheek.

“Ah, it’ll heal.” you smiled at him, slapping his hand away as he pulled you into another hug.

Then you heard tumbling over the stairs, your parents and Sirius all looking at you. Your mother ran to you first, giving you a tight hug and so on until everybody made his turn. Well, mostly everybody.

Sirius was still there standing at the stairs, looking lost and guilty. His eye has gotten better since the last time.

You smiled softly at him, opening your arms and hugging him. As soon as you did, his arms wrapped around you like he had never thought you’d come back to him.

“I’m so sorry, (y/n).” he mumbled into your neck, taking a long deep breath of you and not finding a single fragmance of coconut on your skin. But you still had your own scent, the one that made his mind go into clouds. It was never the coconut. It was you. You was all he needed.

And it was not any different for you. The way he smelled was more than wonderful. No cologne, no shampoo but him. His smell, the one you fall in love with. The one that’s warm and safe, the one that brings you home.

You pulled away, cupping his cheeks and looking at him as you did James before. “Reset button?”

He let out a laugh. “Reset button.”

But if only it was that easy.

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

the “ ::: “ in the beginning implies as the reader was dreaming/having a flash in their head.

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black imagines #james potter #james potter imagine #james potter imagines #marauders #marauders imagine #marauders imagines #marauders fanfiction #marauders era

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silverarmedassassin · 3 years

Text

Home For the Holidays (1)

Bucky x Reader | Words: 8,608 | Warnings: None

A/N: Happy holidays and happy December 16! This is my holiday submission for @wonderlandmind4 Fall/Winter challenge. My prompt was: B is very enthusiastic to introduce A to all their traditions, but tries to be sensitive when A seems like they’re struggling to fit in/enjoy themselves.

I’ve been working on this guy for so long, so I decided to split this up into two parts. Part two will be posted this weekend! I’m so happy to finally be sharing this bad boy with you all! If you feel so inclined, I would love to hear what you think. Happy reading!🎄

From the time he was a young boy, Bucky has had an aversion towards the elderly. Which is ironic considering since, technically speaking, he is the elderly now. It’s not that he doesn’t like old people; it’s just that they make him uncomfortable. Which is why, on a balmy Sunday in October, when he walks into the Brooklyn Manor nursing home, he feels his skin crawl.

This trip has been a long time coming. Two years on the run, a voluntary deep freeze, a universal war, and the obliteration of half the earth’s population and its subsequent return, to be exact. But no amount of time would ever prepare Bucky for the visit he was about to make. But it was “essential to his healing,” as Sam so often liked to say. This, along with therapy and the establishment of a place of his own outside of the Tower, was meant to help him move past what had happened to him, help him see that he was a victim and that people still loved him despite what he was forced to do for all of those years.

"Good morning," a cheery redhead says from her spot behind the front desk. "Can I he-" She cuts herself off when she looks up from the computer screen and sees who is looming over her.

"Er, hi," Bucky says, suddenly convinced this is a terrible idea. He should expect nothing less, considering his line of work, both current and past. "I was told Rebecca Proctor lives here..."

It took a second for the woman to register what Bucky had said, but then she jumps into action and begins to type into her computer. "Of course! Are you a relative?"

"Brother."

Her eyes go wide for a second before it clicks. "Oh my goodness, of course." The woman grabs a sticky note from the pad next to her keyboard and scribbles down a series of numbers before handing it to him. "Her room number is 117. This is the code to get into the residence portion of the building. If you need help finding the room, there should be a nurse's station in every hall."

Bucky offers a tight smile and nod of appreciation as he takes the slip of paper from the woman. As he makes his way deeper into the facility, he can feel his nerves waxing and waning with each step. He shouldn't be nervous. It was just Becca, just his little sister, one of the last living ties to his life before all of this. But it had been so long, who knew if she would even recognize him?

When Bucky recruited Sam to help him find out where, or even if, his sister was living, he figured it would be a fruitless quest. He was surprised, however, when Sam came to him a week later with the address of the building he was currently attempting to navigate, shyly dipping his head every time he would pass an older woman in a wheelchair or a group of men concentrating on a board game. Sam had managed to hunt her down with a little help from his Avenger title. The nurse couldn't give him much information since he wasn't a relative or listed on her medical files, but what she could share broke Bucky's heart.

At 102 years old, technically a little less since she was a Snap victim, Becca's memory was less than stellar. Her children had made the tough decision to place her in a home after her mind had started to slip, and she was no longer able to care for herself. It makes Bucky feel guilty because he wasn't around to help.

But today, hopefully, that would change.

After a little wandering and a helpful point from a nurse, Bucky finds himself standing in front of the oversized, thick oak door with a golden plaque in the center proudly displaying "117." He waits a moment, listens for any sign that someone is in the room, but all he hears are the general noises of a nursing home just after lunchtime. He raises his hand to knock but stops short of making contact. Should he knock? What if she’s sleeping? He wouldn't want to wake her. He decides to slowly press the door open instead.

He enters the room slowly, unsure of what he will be greeted with when he reaches the end of the short hall blocking his view from his sister's bed. What he sees, however, thoroughly surprises him. Instead of finding a small, frail body lying in a too-sterile hospital-grade bed, he finds his sister sitting in one of the two armchairs in front of her window, quietly looking out into the garden just outside. After a moment of shifting back and forth on his feet, Bucky clears his throat in an attempt to catch Becca's attention.

The woman slowly turns her head to eye the intruder, and, to Bucky's amazement, a slight look of recognition flashes across her face. Despite her age and sunken appearance, her bright blue eyes still shine as brilliant as they did when she was a little girl. He focuses on those eyes as he slowly crosses the room to her.

"Hey, Becca. Do you," Bucky grimaces as the falter in his voice caused by the tears that are starting to form in his own blue eyes. "Do you know who I am?"

To save his sister from having to crane her frail neck to look up at him, he settles himself into the chair across from hers. The smooth velvet is cool on his overheated skin, and he could sink into the feeling of comfort it gives him. Another piece of home, he thinks as a picture of his family's home flashes across his mind, the two chairs nestled in a similar position to how Becca has them now.

Rebecca studies her brother for a moment before a thin but bright smile spreads across her aged features, and Bucky lets out the breath he didn't realize he was holding. "You're from the pictures. Just over there."

Bucky watches as a boney finger points to the dresser, the top neatly cluttered with picture frames and trinkets, a sign that his sister had lived a full and happy life after he'd gone. He gets up and makes his way to the piece of furniture to better look at the mixture of black and white and colored photos scattered together. It's strange, he thinks, seeing his sister's life play out across the years in the span of just a few short seconds. When he lands on a black and white photo in an aged frame, he freezes. Smiling back at him are his parents, Bucky himself sitting in front of them on their home's front steps, and Becca nestled snugly in their mother's arms. From when they first brought her home, Bucky thinks to himself as he reaches out and caresses the delicate glass. He moves on to another older photo, this one depicting the two Barnes children dressed in their Sunday best with a scrawny Steve Rogers thrown into the mix. Bucky shakes his head at the sight of his best friend, remembering all the trouble he used to get the two of them in.

The last photo he sees, though, causes a lump to rise and settle in his throat. Frozen in time in the cracked and fading film is the last time he ever saw his family. Bucky, Rebecca, and their parents stand on the dock just in front of the boat he was to ship off on. Becca and his mother have a tight grip on him, and his father only offers a tight smile to the camera. Looking at the image of his younger self, not too different from what he looks like now, is a heart-wrenching moment. The man in that photo has yet to see death first-hand, feel the visceral need to kill or be killed. That man was still innocent, naive to the world, and convinced he was invincible.

Bucky remembers that day and how, despite the nerves, excited he was to see someplace other than dinghy Brooklyn. Yeah, that war wasn't one he signed up to fight, but he'd made a promise to himself he would do what he needed to keep his ma and sister safe.

As he reaches for the frame, a soft knock on the door startles him from his thoughts. "Mrs. Proctor!" a sweet voice sing-songs as the door is pushed open once again. "I hope you didn't fill up at lunch. I brought-Oh!"

Standing in the doorway, both hands full of reusable bags filled to the brim with goodies of all sorts, is a young woman. Her smile, one of the prettiest Bucky's ever seen, he thinks, falters just a little when she sees his towering form taking up so much space in Becca's room. However, she recovers quickly and nudges the door shut behind her as she makes her way deeper into the room.

"I didn't know you were expecting company this afternoon," the woman says and deposits the bags onto the bed. "Who is this?"

Bucky studies the woman in an attempt to figure out who she is to his sister. She couldn't be a daughter or granddaughter, right? She looked nothing like them. Plus, she was calling her Mrs. Proctor. Bucky also felt confident in his ruling that she was not a nurse or staff member at the facility, considering she wasn't wearing scrubs or donning a facility badge.

The only indication that she even belongs in this facility is the sticker she wears proudly just above her heart, with "Y/N" scrawled in bright red letters.

"The pictures," Becca finally says with a smile, pointing towards Bucky. "He's from the pictures."

Their visitor looks between Bucky and Rebecca with a soft look somewhere between pity and a faint sense of joy. "Bucky," the frail old woman says, and Bucky instantly feels the lump that had settled into his throat not ten minutes earlier begin to grow again.

Y/N must sense the energy shift in the room because she quickly pulls out a few homemade goodies wrapped in cellophane and places them on the rolling table next to Becca's bed. "Well, I'll let you be with your visitor, Mrs. Proctor," she says as she shoulders her bags again. "I'll see you Tuesday evening, okay?"

Becca simply nods as she watches the younger woman make her exit, then shifts her attention to Bucky as he steps back towards her and crouches down.

"Bec, you remember me?"

She says nothing at first but brings her hand up to rest on Bucky's freshly shaved cheeks, a fresh set of tears gathering in their twin blue eyes. "You came back."

Bucky sits with his sister for two hours after they reacquaint themselves. The nurse that spoke with Sam was right; it was difficult to be around her, as she often slipped up with her memory. She couldn't remember the names of her grandchildren, nor her great-grandchildren, but when she saw their smiling faces looking back at her in the pictures, she knew they belonged to her. Her fragile mind, however, seemed to favor older faces and memories. She could recall events from when she was a teenager and even got some details right from when Bucky shipped off. The remembrance came with a repeat of the same stories two or three times, but Bucky didn’t mind. He was never around to bear witness to some of these stories, and it was just good to hear his sister’s voice again.

It's around 3 o'clock when Rebecca begins to grow tired, and so Bucky takes that as his cue to take his leave. He helps his sister into her bed for a pre-dinner nap, then quietly makes his exit when he is sure she is fast asleep. For a visit he was hesitant to make, he can't think of a better way to have spent his Sunday afternoon.

As Bucky makes his way back through the winding halls of the facility, a jaunty tune he recalls from his teenage days plays through his head, and he feels like he could face the world if needed, which is why he finds himself doing the unimaginable as he reaches the redhead at the front desk.

“Excuse me,” he says with a renewed sense of confidence that had been absent earlier in the day. “I don’t know if you can give me this information, but there was this woman...Y/N I think her name is. I don’t think she was a nurse, but maybe someone else that works here? Would you be able to tell me if she was still around?”

The woman smiles gently back at him but shakes her head. “We’re such a large facility, I’d need to see a face to know exactly who you’re talking about.”

There’s a momentary lapse in his confidence, realizing just how weird the question could come off. He’s suddenly very glad she had no idea who he was talking about and hopes she doesn’t mention it to anyone else.

“Uh, thanks anyway,” he mutters as he gives a small nod. “Have a good rest of your day.”

Oh well, he thinks to himself, at least I could make it out my door this morning.

The Snap impacted each and every person differently. While most think the Vanished had it the worst, people tend to forget about those left behind. Many lost their jobs due to closures and shortages, others were evicted due to insufficient funds for rent. The uncertainty of it all, the not knowing what happened to family and friends, not knowing when you’d find your next job, if you’d have money to buy groceries this week, took a harder toll on some than others.

You had been a relatively fortunate one. Since moving to the city, you hadn’t quite made a large group of friends yet, which meant there were fewer people for you to lose. Your family had somehow lucked out as well. Due to an abundance of workers suddenly gone without a trace, you’d been able to snag a corporate position that you managed to hold onto even after the Snap was reversed.

However, the one downside was the aftermath of families coming back to their homes only to find that someone new was living in their space. That, unfortunately, happened to you. Two days after everyone reappeared, you had a knock on your front door. When you opened it, you found a lovely couple who had just been married before the Snap and had just started renting the apartment you were living in. And, even though you’d called this building your home for the past five years, you did what any half-decent individual would do and moved out. Goodbye state-of-the-art gym and central location, hello paper-thin walls, and a forty-five-minute one-way commute.

At least you were able to take a few days off of work to get your belongings out of the old apartment and into the new one. Most of the larger furniture had been the couple’s, which meant you only had to carry a few pieces into your second story Brooklyn brownstone apartment. The problem, however, was that there was no elevator in this renovated building, which meant you had to find a way to carry your low-quality Ikea TV stand up the too-narrow stairs without busting a wall or your furniture. The only thing you were close to bursting was a nerve because it was turning out to be more of a two-person task, and you were the only one participating in this moving process.

“Fuck you,” you groan as one of the stand’s legs gets caught on the stairs again. Despite the chilly breeze that was blowing in from the building’s front door you had propped open, you were perspiring more than would be deemed ladylike. With the rate you were going, you would need to need to take another full day off just to get your stupid furniture into your apartment.

“Do you need some help?” a voice calls from above you. You peek over your shoulder to find a rather tall, rather bulky man standing at the second-floor landing. It hadn’t even occurred to you that people might actually need to use the stairs to, you know, go about their daily lives. What doesn’t go over your head, however, is the fact that the man standing at the top of the stairs was not a complete stranger like you originally thought, but someone you knew almost too well for not actually knowing him at all.

“That would actually be wonderful,” you huff out a laugh, attempting to be nonchalant about the fact that Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier - soldier turned assassin turned Avenger - was standing just feet away from you for the second time in twenty-four hours, this time in your new apartment building. Maybe this place wasn’t as safe as you had thought?

He makes his way halfway down the stairs, and you attempt to shimmy out of the way so that he can grab the corners you had been holding up. “If you could just get this thing back down the stairs, I could-” Your meager offering of help is cut short when Bucky manages to slot his arms into place and life the entire piece like it was nothing. A metal arm will do that to someone, you suppose.

You awkwardly direct him to your apartment, shoving open the door to 2B and waving your arm to give him a vague idea of where you want the stand. “Thank you. You’re a lifesaver. I thought for sure I was going to have to take the thing apart to get it up here.”

“It’s no problem, really,” Bucky says as he stuffs his hands into his jacket’s pockets, the stiff leather shifting and rubbing as he does so. When he looks at you for the first time, his bright blue eyes light up even more with recognition. “Hey, you were visiting my sister’s place the other day.”

“I was,” you laugh as you extend your hand. “I’m Y/N.”

There’s a brief moment of hesitation before a warm, leathered hand slips into yours. “Bucky,” he says as if you wouldn’t already know who he is. "Do you, uh, need help bringing anything else up?"

You watch him as he slowly glances around your small apartment, void of much except for a few boxes and the stand he just carried up and your mattress you've yet to shimmy into the bedroom. “Oh! No,” you laugh, realizing how pathetic your new home looks at the moment. “I have movers bringing the rest of my things from storage tomorrow. But thank you, I really appreciate it.”

“It’s really no problem. If you, uh, ever need anything, I rent the unit above you. Not sure how often I’ll be home, but for whatever it’s worth,” he shrugs as you follow him back out your front door.

“I’ll keep it in mind. I guess I’ll be seeing you around?”

Despite his nod of agreement, you don’t see Bucky for another two weeks. You try not to let the unexplained but forewarned absence weigh on your thoughts. With the exception of listening for the creaks of his floorboards that never come and the brief visits with his sister, you find yourself doing everything you can to not fixate on the Grecian god of a man you have somehow come to call a neighbor.

It’s not until you receive a call from Rebecca’s daughter that you finally admit he was home.

“Oh, I’m...I’m so sorry…” you choke out when Mary informs you her mother had passed away in the early hours of the night. Despite having no real relation to the Proctor family, you’d known them for a handful of years due to your time spent at the nursing home. In that time, they’d come to be like family to you, so their loss affected you just as strongly as the passing of your own family member would. “Have you told her brother?”

“No. We have no way to contact him. I know he’d spent some time with Ma at the nursing home, so I left a message for them to pass the news and my number on if he came in or called. But I haven’t heard anything.”

“I actually have a way to reach him. I’ll tell him to give you a call, okay?”

When you get home the following day, you’re greeted by the sound of Bucky’s shower turning on. Five minutes later, it shuts off. You give him another ten before you make your way up to his apartment. The idea of telling this man, a practical stranger who you knew nothing about other than what you’ve read in books and seen on tv, that his sister passed away leaves you feeling nauseous. This isn't exactly what you pictured when you said you’d see him around.

He’s quick to answer his door. You’re taken off guard when his door is pulled open to reveal his broad chest covered in a blue Henley that is clinging to his still-damp skin. It takes you a moment to gather your thoughts and remember exactly why you were here.

“Is everything okay, Y/N?” he asks as you drag your eyes up to meet his own.

You clear your throat and shake your head in an attempt to gather your thoughts. “Uh, yeah. No? I’m sorry to bug you, but I, uh...You haven’t heard from Mrs. Pro-er, I mean Rebecca’s daughter, have you?” When he says no, you sigh. You knew that was the answer you were going to get, but a part of you still hoped you weren’t going to have to be the one to deliver this information. “Mary called me yesterday. She, uh...She wanted you to know...uh...Rebecca passed away...early yesterday morning…”

You can visibly see Bucky shift through several emotions - shock, grief, anger, to finally an almost expressionless mask. You unintentionally stiffen at the sound of metal shifting and grating together, which seems to break Bucky’s haze. You can tell he’s struggling to find words in that moment, so you continue on, hoping a coherent sentence will come out.

“I know I’m probably not the person you want to hear this news from, but I couldn’t really give her a way to contact you and...Here!” You shove your hand out towards him, the small piece of paper you wrote Mary’s number down on resting in your palm. “I told her I’d give you her number. So you could call her or whatever.”

Bucky just looks at the slip for a moment before you clear your throat. “Listen, I’m really sorry. I wi-”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he cuts you off and grabs for the paper. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to go call her.”

Before you can respond, Bucky is turning his back. “Yeah, okay,” you whisper to the dark oak of his door before making your way back down to your own apartment.

“The service was beautiful, Mary,” you say as you hug Rebecca’s daughter. “She would have loved it.”

“It’s all thanks to Bucky. He paid for everything.” Mary says as she sets her gaze over your shoulder. “Or, I guess Uncle Bucky is more appropriate to say…”

You turn and follow her gaze to where the man in question is, his great-great nieces and nephew using him as their personal jungle gym. You can tell, even from across the room, that his face is absolutely glowing, eyes crinkled in the outer-corners with delight as Bridget, the youngest of the bunch, wraps her tiny arms around his neck and demands a horsey ride.

“I’m glad they’re taking it so well,” Mary says as she watches her grandchildren. “It’s almost like he’s been a part of their life this entire time instead of just appearing out of nowhere.” There’s no hostility in her voice when she says this. Rather, she sounds remorseful. “I went my entire life hearing stories about my uncle. My dead uncle. Yet, after all these years, he shows up looking exactly like he does in the pictures I’ve been looking at since I was a little girl.”

You felt for Mary and the rest of the family. You couldn’t begin to comprehend how difficult and confusing it must be to find out that the man you’d come to know as just a ghost story was alive and real and more than willing to be a part of even the most difficult moments in life. It’s a testament, you think, to how good of a man Bucky really is. Despite the horrors of his past and the apprehension he’s likely still faced with every day, he’s still willing to put himself out into a world that has been less than kind to him.

As if your thoughts summon him, Bucky looks up and over to where you are standing. When he catches your eye, his smile grows. You’re sure there has never been anything as beautiful as Bucky Barnes flashing a megawatt smile at you. “At least you’re in good hands.”

You decide not to stick around for the luncheon after the service so, after snagging a few refreshments and a quick chat with a few of the family members you recognize, you begin to inch your way closer to the exit. You hadn’t seen Bucky since you’d spoken with Mary, and you were in the middle of trying to figure out why that left you with a hollow feeling in the pit of your stomach when you’re abruptly stopped on your way to the doors.

“You can’t leave before I get the chance to apologize for the other day,” Bucky says, a small smile gracing his face. He cleans up well, you decide as you get a better look at his lightly stubbled face. He has his hair tied back in a neat, low bun, which allowed his eyes to stand out more than they usually did, and a black-on-black suit is stretched just right over his broad chest. If you didn’t know better, you would think he was a model on loan to add some cheer to the rather dreary day.

Bucky quirks his head and shifts his body weight when it takes you a bit too long to answer, and it’s only then that you realize you’re ogling him. His sister just died, Y/N, you chastise yourself, this is not the time to be checking him out.

“I, uh,” you clear your throat, hoping he can’t feel the heat that is rapidly clawing up your neck radiating from you. “I don’t want to intrude on family time,” you say rather lamely. It was true, but for whatever reason, Bucky left you feeling almost guilty.

He lets out a humorless laugh and crosses his arms. “If anyone is intruding, I think it’s me,” he says as he looks over your shoulder back into the banquet room the rest of the family is in.

You turn to follow his line of sight and can’t help but smile when you see one of his great-nieces twirling around, showing off her dress. “Nah, don’t say that. The little ones seem to love you,” you laugh, hoping to lighten the mood just a little.

Bucky chuckles and then sighs. “Yea, but I just...don’t feel like I belong.”

Hearing Bucky, this man who had his entire life ripped from him multiple times, who, after spending just a few short hours in total with, you ardently believed deserved every good thing in the world and then some, say that he feels he doesn’t belong among those who are supposed to love him most broke your heart. You know that it’s likely untrue that Rebecca’s family was anything but unwelcoming, but that Bucky even felt that way caused a pit to open in your stomach.

“Oh, Bucky…” you say softly, trying to avoid sounding full of pity. “I’m so sorry this all has happened to you.” He averts his gaze and shrugs. “You know what? I could probably stay for a little while longer…”

At that, Bucky looks back at you, eyes as bright as when his own sister recognized him on that very first day. You knew then that, no matter what, you’d do anything to keep that look on his face.

“I promise it won’t be for nothing. They have a ton of food, and I guess there are some famous deviled eggs that, not to sound awful but...are to die for.”

You stifle a laugh and shake your head as Bucky leads you back into the banquet room, excitedly rambling on about the various food items his relatives have to offer. After piling your plates full and grabbing a coffee, you follow Bucky to a small table conveniently tucked away in the corner. Over the next hour, you watch Bucky’s perfectly constructed walls begin to crumble just a little. You quickly uncover which topics make him uncomfortable, particularly those revolving around his current line of work and those he can talk about endlessly. You learn the ins and outs of what it was like being friends with Captain America before he was the size of a brick house. You also discover that Bucky is someone you could listen to talk for hours on end.

“I don’t think it ever came up,” Bucky says as he takes a seat back at the table, two fresh cups of coffee in hand, “how did you know my sister?”

You hum your thanks and take a sip before answering. “Well, a few years ago, or I guess a few years before the Snap, I started volunteering at the nursing home. You’d be surprised how many families just shove their parents or grandparents in those homes and forget about them. They get lonely and just want someone to talk to that isn’t a nurse or whatever. It got worse during those five years. Rebecca never really needed me to sit with her; her family visited all the time. However, she was still one of my favorite residents.

“She talked about you all the time, you know. Even when she couldn’t remember her own children’s names, she always had a story to tell about you. She was immensely proud of you.” Bucky grunts, and you playfully roll your eyes at him. “She was a good storyteller. Sometimes it was hard to tell if she was trying to pull my leg or not. She...she was something else, but she’s going to be dearly missed.”

A somber sort of silence falls between the two of you then. It’s not uncomfortable, but it’s the kind charged with a unique sense of melancholy. It’s so strange, you think, to share a common heartbreak with someone you still barely know. Loss and grief have a curious way of bringing those once unknown together.

“Uncle Bucky,” a high-pitched squeal cuts through the moment and brings with it the excited, flushed face of an excited great-niece. “Uncle Bucky, I made you something!”

Bridget worms her way up onto Bucky’s lap, a piece of paper with her hand traced to look like a turkey in its center. “To Unkle Bucky, Luv Bridget” was written sloppily across the top.

You watch as Bucky’s expression goes from one of strain to that of absolute joy. “Thank you so much,” he smiles as he takes the paper and examines it as if it were a piece on display at the Louvre. “I know exactly where I’m going to hang this as soon as I find a frame.”

The little girl, who bears a striking resemblance to her long-lost great-uncle, beams as she wraps her arms around his neck and squeezes. You catch Bucky’s eye, causing him to break into an even wider smile. You hope he can see how truly and unconditionally he is loved.

You watch as she scrambles off back to where her brother and cousin are sitting, coloring away. You nod at the sweet drawing. “Planning on spending Thanksgiving with them?”

Bucky smooths his hand over the paper in front of him and thinks for a moment. “They invited me. I guess they, we, have family in Indiana that they usually visit for the holiday. I just...I don’t think so. I don’t want to be that far from where I’m needed most, and I think meeting a whole new set of family would be a bit much, ya know?”

You hum in response, fully understanding the dilemma. It’s unfortunate, though. “Well, I’m sure I could never compete with a real home-cooked meal, but I’m staying home because I don’t...really agree with the holiday and will be heating up a nice frozen turkey TV dinner if you would like to join. I might just throw in a pumpkin pie, too.”

Bucky looks up then, a soft, small smile turning up the corners of his lips. “Thanks, Y/N, really. But I’m not sure. Might not even be home,” he shrugs.

“Well,” you say as you look at the time on your phone, “the offer stands just in case you change your mind. But, hey, I think it’s time for me to leave for real now. I have some work to catch up on before I go back to the office tomorrow.”

You can tell he’s disappointed, but Bucky offers to walk you out anyway. He wants to stay and help his family clean up, or he would offer to walk you home. You make your rounds to say goodbye to the family you were familiar with and, when you reach the kiddie table to say goodbye, Bucky’s great-nephew Jackson refuses to let you go.

“Will I ever see you again even though we can’t come to visit Grammy no more?” he wails as he buries his little face into your stomach.

“Jackson, please,” his mother says as she comes to diffuse the situation. The little boy lets out one last sob into your dress before letting his mother pull him into her arms. “Y/N will still be around,” she smiles mischievously, directing her gaze over your shoulder to where Bucky waits at the front doors. “I’m almost sure of it.”

You can feel the heat of embarrassment as it claws up your neck, and you quickly give another round of hugs and goodbyes to the children before heading back to Bucky. “Is everything alright,” he asks as he hands you your coat.

“Fine. Jackson is just…” you slip on your coat and refuse to meet Bucky’s probing eyes, “dramatic sometimes.”

The weeks following Rebecca’s funeral saw Bucky locked away in his apartment. Calls from Sam and Wanda went unanswered, and the curtains were scarcely opened. He’d even ignored your attempts of delivering some semblance of comfort. The pasta dish you dropped off was left mostly untouched in his fridge, and he’d only managed to eat half a slice of a pumpkin pie you’d left for him on Thanksgiving. He knew that hiding away was doing nothing for his mental health, would do nothing to help him move past the loss and pain, but it was all he knew. How he reacted was all he could control, and Bucky liked to be in control.

His control, like most things in his life, came to an end far too quickly when Sam decided he’d finally had enough. Bucky knew that he couldn’t hide from his friends forever, but he would have liked to come out on his terms.

“Man, I know you’re in there,” Sam shouts as he knocks on the door of Bucky’s apartment. He’d been there for five minutes now, and, at this point, Bucky was testing to see how long he could keep the man waiting. “Seriously, Buck, open the door, or I’ll use Redwing to knock it down. And I won’t pay for repairs or reimburse your security deposit.”

Bucky sighs before hauling himself off of the couch. “What?” he deadpans as he opens the door. It takes everything in him not to slap the toothy grin off of Sam’s amused face.

“I was beginning to think I was going to have to call the Smithsonian - tell them to get your exhibit ready because, as far as any of us knew, you were dead,” Sam says as he pushes past Bucky into the apartment.

“What do you want?” Bucky asks again as Sam looks around the scarcely decorated apartment. From the discontent on his face, Bucky could tell Sam was less than thrilled with the state of his apartment. It was dark, the only furniture being a couch, a small coffee table, and an old TV he’d stolen from the Tower. Not exactly what one would consider a "space of their own."

“Listen,” Sam says as he moves to push open the curtains, “you’ve spent enough time locked up in here. You need to get out, see the sun, get some air. Plus, Wanda misses you, and that spider kid has been coming around asking for you.” Bucky grimaces at that. Peter Parker had asked his fair share of questions about his arm, and Bucky didn’t feel like entertaining the teenager anymore.

“Don’t give me that look,” Sam continues as he flops down on the couch. “Go get dressed. You can hang out with the crew for a few hours today. I promise if you have the worst time of your life, I’ll let you sit in your own filth and wallow for the foreseeable future, okay?”

After a moment of contemplation, Bucky agrees. Despite his dwindling interest in seeing anyone outside of his own reflection, he knew that seeing his friends - his chosen family of mix-matched misfits - would make him feel at least a little better. So, he allows Sam to tidy up the apartment, put away the dishes Bucky has been neglecting, and open the rest of the windows while he goes to get dressed. Bucky will never admit, however, just how much lighter he felt when he emerged from his room to the man he reluctantly called his best friend, smiling back at him.

December creeps up in a flurry of deadlines and personal obligations. The two-week break your company gave you every holiday season was a welcomed reprieve to the daily hustle and bustle of life, but it also meant long hours at the office in the weeks leading up to the holiday. Plus, the holidays were always a sour topic around the nursing home, as many of the residents were left to their own devices instead of being a part of family celebrations. That meant, in addition to staying until six or seven o’clock at work, you were spending hours afterward crafting decorations, cards, and personalized goodies for each of the residents you visited each week. This all, understandably, left you with little to no free time.

So, when the first of the month came rolling in, and you were yet to have played a single Christmas song or even thought about pulling your tiny table-top tree from storage, you felt deflated. You’d never been so thankful for online shopping and overnight shipping because, by Saturday afternoon, you had a brand new artificial Christmas tree waiting for you on your building’s front steps. In your excitement of getting into the holiday spirit, however, you completely overlooked just how you were going to get this tree up your narrow stairwell. It was like moving day all over again, except for this time you were sure a knight in shining vibranium armor was not going to show up to save the day.

To your dismay, you hadn’t seen Bucky since his sister’s funeral a month ago. It’s not like you hadn’t tried to make contact. You had prepared him a small meal the day after and had even left him half of the pumpkin pie you picked up from the market down the block. The only way you could tell he was even inside his apartment was the fact that, when you went back up to check, the items were gone. That or one of your other neighbors had taken them for themselves. Either way, you were missing Bucky. Even though you’d only had one proper conversation the entire time you’ve known him, you enjoyed just knowing Bucky was around. The thought of him suffering to any extent made your heart twist into unmanageable knots.

You sigh as you prop the building’s front door open, bringing your attention back to the task at hand. You were strong and independent, and you were more than capable of getting this hefty box up to your apartment. With that mindset in tow, you’re pleasantly surprised to turn around and find Bucky and another man making their way towards the building.

“He’s alive,” you exclaim, unable to hide the smile that blooms across your face. You’d feel embarrassed at the overexcitement that laced through your greeting, but you were genuinely happy to see that he had been out of his apartment and with a suspected friend.

“Uh, hey, Y/N,” Bucky says as he looks down to his boot-clad feet. Despite his quiet demeanor and tendency to be closed off, you’d never seen Bucky so...shy.

So you turn your attention to the second man standing in front of you. “I’m Y/N,” you smile as you bound down the stairs to the men, hand out and waiting for Bucky’s friend to shake, “Bucky’s neighbor!” You hope that whatever icy tension that had settled over Bucky would thaw if you directed the spotlight away from him.

“Sam,” the man says as a toothy grin breaks across his face. “Bucky didn’t mention he had neighbors.”

“It’s an apartment building, bird brain, of course I have neighbors,” Bucky mumbles as he buries his hands in his jacket pockets. He looks at you then or rather looks past you at the tall box leaning against the brick building. “What’re you up to?”

“Well, I just got a new Christmas tree delivered,” you say as you bite your lip and try to hide your desperation for help. “I was just getting ready to take it up.”

Bucky looks from you to the tree before settling his gaze on you. “Do you need some help,” he asks coyly.

You don’t even attempt to mask your smile as you guiltily nod your head. As Bucky turns to look at his friend, Sam puts his hands up. “Nah, man, I was getting ready to leave. Plus, heavy lifting is more your thing,” he says before looking at you. “Plus, Bucky is still learning how to play nice with others. And it’s my day off.”

You chuckle and playfully roll your eyes. “You better go relax, then. I’m sure a day off is rare for a superhero.”

As Sam starts backing up towards the way they came, he nods. “I like her, Buck. She really gets it. It was nice meeting you, Y/N!”

“Bye, Sam,” you wave as you watch him make his way down the sidewalk. “He seems really nice,” you say as Bucky hauls the tree box over his shoulder.

“He’s a pain in my ass,” he grumbles as he nods towards the front door.

All you can do is laugh and lead the way to your apartment.

“Thank you so much, Bucky,” you say as he finishes up pulling the faux tree from its too-small confines.

“It’s not a problem,” he shrugs and takes a step back to look at the tree. It’s in pretty rough shape, but once you’re done with it, no one will ever be able to tell it’s lived most of its life in a cardboard box. “You know, I haven’t had a Christmas tree since 1942.”

You stop shuffling around in the bin of ornaments and turn to look at him. “You’re joking,” you say, absolutely appalled. When Bucky shakes his head, you make a decision. “Stay and decorate with me, then.”

This obviously takes Bucky off guard, and before he can even attempt to come up with a reason to say no, you’re busting out your best pout, absolutely determined to share some holiday cheer with him this afternoon.

“Fine,” he sighs, but you can see the hint of a smile twitching on his lips.

You put Bucky to work immediately, pointing at boxes and bins full of ornaments, tinsel, and other holiday goodies. To your delight, he has quite the eye for placing ornaments, a skill he attributes to having a best friend who forced him into art classes and design lectures as teenagers. You’re almost certain he’s enjoying himself, a suspicion that is all but proven when he starts cheerfully humming along to the Christmas station you have playing on your phone.

“I’m really happy to see you out and about today,” you say as you hand him a sparkling orb to hang on one of the taller branches.

Bucky falters in his movements just a little before delivering the ornament onto its new home for the season. “I’m sorry I disappeared for a little bit…”

“Oh, Bucky,” you say as you place a hand on his metal forearm. You'd been surprised when he took his jacket off to reveal his metal arm with little more than the sleeve of his t-shirt covering it. You try not to think of the implications behind the small but seemingly intimate action. “Never apologize for how you grieve. We all process and deal with things differently.”

A moment passes in silence, though it’s not awkward. It’s simply a moment where both of you seem to process what was said. Surprisingly, it’s Bucky who breaks the silence. “That pasta thing you left me, that was really good,” he chuckles.

“Remind me, and I’ll write the recipe down for you. It’s one of my favorite comfort foods.”

Time passes easily with Bucky. Despite what Sam said early, Bucky is an excellent companion to decorate with. He cracks jokes every now and then and comments on your collection of antique ornaments. You even manage to get him to try some of that crockpot wine you had attempted to make earlier in the day. By dinner time, your tree is fully dressed and situated in its corner, and you’re tipsy on holiday cheer and alcohol. As you make your way towards the couch with a fresh glass in your hand, Bucky begins to hum along to Bing Crosby’s “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” as the beginning notes start to float through your apartment.

“God, I remember when this song came out,” he says quietly as you take your seat. “They played it nonstop at camp. Dunno what they were trying to do, raise our spirits, maybe? It just made me think about how Ma and Becca were going to be all alone that Christmas.” He pauses then, likely lost in the memory. You’re about to say something to pull him back from wherever he drifted off to when he adds, “I couldn’t help thinkin’ that this was a song I’d ask a girl to dance to, too.”

“I didn’t know you could dance,” you laugh as you set your wine glass down.

“Oh sweetheart, I had girls lining up outta the hall to dance with me back in the day. I wasn’t always so…” he turns to look at you and gesticulates with both arms to make his point, whatever that may be.

You squint your eyes in a challenging glare and stand. “You have to show me these moves, Bucky Barnes.” He opens his mouth to protest, but you quickly cut him off. “I’ll sing along if you don’t. I know you can hear the concerts I put on for my shampoo bottles in the shower. Save you and the neighbors the show, come on.”

Bucky gives you a mock grimace before giving in. You’re not sure if it’s the wine that’s causing time to feel so slow or if it’s the fact you want to savor the image of Bucky standing over you, flesh hand outstretched for you to take. You don’t question it, though, and simply step into his warm, welcoming embrace. It’s all too easy to melt into Bucky’s arms and allow him to guide you around your tiny living room.

A few moments pass with little more than Crosby’s melodic crooning drifting around the two of you. You hope that, despite how close you are, Bucky can’t hear how rapidly your heart is beating. When you finally muster the courage to look at him, you find that he was already looking at you. He squeezes your hand a little and gives you possibly one of the most tender smiles you’ve ever seen.

“Nice to know I still have it,” he exclaims as he winks, and you smile and shake your head before resting it on his shoulder.

When the song ends, Bucky ends his effortless glide across the antiqued hardwood floors, and you pull back from his chest enough so that you can look into his eyes. If your gaze lingers a little too long on his plump, pink lips, you’ll never admit. Despite the impossibly low lighting of the room, you can see the way Bucky’s crystal blue eyes sparkle and dance when they catch the lights from your tree.

“Thank you for helping me today,” you say, barely above a whisper.

“‘Course,” Bucky replies and, as the seconds pass, you’re pretty sure that he begins to lean towards you, eyes flicking between yours and your lips.

Just as you’re about to close the small distance, a disorienting ringing begins from somewhere. Bucky pulls away, irritation quickly taking over his expression. “Goddammit,” he practically growls as he pulls his phone from his pocket. “What, Sam?”

You watch as a range of emotions flash across Bucky’s face before a seriousness shadows his features. He barks out a gruff, “See you in a few,” before quickly ending the call. “We’re, uh, needed. Immediately.”

“O-oh,” you mummer, disappointed that he has to leave so quickly. You watch from where Bucky had stopped the two of you as he gathers his jacket and scrambles to put his boots on. He’s almost to your door when your brain finally catches up to what is going on, and, in that moment, you’re appreciative for how small your apartment is because you’re able to get to him before he is fully out of the apartment.

“Wait, Bucky,” you call as you grab for his arm. When he turns to look at you, you almost back out of what you’re about to say, but you persevere, knowing that the world will continue to turn if he rejects you. “Come to Christmas with me. My parents only live two hours away. We’re pretty low-key, no big party or anything. Please?”

Bucky considers you for a moment before he visibly softens and nods. “You know what, sure. That...that sounds great.”

You smile so wide when you hear him accept the invitation, something you thought for sure would be for not. Before you can even consider your actions, you’re leaning up to place a chaste kiss on his rough and prickly cheek. “Stay safe out there,” you say gently. Bucky simply nods, a blush begins to work it’s way up his neck.

You stand in your doorway until you hear the front door of your building click shut behind him. You’ll never confess to it, but when your own apartment door is securely shut behind you, you do an excited, happy dance.

#bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #Wonderland4SeasonalWC

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higuchimon · 3 years

Text

[fanfic] To Save A Brother

He has the other half. Darkness's fingers brushed across the medallion that hung around his neck. He wanted to duel this person. He could sense other things as well - this carrier of a Spirit Gate Key was a powerful Firestarter as well as - he frowned, taking one more step forward. Perhaps being closer would tell him if he read this correctly.

Oh. He was. It wasn't something he'd expected, not here and not now. Darkness did not like this. The bearer of the Gentle Darkness, here and now? That would make for an excellent duel without a doubt, but it would stand a risk of awakening the power itself should it still sleep. He didn't want to take the chance on facing his old adversary without being properly prepared.

A movement in the shadows caught his attention. Someone walked towards the dorm building - Osiris Red, he knew from the memories of his current host - though it didn't seem that this person belonged there. They wore a blue uniform, and though he was too far away to see the tab on their collar, another part of him whispered strongly that they too were a Firestarter. Perhaps not quite as strong as the one who wore the other half of the medallion, but still quite strong.

His host twitched harder inside of him. Darkness took a better look at this new person as they came closer to the dorm. He had access to all of memories of his host and it took a few moments to click.

Well. It seemed that this was the sister of his host. How interesting. He'd been aware that his host had a sister, who was a Firestarter, but he'd never thought that he would encounter said sister on this mission. He considered for a few moments, then made up his mind.

Power stretched outward, encircling both the girl and those in the building who he could sense as being awake. There were only four of those, and one of them was the other Key Carrier who wore the half-medallion. Once he disposed o the girl, Darkness, decided, he would duel that one as well. If they knew one another, then seeing her defeated would dishearten him and give him a better chance to win without awakening the other Darkness.

Not to mention, he just couldn't resist the urge to cause despair and heartache no matter what. The thought of doing so to his host and his host's sister at the same time was far too tempting to resist.

Asuka had been on her way to talk to Juudai, worried that he would be the first one targeted by the Seven Stars. After all, he was an Osiris Red, and while he'd proven his talents more than once over the last handful of months, these strange evil duelists might not be aware of that. She fidgeted with the Key that hung around her neck, wondering again what it would be like to duel in one of these Duels of Darkness. She'd heard they weren't the sort of duel that Duel Academia had all the time, but she wasn't certain of what they would be like.

The circle of dark energy engulfed her without warning. She'd barely even reached Juudai's door when it swept over her and into the room beyond. When she could see again, she stood on a silvery disk, and she wasn't where she'd been before. It took a moment to grasp where that was - at the volcano. Right over the lava, in fact.

"Asuka!" She jerked her head around to see Juudai, Shou-kun, Hayato-kun, and Theodis-san a distance away, also on a disk like hers, but theirs was more enclosed. The Healer Cat sniffed around, tail lashing, clearly uncomfortable without solid ground underneath her.

She started to take a step towards them. But before she could, lava leapt up all around, arching in graceful smooth arcs over the shining disk beneath her feet. The lava shaped itself into something that resembled dragons, roaring fiercely before they splashed into one another and out of the lava there stepped a new figure. He stood taller than Asuka, with brown hair tinged by the light of the lava.

Most of his face was hidden behind a black mask that resembled a dragon's features. Around his neck there hung a medallion similar to the one Juudai had taken to wearing after their experience in that other world.

"You're one of the Seven Stars," Asuka declared, staring at this stranger. He smiled - it wasn't a smile that fit on his features. What little Asuka could see told her that he should smile freely and happily. This near-smirk wasn't his at all.

"I am Darkness," he introduced himself with a tiny nod of his head. "And you are one of the Keepers of the Keys. I challenge you to a duel." Before she could answer, he raised one hand, and a card flickered into existence there. "The loser will have their soul sealed into this card."

Asuka tensed herself at once. She'd not thought that she would be one of the first challenged. But she'd been entrusted with this key and she refused to let it go without a fight.

"If that's what you want, then I'll fight you!" Asuka declared. She glanced once again to where her friends stood surrounded by lava. "But when I win, I want my friends released!"

Darkness chuckled, a very low, dark, smooth sound. It didn't fit him any more than the smirk did. "Of course. But the question is, can you win fast enough?"

No sooner had he asked that then Shou yelped, and Asuka looked in time to see him pulling his hand away from the lava. It didn't look as if he'd been more than mildly scorched but she could tell Juudai was the only one who might be enjoying the heat. She squared up her shoulders - time to fight.

"I will take the first turn," Darkness declared, shuffling his deck. Asuka got ready. This wouldn't be an easy duel at all. "I summon Spear Dragon, in attack mode, and set one card face-down." Spear Dragon appeared, mostly brilliant blue wings and a long sharp beak, pointed towards her. "Turn end. Do make this interesting, Tenjoin Asuka."

How does he know my name? She hadn't mentioned it. Perhaps they all somehow knew the Key-Keepers? She didn't have time to worry about it now. Instead, she drew her first hand and checked it out. She could work with this.

"I summon Cyber Gymnatics!" Before her there appeared one of her favorite monsters, clad in a tight-fitting black outfit, well-muscled, and long blonde hair. She didn't have the highest attack but what she had to make up for it was her effect. "I activate her affect by discarding one card from my hand. I can destroy one face-up attack position monster my opponent controls - in this case, Spear Dragon!"

Cyber Gymnatics leaped upward and spun towards the far side of the field, slamming one foot hard against Spear Dragon's neck. The dragon let loose a cry of pain before vanishing in a spray of light. Asuka wasn't done yet, though.

"Now that you don't have any defenses, Cyber Gymnatics attacks you directly!" Once again her monster leaped forward, and this time slashed her hand directly into Darkness, who barely flinched back. He chuckled as the attack ended and Cyber Gymnatics returned to Asuka's side of the field.

"Is that all you're going to do?" He asked. Asuka didn't like the way that he smiled.

"I set one card face down and end my turn," she said. Whatever he tried on his turn, she'd be able to handle it. This wasn't as terrifying as she'd feared it might be.

But Darkness quickly disabused her of that. "I activate Call of the Living Dead, summoning Spear Dragon back from my graveyard!" Once again Spear Dragon appeared before him. Asuka tensed even more; he could have done that earlier and prevented all damage to himself if he had. What did he have in mind?

"Next, I summon Mirage Dragon!" The second dragon appeared there now, this one a half-see through creature of gold scales and silver hair. "While Mirage Dragon is on the field, you cannot activate trap cards during the battle phase."

Asuka's eyes widened and she took a step back. Her eyes fell to her face-down card - Double Passe. If she couldn't activate that, then she would have to revise her strategy and fast.

Darkness laughed. It scraped against her soul, like a sound that she knew should be pleasant and yet it had been warped beyond all understanding. "Are you afraid? Do you understand that you're going to lose now?"

"Don't listen to him!" Theodis snapped, voice rising above the sound of the lava. "You haven't lost yet!"

"She's right!" Juudai agreed wholeheartedly. "You can take this guy, Asuka! We all believe in you!"

Shou nodded, casting repeated nervous glances to the lava. Juudai had slipped himself in the front of the little group, one hand resting on Theodis' head, staring at the duel displayed before them, as if he weren't surrounded by boiling lava. Asuka wondered for a heartbeat if he could hear the voices of the lava. Any Firestarter could hear the voice of fire, but lava was another thing altogether. She knew she wasn't that strong, but Juudai wasn't a normal Firestarter at all.

She shook her head to clear it, focusing back on what was happening before her. Darkness wasn't finished at all.

"Battle!" Darkness declared, pointing towards her. "Spear Dragon, take out Cyber Gymnatics! Spear Crash!"

At once the blue dragon surged forward with a mighty flap of its wings and stabbed that long sharp beak right into Cyber Gymnatics' heart. Asuka screamed as pain racked her, flowering outward from her own heart. She didn't fall but only by sheer stubbornness. Slowly she shook her head again, trying to think instead of just suffering.

"Wh-what was that?" She murmured. Darkness chuckled.

"This is a Duel of Darkness. The pain of your monsters - that's your pain too. You'll feel every bit of damage done in this duel. And so will I, of course." Darkness waved one hand casually. "But I think you'll not enjoy it the way that I do."

Had he felt this when she'd attacked him directly? He hadn't acted like he did. Was he lying about that? Asuka couldn't even begin to guess right now and had no time to think it over. Not when Darkness hadn't finished his Battle Phase.

"Mirage Dragon! Attack her directly! Mirage Crush!" Forward it surged, claws raking her from head to toe. Asuka screamed, falling back again, dropping down to one knee as her life points dropped to thirteen hundred. She almost expected to see blood when she looked down at herself, and only when that didn't happen did she remember that to some extent, these were still holograms. They weren't solid - yet she'd felt the weight of the claw sinking into her flesh and ripping through her.

"If you want to surrender," Darkness told her, "then I will take your Key and seal your soul into this card. The pain will end. You'll know nothing, ever again."

Asuka's eyes narrowed. Slowly she pushed herself to her feet, swaying ever so lightly as she did. She'd never heard the voice of the lava, but the fire it sparked called to her. The volcano had always been friendly to the Firestarters of Duel Academia and now wasn't any different. She could also hear the voices of her friends, Juudai and Theodis, Shou and Hayato, demanding to know if she was all right, encouraging her to keep on going.

For his sake, she told herself. I can't find my brother if I don't keep on going. If I lose this fight, I'll never see him again. She'd waited too long, searched too long. She wasn't going to let that happen.

She glanced towards Darkness, and thought she caught a glimpse of brown eyes behind the mask. The light of the lava made her uncertain of what she saw, but - was it? Fubuki wasn't the only person with brown hair and brown eyes in the world. But he did play a dragon deck. It had been a long time since she'd seen her brother duel, so she couldn't be certain. But - she pressed her lips together.

"Is that all you've got?"

Darkness laughed, and the heat around him rose, to the point even she noticed it. That was wrong by itself; Fubuki was a Healer, not a Firestarter. This heat felt wrong. Not like a Shadow Flame; but something else altogether. Asuka had no names for it, but she knew wrong when it presented itself to her. "Turn end. Do your best." Darkness taunted her. Asuka fully intended to.

She drew her card for the turn and relaxed a fraction. She had cards enough to deal with the situation but this would make it that much easier.

"All right, Darkness, you'll see just what my best is! I activate Cyclone, targeting your Call of the Living Dead! When that goes to the graveyard, it takes Spear Dragon with it!" And that removed the strongest monster from Darkness's side of the field. All she needed now was a way to get rid of Mirage Dragon - and she had that already in her hand.

"Now, I summon Cyber TuTu!" Before her there appeared the low-level ballerina, who spun into place delicately and fiercely, regarding the dragon before her without a scrap of fear.

Darkness chuckled as he regarded her. "She's not very powerful, is she? I don't think my dragon has anything to fear from her."

"No, your dragon doesn't," Asuka agreed, allowing herself a grin. "But you might. I'm not attacking with Cyber TuTu. She's not here on the stage for long. I brought her out in order to call someone else!" She flicked out another card. "By the effect of Prima Light, I sacrifice Cyber Tutu! Cyber Prima, dance on in!"

A tight silver bodysuit covered her new monster, along with golden hoops that hovered at her hips, and smaller ones in the form of bracelets at her shoulders and wrists. A fall of silver-white hair gleamed bright in the lava-light, and she stood fiercely in front of Asuka, ready for battle.

"Cyber Prima! Take out Mirage Dragon!" This wouldn't cause nearly as much damage as she would have liked, but even seven hundred was better than nothing. She couldn't guess yet what his ace card might be but the sooner she finished this duel the better. If she kept feeling the same damage that her monsters did, then she wasn't sure of how much more she could take.

Mirage Dragon vanished in a puff of sparkles as Cyber Prima slammed into him, Darkness's life points dropping down to twenty-five hundred. Still a long way to go, but Asuka believed she could do it.

Darkness brushed it off easily though as she set her last card face down and ended her turn. "You're not that bad. I might almost regret finishing you off - but probably not." He regarded her thoughtfully before he drew his own next card and then pointed towards her. "Do you hear the cries of those dragons that you've destroyed? They shriek from the graveyard, demanding vengeance for their passing!"

"You're getting into this a little much," Asuka muttered. She'd never been fond of those who were too over-dramatic in duels. Spirits or no spirits - and she hadn't made up her mind on that - it was still a game. Though a very deadly one right now.

But Darkness continued as if she'd not said a thing. "You will suffer for what you've done! The souls of the dragons demand it! Now it begins! I summon Black Dragon's Chick!"

In front of him there now appeared a large red egg, From the egg there burst a small dragon, not quite small enough to hold in one's hands. It glared at her and Cyber Prima, hissing in anger as it did. Darkness wasted no further time.

"I send Black Dragon's Chick to the graveyard and summon Red Eyes Black Dragon from my hand!"

The chick explode into light and that light coalesced into a gigantic dragon, sleek and black of scale, with sharp red eyes that peered as her as if she were the source of all it hated in the cosmos. Asuka's attention shifted from the dragon to Darkness's mask and back again.

It's the same. He's wearing the Red Eyes Black Dragon Mask. Something else clicked. She couldn't see his face properly still, not with the mask there, and the shadows cast by the lava made it even more difficult to be sure. But the more she listened to his voice and the more she stared at him, the more certain Asuka became. She wasn't sure at all of how or why, but - but she'd done it.

She'd found her brother. Now she just needed to find a way to find him inside of whatever it was that used his body. She didn't know how this Darkness entity did it, but he wore her brother like a suit, and that wasn't going to happen any longer if she had anything to say about it.

"Your dragon only has a hundred more points than Cyber Prima," she pointed out. "That's hardly anything at all."

"Oh, you're quite right on that." All around Darkness, shadows cast by the lava stirred and twisted and rose upward, dancing in a frenzy that sent chills down Asuka's spine. "Therefore, I send Red-Eyes Black Dragon to the graveyard to summon Red-Eyes Darkness Dragon!"

The shadows converged on the great black dragon, wrapping all around it and blocking it from sight. When they pulled away, the dragon looked larger, but slimmer, with a sense of intelligence that Asuka didn't find reassuring in the slightest.

"Red-Eyes Darkness Dragon draws power from every dragon that's been sent to the graveyard," Darkness declared. "With Spear Dragon, Mirage Dragon, Black Dragon's Chick, and Red-Eyes Black Dragon, that makes his attack 3,600!" He regarded her carefully. This strike would finish her, taking her last thirteen hundred life points in one fell swoop. "Red-Eyes Darkness Dragon, attack! Bring me the victory with Darkness Giga Flame!"

"Not so fast!" Asuka declared, gasping the words out as quickly as she could. "I activate my traps! Spirit Barrier prevents me from taking damage at all, and Doble Passe allows me to make this attack on my monster a direct attack on me - and then I can directly attack you with Cyber Prima! Go! Closing Reverence!"

Even as Red-Eyes Darkness Dragon blasted a stream of intense black fire at her, Cyber Prima leaped over the flames, dodging them gracefully, and landed in front of Darkness, striking at him with all of her might. Darkness fell back a step himself, his life points dropping to a mere two hundred, and he snarled, eyes flashing like red coals.

"You won't do that again next turn," he promised. Asuka knew he was right. Doble Passe would go to the graveyard at the end of this turn. Spirit Barrier would remain, being a Continuous Trap, but it required her to have a monster on the field. If he could destroy Cyber Prima, then she would have no defense whatsoever.

If this were her brother - if he used Fubuki's deck - then she knew that in that deck rested cards that could either destroy Cyber Prima, destroy Spirit Barrier, or inflict effect damage, which Spirit Barrier wouldn't negate.

He wasn't done with her now. Two more cards remained in his hand. He tugged out one of them. "I activate Fire Dragon's Blazing Bullet, and choose the effect of dealing eight hundred points of damage to my opponent!"

Asuka had time to think of how petty this was before fire engulfed her. Firestarters weren't burned by fire, no matter how weak they were, and she'd always been one of the strongest. For the first time in her life, she knew what it felt like to burn, and not in that glorious way that Firestarters did. She screamed, falling face forward, trembling from head to foot.

Firestarter. Firestarter. Another voice whispered to her. She flinched at first, but then others joined in.

"Asuka! Asuka! Stand up! You can do this!"

"Yeah! You've got this! He's only got two hundred left!"

"Idiots." That voice cut over the other ones. "She's lost already. All she has to do is stop breathing. Then I will duel you, Yuuki Juudai."

Slowly Asuka's head cleared. She dragged in a breath. The fires called. She glanced over to where her friends were and saw that whatever it was that protected them from the lava had drawn backwards. They'd not fallen in yet but it wasn't that far away. So she needed to finish this. She needed - she didn't know what she needed. All that she could think of right now was to win, to overcome that dragon and destroy those last two hundred life points. But Red-Eyes Darkness Dragon had thirty-six hundred - even with Cyber Blader, she had nothing that could top that.

Wait - wait. One card. One hope.

"So you don't want to peacefully lay down and die?" Darkness taunted her as she swayed to her feet, small flames of her own beginning to dance around her. "I'm going to extinguish those fires of yours!"

"My fire will cut through your shadows to what lies beneath, Darkness!" Asuka shot back. "All I need is one card to finish you off!"

"Try your best!"

Asuka drew her card. "I activate Pot of Greed, and draw two more cards!" She knew how slim her odds were, but if she were going to go down, then she'd go down fighting every step of the way. She smiled at the sight of her two new cards - exactly what she needed.

Juudai always thanked his deck when he got a good draw. Asuka wondered if she should start doing the same thing.

"I summon Cyber Petit Angel! When this card is successfully summoned, I can add Machine Angel Ritual from my deck to my hand!"

She'd only recently added Ritual monsters to her deck. Perhaps this was why she'd wanted to do so. Regardless, it was time. Cyber Petit Angel wiggled little metallic wings and the card she needed appeared in her hand from the deck. She moved on; better to get this done before Darkness could counter her.

"I activate Machine Angel Ritual! By tributing Cyber Prima and Cyber Petit Angel, I Ritual Summon Cyber Angel Dakini!"

A tall armored woman spun into existence before her, blue-skinned and red-haired, with armor of gold. The top two of her four arms held swords while the bottom two held a long staff. "When Cyber Angel Dakini is summoned, then you select and destroy one of your monsters." Asuka smiled a thin-lipped smile. "And you only have one monster."

Darkness jerked in surprise as Dakini struck his mighty Red-Eyes Darkness Dragon with her staff, and it exploded into a pile of scales and dust that faded away a breath later. She could see his eyes widen as he understood what was about to happen. Asuka didn't give him time to fear it.

"Cyber Angel Dakini! Direct attack!"

At once Dakini leaped forward again, this time swiping both of her swords across him. His life points drained away entirely, and he fell, screaming, the card that he'd declared would hold her soul on her defeat now glowing ever so softly. Asuka wasn't sure how she stayed on her feet, but she tottered towards him, even as light flared up around them. When that light cleared, they weren't over the volcano anymore, but on the side of it. Her flamelets faded away and she collapsed next to the black-clad body.

"Asuka! Asuka!" Ryou hurried closer, Misawa and Professor Chronos with him. Juudai, Shou, Hayato, and Thordis hurried as well, coming to check on her. She didn't care; she was fine. But she pulled the body into her arms, noticing vaguely that he still breathed. She slipped the mask off of his face, hardly able to think or breathe right now, especially as she saw that it was Fubuki, it was her brother, he lay there unconscious, but alive. Tears coursed down her cheeks and she didn't care. She'd held those back far too long over the last two years.

Slowly she looked up at Ryou, the only other person who might understand how she felt right now. "It's him," she whispered. "It's Fubuki. That other soul - Darkness - it's gone now." She could see the card discarded to one side. There was Darkness, staring back at them through the chains. Maybe 'gone' wasn't the right word, but it would do.

Asuka closed her eyes and let herself slump forward, her mind going dark and restful. This time when she woke up, Fubuki would be there, and she could get answers on what happened, how he'd vanished and why he'd vanished, where he'd been all this time, and why he worked for these people wanting powerful and evil cards.

She'd done it. She'd saved her brother.

The End

Notes: Okay, let's face it. Asuka was robbed when it came to her search for Fubuki. All it really did for her in canon was get her kidnapped by Titan (an event I can assure you didn't happen in this AU), and then after that she just kinda floats around uselessly in the plot. She wasn't even allowed to be the one to set Fubuki free. No, that had to take second place to Juudai and his eternal need for fun duels! Not this time, though. Also, I mainly set this in my Healer/Firestarter AU for the grins and giggles. This might not be the best duel but I think it works.

Lastly, I sorted out this duel and wrote it all today. The idea has floated in my head for ages and it just slammed in that this would be perfect for today's prompt, even though I had my other fic ready anyway. Meh, ideas.

#fanfic #higuchimon writes #gxmonth2021 #ygo gx #tenjoin asuka #tenjoin fubuki #au: healer firestarter

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neutron-stars-collision · 3 years

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The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 7 - New York State of Mind

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2 , Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Summary: Your first mission goes wrong and you have to face the consequences. While at the same time trying not to lose your sanity around Neil.

Warnings: Cursing.

Author’s Notes: Back to extremely long chapters! This one was a but more tricky to write due to action scenes but hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think

One could expect that after such an unexpected prelude to the meeting, you would both have difficulties staying in the roles. But surprisingly, it worked to your advantage. From the moment you stepped inside Benny’s, you were eager to do anything else but act. Your head was still a mess, and you were grateful for the distraction. Neil had to smooth his hair (thanks to you) and made sure not to touch you. You hoped that your slightly smeared lipstick would not raise any suspicious glances. In summary, it seemed as though the kiss gave you an upper hand even though you were not sure about the cost. That was until you realised what kind of person your target for the evening was.

Steiner was a rather short man with a grey buzzcut, and a permanent snarl etched on his face. He was constantly supervised by two burly, muscular bodyguards who looked like retired WWE fighters. You were pretty sure that if you were to face them, it would be the end. And Neil with his brains but insignificant physical strength would not be much better. So you said a silent prayer and sat next to your business partner at the table, facing Steiner.

The weapons dealer has led the conversation, asking you both about the most intricate details of your business and the deals you have made with the top players in the nuclear arena. He was very prepared. At first, the conversation flowed smoothly with Neil explaining your roles and what kind of enterprise you have led. But soon, the little advantage you had started to wane. Another question thrown your way made you focus your attention on the moment:

“So, this deal you have struck with Russians and Koreans” he spoke with a thick Austrian accent that reminded you of cartoon villains “How threatening is it to the US government?” he stared at you with a steel-like glare.

You shifted nervously on the seat before trying to put on your best neutral face:

“Quite threatening, I’d say” you smirked “But we’re not allowed to discuss any details for the sake of our clients. I’m sure a man like you would understand” you bated your eyelashes, hoping to use your charm.

He eyed you somewhat sleazily, and you instantly regretted the decision

“What miss Sloane means is that we can’t disclose more than we’ve already told you” your partner spoke with his deep British accent, and you stole a glance at him.

He looked tense; you could tell that he also sensed your failure.

“I need to know how the piece we’re discussing here can fit in with all this” Steiner interjected “I’ve got some big names in the weapons industry after it and wouldn’t want to anger them by selling it to somebody else” he shrugged “I have to admit that I don’t believe a word of what you’re trying to sell me” he smiled but it was more like a cruel sneer.

You felt a spike of anxiety. Watching Steiner turn towards his bodyguards, you knew that you were losing. Impulsively you reached out for Neil’s knee and squeezed it under the table. If it was not for the increasing panic, you would have noticed that he shuddered when you touched him. His eyes met yours, and you did your best to share the worry you felt. He understood, nodded, and grabbed your hand before addressing Steiner:

“If you don’t want to sell the piece to us, it’s your loss really”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the bodyguards ushering people out of the room. Fuck. You quickly reached for the clutch bag in your lap. Soon it was just the five of you left in the bar.

“Who do you work for?” the Austrian got up and leaned on the table “MI6? FBI? Huh?” his cold gaze somehow got even icier.

That was it. You have royally fucked it, so to speak. Clutching Neil’s hand, you leaped up from your seat and trained your eyes on the bodyguards. Their hands were ready on the guns.

“Do you really think that top intelligence organisations would be interested in this?” Neil clung to his charm as one does to a lifeline “You’re making a very stupid decision right now. I just want you to think about that for a moment”

“I’m done thinking”

Steiner turned towards the henchmen again. Neil met your gaze with a serious expression and pushed you behind him, reaching for the gun hidden underneath the jacket.

“Kill them both. They’re spies” the Austrian barked out the order at his bodyguards.

At his words, all hell broke loose. All four of you reached for the guns, with fingers ready on the triggers. The bodyguard was quickest, and before you could react, you were pushed to the ground by Neil. The gunshot rang in the quiet room, and you looked around fervently to see who has been hit. Your eyes fell on your partner, who has doubled over with a pained expression. You saw a small crimson stain spread through the white of his shirt on the side of the torso. Your eyes widened with realisation. You have been stood in the exact spot before Neil shielded you. Another salve of gunshots echoed with bullets raining down. Neil kept his post, but you could tell that he was suffering. You jumped back on your feet and aimed the gun at the bodyguard closest to you. You fired and watched as the bullet hit him square in the the chest. He fell dead. Steiner was not expecting that. He stared at you with a panicked expression before being dragged out of the room by the only henchman left. You breathed out. That was probably your only chance at escape.

“Are you okay?” Neil’s worried voice and his hand on your shoulder threw you out of the stupor.

“It’s not me who has been shot” you glanced at the spreading bloody stain on his side and frowned “We should leave before they come back”

“Right” he squeezed your shoulder before reaching down to take your hand in his.

You stared at him surprised, but before you could ask, he led you out of the bar and into the street. Outside you stopped to look at him, searching for any signs of pain. He met your gaze with uncertainty. You briefly wondered if things between you have changed for the worse irrevocably.

“Are you alright?” you finally asked, echoing him from only minutes prior.

“Of course” he attempted a sly grin, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes “Never been better” the hand that was still holding yours tightened the hold “We should go”

Reluctantly, you let him lead you back to the hotel. After a few minutes of awkward silence, you could not help but point out:

“You shouldn’t have shielded me back there. I can shoot well” you glared but refused to meet his eye.

Your joined hands were like a harsh reminder of what happened tonight. You felt his thumb brush over your knuckles and inhaled sharply.

“I know you can, but I didn’t want you to be shot” his raw tone surprised you “And please don’t ask why because I’m not sure I could explain”

You stopped in your tracks to stare at him. He dropped your hand. This evening can’t get harder, can it?

“Neil…” you started, unsure of what you wanted to say.

“Please not now” he was looking at you with fondness “We’ll talk, but first we need to get back to the hotel” he moved too fast and flinched from pain.

In an instant, you were at his side, brushing away the lapel to look at the state of his shirt. It was slick from blood, and it started to seep through the jacket as well. That was all you needed to pick up your pace and withhold any questions. When you got to the hotel, it became clear that you would need to create a distraction to get through the lobby. Stopping just a few paces away from the door, you turned to him.

“I’ve got an idea, but I’m not sure you’ll like it” you announced, feeling panic even at the thought itself.

“Fire away” his face was quite pale “I’m sure it’s brilliant”

You took a deep breath before blurting out the terrible plan that somehow formed in your head:

“Just embrace me so that your wound is obscured by my dress. If you wrap your arms around my waist, they’ll think we’re just… too cosy and won’t ask questions” you were pretty sure you will regret it soon enough.

Neil stared at you, clearly considering it, before asking:

“Are you sure that’s okay?” he stepped a bit closer as if trying to assess your level of sanity.

“Yeah” you shrugged and met his gaze “It was my idea after all”

After another few seconds of scrutiny, he smiled lightly and pulled you closer by placing his hands on your waist. The touch was too familiar. You shivered at the contact, immediately cursing yourself for coming up with the plan. But there was no time to suffer, so you just wrapped your arm around his neck and started toying with the hair ends at the nape of his neck. Hugging each other like that, you walked into the hotel lobby. There, naturally, only to be more believable, you allowed yourself to rest your head on Neil’s shoulder. Breathing in his scent, you felt his hands brush over your back and stomach. He leaned down to place a small kiss on your temple, and you felt your cheeks grow warmer. That moment was doing nothing to help clear your head. It was, in fact, the worst idea that you ever came up with.

No-one stopped you on the way to the lift, where once the door shut, you quickly entangled yourself from Neil and took a step away. Now your dress too was stained with blood. You did not dare look at him until you were absolutely forced to. You felt his gaze burning into the side of your head and roaming over your figure.

“Sorry about the dress” he said finally, just as you disembarked the lift.

“Don’t worry about it” you managed a small smile and met his gaze.

You stared at each for a short while, but this time you both were cautious. You felt strange, only now fully realising what happened tonight. Everything, beginning with the kiss, was like a fevered dream. Somewhere on the verge of your consciousness, you remembered that you killed a man tonight. But you knew that the reality of the situation will only dawn on you later. Now all you cared about was Neil and his shirt soaked with blood. Sobering up, you took his hand and started leading him down the corridor. Then you both went into his room, and you let go of his hand, desperately trying to control the situation.

“Shouldn’t we call for the emergency team?”

But before you managed to finish the question, your eyes widened. Neil just stripped his jacket, followed by the tie and shirt. The clothes landed on a pile on the floor, and he met your astounded look with a smirk:

“Why are you so shocked? It’s not like you’ve not seen me like this before” he winked, enjoying your startled state.

“Do you always have to be such an arse?” you focused on glaring at him to avoid looking at anything else.

“Only for you, my dear” with that he disappeared into the bathroom.

Right… maybe things are not quite so different.

You gave yourself a mental slap to the face before following Neil. He was looking at the gunshot wound in the mirror as you tentatively approached him. It looked rather bad with a significant blood loss. Pushing away the rising concern, you took one of the spare towels, dipped it in water, and begun to clean the wound. You surprised him with your actions, and he visibly tensed when the cloth touched the wound. Briefly, you wondered whether it was because of you or from the pain.

Once all of the dried blood was removed from the area, it was clear that the bullet was still inside. It has most certainly missed any vital organs, and that was good news. You took a step back to assess his state and was met with a very intense look from Neil. You had a feeling that if it was not for the gravity of the situation, you would not be able to stop yourself from making another mistake. But now was certainly not the time.

“We really should call for a doctor” your voice was weirdly hoarse “Someone needs to take out the bullet”

“There’s no need, I’ve done it before” you watched with horror as he reached for a pair of tweezers.

Slapping his hand away, you glared:

“Neil”

“What? You don’t have to look while I do it” he shrugged and once again tried to pick at the wound with the metal instrument.

You grabbed his wrist in a tight grip and met his gaze with defiance.

“Even if you’ll somehow manage to extract the bullet, someone should see it” you hated how close to pleading you were “You could get an infection”

For the first time, he seemed speechless, thinking hard about the next counterargument. Then, as his eyes lit up with the well-known smug smile on his lips, you knew what was coming.

“You must really care about my well-being” he mused, looking way too pleased.

“Yes. I do” you replied seriously “So please, stop this alpha male self-reliance bullshit, and let me get help” you let go of his wrist and looked into his eyes, not hiding the annoyance and worry you felt.

He searched your eyes for a moment before nodding.

“Thank you” you whispered.

Before you could leave the bathroom to dial the number, Neil quickly grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips. He kissed your knuckles while looking into your eyes with fondness and admiration. It was too much too soon. You drew your hand away and left the room without looking behind.

*** The emergency team just had to know your exact location, mission code, and an answer to the set secret question, which was a way of assuring your identity. They registered your call and promised to arrive within fifteen minutes.

You were not ready to face Neil again, so you just changed into comfortable clothes, discarding the bloodied dress in the bathroom corner. You felt impossibly tired, with a pounding headache and aching body. Just as you considered collapsing onto the bed and falling asleep in an instant, you heard a knock on the connecting doors. You sighed and called out:

“Come in”

The door creaked, and you could see Neil’s silhouette leaning on the wooden frame.

“They should come soon” you announced, feeling the awkwardness settle between you.

It was only fair, you thought. At some point, you both had to understand what happened, and surely it would mean that things would be somewhat different.

“Sorry about earlier. I know I can be annoying sometimes” you turned to look at him at the admission.

“Yeah, you really can” you frowned, and he smiled at the sight.

You observed each other in silence. You were grateful that he kept his distance so you could keep your sanity intact for the moment.

“I wish I understood why the mission failed” he mused out loud “I would’ve sworn we had him figured out”

“Not everyone falls victim to your charm, Neil” you glanced up at him with a tired smile.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the knock echoing from his room interrupted him. He seemed hesitant so you just nodded. He took one last look at you before leaving to open the door.

Once it was clear that it was the emergency team that arrived, you made an effort to show up and have a look at them. It was a small group consisting of one woman and three men, all familiar with Neil and rather indifferent towards you. Nothing new then. After they made sure you were perfectly fine and you have logged in the mission into the system, it was made clear that you were no longer needed.

Perhaps it was for the better. You managed to steal one last glance at Neil through the bathroom door left cracked open. His wound was being stitched, and he looked a bit worse for wear. But he was alive, and that was what mattered. With that knowledge, you quietly retired to your own room and locked the door.

Sighing, you finally got into the bed and tried to relax. Soon enough, the images from the bar began flashing before your eyes. You always expected your first kill to be harsh, but the events of the day made it worse. You just hoped for a little rest during the night. And no nightmares.

*** A journey back to Boston could be summed up with one word – awkward. The emergency team took you back in their minivan, which meant spending 4 hours in silence or risking small talk. You preferred to stay quiet and look out through the window, worried that the conversation with strangers could prove to be difficult. Even talking to Neil seemed like a hard achievement at the moment. Apart from exchanging a rather stiff ‘good morning’ upon meeting, you did not speak with each other at all. And it did hurt. The only consolation were the few looks you stole from him when everyone else seemed distracted.

By the time you arrived at the HQs, the prospect of the post-mission briefing with TP seemed almost exciting. You followed Neil to the conference room, where the boss was already waiting for you. You watched as him and Neil embraced and smiled at the sight.

“It’s good to see you both back… almost intact” the Protagonist warily eyed Neil’s side “How are you?”

“Oh it’s nothing” Neil waved his hand dismissively before looking at you pointedly “If it wasn’t for someone’s panic, I wouldn’t even need the doctor’s help”

You glared and tried to control your emotions, not to make a scene in front of someone else. But TP just chuckled, eyeing you both with interest.

“You should thank Y/N for potentially saving your ass” he joked, and you smiled, glad someone stood up for you.

“Yeah exactly, I never got a thank you” feeling braver, you approached them and joined the small circle in the centre of the room.

“In which case, apologies m’lady” Neil took a step towards you and took your hand in his “And thank you” he kissed the back of your hand, all the while maintaining eye contact.

You blushed and quickly took a step back.

“No worries” you looked back at the Protagonist warily, but he only grinned. It did seem like he was used to moments like that involving his colleague. The thought made you feel strange, and you were not sure if it was due to jealousy or something else.

“Okay, tell me what happened with Steiner”

You all sat down at the table, and Neil began to summarise the mission:

“We contacted Raul, who helped us set up the meeting with Steiner. The pretext was that we’re dealing with nuclear weapons and are intrigued by his newest offer. We prepared our roles rather well, I think” he glanced at you as though trying to ascertain what you remembered from the day.

You looked down, suddenly overwhelmed with the images and feelings. The flirting, the persisting touch on your knee, the way he looked at you just before the kiss. You swallowed hard and tried to compose yourself as Neil continued the story.

“The beginning of the meeting went well, but then he started getting suspicious, and nothing was working on him. Once he started giving signs to his bodyguards, we knew that the mission has been compromised so we prepared for the showdown. I got shot in the side before Y/N took out one of the minions. Steiner then left with the other one, and we evacuated” he finished and took a sip from the glass of water.

You stared at him, wondering why he omitted the detail about the bullet being meant for you. But he only acknowledged your gaze with a curt nod. Clearly now was not the time for important conversations. TPs voice brought you out of the thoughts:

“Do you think he has been warned?”

“Maybe” you spoke up, and they both looked at you “But to me, it seemed more like he was scared of disappointing a client to whom he promised the piece” you tried to remember the exact things said “He definitely mentioned something about powerful people being after the plutonium and that he doesn’t want to anger them”

“Good point” Neil nodded “I wish we could have gotten a name out of him”

“I have a few candidates” the Protagonist’s dark gaze stared into space with confidence “But it’s too early to share their names” he smiled apologetically.

Neil sighed and commented:

“It’s always too early for you to share anything” he glared at his friend.

“I know, and as usual, I’m sorry” you observed them both with interest “Soon you’ll know why I’m keeping all those secrets from you”

“I fucking hope so because I’m getting tired of all those half-truths” Neil’s gaze grew darker, and you wanted to reach out and take his hand.

Instead, you only stared as he got up and started pacing the room.

“What’s next in store then?” he asked after a short tense silence.

Before TP could answer, an agent burst into the room:

“I’m sorry boss, but Neil, you’re needed in the field” he looked panicked.

“Right now?” Neil’s gaze quickly flitted between all of you present in the room.

“Yes, it’s urgent” with that the agent left the room.

Then you watched curiously as Neil and the Protagonist exchanged a short conversation without speaking out loud. Then TP focused on the laptop screen with his back turned, while Neil approached you:

“I’m sorry about this” he looked into your eyes earnestly.

Once again, he meant everything, and you nodded. There was not much point in being angry at the universe, was there?

“It’s okay. We’ll talk when you’re back” gently, you reached out to brush away a stray strand that was falling into his eyes “Just be safe out there and… come back to me” you forced a small smile, tracing the sharp outline of his jaw.

Even though you were acutely aware of not being alone in the room, for once you did not care. Things were far from clear between you, but now there was no time to focus on all that you did not understand.

“Always” Neil beamed back “Wouldn’t want you to suffer life without me for too long” he smirked.

You lightly smacked him in the chest, not hiding the feelings that could be seen in your eyes. Neil understood; you were sure of that. A sharp knock on the door interrupted the moment, and he sighed.

“I’ll text you” he squeezed your hand for goodbye and left the room without a further word.

Does he even have my number?, you wondered before remembering about TPs presence in the room. He was watching you quietly with a small smile on his face. His expression made you braver.

“You know something you haven’t told us” you mused out loud “About me and him” you added.

He shrugged while still looking at you with an amused gleam in his eyes.

“I only know that while Neil can be an annoying piece of shit sometimes, you do like him. Despite yourself” he chuckled at your horrified expression “Now, why don’t we have a little something to eat while we talk?”

#tenet #neil tenet #neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #neil tenet imagine #neil tenet fanfic #tenet fanfic #robert pattinson #the art of inversion #gifs not mine

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draconica · 3 years

Note

Oooo, for the writing prompt, a little 7+4+1? Or just one, I might be a little greedy 😖🤣

7: Engagement sex 4: Petnames 1: Spicing things up in the bedroom

I made it work, anon ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

I also headcanon Ellis can be a powerbottom so enjoy that

When Ellis returned home from the shop one warm evening, he was humming softly to himself. There was a sly smile to his features as he gently jostled the plastic bag he had brought home. There was no groceries or anything that mundane inside. No, there was something very special inside of this particular carrier.

“Niiick?” he crooned in the hope that his boyfriend was home, and in the mood. Now, he was home, but as Ellis turned the corner into the living room he was met with a sight he wasn't quite expecting to see.

Nick was stood in a black suit - a proper, swanky, three-piece number – and holding a red rose. A soft song was playing on their stereo system, and the lights were turned down low. He had definitely been stood here for some time, waiting for Ellis to return home, and Ellis dropped his smile briefly. The gambler was smooth as silk at the best of times, but this was unexpected.

“Welcome home, sweet peach,” Nick led with, making Ellis blush – that damn pet name of his. “You good?”

Ellis scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, I'm jus' fine,” he smiled, setting down his bag for now, and gesturing to Nick as he took a step towards him. “What's this for?”

In a second, Nick's smile slipped a little, arching his brow. “...You forgot, didn't you?” He rolled his eyes, but that smile soon came right back as he stepped forward also, closing the gap between them and offering him the rose. “July 12th? The day we got out of quarantine?” Nick chuckled, leaning in closer and making it more personal. “The day we moved in together, made the new place official?”

A million thoughts swarmed Ellis's head at that point, taking the rose and knowing he was absolutely overcome with blushes. “O-oh… damn, I guess I did forget,” he giggled, tilting his head a little as his boyfriend leered closer. Even now, Nick was still the most damn attractive man he'd ever met, let alone dated. “M'sorry, darlin', just had a lot on my mind, I guess?” he shrugged.

Nick seemed to understand, nodding once before pulling Ellis in for a kiss. “It's all good, sport. You can make it up to me later. But for now...” he turned and clicked a remote in love control, turning down the music a touch, before his hand returned to where it belonged – holding his lover's.

“Ellis,” he began, looking down at his thumb caressing the back of El's hand. “It's been a hell of a ride to get here, huh? Fighting for our lives every day in the apocalypse, a year of quarantine, and now three years of living together. Before the Green Flu, I was at my lowest point. I… well, wouldn't be alive if I hadn't met you. The zombies were a distraction, but you were a reason to live. You mean the Goddamn world to me, Fireball, and I want to spend every day by your side. So… I have one question for you.” Ellis watched on, mouth dropping, as his boyfriend got down on one knee and produced a velvet box containing a thick silver ring. In the center, there was set a dark blue gemstone. “Ellis, mi tesoro, will you marry me?”

Needless to say, Ellis had not been expecting this today, and that was obvious given the absolute astonishment on his face at that moment. It almost made Nick want to laugh, but he was slightly too nervous for that.

Thankfully, Ellis broke into his lop-sided, brilliant Southern smile. “You sly sumbitch,” he chuckled. “Hell yeah, I'll marry ya!”

The gambler got to his feet, immediately bringing his lover closer into his arms with an unbreakable smile. The ring was a perfect fit onto Ellis's fourth finger, something else that Nick had been worried about, but seeing how snugly it sat made the older man's heart swell. “I love you, Overalls.”

“Love you, too, darlin',” Ellis responded as he brought Nick's face in for a kiss... and then another... and then his arms were around Nick's neck. Any distance between them was suddenly gone.

It wasn't unusual for their kisses to get out of hand, certainly in their earlier days where it seemed like sex was on the table every day (not literally, except for a few times Ellis can remember where they'd gotten adventurous…). That's when Ellis remembered what was in the bag he had brought home. Well, now he had no choice but to surprise his lover with its contents.

By now, Nick's kisses had moved to the mechanic's neck, and Ellis couldn't suppress a shiver as he found his favorite spot just below his ear. Many a hickey had been placed there before, and it was near-enough a certainty that he'd be getting a new one tonight.

“Nick,” he whispered, shifting his hand through the hustler's hair and smiling when he caught sight of the shiny new engagement ring on his finger. “Take me to the bedroom.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Nick chuckled before tightening his grip around Ellis's waist and hoisting him up, causing the younger man to gasp against his lips. “You don't have to tell me twice.”

Of course, Nick couldn't possibly carry Ellis up a whole staircase and into said bedroom. He wasn't a young man anymore, after all. Not that Ellis minded – it actually gave him a chance to grab the bag he'd brought home. Nick gave him an odd look as he did so, but his young fiancé had simply smiled, told him not to worry about it with a pat to the cheek.

Once they both stepped into the bedroom together, Ellis set the bag down once more and brought Nick into more kisses, having missed them in the thirty seconds they had stopped.

“How long were ya plannin' that for?” asked Ellis curiously as he slipped the black tie from Nick's neck, smiling at him.

Nick shrugged a little. “Few months,” he admitted. “Knew I wanted to marry you someday, seemed like the anniversary of getting out of that Goddamn pandemic was a good time.”

Ellis was now working on those pesky shirt buttons, granting him access to that chest hair he loved so much on Nick. “Romantic as usual,” he mused. “Gotta be honest… I was plannin' a lil' somethin' for us tonight, too. Nothin' big like askin' ya to marry me, so kinda puts my gesture in the shade.”

“Don't be modest, sweet peach,” Nick chuckled, allowing Ellis to remove his suit jacket and leave it on the floor – something he usually gets very picky about.

“Well...” Ellis slipped Nick's belt from his pants, and was pleased at the choice his lover had made – a black leather strap. Yes, this'll do nicely. “I know you like bein' in control 'n all, but I wanna show ya how we ride in the South.”

That piqued the gambler's interest, not in the least because Ellis was looping the belt around his hand, pulling it taught for Nick to see, and something about the sight was enough to set his erection at full mast.

“Ace...” he paused, needing to wet his lips when he found his mouth suddenly dry. “Do I get a say in this?”

“You certainly get to pick the safe word,” mused the mechanic, shifting his weight slightly on his hips as he played with the leather strap some more.

Nick must've been mad, or at least deeply in love, as he decided to shift control over to his little fiancé for the night. “All right,” he conceded, stepping out of his pants which, with lack of support, had pooled onto the floor. “Where do you want me, sugar?”

The mechanic's grin spread further up his cheeks. He led Nick over to their king-sized bed and sat him down. “Now, you go ahead and make yourself comfortable, mister gamblin' man, and I'll go slip outta these here greasy clothes.” With a little canter to his steps, he grabbed the bag once more and headed to their en-suite bathroom, shooting a look over his shoulder. “Recommend losing those there briefs, too. Won't be needin' them at the rodeo.” And with that, he disappeared into the next room, door shutting slowly behind him.

Nick had always been good at following instructions, and Ellis's were about as subtle as a sledgehammer to the face. So, as he stripped himself down completely and got comfortable, he took the time while Ellis was gone to think about some of the more memorable trysts in their relationship.

There was the very first time which had been during the apocalypse. It had been rough and hurried, considering they had just escaped death by the skin of their teeth, and it was more a carnal desire of the most basic of human instincts. Ellis had almost alerted a horde with how loud he'd been.

There was another time, during quarantine, where love had for the first time been entered into the equation. Namely, the first time they had said 'I love you' to each other. Nick had topped then, too. And he wasn't a picky partner by any means – after all, Ellis was young and full of testosterone, and sometimes he needed to fuck just as much as anyone else. Nick had come to enjoy bottoming, absolutely, but he was more or less the one in charge on most nights. Ellis never complained; quite the opposite, in fact. Nick was still lost in thought when suddenly the bathroom door opened at last, revealing Ellis in his attire for the evening: Nothing but a cowboy hat (and one engagement ring).

“Howdy,” he drawled as he leant against the door frame, still playing with Nick's belt in his hands. “Heard there was a no-good city slicker that I needed to take good care of. Assumin' that's you, handsome?”

Nick couldn't' help but smirk up at him, raising an eyebrow. Ellis was unbelievably adorable, especially whenever he was making effort to please him. That included… this. “Goddamn it, Ace,” he shook his head. “Didn't think this was how my night was gonna go.”

Ellis shot him an amused look, then slipped right back into character. “I'm the best darn rodeo rider this side'a Georgia,” he boasted, sauntering closer to the bed. “Ain't no wild stallion I can't tame. So, reck'n you'll be my best ride yet.” The mechanic reached into the bedside drawer to fetch the lube, and took a moment to stand beside the bed, looking over his naked lover. “Safe word?” he asked.

Nick nodded up at him. “Witch.”

Ellis frowned. “Damn, Nick, really? All the words in the entire American language and you had to pick one that reminds me of the time you almost got yourself killed?”

“You almost got me killed,” retorted the hustler, squinting at him. “You're the one who spooked the bitch.” But he shook his head, letting a smile return to his red face. “Fine. Safe word is 'wedding'.”

With a roll of his eyes, Ellis blushed a little as he set the lube down on the table for now. “Good 'nough for me.” Slipping back into character once more, the Southerner crawled his way onto the bed and straddled his lover, halfway up his chest, at one point his erection bobbing near Nick's face. The gambler just watched on with hungry eyes. “Now then… one thing I know about tamin' the wilder beasts is that they need to be trained, sometimes with force.” Ellis looped the leather belt around Nick's neck gently, watching the older's green eyes for any signs of discomfort or fear. There was nothing but trust, and a lot of hunger.

Ellis cinched the belt, not tightly, but enough for Nick to feel the presence of his around his throat. With a twist of his hand, Ellis curled the leather around his wrist and tested the length. There was plenty to work with, and he grinned. “Damn, look at'chu, city boy.” Ellis backed up his hips, grinding himself backwards onto Nick's cock, and watching in triumph as Nick's eyelids fluttered slightly. “I think I'm gonna really enjoy ridin' you.”

The helpless gambler chuckled as he rested his hands on Ellis's thighs, watching those hips move back and forth and craning his neck back a little. A moan almost made it's way out of his mouth, but not quite. Ellis had to try harder. “You're getting more into the kinky sex, Overalls,” he smiled, throwing in a wink. “I'll take credit for that.”

With a tilt of his head, Ellis's hand pulled back, tightening the belt a little like pulling on the leash of a disobedient dog. Nick gasped beneath him, moaning in the afterthought, which made the cowboy grin. “You speak outta turn like that again and you'll be in the doghouse,” he threatened. Reaching over to the nightstand, he took the open tube of lubricant and squirted the thick liquid onto two fingers. The look in his baby blue eyes was so very kinky, and Nick could feel his cock give a twitch in appreciation as he pictured what Ellis was about to do with those fingers.

Picking up the belt once more with his clean hand, those fingers then went behind Ellis, slipped between his cheeks and found his pucker. The younger man was a dab hand at prepping himself, and knew his own body inside and out. While he worked his magic, he moaned aloud and reintroduced his bucking hips back into the mix. The sight was amazingly erotic, and Nick couldn't resist reaching over to play with Ellis's neglected dick. Ellis, for the most part, seemed to allow it, even bucking up again into the gambler's grasp.

“You're thinkin' about it now, aren't ya, city boy?” Ellis chuckled with an open-mouthed grin. “Thinkin' about me ridin' ya real good, getting' ya all hot 'n bothered...” He leant in slightly, pulling once more on Nick's restraint until the man was a little closer. “Thinkin' about how fuckin' good I'm gonna feel around your cock once I'm wet n' ready?”

That accent was so thick, deep with lust, and it was driving Nick crazy. The gambler gave a groan, just as the belt loosened again and allowed him is breath back. His head fell back to the pillow, already seeing a black fuzz around his vision. “God… sweet peach…”

“Yes, my darlin'?” Ellis crooned, by now with three fingers knuckle deep inside of himself.

“Ple…” Nick panted as he closed his eyes. “Please.”

That was all Ellis needed to hear. With another lop-sided smile, the mechanic shifted until he was kneeling and scooted back a little on Nick's body. He kept a keen eye on his fiancé's face, even as he reached behind, took Nick's cock in hand, and slipped himself down onto it like he'd done it a hundred times before.

The card shark grunted and turned his head a little, and Ellis could hear a shift behind him as Nick moved his legs. His feet was planting themselves onto the mattress and knees bending up, in order to provide him with the leverage he needed. Ellis leant back, slipping down further onto Nick's cock while at the same time resting against Nick's thighs like a back rest. He was grateful for that.

“How about that?” Ellis nearly sang as he shifted on Nicolas's lap. “You're bein' a good boy after all.”

Nick said nothing, just looked up at his Southern lover with a smile on his face, throwing in a wink for good measure. Ellis chuckled and wrapped the belt once more around his wrist for another harsh tug, at the same time, lifting his hips and slamming back down in a harsh bounce. The leather crackled in his grip, and Nick drew another breath. His face was getting redder. “El,” he managed, grinding out the noise, and Ellis was careful to make sure he had enough air to speak, should his next breath utter the safe word.

“Giddy up,” purred the cowboy, reaching up to hold his hat before beginning his ride. Putting all his power to his thighs, up and down Ellis's hips went as he bounced away. The sweetest moans left his throat – couldn't rightly help it, as Nick had always been the best lay of his life.

Nick's hands found their way to Ellis's hips, gripping him there and guiding him on and off his dick. In no time at all, Ellis was fully into the sex, letting go of his hat to reach back and steady himself on Nick's knee as he continued to ride him hard.

“Fuck yeah,” Nick murmured to himself as he gazed up at the scene Ellis was blessing him with. He groaned soon afterwards, craning his neck, and smiled up at his lover. “The belt… please… fuck...”

Ellis grinned and slowed his thrusts down a little in order to tug the belt once more, harsher and tighter than previously. Nick's knuckles went white around Ellis's hips.

“Look at ya… enjoyin' yourself so much,” Ellis praised and drove his hips down once more, grinding back on Nick's length. “C'mon, city boy, you know you wanna come inside'a me...”

Nick could hear the blood rushing around his head, fell the pleasure begin to whirlpool around his cock, and did the only thing he knew he could do. He moved a hand to Ellis's dancing erection and gave him a tight sleeve to fuck into, watching with watering eyes. The Southerner groaned and dropped the leather strap in favor of bracing both hands on Nick's legs, rocking himself like crazy. The gambler drew a gasp of air, Ellis threw his head back, and then it all went white.

“NICK!” Ellis broke character at the last minute to shout his fiancé's name in orgasm. He spilled semen all up Nick's chest and some managed to hit his chin. The sight was erotic enough to send the older man tumbling off the precipice himself, filling Ellis up until he was overflowing. Ellis moaned and lifted himself off for the last time, feeling warm liquid seep down the insides of his thighs.

With a sigh, Ellis leant forward and braced his hands on Nick's shoulders to prevent himself from falling atop him. The cowboy hat fell from his head and onto the floor beside the blunt end of the belt. The mechanic looked up at last, seeing Nick with his eyes closed and drawing in large breaths. He blushed as he reached up to carefully removed the leather from his neck, letting it clatter to the carpet.

“Darlin'?” Ellis whispered as he lifted himself off of Nick, in the process grabbing some tissues in order to clear them both up. “Nick.”

Nick opened his eyes at last, letting them fall onto his cute young lover as he grinned. “Even after all these years...” He reached out to cup El's cheek, rubbing his thumb there. “...you still surprise me, Overalls.”

Once the necessary clean-up had been finished, Ellis crawled back onto the bed and cuddled right up to his gambler, running his hand through his fine chest hair. “Glad you enjoyed the show, Nick.” He looked down, admired the ring still snugly on his finger. “Yeah, not quite how you pictured your night goin', huh?”

“No, sir,” agreed Nick and moved his hand up to lace their fingers together. “But if this is how the rest of my life is gonna go, I think I'm okay with that.”

With a short laugh, Ellis reached up to kiss him, rubbing his thumb along Nick's jaw. “Love you, city boy.”

#nellis #nick/ellis #l4d2 #draconicauthor #its so good to be writing them again asdfgfjkdgh ;-;#anonymous

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sweetestlamb · 4 years

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Teenage Dream Pt. 2

Summary: Mun-Yeong learns that Gang-Tae has an admirer, she handles it very well.

Notes: So, I really had fun playing with blushingshy! GT and aggressivepossessive! MY, I thought the high school au would be the perfect place to have some fun with their roles, I love domGT to bits but domMY does something special to me. I tried to incorporate things you guys said in the comments for part 1, so if you see your idea in the story thank you for the suggestion! This has smut but I am also enjoying the slow burn of their teenage years, so no full sex yet. Blame GT he wouldn’t stop blushing long enough to get ridden. All in due time. Anyway, here’s part 2 enjoy lovelies!

In all actuality, she hadn't expected him to approach her that night. Had felt his eyes on her several times at school, Seung-Jae jokingly labelled him her "not so secret admirer" but she wasn't sure if he actually liked her. She was aware that people considered her popular, a byproduct of wealthy parents with celebrity status, therefore people thought they should like her. The same way you liked a useful tool, she wasn't naive enough to believe that her classmates liked her genuinely. Most of them didn't even know what her stories were about, couldn't see past the grotesque imagery and hidden messages. In reality she knew they found her strange, pretty but too different to truly understand but they played their parts well, fake smiles plastered on.

So, she only had Seung-Jae and that was fine by her, one great friend was infinitely better than a thousand faux friends, who only viewed her as a means to an end. But then he approached her and he was just precious, for goodness sakes he had complimented her school uniform of all things, even his constant stuttering and nervousness had been cute. None of her short stories were about damsels who needed saving, writers honestly needed to get past that ancient trope, yet she found herself playing that role with him. He would show up whenever she needed him, slaying all the dragons that stood in her way and asking nothing in return. It made it easy to give him everything, she'd never met anyone quite like Moon Gang-Tae. She hadn't planned on getting a boyfriend, too focused on school and her goals of being a writer, but he had stumbled into her life and she didn't know how to pass up beautiful things. Being with him was effortless in a way she'd never experience with another person, he listened to her and made her feel like she was important and enough as simply Ko Mun-Yeong, not the daughter of Ko Dae-Hwan and Do Hee-Jae . He had once told her as she cried quietly in soft of his collar, "You belong to you." Oblivious to the fact that he possessed a piece of her too, a piece she'd given willingly, no take backs. She was happy and it terrified her. Which, explained why the universe decided to tip her boat of happiness. She stood waiting for him, in the same spot they had been meeting for weeks now, their spot, not to be confused with their other spot outside where he often waited with her for Sang-In, who she had recently informed commanded to take a scenic route from now on when picking her up, cherishing every second extra she spent with Gang-Tae. It was his first day back since his untimely suspension, she had visited him everyday under the ruse of bringing him school notes, his mother would smile as she greeted her at the door. Unsuspecting that as soon as they were alone, studying was the last thing on their minds. It was beneficial for science class though, she was learning key information about the male anatomy. Excitement bubbled up as she waited for his arrival, fixing her hair and then immediately moving it back to its original position. Agitated at her nerves, it was unsettling to say the least, no one had this affect on her. His smile was brilliant, when he spotted her, his eyes scoping her out like he had a radar system solely for tracking her, he easily walked away from his friend leaving him mid sentence, closing the space between them with a few wide steps, courtesy of those long legs. Suddenly, it wasn't fast enough, she needed to be in his arms, sooner, now and she propelled forward, rushing to meet him halfway. They bounded to each other like long last lovers who were finally reunited, torn apart by the cruelties of an unfair life. She watched him drop a bag carelessly on the ground as he reached her and grabbed her by her waist, immediately she reciprocated his hold, throwing her arms around his neck. With ease, he lifted her up off her tiptoes, her feet left dangling inches off the ground as he effortlessly supported her body weight. She let out a soft gasp, always shocked by his unassuming displays of strength. She snuggled her face into his neck, it was flame red and and she yearned to kiss it. After a short consideration, she pressed a light kiss into his neck, his soft gasp music to her ears. Tightening his hold, he swayed them side to side, inhaling the scent of her intoxicating shampoo. Unbeknownst to them, Jae-Su looked on in disgust and horror, he hadn't even gotten a chance to finish his story before Gang-Tae had taken off, he rolled his eyes watching their dramatic reunion. They hadn't seen each other for two days; Saturday and Sunday, yet they were acting as if Gang-Tae had just returned from military service. He'd known Gang-Tae for a much more substantial number of years, and he was never greeted in such a fashion. He stomped past them grumbling under his breath, "You never hug me like that, I have to beg for any affection." Unfortunately, Gang-Tae's ears were occupied listening to Mun-Yeong's soft breaths and his complaints were left unheard. Mun-Yeong was the first to disturb the hug, drawing back until they were face to face, but still locked in their tender hold. She couldn't help the exuberant smile that spread across her face, "I'm so happy you're back. I missed you." She watched with amused eyes as his signature blush colored his face, his adorable grin tempted her to kiss him right then and there. It was only his next words that halted her, "I got you something." He finally broke their hold, she suppressed her sigh, and he picked up the bag he had discarded prior to their hug. She clapped her hands in excitement, she adored surprises. He reached into the bag smiling at her adorable response and handed her a plastic cup filled with milky brown liquid, her eyes lit up in recognition. "It's coffee milk. I went to the coffee shop you like, that's why I'm late, I'm sorry didn't mean to keep you waiting." His glossy brown eyes stared at her, apologetic and pleading. She giggled before finally giving into her previous urge, yanking his checkered collar, bringing his face close enough to kiss. His eye was huge but he didn't resist, allowing her to draw him in. She curled her free hand around his thick neck, leaning up to capture his slack mouth. He tasted like cereal, sweet and succulent and she chased the taste with her tongue, licking into his moist mouth before he returned the favor. His tongue insistent in her mouth, gasping when she pulled his bottom lip hungrily. She let out a surprised puff of air, as he walked forward forcing her to retreat until her back met the hard wall. He placed a broad hand on her back, dragging her deeper into the kiss as the other cradled her head. Time slowed down as they kissed, wet sounds filling the air. Their mouths broke apart only to come back together, time and time again. A loud cough sounded off to her right, she willfully ignored it, lost in the flavors of her boyfriend. But the cough continued followed by an obnoxious clearing of the throat, she pulled away to shout at whoever was interrupting them only to meet the eyes of her best friend. "You do realize that you're in public right and that you're giving everyone a free show?" Seung-Jae asked eyes never looking up from her phone, her fingers flying across the touch screen, most likely on Tumblr again. As she took a moment to catch her breath, her eyes scanned the hallway and yes, all eyes were on them. Thankfully no teachers but their classmates were looking on with gaping mouths. Some even had their phones out, she glowered at them until they hurriedly hid them shamed-face, before snapping back to Gang-Tae. He was painfully shy, she knew his face would be alight and she was right. He glowed scarlet red above, satisfaction settled in her belly, poor baby. Looking down at her watch with a despondent sigh, she brought the gifted drink to her lips, still tingling from the passionate kiss. His eyes followed the motion, lingering on her mouth. "Thank you for the coffee milk. You were even more delicious though." She teased, hearing him groan in embarrassment. "Come on girl, we need to get to class. " Seung-Jae impatiently interrupted again, tapping her feet now, code for hurry the fuck up. "Alright I'm coming." She picked up her fallen book bag, swinging it over her shoulder, before Gang-Tae's arm shot out grasping the bag in his large hand. "I can carry it." He said in the softest voice, sounding like he was being given a gift, she'd forgotten how he seemingly couldn't stand to see her carry anything. Just adorable. "No. No, lover boy. You go to your class, we don't have time for another long goodbye. She can carry a book bag." Gang-Tae's eyes shifted to hers pleadingly and she almost lost her resolve, but she knew her friend was right, if he carried her bag she would notice his arms and how muscular they were and that would lead to her wanting to kiss him again and this ferocious cycle would repeat. With an apologetic hand on his smooth cheek, she shook her head, "She's right, you shouldn't be late on your first day back. I'll see you later." He nodded, subconsciously swaying into her hand before she pulled it away. Suddenly she was violently yanked away by her book bag, Seung-Jae's patience all but worn out. She longingly looked back at Gang-Tae, blowing him a kiss. If she hadn't spun around to threaten her best friend for being so aggressive, Do you have a death wish? She would have seen him catch the kiss, delicately putting it in his pocket.

She'd always judged girls around school who couldn't stand to be away from their boyfriends, rolling skeptical eyes at their dependency, she was already whole no other half needed, thank you. So when she found herself thinking of Gang-Tae, unable to focus on the teacher's voice, affronted annoyance seared in her blood. What was he doing to her? Mentally berating herself for her weakness, she rose her hand, catching the teacher's attention. "May I use the bathroom?" She requested, already knowing the response would be yes, this was one of her best classes and missing a few insignificant minutes wouldn't alter her high standing. She grabbed the pass at the teacher's nod, avoiding Seung-Jae's suspicious glance. She didn't need her negativity, weren't best friends supposed to be supportive? Hers was clearly defective. She told herself she would use the bathroom after checking on Gang-Tae, see how his first day back was going, merely good girlfriend duties. Peering into his classroom she easily located her handsome boyfriend, a chiseled chin laid on his hand, gazing out the window as if lost in a daydream. Her heart skipped a beat. Her eyes eagerly devoured him, the hours they'd spent apart ached, she longed to be back in his arms kissing him senseless turning him into a blushing mess. She was so wrapped up in his beauty, she almost missed another set of longing eyes. Nam Ju-Ri, she didn't know her well, had declined her hand in friendship after seeing how quickly she could go from “nice” to malicious. She'd always preferred the wolf rather than a wolf in sheep's clothing. Her eyes narrowed as she watched the oblivious girl gaze at her boyfriend, the flames of jealousy searing in her blood. Who was she to look at him? Wasn't it clear that he was off limits? Her taste was probably still in his mouth from this morning, she'd happily recreate the moment to remind the two faced bitch to back off. Finally, after a few minutes she stalked off to the bathroom, a bad taste lingering on her tongue.

They were working together on a group project. Her smile had fallen as he explained to her that he would need to leave early to meet Ju-Ri and Jae-Su at the Subway's to begin working on their group project. She planned on asking him to stay at school with her, she needed to work on her new short story for the school paper. It was the perfect excuse to get some much needed alone time with him, this new information threw a proverbial wrench in her plans. Only his sweet sad eyes stopped her from throwing a tantrum. He didn't look happy at the prospect of being away from her either. Using the situation as motivation, she penned a tale about a slow-witted girl who learned the dangers of touching that which wasn't yours, the grass wasn't always greener on the other side, sometimes it was best to appreciate what you had, least you lose everything. Or at least, a few fingers in the process. She never claimed to be subtle. After adding the finishing touches, her story was complete. Not her best work but adequate, a true Ko Mun-Yeong classic, dark but revealing. Are you still at Subways? As she collects her belongings, she awaits his reply to her message, humming and setting a new course of action as she exits the school, the sun warm on her skin, restoring her energy. Yes, we're still here.

They are the scene of academic innocence with textbooks sprawled across the dining table, and notes and writing utensils precariously dangling. Gang-Tae is seated next to Jae-Su, Ju-Ri directly across, currently leaning over to point something out to his watchful eye. He rubs his jaw, nodding in agreement before jotting down notes on a stray piece of paper. With a firm hand she pushes the door open, a melodic chime announcing her arrival, all eyes glance to see who has entered including the only eyes that matter to her. He instantly stands up, wide smile on his face as he waves her over, missing the grimace that covers Ju-Ri's face. As soon as she's close enough to touch, he does. Drawing her into a warm hug, that she happily returns, breathing in his fresh scent. "I didn't know you were coming. Are you hungry?" He motions to the cash register, she shakes her head in decline, nodding at Jae-Su and Jae-Su, alone. Ju-Ri makes a point of checking her phone and looking as occupied as possible, she's happy to act like they’re strangers. In most ways, that's exactly what they are. "Do you want to sit?" There are no additional seats she notes, the establishment packed as it usually is after school's dismissal. "No, you sit." He looks at her in apparent confusion, about to argue before she forces him back into the seat, before taking her seat.

In his lap. His gasp breezes against her ear as she faces Ju-Ri, placid smile on her face at the girl's evident irritation, she makes herself comfortable turning to look at Gang-Tae, who shyly meets her eyes, his hands cautiously holding her hips for support. "Hey, you." She whispers only loud enough for him to hear, his coffee-brown eyes soften in response, "Hi, I missed you." Her lips find his in a sweet kiss, as he brushes her hair behind her hair. A quiet moan escapes her lips at the gentle touch, his eyes are dark when she draws away. A million miles away. She would never tire of her affect on him and how unashamed he was about showing her. "Alright that's enough from you two." Jae-Su's exasperated voice interrupts, she squashes the urge to glare at him, Gang-Tae had asked her to be nicer to him claiming he was terrified of her. She really didn't see the issue with that but she was trying for Gang-Tae's sake. He soothed out her rougher edges. Gang-Tae struggles to focus with her in his lap, absentmindedly stroking her hair instead of answering a question that was posed to him. When he brought his sandwich to his mouth, she leaned over taking a bite too, accidentally biting his finger, soft apology on her lip. She slowly licked mayo residue from the corner of her lip, his eyes raptly watching its journey as she swallowed, "Mmmm it tastes good." He briskly repositions her in his lap, shifting her into his leg, away from her place in the center. Ju-Ri finally speaks after the display through clenched teeth, "I need to go, my mom is expecting me." Gang-Tae and Jae-Su bade her goodbye and safe travels, Mun-Yeong merely looks at her while stroking her finger possessively across Gang-Tae's massive shoulders, mouthing one word, mine. He looked scrumptious in his basketball uniform, arms tensing and flexing as he dribbled the ball up and down the court. She'd happily agreed to stay for his practice today, unwilling to pass out the chance the see a slightly damp Gang-Tae. She hasn't yet spoken to him about his...admirer. It felt ridiculous to waste their time together talking about anything other than them, when they weren't devouring each other. So she didn't expect to run into the very person who was infiltrating her thoughts. The two faced bitch, alone, walking down the stairs text books in her arm. Impulsively she calls out, "You know he's mine right? Stay away from my boyfriend." The girl's head snaps up in shock, before her face settles into vexation. Good at least she's being real. She would loathe to see the fake calm smile Ju-Ri typically sends her way. "He's not your property. You don't own him." With a tight smirk she stalks over, climbing the stairs until they're level, still knowing she'll always be above her in every way imaginable. "That's where you're wrong, he is mine. My boyfriend, so why don't you get someone who actually wants you and stop drooling over what you can't have? You act so nice but you're just a two-faced bitch." She bites out the last word, stepping into Ju-Ri's face, blood singing at the opportunity to put her in her place. The sting of the harsh slap against her cheek, whiplashes her head to the side, momentarily she's impressed, surprised that the girl actually had the gall to strike her, whatever I do now is technically self defense now, she thinks. Before viciously grabbing the other girl by her thin hair, yanking at the tender follicles. "Are you crazy?" She screams loudly, lost in her rage. "Are you on something? How dare you slap me?!" Emphasizing her question with a particularly hard pull of her hair. They tussle on the staircase, Ju-Ri frantically trying to pry her hands from her hair as she pushes her head into the wall. Both unaware that the commotion from their fight has garnered the attention of the basketball team, the boys cheering them on, cacophonous yells filling the previously quiet hallway. "Oh shit is that Mun-Yeong?" "Someone get Gang-Tae!" She slams Ju-Ri's head into the wall, satisfaction overcoming her at the pleasing smack it makes. Soon Ju-Ri's screams drown out the boys and then she feels her body being lifted, completely swept off her feet. Only his familiar scent stops her from lashing out at the arms around her midsection, prying her away from Ju-Ri. Her hands remain in their tight clutch of the girl's hair but then his voice cuts through the fog in her mind, like a lighthouse. Guiding her back to the light. "Mun-Yeong, let go of her." His voice is too quiet to be a command but there is no inflection indicating a question either. He pulls her bodily away from Ju-Ri, his arms like steel around her abdomen, making her feel like a wayward child. With a final cry, she releases her hold, only to roughly shove her, aptly watching as she tumbles down the three measly stairs. Ju-Ri screams as if she had been murdered, dramatically wet eyes staring behind her, looking at him. She grabs at her once more, regaining her attention. She is elated at the look of fear in Ju-Ri's eyes as she looks up from her spot on the ground. She growls at her, bearing her teeth as she is carried away. "This was your only warning!" As soon as she is freed from the prison of Gang-Tae's arms, she begins pacing like an trapped animal, hot puffs of breath rasping out of her lungs. She feels hot with anger, which morphs into frustration before coiling into ugly shame. She dreads the look of disappointment she will see on her boyfriend's face, unlike Daniel, who was no friend of hers, she had just attacked someone he considered a friend. She knew that she had let the flames of anger consume her, this was the real reason she didn't have true friends. Most people couldn't handle her... intensity. Which was putting it nicely. She didn't like to share. Years of loneliness with parents that couldn't be bothered with her existence, had formed an ugly desire in her to latch on to the people she opened up to. She would squeeze so tightly until they ultimately burst, realizing her darkness and leaving before they too were consumed. She'd never cared enough to worry about losing anyone, all she had was Seung-Jae and Sang-In and they knew first-hand about her uglier traits, and loved her despite her flaws. But Gang-Tae had never seen this side of her, had never given her reason to show it. He looked at her like she was the sun and moon and all the stars, it would be crushing to see that love twist into fear. "Are you okay?" His voice. It was gentle. He didn't sound scared. Or disappointed. Or repulsed. Just worried, his hand on her cheek further shocking her until she brought her head up to meet his eyes. In them she saw concern, but not much else, none of the emotions others usually exhibited when they saw the real Ko Mun-Yeong. "Mun-Yeong, are you okay?" He repeated his question, cupping her cheek in his hand now. A cool balm on her hot skin. She forced out a reply, "Yes. She only slapped me, I hit her a lot more." His eyes perused her body, looking for more injuries and he let out a sigh of relief when he found none. "Aren't you.. aren't you upset that I hit your friend?" She cursed out the final word, unable to control the venom in her tone. "No, I'm mostly... confused? I didn't know you didn't like her." His brows knitted together in bewilderment, "Why were you fighting? What happened?" The memory of overhearing Ju-Ri talk to Byeol about Gang-Tae played in her mind, all of the earlier anger resurging in her blood. "Should you really be going after him? Isn't he with Mun-Yeong now?" "I liked him first! She stole him from me, I just want him to know how I feel too. Let him know he has options." After that the rest was inevitable, she couldn't hold herself back. Didn't want to in all honesty, the slap was merely the straw that broke the camel's back. "She likes you! I heard her talking about you, she said she wanted you to know you had options. I simply reminded her that there are no options, you're mine." Flabbergasted, if you searched the word in the dictionary Gang-Tae's face would be the image. He sat down in an chair of the empty classroom he had dragged her into, looking dazed. His mouth opened. Then closed. Opening once more, before closing again. Until he finally found his words, "You're jealous....of me? Of other girls liking me?" She took high offense at the skepticism in his voice and passionately retorted, "Yes, of course I am! Those...those ants want you and are trying to steal you away from me!" He grabbed her arms, stopping her mid pace, drawing her into his lap. Calming her with a single touch. His raspy baritone hypnotized her, "Breathe with me, please." She took a deep breath, matching his even breaths until she felt her anger dissipate, fizzing into nothing. "You have nothing to be jealous about. I don't want Ju-Ri or anyone else, I want you. Only you. I am yours, for as long as you'll have me." His hands rubbed up and down her sides in a soothing motion, massaging away any negative emotion left in her body. "You don't mind.... You're not upset I called you mine?" She peered at him with huge bewildered eyes. "Why would I be? As long as you're mine too." He looked at her hopefully, she didn't deign that inquiry with a verbal response. Instead taking the opportunity to utilize her spot in his lap, grabbing his face and kissing the query off his lips. Possessively shoving her tongue into his mouth, hands falling to his neck to pull him deeper into their embrace. She bit his lip then swiped the pain away, lapping at his hot wet mouth. Humming at his taste, thirsty for more. He gasped, pulling away to inhale deep breaths, his eyes were hazy with arousal. She attached herself to his neck, sucking his sweaty skin into her mouth, aroused by his moan of pleasure. "Wait, should we do this...here?" He gestured at the classroom, "What if someone comes looking for us?" She perked up at the idea, delighting in the thought of that two-faced bitch finding them and seeing first-hand that Gang-Tae belonged to her. She sucked harder instead of answering, running a hand through his hair, pulling his head to the side to give her better access. He melted in her arms, boneless at her ministrations. She looked proudly at the purple-red bruise that formed on his skin, stark on his porcelain pale skin, it would be seen a mile away. "Beautiful." She sighed caressing the marked skin, awed and proud of her work. Gang-Tae blushed looking at her like she was a predator and he couldn't wait to be eaten. Realization washed over her like a tidal wave. He hadn’t acted at all like she had imagined. "You like this." It wasn't a question, the hard line prodding into her ass told her everything she needed to know. "I never thought you'd get jealous of me. Seeing you like this is...." "Sexy?" She finished his sentence, he held her heated stare before nodding in agreement. She laughed, boisterous laughter, he was utterly perfect for her. She wanted to wreck him. Swiveling her hip into a seductive roll, she watched the pleasure wash over his face, his pretty red cheeks and open mouth calling out to the beast that had been unleashed. She swallowed his moans, groaning as he licked into her mouth, their tongues wrestling for control, she ground into his hard erection, playing dirty to get the upper hand. "Cheater." He rasped out, eyes narrowed at her. She grinded harder, wrapping her arms around his neck, riding him through their clothes. The head of his hard cock rubbing on her moist center, she'd moved her uniform skirt out of the way, desperate to feel him. They hadn't done much sans clothes yet and she was hungry for it. Whispering into his red hot ears, "Can I take off my panties?" His hands tightened painfully on her hips, as he threw his head back in a long suffering groan. She pressed on, "Please I'm so wet, I know you're not ready for.... that. But I just want to feel you." He was shaking in her arms, little hitching breaths and she waited for his response, mouthing at the large hickey on his neck. Finally he nodded. Eyes too bright, they almost seemed to be glowing. She stood up, leaving his lap, eyeing the rigid tent protruding from his uniform pants, covetously watching, eager for the day it would also be hers. Raking her skirt up under his watchful eyes, she took a hold of her panties, he subconsciously licked his lips in anticipation, as she slid the moist material down her thighs, bending over to slip them off. He watched her soaked panties hanging from the tips of her fingers utterly captivated, before she tossed them to the side carelessly. With a coy smile, she slid back onto his lap, moaning at the sensation of his clothed cock pressing on her bare opening, rocking harder on him, as spots of color exploded behind her eyelids. It felt incredible. He was burning hot and so stiff beneath her, all her thoughts minimized down to this moment. She wanted to come. Desperately. Could feel the persistent itch under her skin. When she opened her eyes Gang-Tae's were fixed on the space between her thighs, he looked ravenous as she used him for her pleasure, muscles coiled tight as he sat painfully still as she bounced on his lap. "You can touch me. I want you to, don't be nervous." She insisted, seeing his hands brutal grip on the sides of the chair. His nails were digging into the plastic, leaving indentations. He hesitated before bringing his fingers to the lips of her pussy, briefly sliding into the opening before retracting this fingers. She groaned in frustration, it felt so good she needed more, why was he stopping? Fucking tease. Voice laced with veneration, he said, "You're so.... it's so wet." She glared at him before chastising him, he was like this every time they were naked, surprised that she was aroused by him, "You made me like that. Don't be a tease now." He glowered at her statement, she had called him that various times before. His fingers slowly crept to her wet opening, a barely there touch that had her shouting, and she couldn't wait anymore she was too turned on, using his thighs for support she leaned up before bearing down on his fingers, easily slipping down their entire lengths, feeling a breath punched out of her. Gang-Tae was still frozen as she began to ride his fingers, pulling him into her tight hole, wet sounds filling the room, her juices coating his fingers. Then she felt him moving inside her, driving his fingers up to meet with her downward thrusts, his thumb momentarily pressed against her clitoris and she bit her tongue at the euphoria. She was dangerously close. His dick twitched underneath her and she slowed her sensuous movement in a slow rock, peering into his pleasure dilated eyes, "Do you want to feel me?" She watched the war on his face, control and hunger battling, "I don't...I don't want our first time to be in a classroom. You deserve more." She softened at his precious words, if only he knew that any first time would be perfect as long as it was with him. The location was insignificant. "There are...other ways to feel me." At his blank stare she continued, "Do you trust me?" Instantly he nodded, and she smiled, before reaching down to catch his zipper and slowly lowered it. He wheezed, sounding short of breath but didn't stop her. She pulled his erect dick from the slit in his boxer, it stood red and impressive in her hands, perfect in size and shape, thick and long. She hummed in approval, giggling at Gang-Tae's embarrassed face. With a dick like this, he had nothing to be embarrassed about, she doubted hearing that would help his blush though. He closed his eyes at the feel of her hands on his dick for the first time. It surely wouldn't be her last. She would make sure of that. Then with her eyes boring into his, she slid over his cock, rubbing her wetness over the hard ridge, simultaneously they moaned at the sensation. His engorged head caught on her opening but it never went in, instead sliding through her sopping wet folds, rubbing on her swollen clit.

Soon, she was the one being devoured as he inhaled her lips with a deep sloppy kiss, his spit running down her chin, as she vigorously rode him, letting him plunder her mouth. Without prompting, his hands slithered under her shirt, groping her breasts. Roughly, moving her bra out of the way, squeezing them the way he knew she liked. His fingers twisting her rigid nipples until they were deliciously sore.

"Gang-Tae!" She screamed his name, her body overloaded from pleasure. He met her thrust for thrust, their pace vigorous, a race to the end. She pulled away from his lips, taking his face in her hands feeling him stiffen under her, she forced his head up until their eyes met, with a final punishing thrust she was falling off the edge, shouting her release. She squeezed her eyes shut, riding the waves of pleasure. He twitched beneath her, bruising grip on her breasts as his cum shot out of his cock and landed in thick streams on the floor. She took huge gulps of air as her body cooled down, coming down from her extreme high, thin layer of sweat settling on her skin. Lifting her head from where it had fallen on his shoulder, she grinned at his goofy smile, he looked wrung out, it was a good look on him. After regaining the feeling in her legs she hopped off his lap, retrieving her panties from the floor, as she was placing her legs into them, she paused before looking at him, before walking up to him as he adjusted his own pants, flaccid cock now hidden away sadly enough. With a salacious grin, she stuffed her panties into his pocket, "You can keep those." He stuttered, too tongue tired to respond but didn’t stop her or give them back. They stumbled downstairs to wide eyed stares that shifted into knowing glances from Gang-Tae's teammates who were just finishing up with practice. All eyes immediately latching on to the giant hickey on his neck. She'd never seen him turn quite that red.

The next day, Jae-Su's loud voice assaulted her ears as he looked at his best friend in horror, "What happened to your neck?!" Before looking at her with an accusatory glare, "What did you do to him you....you vampire!" She smiled serenely as Ju-Ri snuck past them, avoiding her eye contact, a small scrape on her knee from the fall. Gang-Tae flushed at the words but didn't cover the mark, instead taking her books before kissing her on the forehead. He was hers, happily and she wouldn't take that for granted and had no problem reminding others who might forget.

#its okay to not be okay #psycho but it's okay #its okay to not be okay fic #high school au #jealous possessive MY #I sucked him so hes mine #smut #but like teenage sweet smut #I tried to make it short #ended up with close to 6k #I need help

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