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winterarmyy · 9 months

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Welcome Home... Soldat? | Part II

That time when Bucky accidentally relapsed into the Winter Soldier.

Navigation: Part I || Part II* || Part III (end) || Extra

Words: 4.2k++ (of fluff and filth)

Pairing: winter soldier!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: 18+ content, smut, no minors allowed, nsfw, dub con, fingering, pussyjob, thighjob, soldat being manipulative yet maintains to be so loving at the same time, another round of google translated russian, filthy praises, soldat just want to make you feel good, wet & messy everywhere, loud & whiny soldat, and at the end of the day, despite the manipulation, the soldat just want take care of you.

A/N: omfg 1k++ notes from the previous chapter?! i didn't think this would get so much attention that it had, tbh. Like wtf. What did I do to deserve this 😭 Thank you so much for your support! I can't even begin to tell you guys how much joy y'all bring me. So, I decided write more of our soft soldat for all of us cause let's be honest, we need him so bad. It's gonna be 3 part mini series. I hope you enjoy!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

The darkness in his sight seemed permenant, at least until it transitioned into a dim-litted scenery. He recognized softness of the bed, and the blank white color of the ceiling.

He was in his room.

But, when he realized the emptiness of his bed, it was as if a force jolted through his body, yanking his lying figure into a sitting position. The dead silent was broken by the sound of his gasping breaths, followed closely by the beats of his pounding heart.

"Родная (darling)?" His voice shivered in his shaky breath.

When the silent replied his call, cold sweat drenched the roots of his hair. He almost jumped into a defensive position when the door of the walk-in wardrobe seemingly opened on its own.

But to his relief, her voice broke the silence, "Soldat?" Y/N peeped out her head when she heard his voice but the moment she saw the panic in his blue eyes, she quickly made her way towards him.

As soon as she was standing near enough, the soldat pulled her into a crushing hug, rubbing his face into her stomach a relief washed over him. Y/N ran her hands through his hair as she coaxed, "I'm here, I'm here."

He hummed in reply, "You're here." He repeated as a sigh escaped his lips.

Y/N didn't know why she expected that Bucky would be back after their "sleepover" but it was a shock for her when she woke up that morning with several tender kisses on her face by the soldat, who was very much still present.

"So, you're saying he's is not the winter soldier?" Sam cocked his head to the side as he tried to wrap up the overwhelming information thrown by Shuri.

The woman rolled her eyes, "No, I didn't say that. I said, he is not fully relapsed into the winter soldier." She reclarified.

"How was this possible? I thought he was gone?" Y/N asked as her worried gaze glanced over Bucky's unmoving figure in the examination pod.

Shuri sighed as she approached her, they watched Bucky's peaceful features resting through the glass, "We only remove the trigger that were attached to a switch to activating the winter soldier from Bucky; the soldat was never gone."

Y/N's eyebrows creased as the wakandan continued to explain, "It's like removing the toggle from a light switch; you can't turn it on just like that. But if, let say we use a toothpick to poke through the hole and trigger the switch, then..."

Steve intercepted her words before she could finish, "...then it'll be turned on." The woman nodded, "Precisely."

"That does not explain why Bucky is partially... not himself." Tony quickly probed as he casually threw a red M&M's into his mouth.

Steve paced back and forth in the room as he tried to replay the day of the incident, "Maybe it has to do something in that Hydra base that we raided. Bucky did look troubled on the jet home, then when we arrived he suddenly went berserk, looking for something; well... someone". He stopped as he threw a knowing look to Y/N.

"Yeah, why he is suddenly acting lovey dovey with y/n if the soldier was triggered? I don't get it." Sam crossed his arms against his chest as he questioned.

A smile almost cracked on Shuri's lips when they mentioned that, "This is just a hypothesis; but I reckoned that Bucky knew that the soldier is slowly taking over his mind and he didn't want to let himself vulnerable, exposed for people to give him orders."

Shuri leaned her back towards the table as she continued, "So instead, he latched himself on something else, to act as his mission. Some kind of desire that's buried as deep as where his winter soldier persona was concealed."

"So, you're saying that grumpy old man's deepest, darkest desire is to suffocate y/n with kisses and cuddles?" Tony quirked his eyebrow as he chewed on the sweet chocolate snack; there was certainly sarcasm in his voice.

Y/N intictively took the nearest object within her reach, which turns out to be a thick manual book, and struck Tony on his arms. The man repulsed with a confused frown on his forehead, mouthing a soundless, "What?"

Y/N mouthed back, "Shut up!" while Sam chuckled amusingly at the silent banter between them.

Ignoring the back and forth between Y/N and Tony, Shuri answered, "Well, those urges are derived by a certain key emotion, which I'm sure put you that genius title of yours into a good use, then you should've known the answer already."

"Love." Steve's revelation cuts through before Tony could throw his banter at Shuri, "He loves y/n." He repeated his words as if all of this made absolute sense.

Which only made Y/N stop on her tracks, "He loves me?" she questioned herself but everyone in the lab can practically see the confusion on her face.

Shuri agreed to Steve's deduction, "Yes, perhaps. I supposed that is why he is protective over her and like he said, wanted to suffocate her with kisses and cuddles." Shuri pointed at Tony as she return his sarcasm.

"Wait wait wait." Y/N held her hands forward as she stepped in the middle of the conversation, "Why are we casually agreeing to that as if it's normal? I mean, I know I'm not a genius but that is absolutely ridiculous. Bucky doesn't love me, as a friend maybe, yeah, but not like that." She couldn't help but to blush as she recalled the way the soldat hands and lips mapped on her skin.

"Yes, you are absolutely not a genius, especially when you are one of the two idiots who's in love with each other." Tony casually laid out the fact as everybody in the lab nodded in agreement, including Steve who she thought would back her up.

Y/N shook her head in denial and revert the conversation back to its original destination, "So, how do we get Bucky back?"

Shuri opened the terminal screen as she watched the progress of her observation, "Well, we're still figuring that out." Y/N's shoulders slumped in defeat.

"But what I can say is, it is best to let him stick with y/n for now." Shuri concluded.

They took the whole day running tests on the soldat, which he obediently cooperate as long as Y/N was there to hold his hand.

Between resting for breakfast, lunch and snack break; the soldat spend his time to be forced to put to sleep and out of it through out the day.

Right after dinner, and the final test run, he was just left to sleep off the rest of the night and Y/N finally had time to prep herself to sleep, when she heard Bucky's voice from the bed.

"Just finished showering. Hope you don't mind me wearing your shirt, they kinda lock me in here." Y/N frowned when she thought back on how the team managed to bring most of her things over but then forgot to pack her signature iron man pyjamas.

A fond smile curved on the soldat's lips as his gaze raked over her small body wrapped in his baggy shirt, which fell right at the middle of her naked thighs.

Y/N swore that there saw a flash of Bucky in his gleaming eyes. Or maybe she was just being delusional at this point.

She let him pulled her by the hand as he slowly brought her towards him. In no time, he had them both on the comfy matteress with soldat's back propped up against the headboard, while his arms found their place around Y/N's waist, cocooning her in between his legs.

It amazes her to think how comfortable she was, being this intimately close to him; when Bucky would've been too cautious to even approach her platonically.

So she decided rather than being constantly hesitant around the soldat, she thought that she might as well just enjoy the moment as it presented itself.

Y/N's exploring eyes stopped to the side of the bed when she saw a book next to the night lamp. She reached her hand as she leaned closer.

"Prince Caspian." She whispered to herself as her fingertips grazed across the title, "The Chronicles of Narnia, huh?"

It makes sense that Bucky would be interested to read this series, knowing his quirky yet undying brag about having the experience of reading The Hobbit back when it first came out.

Y/N couldn't help but to smile to herself, especially when her train of thoughts stopped at those memories of him.

She lifted the book towards the soldat, "What do you think, Soldat? Want me to read it to you?" She asked as the soldat rested his chin on her shoulder, peering at the deep blue, hard covered book.

He briefly hummed before replying, "Yes, please." The soldat loved the idea of being able to hear more of his darling's beautiful voice. It was his favourite thing in the whole world. Well, one of the things but surely all them were involving her.

Y/N settled herself as she leaned back against his sturdy chest. One of her legs were bent up towards her chest while the other was lazily thrown over his, spreading them as far as they could go.

The soldat placed light kisses on the back of her head all the way to the side of her neck, relishing at how soft her skin was and how good she smelled. The quiet of the room only enhanced the presence of her calming voice, luring him to close his eyes as he drowned himself the melody of it.

Minutes gone by and it was passing the half hour mark.

It wasn't that the soldat find the story boring or her voice drowsying, but he was feeling rather needy, almost greedy, to have more of Y/N to the point that he got slightly distracted.

She had been such a darling to him ever since he came home; fed him, letting him touch her, kiss her, pamper her, held her hand during those long lab tests, having her in his arms through the night and against his nightmare, and making him feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside.

And yet, she didn't get anything in return.

His darling deserved to feel good and he wanted to give it to her so badly that he was getting distracted from the story that she was passionately reading for him.

Soldat's hands carefully explored her body, from the side of her waist then slowly down to her naked thighs. Too engrossed with the plot, she almost instinctively opened her legs wider for him. Though she never intended to do so, her actions surely were quite sinful.

He used the opportunity to glide his metal hand deeper into her inner thighs, lightly caressing up higher towards where her thighs meet, until the tip of it brushed over her core.

Now that's when she realized the situation, her head shoot up to face him. The book in her hand almost thrown to the side as she reached to grab his, gripping it tightly as she tried to pull him away.

Failing to stop him, she whispered "W-what are you doing?" She stuttered as she felt his fingers slide across her clothed pussy.

Soldat looked down at the smaller, "Wanna make you feel good, мое Родная (my darling)" he innocently whispered back as his dangerous fingers provoked her.

When her silence remained, the soldat lifted the corner of his eyebrow in curiosity. Was she hesitating? He sees it as an opportunity to coax her to his will.

He cooed softly when he explained, "You deserve it, darling. Deserve it so much. Please, let me?" He sounded so desperate when he begs like that.

It feels like her whole body was burning, his touch were igniting flames wherever he drags his fingers. She knew it was wrong to feel like this, but she couldn't help it.

Oh, how his fingers works wonders even with the thin fabric were blocking his access.

Y/N bit her lower lip as she looked down to her thighs. The way she was grabbing onto his hands as he moved around; it looked like she was guiding him to touch her more.

The soldat knew she was close to be tempted to submit, "I promise it'll feel good. So good." he almost growled in her ears as he saw patch of the dampness started to appear on the center her panties.

"Don't." she whispered quietly, but that only made the soldat to futher seduce her as he add more pressure on his middle finger.

She hesitated for a while before she slurred "D-don't stop." her head thrown back into his neck, finally giving in to his promise of pleasure.

Lust took over the soldat, "Gonna make you feel so good, Родная (darling). Promise gonna treat your pretty pussy right. Make her cum so hard." He whispered lovingly as his breath sends shivers down her spine.

The soldat groaned, dropping his head to her neck to press open mouthed kisses on her untainted skin as he slipped his hand into her panties.

"Already wet for me?" He chuckled, biting his lip before his long finger slid between her folds.

"Hmmm." she tried to suppressed her voice as his finger moved up and down so deliciously.

"Of course," He said with a smile. He went on to tease her sensitive clit with slow, torturous circles, which force her to close her eyes, biting down on her lip to suppress a shrill moan.

"Родная (darling)," the soldat cooed. "You can scream as loud as you want. Let me hear those pretty noises, yeah?"

Y/N thought to reply but her own breath hitches when that one finger that has been circling her hole finally dips in, proceeding to spread her open for more.

She moaned louder this time, "Soldat..." The movement was completely involuntary; when her hand latch on to hold his wrist as her thighs try to squeeze shut at the feeling of him pressing another finger into her wet stretching cunt.

But, of course he was quick to spread her legs back open, preventing her to shy away.

"p-please soldat, ahh." She mewled, scratching the metal of his arm.

The soldat nibbled on the shape of her ears as he hushed, "There, there darling. Open up for me." His two long, metal fingers thrusts and rubs the inside of her pulsating pussy, occasionally scissoring her cunt as he took her right hand into his fleshed one; intertwining her fingers with his.

Her other hand scrambled to dug into his thigh as she arched her back, grinding her hips down against his metal hand. The soldat smirked proudly at her reaction, moving his fingers a little faster, a little rougher. Just enough to make her whine and move against him in search of more stimulation.

She cried out as his thumb circled her clit, "Ahhh fuck" she moaned shamelessly, while his eyes followed each jerk of her body as if he was memorizing it all.

"Hmm, you're so wet, Родная (darling). So warm too." The soldat hissed as he felt his hand were soaking by the minute. The muffled sound of his thrusts against her wet heat filled the room.

He looked down to her hidden pussy; his hand covered by the panties she was wearing, "Look down baby, open your eyes and look down." he lured her with low groan.

Completely loss in bliss, she complied without asking any question. Both the soldat and Y/N was looking at the same sight, the same shape of his hand clinging tight to the fabric, barely hidden under the thin layer of her panties, moving up and down; in and out of her pussy.

Somehow, watching the way it moves made her closer to her orgasm.

In one swift move, the soldat lifted her slightly to pull the barrier off by the waistband. An animalistic groan rumbled from deep within his chest, when he was completely revealed to the sinful sight of her naked pussy.

So wet and full with his fingers.

The soldat teasingly entered a third finger into her, stretching her out so good that she felt tears prick her eyes. Y/N's head snapped forward along with a buck of her hips. "S-soldat,, ahhhh" Her whines grew louder than before and she felt the flame in her stomach growing yet it wasn’t enough.

"Look at you. Look how well you're taking me. My darling is such a good girl, isn't she?" The soldat sounds sickeningly sweet when he murmured in her ears.

He pressed his thumb harder against her swollen clit, rubbing hard and fast circles as he pumped his fingers knuckle deep in and out of her cunt, causing her to gasp from the sensation.

He twisted and curled his fingers around to find that delicious spot inside of her, giving that delicious friction as he fucked her open. The noises coming from her pussy were so lewd, so crude and it only spurred him on.

"Sounds so perfect, Родная (darling). These pretty noises from your lips up here." The soldat murmured as he kissed the corner of her lips, "and down here." his fingers pumped faster, curling over and over again, creating the lewd squelching sounds of her juices leaking out.

Almost seeing stars, Y/N moaned desperately, "Cummin',, so good, 'm cumming." Oh, how sweet does her moans sounded in the soldat's ears.

"Already, Родная (darling)?" he groaned as he felt her hole pulsated, "But you need more, little one." He persuaded her edge a little more; but with the way he was fucking into her weeping pussy, she certainly wasn't able handle it anymore.

She whined needily as she shook her head, "Wanna cum now, please soldat ohh god please please please." She begged deliriously.

The soldat hummed as he worked his fingers up her hole, "Oh darling, you don't need to beg for it. You're so precious, I'd give you anything." He mumbled against her cheek as he kisses her, "Now, cum for me. Let me see you wet my bed, Родная (darling). Go on, cum."

All words die in the back of her throat when a he cooed at her. She threw her head back as a squeak of whine dies in her mouth; eyes squeezing shut, her body tensing as the soldat makes sure that she rides out the high for as long as she should.

"That's it darling, cum for your soldat. give it to me,, aahhh" He motioned, forming an 'O' with his mouth as she clamp down on his fingers; with his wide eyes looking down at her exposed pussy. Her orgasm gushed and flowed out onto his hand, dripping on the sheet as she quietly cry out in pleasure.

"So pretty," he praised, as his fingers kept pumping slowly in and out of her pussy, "So gorgeous, cumming so hard for me," he grunts in her ears as her high begins to settle.

He pull out his fingers, leaving her feeling empty for the sudden lost of touch. But that didn't last long when he proposed something else.

"One more time Родная (darling), with me." He moaned he sunk his metal hand into his pants and pull out his aching cock. The soldat tugs himself in his palm, rubbing the wetness on his hand around his length before settling it between her throbbing cunt.

Y/N didn't manage to let our her protest when he intercepted her, "Won't put it in, darling. Just..." his words linger as he squeezed her plush thighs together, engulfing his warm cock between them, "...wanna snuggle in between your thighs, Куколка (little one)."

"So keep them pressed together, okay?" the brunnete coaxed as his hands took a hold on her, "Will you do that for me?" The soldat asked sweetly.

She gave a small nod of affirmation, looking down at where the soldat's hands squishing both side of her thighs. The feeling of his length throbbing, wet with her slick, had her squeezing her thighs together more.

"That's my sweet girl. Promise you, it'll feel so good, darling." He let out a pleasurable groan as his hips jerked all the way forward, his skin meeting the back of her thighs while the head of his cock was peeking out from the other side.

With a squeeze of her hips in his hands, that will definitely leave bruises afterwards, he started to grind her into him. Back and forth, for the few experimental thrusts. And the moment her pretty little moans started to spill, he knew she needed more.

"More?" he moaned lowly, rocking his hips mindlessly.

Y/N limped back against his chest, whimpering sweetly for him as her needy little cunt drools messily all over her thighs and his cock; effortlessly making the thrust of his length between her thighs even easier.

If she was already so sensitve from him fingers before, now it's just oversimulating for her, "Hmm,, s-soldat,, that feels s-so good," she slurred, eyes rolling back.

"Yeah?" he gloated as he grunts, "Are you gonna cum again, darling? Come on, sweet one, I want to feel it." The soldat almost whimpered as he felt the thudding beat of her cunt on the stroke of his cock.

Y/N simply nodded, mouth falling open. His cock works over her sweet little pussy, nudging the sensitive bundle of nerve as he urged her to orgasm alongside his own.

He watched the way she drag her nails into the flesh of his thighs, "There she is, come on. Let it out, darling. That's it. Hmmm." His chest rumbled a deep groan. It was such a turned on for the soldat, to see the sight of him humping her legs faster until her slick finally wetting her thighs and his cock, making a mess everywhere.

Even if she has reached her high, his thrusts didn't flatter as his own orgasm was still at the edge. "Ahh,, darling,, please-- c-can't stop,," The upperside of his cock harshly rubbed between her sloppy folds, the feeling of the creamy mess between her thighs, making him fucked her faster.

The soldat whined needily into her neck as he drag her tightness back and forth. "So good, don't wanna stop." he squirmed as his voice hitched into a needy whimper, letting his head fall back to the headboard, his disheveled hair hanging by his face, some of it sticking onto his sweaty skin.

The room echoed with the several sinful sounds; his whimpers, her mewls, their skins slapping, the bed creaking, the wetness squelching.

It was such a dream for the soldat, especially when her folds spread around his fat cock every time he rolled his hips forward. The sight was beyond compelling, addictive to a certain extend.

"S-soldat,, please i'm,,hmmm,, sensitive." She can feel how thighs burned from the friction, and her slit abused with pleasure.

The soldat leaned into her until his hot breath blew across her neck, "Just a little more, Родная (darling)? Please? Wanna cum around your soft thighs, between your pretty pussy. You'll let me, right sweet one? You'll let me make a mess all over you? Paint you with my cum. You'll look so gorgeous, Родная (darling)"

His filthy thoughts started to spill out uncontrollably, as his body trembled in pure pleasure. His heaving chest rested on her small back when he whimpered, almost forcing her on her knees, pushing her down the mattress.

He wanted that so bad.

Just fuck her thighs and folds while she's on all fours, abusing her body for his pleasure and maybe slot the tip of his cock inside that tight cunt just before he cum, give that greedy little cunt a taste of his load, but he rather than that the soldat hold back on his thought, because truthfully he very much wanted to make a mess all over her right now.

His mouth sucking on her neck, leaving another one of his mark on her skin; one of many between those shades of purples and reds.

"Cumming for you, darling." He moaned loudly, eyes locked between her thighs, as his leaking cockhead occasionally peeks out. "Have so much cum for you,, gonna cream all over these thighs" He groaned, clenching his teeth as his cock throbs.

She clenched tighter as a unexpected orgasm were coming fast, letting out a desperate squeal as she reach her high. He growled at the feeling of her gushing pussy, fucking their orgasm into a higher level ecstacy.

The rolls of his hips were flattering into a slower and and sensual tempo, as both of them watched his cock; the way it pulsed and throbbed wildly, before white spurts of his hot cum started gushing from the little slit.

The soldat trembled through his orgasm, mouth falling open as he moaned lewdly at the sight of her skin being painted by his seemingly endless amount of cum.

Y/N panted heavily as her lips hanged open; failed words just at the tips of her tongue, unable to be formed properly. It didn't take long for the drowsiness to cloud her eyes, caused by the aftershock of the pleasure.

"There, there." The soldat cooed breathlessly in her ear, "So pretty, darling." Pampering the mark on her skin with gentle kisses, "So good for me." He mumbled as he languidly thrusts his cock, stroking the sides of her thighs, memorizing the sight of their wet mess.

Her body felt so good and satisfied, and the lid of her eyes slowly flutter into a longer close. She didn't hear much of his praises as he as laid her down, especially when his voice going in and out of her ears, as she was fighting through the temptation of slumber.

But, her body absolutely remembered how soft his touches on her skin, and the warm of the wet cloth swiping on the burn of her inner thighs, carefully over her swollen cunt.

"Love you, my precious darling." She couldn't make up what he was whispering under his breath. But she remembered the soldat pulling her close to his chest as he laid her on top of him, and the sweet kiss on her forehead before complete darkness engulf her sight.

"Your soldat loves you so much."

<< Part I || Part III >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Important note: I won't be doing taglist because I notice sometimes i can't tag y'all. Its fucking frustrating honestly, so I suggest you follow me and turn on the notification for new posts (If y'all think that I might spam, don't worry I won't. Because I solely use this account for my stories. I use different account for reblog. So every upcoming post will be the updates on my fic; either continuation or new fic.) I appreciate your cooperation guys!

A/N: Also drop some comments in the sections below or in reblog! It's lovely to hear from you ~

Taglist: @ghostofwinter @ansaturn @avocadotoasts-world @specialsnowflake-gabbi @biblophilefox82 @sunset90 @hereforfun22-blog @littlemiss-yeehaw @utterlynuts @melsunshine @jasminocano @maddieislost @wandabillywrites @happinessinthebeing @thriving-n-jiving @observantplum-blog @rebeccapineapple

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#winterarmyyfics #welcome home soldat au #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #winter soldier x you #winter soldier × reader #winter soldier!bucky #bucky smut

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nnon0 · 4 days

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JJH fic recs

been getting a little hard trying to find long fics to read these days but here are some that i complied in the last month or so :)

(🫀) -personal faves

all these years @domjaehyun

WC: 34.1k

fluff, smut, angst; childhood friends-to-lovers!au, college!au, neighbors!au

Just friends @lonelyharmonies

WC: 22k

Strangers-to-friends- to-lovers!au , college au

what happens when you wake up in someone else’s bed after getting drunk in a party?

(🫀) Only @ppangjae

WC: 21.6k

almost!lovers au

You like to believe crossing paths with Jaehyun after graduation is just pure coincidence. He always comes and goes. But what if he decides to stay? To stick around? To give what was an ‘almost’ a chance?

Romeo roulette @wincore

WC:21.1k

soulmate au, office au, fake dating

if finding your soulmate is the same as a damn game of Russian roulette, you are determined to not pull the trigger at all. except, you know who your soulmate is and he doesn’t—and given a choice to pretend, you find that jaehyun is the lesser of the two burdens to bear.

he fell first and he fell harder @taurusdaylight

WC: 18.7k

Basketball captain!jaehyun, childhood-friends-to-lovers

jeong jaehyun really loves basketball. but also, he’s terribly in love with his childhood best friend of seventeen years, you.

(🫀) all i wanted @yutaholic

WC: 17k

heartbreakers, smut

A year has passed since you last saw your best friend, Jaehyun, but the man who returns is not the boy you once knew and loved. Jaehyun will barely speak to you and you don’t know why, but you both may be exactly what the other needs to mend your broken hearts.

(🫀)The Apple of My Eye @sehunniepotwrites

WC: 17k

school! au , teacher!au , Kindergarten teacher!jaehyun

As a young and handsome kindergarten teacher of two years, Jeong Jaehyun was used to receiving presents during Teacher’s Appreciation Week. This, however, was the first year Jaehyun wanted to give a present of appreciation to someone else—his new and ever-so-lovable teacher’s assistant.

(🫀)song for a little sparrow @ppangjae

WC:13.7k

poet!jaehyun x painter!reader , strangers-to-lovers

As a burnt out painter, you packed one suitcase and flew a one-way trip to Paris in hopes of finding your passion again. In the city of love, the last thing you expected was to bump into a man who doesn’t believe in love. But you do, and you find yourself showing him the wonders of love and falling in love. Just don’t fall in love with him.

I like me better (when i’m with you) @tyonfs

WC:11.8k

friends to enemies to lovers, sports au , smut

there was no one else on the planet that made your blood boil like jeong jaehyun did. you never thought your feelings toward him were anything past pure hatred, but when you were lost in the feeling of his lips on yours and his hands on your body, you couldn’t help but think that maybe a part of you didn’t completely hate his guts.

Someone to Bring Home @rouiyan

WC: 10.2k

Med student!jaehyun, College au, Brothers best friend , home for thanksgiving

synopsis — “if you’ve been waiting for fallin’ in love, babe, you don’t have to wait on me.” (sanctuary - joji)

Boyfriend material @mochidoie

WC: 6.2k

fake dating au, strangers-to-lovers , slight angst

Although you and Jaehyun had never spoken a word to each other before this class project, he asks you to be in a fake relationship in order to prove to his longtime crush that he is boyfriend material.

Back up Valentine @tyonfs

WC: 2.9k

Spiderman!jaehyun

you don’t have any unrealistic expectations for valentine’s day considering your love life has never flourished, but the least your best friend could’ve done was not summon an intergalactic army of an alien species during your first blind date ever.

SERIES

S.C.S; ayakashi @starlightkun

WC:66.2k

heavily based off yet another otome game, ayakashi: romance reborn ; bc of this, all the lore used in here is inspired by/based on/taken from the lore of the game, not the actual lore of traditional ayakashi/yokai stories

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yawnderu · 7 months

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Infatuation — Nikto x Reader

Cold, icy blue eyes stared at her from afar, examining her every single move as if he could read each atom that made her who she is. Nikto could feel his palms starting to sweat, the scarred skin on his face itching, yet he stayed still, not even daring to blink in fear of missing anything important.

His obsession was irrational, yet his mental state didn't help much when it came to her. He wanted to keep her safe from the horrors of the world, horrors he lived firsthand, horrors that had him clawing at his skin, horrors that completely fucked his head up, that keep him awake every single night, unable to sleep without his heavy medication.

She was a breath of fresh air; a sight for sore eyes, something new from the big and hairy men he was always working with. Can he really be blamed for his disgusting obsession when she treated him with so much kindness? When she gave herself up to him every single night, coming undone under his rough grasp? When she allowed Nikto to possess her body and soul? When she kept his head on his shoulders, letting him seek shelter all the way inside her willing cunt whenever he was losing himself?

How can he be blamed when she's his safe haven? When she allows him to use her body for relief without protesting? Always willing to please, always willing to give, and he takes and takes greedily, sometimes he even gives back! His scarred lips latched onto her cunt as his gloved hand keeps her eyes closed, never ready to let her see just how disgusting his disfigured face is. He's sure once she sees it, she'll scream and never talk to him again. Hell, he wouldn't blame her, yet she's the one thing he can't afford to lose.

"ангел." He called out, the grit and gravel of his voice traveling all the way around the room, bouncing off the walls, announcing his presence before his imposing behemoth body rested on the doorframe, taking up all the space.

"Nikto!" She exclaimed happily, the tone of her voice slowly healing him, though he will never be a regular man. No, Nikto is a monster. One who doesn't have claws or sharp teeth, but a face so disfigured it doesn't even look human anymore. He keeps himself disguised with his face cover, never taking it off, silently praying she will never see the pathetic scarred and mangled skin he doesn't dare call a face.

Her hands come up to hold his, fingers intertwined as he looks down at her. Her loving gaze is met with nothing but pure coldess just like mother Russia, yet he knows she can see the fire starting to burn within. A flame ignited by nothing but pure, unconditional love, love that Nikto knows they don't deserve, yet he will continue to take and take, giving it back so that she's never empty.

He frees his hands, removing his gloves hesitantly before preparing himself, hands already going up to hold her cheeks with the same care people have when restoring ancient paintings. He can see the tears dotting her eyelashes, beautiful parted lips slowly forming a proud smile at his first attempt on skinship.

"моя радость дорогая." He whispered softly to himself, finding comfort in the fact that she couldn't understand him. His rough, calloused hands kept softly caressing her soft skin, his sweat mixing in with the tears falling down her cheeks non-stop, yet Nikto is in a trance that is broken only by a choked sob, looking down at her with the slightest shift in his mask as his arms wrap around her, whispering sweet nothings in a thick Russian accent.

We would kill for her, die for her.

#cod nikto #nikto x reader #nikto #mwii nikto #self indulgent #cod mwii #mw2 #cod mw2

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 6 months

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TOWER OF BABEL (VII)

NAVIGATION || RAVISHING ALLURE MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER VIII

PAIRING: Nikto x F!Reader (Soulmate AU)

WORDCOUNT: 7.4k

WARNINGS: Angst, intense stalking & stalking behavior, talks of death/injury, toxic modeling standards/expectations, dark implications, symptoms & descriptions of dissociation, scar descriptions, etc. (Series 18+)

A/N: This is where some of the more serious/dark aspects come into the story involving Seraph's job and the pressures that are put on her. It's only implied in this chapter, but in the next, it'll be talked about more. Just to let you all know.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

The day after your meeting, your gifted clothes came to the lobby of the penthouse.

You’d gone down with Nikto and picked up what you could, bags and bags of designer goods including purses, makeup, and jewelry. It was excessive—like Fedorov was trying to buy your silence; buy your affection so you’d cozy up into bed with him.

This job tried you every day, but that was a line you would never cross. Never.

Still, the items needed to be taken and packed for the trip regardless. Eyes would be on you from the moment this adventure from hell started until it ended in what hopefully was a peaceful fashion.

But you severely doubted it would be anything close to peaceful.

You take another gray dress and slip it into the garment cover, legs folded on the floor of your living room as you hum under your breath. Music wafts out from your record player, and you’re desperately trying to focus on the task at hand. Nikto reads from the couch.

“Have they called you yet?” You ask, not looking up as you slide the cover’s zipper, missing it once as your hand shakes unexpectedly.

The Russian responds with a slow and even, “Нет. No calls.”

You sigh, licking your lips.

No one had been telling you what was in that last gift at AMA—not even your mother. Aly had said it was probably nothing when she’d been briefly over to assist with the clothes, on a tight break in her schedule, but you weren’t too sure of that.

Pale eyes blink slowly, and a page turns. “No use thinking. Pack.”

“You make it sound like it’s that easy,” you huff, body leaning back and spine resting against your various rugs. The penthouse was warmer today, and you wear comfortable loungewear; shorts, and a dark baggy t-shirt. Your head shifts, arms out beside you. “How are you so calm about everything? My heart feels like it’s constantly going to break out of my chest.”

Your phone goes off on the coffee table, a short buzz that has to be either your mom or Alyona. Rubbing a palm into your right eye, you hear the bear grunt and close whatever he was reading, finding it pointless to try and focus if you continue to speak to him.

He stares for a moment, hidden face a mystery you long to solve. With a tap of his finger on his thigh, he explains.

“Training,” you blink, intrigued. Nikto seems to notice, tilting his head and looking down at you. “You are scared, Woman, yes?”

“Of course.” You had no trouble admitting it. “Anyone would be.”

“In military,” the air of the penthouse moves with the weight of his broken words, the rough bleed of vocals. You really did like his accent—it just added so much to his already intimidating form. Just a stack of bricks being constantly grated against one another. “We were taught how to become used to it—the adrenaline. Fear. In the end, it held little over many; failure was the only fear that never left.”

Your brows furrow, lips frowning. “You fear failure, Nikto?”

You expected a blunt refusal, quick words. But the man had been softening to you over the time you’d known him—if that was your own doing, or something more, you can’t quite tell anymore. Any talk on soulmates has feld you like a rabbit in a dark wood to shy away from the looming presence of something bigger; parties and scorned maniacs.

You still wonder if ignoring the gifts was the right thing to do. Would that make it worse? You think you’d read about that somewhere.

A trigger. But the stalker had already pushed one of those, hadn't he? What could he do that was worse than killing three men? Mutilating animals?

Nikto surprises you.

The man blinks, not looking away from your pleasing eyes—even now, your pupils were small with anxiety; he’d noticed how you adamantly avoided social media and the news, plastered with your pictures and the case. The window had never been opened fully since he’d been here, only a creak of natural light slipping from the crack of the half-risen blinds.

For a gruff beast of action, his eyes missed nothing.

“Yes,” he grumbles, blinking away for a moment before his attention returns. “But it is…lesser than what you feel. Незначительный. Minor.”

A small smile flickers your lips, skull to the ground even as it aches slightly.

“I like it when you speak to me—it helps,” you mumble honestly. It wasn’t flirting, not really.

The Russian looks slightly confused at your sentence, but that doesn’t stop his shoulders from minutely tightening. You chuckle, shifting your head to the ceiling where your little bits of painted glass hang.

“Nikto,” you point upwards. “That one—the bird. What color is it?”

This was a game you’d taken a fast liking to. You’d point and ask the color; Nikto would answer.

“Red,” is his monotone reply after a glance. Eyes from behind his mask shrouded in dark paint. You doubted the face grease could come off anymore, the chemicals already bone deep.

“I thought it was orange,” you sigh. “I still can’t tell the difference.”

“Obviously,” is the dryly amused response, with you glaring without venom and putting your hands to the ground to help push you back up.

“Hey,” you try to hide your teasing smirk. “I’m getting better at it—”

Your voice is strangled off as a sharp inhale, eyes blinking rapidly, and your vision blurs in a moment of ricocheting pain flaring in the base of your skull. Snapping one hand to the back of your head, you strangle down a small scream, reducing it to a whimper of utter agony.

Neck bending forward, your mouth fills with saliva as your spine pulls in, yet you can’t even focus on that. You feel like if you even have a single thought, your brain will explode out of the back of your head.

Nikto startles, eyes widening, but he doesn’t waste time on shock. Feet already rush over at the slighted change in the air, a hand grasping the base of your neck tightly, attention snapping into place. Your breath puffs as your frantically moving face tenses and eyelids twitch. Your nerves were on fire.

The Russian watches, confusion and a certain unease striking him through his pounding heart. What had happened? One second you were speaking and the next your body was so steel-like it shook harder than he’d ever seen it.

“Seraph,” he barks, face close to your head, looking at the spot you grasp at with your visible knuckles, the sound of your gasping pants leaving his throat echoing with reverberations of unease.

Nikto pulls at the skin of your wrist, peeling your hand back before you draw blood, trying to assess what to do. He only sees it then.

It’s a rabid-looking thing, the scar. With your hair as such, your fingers stuck in the knots, they’re pulled back just perfectly to see it. Pale blue eyes stare unabashedly, struck dumb for a moment in their concerned sheen.

It spans from the base of your skull upward, a jagged bulge of healed tissue and fissures—the shade of skin is different there, hyperpigmentation just as Nikto had. Halfway up the back, the rough line breaks into two places, creating a ‘Y’ with the one nearest to the right stopping sooner than the other.

But it was deep. Deadly-like. An indent lives at the middle point.

For someone so in tune with the ways of the body, Nikto was horrified and fascinated at the very implication; how had you…survived this? Your entire skull might have been broken open from the force of whatever had happened, judging by the strength needed to achieve such brutality. Was this the injury that you’d been speaking about?

An overwhelming emotion takes him by the lungs.

Your body had scars just like his did.

Form curling even farther forward, your legs pull into you, and Nikto finds that at the moment, none of that even matters.

“Seraph,” he orders again, equally as urgent but noticed less sharp. His thumb curls your wrist to trap itself at your pounding pulse; running as if being chased by whatever nightmares he hears you whine from in your sleep.

You swallow down your bile with a clicking of your throat and a small cough, eyes stinging.

“Burns,” your lips whisper, lids closing firmly. “God, my head burns.”

It’s a brief thought—a small moment of slip-second thinking that had saved his life many times.

A chilled palm spreads itself over the back of your head, directly over the broken fracture of flesh, without an utterance of a word. The effects aren’t immediate; you don’t just calm down and stop panicking. But it helps. Like a light in the dark, it helps.

After a minute, the chill seeps into your bones. It goes deeper and deeper, the large grip of Nikto’s fingers stuck into your hair perhaps a little harder than they needed to be, but you weren’t about to complain at the pressure. After two minutes, your panting slows to a small ragged wheeze—feeling like a sick duck as your beady eyes finally open. You see the unblinking pale orbs directly to your right almost immediately after the abyssal dots go back to wherever it was they came from.

He doesn’t speak; you didn’t expect him to. Nikto was arrogant, prideful, but he never spoke unless he knew he had something he needed to say. A blunt hound who never hesitated to bark, but only when he could see something was up in the tree.

When you’ve seemed to calm down, the hand on your wrist leaves with a brush of rough gloves to the skin, making you shiver. You notice the hastily tossed material of the matching product, belonging to the other limb, near your knee.

Cold fingers. Cold hands. A corpse would be jealous, but you’d never felt so thankful.

Nikto studies your face rapidly, and your raspy voice levels out a meek, “Sorry.”

Barely visible brows furrow tightly, almost disgusted. You perhaps misinterpreted that expression the wrong way, because just as you’re about to rush into a wild explanation as to why, how, and every excuse you can give, you’re once more taken off guard today.

Bulky arms circle your waist and under your vibrating knees.

With a sluggish reaction, you blink rapidly as you’re settled against the hard Kevlar of his chest—kept firm in his grip. Your legs hang, hand stabilizing yourself on Nikto’s pec.

“What did I say?” He asks heavily, looking down at you as your shock bleeds away to focus on how to calm your heart. “Seraph?” Nikto prompts, his fingers digging into your clothes.

You try to think, stuttering, “You don’t like it when I apologize.”

“So do not,” the Russian grunts, clenching his jaw out of sight. His words are low, and he rolls his shoulders. “That is the end of it.”

He sets you down on the couch, sinking into the multiple plush pillows. You feel weak—limp. Not looking into the man’s eyes, you curl your hands around your waist, leaning back and being careful to not hit your head on the back.

Nikto watches with hidden concern.

“Explain,” he utters, not moving an inch from in front of you. It’s a minute or so before you can find the words. All the Russian does in that time is shift his arms over his chest—fix the stance of his feet. You can feel his eyes like a knife, but you can’t feel how his brain is on high alert; vigilant to any pain that may be hidden from him.

“Happens sometimes,” you whisper, one vibrating hand coming up to lightly run over the back of your skull. You trace the scar softly, feeling the pulse underneath. “It’s just… sensitive.”

Nikto’s eyes narrow.

After a pause, where it’s obvious you feel some sort of embarrassment judging by your avoiding gaze, the great beast sighs long. A slow blink makes his dark lashes up and down.

He hated how he despised that look on your face.

Moving, Nikto sits beside you, leaning back with a grunt and extending an arm behind you on the hardwood of the couch’s frame.

“Tell me. I want to know.” You side-eye him, knees pulled up to your chest. It has a distance to it, your focus. Everything feels like it’s underwater.

“It’s not a good story,” you force a broken huff, smiling wobbly. Numb eyes don’t waver over the lines of your face.

“No,” Nikto bluntly says. “I did not expect it to be. Nonetheless…” he trails. “I am asking if you are willing to answer.”

It wasn’t like you were against saying what had transpired, but there was a lot of history there—so much. The event had happened when you were young, so many years had passed to a point where the mental pain of it had dimmed to all except the consequences. The aftermath.

This was a give and a take; you consider yourself a fair person.

“How did you lose part of your finger?” You turn it around, licking your lips and staring at his neck. The man’s body stills at the question.

Nikto slowly loosens a grumbled scoff. But it isn’t a feral thing. Perhaps he was even impressed that you had the forethought to gain something of his story when you’d already told so much of yours.

He reminds himself once more, not dumb.

“Very well,” Nikto’s head tilts like a wolf, his knee hitting the place where your feet hang over the edge of the cushion. He looks you up and down as his finger taps the wood behind your head. “Second year with PMC. Operation in far-off country—we do not care to remember which anymore.” You listen, heart calming with every scrape of vocal cords. Nikto explains slowly, thinking over every word carefully as his vision trails to rest at your nose. “Hostile hiding under floorboards.” The Russian rolls his shoulders. “I was reaching down to grab at the hatch; it confused me because it was partially open.”

Your body lightly turns his way, the side of your skull meeting the hard build off the inside of his forearm. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath, getting everything under control again one second at a time. As if a book, you turn the pages of Nikto, painting a picture of his tale, oblivious to the way his eyes are stuck on your face. His arm stays completely still for you.

He longs to look at that scar again, and he can’t understand why.

“...Large knife came up through the wood. Cut it off and damaged the others near it. It is numb most days. Barely can tell I still have finger. Very inopportune, but all was not lost.”

“What wasn’t lost?” You hum, sighing, and open your eyes again. The Russian’s gaze darts away.

“I killed him,” he says numb-like, a vicious smirk in his voice. “In the end, it was only us who could tell the story, yes?”

“Does it hurt?” You change the subject back to his scars, liking how his forearm acted as your pillow. You could feel his tendons as they pulled.

“Sometimes,” Nikto shrugs at your quiet question, thighs over the couch cushions. “Like all the others. Natural.”

He doesn’t need to ask if yours do.

You dwell on what he insinuates about his body—the scars you already thought he’d have; why he wears that mask.

“I fell,” you share, not letting a long silence linger. Nikto’s feet shuffle on the floor, but otherwise, like a waiting cat, he was completely beholden to your soft voice. “Far. Cracked my head open on a rock.”

There’s so much more to it—but this is the version you always tell everyone. It’s less…complicated. Gets you less looks of pity, even if you’re not sure Nikto is the type to do that.

The large man hums, nodding. He wants to know more; he’d have to look into it further on his own. “You are lucky to be alive after an injury like that.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, lips twisting. “Lucky.”

Your skull pulses.

“But, anyways,” you wave a hand, locking gazes. “Thank you.”

Nikto’s knees crack as he stands, moving away; his heat leaves. Hands situating themselves at the collar of his vest, the Russian’s throat rolls with a noise of acceptance.

“It is my job. Do you require anything?”

“I think I’m okay,” you admit, feet delicately moving to the rug on the floor. It’s back to packing, pushing this to the back of your mind just as you do the remembrance of his fingers tight in your hair; tight at your wrist. Nikto’s hard voice in your ear, saying your angelic title.

Your throat clears itself, blinking, as you stand.

The man takes it as lightheadedness, one foot moving closer. Your hand raises, and he stops. A small chuckle moves out of your mouth, side-eyeing him with a crinkle to your lids.

“I’m okay, Nikto. Trust me, please.”

He sighs, fingers twitching. But he doesn’t grumble any blunt vitriol, he just watches. Always watching.

Your spirits are lightened by his presence.

Brushing down your t-shirt, you close your eyes and shove away the memories, tiny tingles of pain still present as they go up and down your spine.

“Now, we have to get to work,” you brush past the episode, used to them. “It would be helpful if you lent a hand, Big Guy.”

Your joke leads to a huff, fingers taking back their book from the table—all in Russian script, so you didn’t know what it was—and a roll of eyes.

“That is not my problem. Your clothes, your parties.”

“The parties you’re going to have to go with me too,” you smirk, eyes glimmering as you grasp your phone, flipping it over to turn it on and look at the text you’d received. “I hope you like suits.”

Pale eyes widen before a growled Russian sentence wafts over the music from the recorder. You laugh, already knowing the contents of curses and refusals. He was so much like a child sometimes it takes you aback. A brute, utterly refusing what was in front of him and owning a short fuse.

“Oh, calm down,” you blink, signing into your phone. “I’m good at finding clothes as long as you tell me colors and shades. You’re in the best hands in the business, Nikto.”

“Do not say it like that,” he barks, eyes narrowed and his body moving forward to pass you, most likely to go back to your bookshelf and return the book, seeing as he’d get nowhere with it now. “I do not want your hands, Whelp.”

“You’re saying that now,” you tease, pointing with your free finger. “Everyone says that before they have a taste of—”

“Quiet.”

You laugh, spine lightly bending forward, and Nikto’s back turned to you to where you can’t see his face soften at the sound. His body unconsciously loosens, orbs gaining a distance that has nothing to do with his condition. Your existence is a curse to him, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it.

It’s only after you’re able to calm down, the Russian putting his book away with a large hand, when you finally look down at the text you’d gotten.

UNKNOWN NUMBER:

‘I sent you a gift and you didn’t even open it?’

Your face freezes mid-smile.

‘I’m giving you everything you wanted—you didn’t open the letter I gave you in the grocery store, either, did you? I waited for hours for you to show up! Hours for you! I’ve waited YEARS to be near you! I love you more than anything in my life and you’re ignoring me? How can you do that when I’ve risked so much? Please, Seraph, I love you but you’re breaking my heart—I’m trying so hard to be kind to you. Please, don’t make this harder than it needs to be. Это любовь с первого взгляда! Я не могу жить без тебя!

I’m trying to forgive you, my Сладкая, I promise. I’ll always forgive you, but let me show you how much you mean to me.’

Images pop through, scent quickly as your glee stiffly drops like glass to the floor. You’d never felt yourself go so still as when you’re halfway through the block of text and you see yourself at the grocery store, alone, and Nikto’s shadow disappearing around the aisle. More—so much more. You in AMA...in…in the photoshoot wearing nothing but the lingerie, skin on full display.

Your eyes flood with tears, jaw open.

He had been in that fucking room. He’d been there when your manager had brought in the dead birds—he, he had…

He’d been right there.

You can’t speak, you’re only looking down at the continuing barrage of photos.

Outside of the Consulate building, walking down the street, talking with Aly on a girls outing from months ago. Your phone vibrates with every one, quivering hands already moving but now more so. Like a rabbit being hunted down. It shows an escalation—the more you see the closer this freak was getting in each, slowly slinking with vile intentions until the last.

An image of the direct back of your head, a hand reaching, and almost touching, exactly where your scar lives.

You’re going to vomit.

The entire device is snatched by gloved fingers.

Nikto glares in confusion, ears twitching at every buzz of your phone. “What is wrong with—”

The man is suddenly more wound up than a dog under a noose.

Rushing past, you only reach the kitchen trash can two seconds before your bile rocketed from your mouth, heaving what little you’d managed to eat of Nikto’s cooking into the bottom with a tight sob.

Nikto’s hand holds the thing—reading, looking, with dead eyes. Dead eyes that gradually become enraged with a certain type of anger that breeds in silence. The skim, a ruthless finger tapping the screen and dragging the conversation back to the top before he stares. He stares and stares and stares at the pictures. At you.

The way you live your life, oblivious to the threat right behind you. Stalking closer.

Nikto can’t remember a time he’s felt so angry at an enemy before. Not just an enemy, no, an animal. This wasn’t like the rules of war, this was for pleasure; for a selfish need. He knew how to keep himself separate—had to for his sanity—but this was something no one could not get wrathful at. Even him.

He hears you wretch, vomiting into the trash just below the island where he’d made the both of you lunch, the choke of your sobbing breaths. The sounds make his hands tighten over the phone, to smash it to pieces like a toddler with a block castle.

And then the device buzzes one more time as Nikto silently finishes reading the first text you’d been sent.

‘Don’t worry about the bodyguard, Seraph, I can take care of him, too. We can finally be together, just like it’s supposed to be.’

Nikto is hitting the call button before his brain catches up to his finger.

Slotting it to his covered ear, he breathes like an afflicted hound, eye buggy and chest rattling with air. Panting echoed from behind his mask, the hot breath moving back to warm his slashed and burned flesh.

It picks up on the second ring, but nothing is said. No words from the other end.

In the corner of his eye, Nikto sees you hyperventilating. The former soldier speaks entirely in Russian, slipping back into his native tongue as easily as he slips into violence—it is nothing more than a slide of sandpaper.

“I am going to watch the life bleed from your eyes,” he grinds out. “And then I’m going to make your corpse wish it had been set on fire instead.”

Nikto hangs up, tossing the phone to the coffee table and making a mental note to get Yaromir and Galina to trace the number. Stomping over to you, your body was away from the trash now, hand to your mouth.

“I’m okay,” you say hurriedly, tears tracking your cheeks. “I’m okay.”

“You are not,” Nikto wishes he could go to the shooting range—wishes he could spar and slam someone down to a wrestling mat. He needs flesh under his fingertips.

The Russian’s chest is wide and rising with the pulse of untamed lungs. The bulge of his pecs stuttered over their course and the old scars he carries itch under the barrier of his gear.

Growling, the man clenches his eyes shut, shaking his head to the side firmly.

But there was something about the implication of you being threatened that made Nikto need to feel the weight of his service weapon in his grip. To feel the recoil of a bullet being sent into someone. A nameless figure; a silent phone call.

Nikto scoffs, rolling his neck and shoulders.

Thinking like this was making him reckless.

“I guess I should have told you about the letters, then,” you taste bile on your tongue, images swirling in your head—paranoia was firm. Suddenly, every memory was tainted. You gag on your saliva, coughing.

Nikto doesn’t respond to the self-deprecating comment.

Once more today, hands move to touch you, pulling at the space under your arms and lifting. Blinking, you’re moving around when your feet are flat on the ground—hands going to rest on the edge of the counter behind you.

Nikto’s hands stay stuck at the meat of your limbs, great head tilted. Eyes lock on the tear tracks spreading down your skin, and he pauses.

A thumb slowly pushes at them, spreading the liquid along your flesh as your blurry vision stays at his neck. With a shuddering inhale at the unneeded attention, your head lightly sags forward—connecting with Nikto’s chest.

He tenses, looking down at you from the corner of his eye.

After a minute, his nose releases an unheard sigh, and his arms lower to his sides.

Nikto lets you rest there as long as you need.

—

You’re in the bath tonight, and Nikto listens to the water sloshing as he pushes the envelopes around from inside the lockbox.

It was safe to say you hadn’t gone back to packing.

That woman, Alyona, was here—she’d made a big fuss about the texts before she’d taken you with her and led you into the bathroom to clean yourself up. You were both in there now—talking. Nikto wasn’t going to act like he wasn’t eavesdropping; he didn’t care if your friend or you knew it. It was mostly about the parties, the talk, and the Russian could understand that Alyona was trying to occupy your mind.

His mission was more important.

You’d passed him the box and watched as Nikto had retrieved the letter from your coat pocket. The former soldier had already called the investigators and promptly told them to arrest Sergi, or they would have him to deal with—there hadn’t been time to respond before he’d hung up and smashed his phone to the nightstand of your rented room. The resounding echo had made both parties in the bathroom go silent for a minute before hesitantly starting back up.

And now, there was the scratchy English script of a stalker in his hands. He felt disgusting even touching them; he was glad he’d put his gloves back on. A permanent sneer was stuck to his hidden face like a curse, eyes narrowed.

Standing, the man trades weight from his thighs as he reads the letter that had been stuck in your jacket.

‘My Сладкая,

This is the one-hundredth letter I’ve written to you, though you haven’t been sent all of them yet. I’m still waiting for you to notice me, and I’ve grown disquieted by your response to the way I disposed of your three guards. Was that not what you wanted every time you looked at me?’

Nikto’s hand comes up to rub at the fabric over his neck, digging until he feels the bulge of his scar against his fingertips.

‘I thought you would be thankful, but now you have that man following you everywhere. He took your doves from you—the doves that were supposed to make up for the misunderstanding about the dead men. You looked beautiful with the red fire moving over your face that day, you know? It caught every curve and the softness of your skin perfectly. Here—I even took a picture for you to enjoy as I thoroughly have. I hope it brings you the pleasure it brought me to run my lips over your holy image.”

Fingers crumble the side of the letter, creasing it. Not once do they delve into the envelope to look for that picture. If he had the choice, Nikto would rip this entire thing into little bits.

‘I think it’s time that we meet—alone, Сладкая. I’ll be waiting tonight at the café for you, so we can run away together. And start this life together. I think it’s time. Yes. I will ravage you with all of the beautiful things in life; jewelry, dresses, makeup, my body. It is mine, isn’t it? You? You’ve told me with your eyes, so why are you still ignoring me? You look at me every day. I look back—you love me! I know you do! Why are you still being such a—’

It falls off into nothing but rabid script; illegible even to Nikto’s best abilities. The letter is saturated with something—spots of the paper pulling in on itself with droplets off…

Nikto stills, disgust and insult moving in his gut. There wasn’t any DNA on the box, but they certainly had some here.

Dropping the letter into the lockbox on the nightstand, the man takes the top and rams it shut with a rattle of the nesting dolls on the upper shelf. Nikto removes his gloves and tosses them into the garbage bin.

Stalking to the bathroom door, he moves on instinct. Ever the animal.

Knuckles rasp to the wood. Conversations halt once more.

“Seraph,” he eases, accent tight. “You are well?”

A bead of silence, the moving of water.

“Yes, Nikto,” your voice is still shaky, but it comes out from under the door.

Nikto stares at his feet, blinking. With a grunt, his feet shift and he forces out, “Good. You will call if you need us.”

It wasn’t a question.

Moving back, he nods to himself firmly, shaking out his right hand—he can’t seem to stop being on edge. Every creak, every shadow of your decorations moving, made his eyes dart to them, honing in as if behind the scope of a rifle.

Nikto brought his hands to the side of his skull, pushing in. You were messing with his head, he tells himself again. The moments of dissociation were becoming more frequent as of late, and he could feel it in the back of his mind even now. A glaze over his brain that made everything feel like it was worlds away from him—it was sharp and sure of itself. Words jumbled, ‘I’s came out as ‘We’s, things were lapsed from his brain; important things. Moments of confusion—aggression. Leaving you behind in a grocery store at the flip of a coin. Snapping at you in real anger when you were just curious.

He can’t do that. He can’t lose his grip.

From inside the bathroom, your eyes stay locked on the door, your head resting on the wall behind you as your skin soaks in the claw-footed tub.

“I don’t know if this is good for me, Aly,” you confess lowly, eyes shifting back to the wall ahead of you, a little black and white ceramic fish on a shelf. Candles let off the scent of linen and pine.

Alyona sits on the stool a few feet away, watching your face worriedly.

“Солнышко,” she starts slowly, “we both know it isn’t. It’s going to pass—I can’t hope for more than that.”

It’s like a repeating record—It’ll be okay, just keep strong, push through.

It wasn’t Aly’s fault; she’s involved in this too.

“Is Nikifor worried about you?” The woman’s head perks, her lips twitching as the orbs inside of her head soften.

“Seraph, you don’t have to change the subject—”

“Truly,” you move a hand up from the water and rub at your face. “Really, Aly, I need a distraction. Please, just…talk. You know I love to hear about the two of you.”

She sighs, looking to the wall. After a moment, she chuckles, head tilting down. “Yes, he’s worried. He worries about you as well. You have a home with us, little Солнышко—I want you to know that, yes?” Alyona brings a hand to your cheek, pinching in good nature.

You shuffle away in mock annoyance, lips twitching.

“...I know, Aly.”

“Good,” she huffs. “I would not be a good friend if you didn’t. At least that brute is taking care of you, it seems.”

“He’s a good cook,” you ease out. “You should try it sometime.”

Gray eyes blink at you, shocked. “He got you to eat a meal?”

“You’re saying it like I never do,” you chuckle, eyebrows pulling in as the dimmed overhead light shines down on your avoidance of the problem at hand.

“No, it’s not that,” Aly’s eyes rove with unseen emotion, her concerned heart gaining a smidge of affection for the man outside of the door, whose shadowed feet can still be seen pacing. “I am…glad, Seraph. Food is always the way to someone’s senses, eh?”

Your lips twitch, but the weight on your chest remains. A tense pause grabs the both of you.

“I wish you were coming with,” you have to admit on a stiff tongue. “Ever since I first got here, you’ve been with me for all of it—the parties especially.” Your open mouth stutters. “Aly, I don’t think I can do it again by myself. All of those people; what some of them expect from me, it…it’s just…” Getting choked up, you move a hand to your mouth, covering it. From behind the flesh, you mutter, “I can’t do it again, it’s just the same as staying here, as a matter of fact, I think staying would be better.”

“You need to think rationally,” Aly shakes her head, getting closer to take your hand in both of hers. She squeezes, her top shiny in the light as it moves. “Nothing is worse than staying in this city. The man outside the door agrees. It is the safest option for you, even if,” Alyona closes her eyes, looking away as she opens them. She never finishes her sentence.

“I don’t want to,” you fight a whimper. “Aly, we tried so hard to get out of them sending us like meat.”

But there’s nothing that the woman can do to you when you say it like that, and even her expression gets far away. Alyona’s eyes blink fast, getting glossy before they avoid your eyes for the rest of the night.

“I’m sorry, My Seraph. I’m so, so, sorry.”

And that’s all that can be said.

When night comes, you don’t think you sleep at all, and by Nikto’s pacing of his room, the occasional pause to peek his head through your doorway, neither does he.

—

The time to leave came far quicker than you could anticipate as the days blended. Chelyabinsk was nearly a three-hour drive if you went the fastest route, and in the time before it, you and Nikto hadn’t spoken much about the letters. They’d been taken by the investigators the next day, along with your phone, for testing and tracking. While you’d been given a new device, it was a tiny thing that died more times than not; you had three contacts—Alyona, Nikto, and your mom.

You’d been assigned a driver by AMA for the trip, and thus, the all-black vehicle had arrived in the small hours of the morning as you had finished a hurried call to your matriarch.

“I’ll be back soon, Mom,” you’d explained. “Business. I’ll keep me busy.”

She had said it was a good idea like everyone else. Aly and you were the only ones to know the truth. Dread was a fishhook in your throat, but the fear of staying here was just as prominent. Those pictures haunted your mind.

“Nikto,” you ask, grabbing one of your suitcases on the street with a grunt. “Can you…?” The item is taken and easily lifted into the trunk. “Thank you,” your voice breathes out a sigh into the early morning air.

You hadn’t been to Chelyabinsk in a long time. Your brain knew that it would be most of the same—you needed to be careful of who you spoke to and how you did it. While regular crime was only moderate, corruption and bribery was your main problem when entering the place. You were on Allurement’s payroll, would your CEO’s influence be enough to stop anyone from trying anything with you?

If you stuck to where you were told to go, you should be fine.

Along with yourself and Nikto, photographers and media know-hows would be tagging along; makeup artists and stylists. A team of people who mostly refuse to look at you at all, only a few familiar faces among them.

But, thankfully, only you and your guard would be in this car.

“You can get in,” Nikto comments, blinking at you in the dark street, the lights of the car and the penthouse behind you all you have to differentiate between shades of black and gray. Your eyes had been constantly narrowed so you could try and see better. “I will load the rest.”

“If it’s all the same to you,” you smile sheepishly, “I’d like to stay out until we leave. I get fidgety when I’m in the car for too long.”

His shoulders shrug, taking another of your bags from the ground. “Very well. You will eat on the way there, then.”

Your eyes blink, attention pulled back from the shadow of a man walking across the street, raising hair on your arms.

“What was that?” You tilt your head.

Nikto huffs. “Eat. On the way there.” He raises a brow. “You need breakfast.”

“Oh,” you at your neck slightly. “Sure, yeah. But what about you? Do you want me to turn around or something so I won’t see your face?”

“No need. We ate as you dressed. Packed the remaining for you.” You’re brushed past, the purse around your shoulder connecting with Nikto’s thigh as his boots clop over the concrete.

Your lips twitch, expression still worried but the tease sneaking out instinctually. “I need to start calling you Mother Bear, Nikto.”

“It will be the last thing you do, Whelp,” he grumbles, eyes looking over his shoulder as he packs the last suitcase away. Amusement is like liquid stone inside of them.

So the trip ensued.

You entertained yourself by staring out of the window as the cityscape rolled back, already missing the sanctity of your penthouse as you fiddled with a small stuffed bird in your grip.

“I spy…” you mumble twenty minutes in, trying to be normal again. “Something tall and gray—”

“Tree,” Nikto grunts, trying to read one of the books he packed.

“No,” you say, defensively. “It was,” your mouth opens and closes, scouring the passing scene but finding nothing. “Fine, yes, it was a tree.”

“I spy something blue.”

“That’s not even funny.”

“I believe it was funny. Perhaps you do not have a good sense of humor, Woman.”

You glare, throwing your stuffed bird directly at his forehead and watching it bounce off. Nikto doesn’t even look away from the words on his page, flipping to the next with a deep chuckle in his neck.

Rolling your eyes, you groan and slouch into your seat.

You had to say, though, that as the city disappeared, so did your anxieties. It felt good to be near dense croppings of trees again—only an open and uncrowded highway and Nikto beside you. His pale eyes would watch you every so often, and you would do the same, studying each other as time passed and a gradual silence fell.

“Can I use you as a pillow?” You ask with only an hour left on the trip.

Nikto’s halfway through his book, and up until now, you’d kept to yourself, lost in thought.

“I am not comfortable,” he utters, leg shifting. He glances, but his numb eyes don’t do much until they move back to where they were prior. “And my Kevlar is hard. It will aggravate your head.”

You had to wonder how fast he caught onto that fact about you. A smile grows on your face, and you shift to grab your jacket, folding it and tossing the item onto Nikto’s thigh. His head darts down right as you move to rest there, body sideways and legs folded against the door.

“I like it when you worry—it’s cute,” you stifle a yawn, ignoring his digging eyes. “Wake me before we get there?”

Your ears don’t wait for an answer, your fatigue from missing an entire night of sleep catching up where Nikto’s never would. He watched you rest for the remainder of the ride, hand hovering over your shoulder until it slowly slipped down to rest on it with a grumble of exasperated Russian under his breath. But the man had noticed the bags under your eyes—unable to be hidden by makeup. He found it in himself to let you sleep, even if the infection of your warmth made his head go loose; how your slackened face looked peaceful.

The knowledge of what you’d just experienced was still with him, even as he linked his feelings together as pointless. This was a waiting game, and everyone else seemed to have time except for you.

He didn’t like it. There was a nagging in the back of his gut—instinctual understanding as a hired gun who’d gone through many deployments. This was bigger; something was going to happen soon. A tipping point.

Nikto had a feeling you felt it too, as your head nuzzled his thigh in your sleep, shoving yourself into your jacket as tiny grunts moved from your lips; eyebrows furrowing.

Bad dream, the Russian clocked immediately, his book long placed at his side and his one elbow against the window frame.

Pale blue eyes watched for a moment, looking at your deep red blouse and the long back skirt that lightly cascaded over the side of the seats. His hand at your shoulder—hard and immobile, twitches as it tries to keep you steady, feeling the muscle under your flesh writhe.

Only when you can’t seem to calm down does he do anything at all.

Nikto can easily stamp an expression of annoyance on his face, of bored numbness, but instead, a sliver of something that could be considered softness bleeds from behind his eyes; something that even if he were to look into a mirror, he couldn’t name himself.

A finger brushes up your neck, scarred and broken, most of a finger missing and the nearest ones fuzzy with nerve damage. It hovers, steady, before his hand moves to massage along the base of your scar. It’s an awkward angle, no mistake. After all, he was practically grabbing the side of your neck to reach, but it was all he could offer short of waking you.

When he couldn’t sleep, he’d do the same to himself; it helped, he thought, feeling skin on skin—a caress that eases aches. Call it pathetic, but the sensations he was feeling doing the same to you were nothing short of trance-inducing. To understand the pulse of your heart—your breath returns to a slow puff; brows settling back down at only his circling thumb.

A bit of that infectious pride trickles into his eyes; smug.

Nikto grunts, and leans back into his chair, continuing his work to settle you, and smirks softly under his mask.

Only roughly half an hour to go, and then it was back to guard duty. But perhaps he could close his eyes and rest as well.

You made for quite the distraction.

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fyodorloveclub · 7 months

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self-indulgent fyodor x gn!reader fluff because my heart is still so so broken :( no warnings! wc: 0.7k (divider by cafekitsune)

“I think that you and I would find each other in every universe.”

“Hmm?” your lover prods, pulling you closer against his chest and tipping your chin up with his finger. His violet eyes glowed in the waning light of the setting sun, slightly obscured by the raven fringe that swept across his forehead. “How do you mean?”

Taking advantage of the early summer weather and your approaching anniversary, you and Fyodor skipped work in favor of dedicating the day to your love. Starting with, of course, sleeping in, followed by a brunch you and him made together, visiting your favorite art museum, and ending the day with a picnic in a sprawling field within a nearby nature preserve.

It was like a movie, the way he hand-fed you strawberries and kissed away the juice that trickled down the corners of your lips with the laugh you could recognize anywhere. Prose and poetry danced off Fyodor’s lips as he read from the tote bag full of books you had lugged with you, reading stories of immortalized love and poems ignited by insurmountable passion as you laid your head in his lap. A few Russian novels had snuck their way into the collection as well, Fyodor gracing you with the heightened level of elegance and finesse in his voice as he spoke in his native tongue.

But now the two of you, pleasantly exhausted from the day, lie on the blanket laid out in the grass, surrounded by sprouts of baby’s breath and daisies in the cozy drowsiness of a summer haze.

You take the opportunity to press the gentlest of kisses against his warm lips, and he smiles softly as he returns the gesture. “I mean that… I don’t think there’s any version of us in any world, in any universe, in any timeline that don’t find each other. That never feel the touch of the other.”

Warmth blooms in Fyodor’s chest and spreads to each of his limbs, painting a rosy red on his cheeks that only you have ever been able to put there. “And why do you say that, my love?”

“Because… I just know it. Our souls are intertwined. Don’t you feel it?”

It makes sense in your head. The way you perfectly compliment each other. The way you felt like you’d known him your whole life the second you met him. The tilt of his head and the almost mischievous spread of his lips felt like those of an old friend, and you hadn’t even known his name yet. And in that moment, too, you already knew you’d know him forever.

And yet, you weren’t two halves of a whole. You always found that expression to be reductive. To insinuate you were incomplete people without each other was incorrect – you would always be you, and Fyodor would always be Fyodor. But you made each other… better. More complete.

“Your handprint is forever burned on my soul, Fyodor,” you explain.

“I feel it,” he nods, answering your question from earlier as locks of your hair twirl between his fingers. “Like the roots of a thousand-year-old tree curl around each other and cement themselves into the earth, I feel it.” His hands leave your hair in favor of intertwining your fingers together, as if to illustrate his point.

I fear we are stuck, you and I,” he chuckles, and you giggle along too.

“For better or for worse,” you say. “In every universe.”

“Through heaven and hell, and everything in between, above, or below. I’ll find you, my darling.”

The sun had finally dipped below the horizon now, casting your lover in a faint glow that made him seem ethereal, almost angelic. Your free hand, the one not enveloped in his, came to touch the delicate, porcelain skin of his cheek.

“You promise, Fedya? That you’ll find me?”

“I swear.”

#fyodor x reader #fyodor fluff #bsd x reader #fyodor x you #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader

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matan4il · 1 month

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Ahead of Eurovision 2024

I was listening to Eden Golan's song, Hurricane.

youtube

At first, it didn't seem to me like it stands out. I'm one of the people who prefers my Eurovision song less on the power ballad side of things, so this being in that genre...

But then I found myself haunted by the lyrics. By specific lines. Singing them to myself quietly, over and over again. I had to listen to the song again.

And it got to me, it really did, I haven't stopped listening to or singing it since, so I guess I needed to share a bit.

There's more than one hint that this is a song about mourning and survival. Lines like, "someone stole the moon tonight, took my light" can be interpreted in more than one way. But they become less ambiguous when combined with ones like, "holding on in this mysterious ride," when the mysterious ride we're all on is life itself. It makes it clearer that this isn't just a break up song. Then it becomes even more explicit with, "we shall pass, but love will never die."

The imagery in the videoclip is also telling, that ending when Eden is looking up, much like many do when talking to or thinking about a loved one that we have lost.

But the line that gets to me the most, the first one that took over my brain? "I'm still broken from this hurricane."

We all get what this song is about, in the wake of what happened here in October 2023, and since. And I am broken. So many Jews and Israelis are. As one survivor said (his words have haunted me first, then I heard them echoed in this song): "We are broken, but strong." That's exactly what the song is about, deeply feeling the pain and the tragedy, the loss, this impossible to accept grief, and still trying to find a way to live with it, to survive not just the horrors of a massacre, but the trauma that follows it as well.

The other line that affects me the most is directly related to this, "baby, promise me you'll hold me again." Because I have spent the last 5 months watching the news, seeing the funerals, and hearing people breaking down, as they say a variation of this to their loved ones, who are gone. Asking for a promise that can't be made, or fulfilled, and knowing that it can't, even as the request is being uttered. I hear their voices breaking around their words, whenever I listen to or sing this line.

The videoclip is also infused with imagery that's related to the massacre of over 360 people at the Nova music festival (and the kidnapping of 40 more from that scene), which is in a way very apt for music lovers. The images show dancers in what looks a lot like a nature party, just like Nova, and since the massacre happened when the music festival was meant to reach its peak, a long night of music and dancing climaxing around sunrise, that's exactly what we see, a move from the "moon light" throughout most of the videoclip, to the "sunrise" at the end.

But in the case of this "sunrise," Eden can smile, she can find comfort, she can sing a few words in Hebrew that reflect hope, about that little light that's left even when the moon's been stolen.

She's bringing the song to a beautiful, emotional closure.

Obviously, it can't be ignored that this is a re-write. The original song (which was called October Rain) was disqualified as "political."

You can read the original lyrics here. They're almost identical. I heard an interview with the song writers, who said they weren't even told what got their song disqualified, so they had to guess what the Eurovision Broadcasting Union had in mind, when they called an expression of our pain, and our strength at the face of that, "political."

I admit, I find it very hard to accept this disqualification. It's not like there isn't precendent for countries at the Eurovision expressing pain (including the kind originating from political circumstances) through their songs.

If you take the wildly popular Ukraine 2007 entry, the singer was quite obviously singing "Russia goodbye," with allusions to Russian interference in Ukrainian elections while wearing outfits reminiscent of Soviet uniforms. And that wasn't called political, because "Russia goodbye" was changed into gibberish that still sounds like it (and in recent performances, it was blatantly sang like that).

If you take the much talked about Croatia 2023 entry, it was about the Russian invasion of Ukraine in 2022, and also criticized Belarus' tyrant kissing Russia's tyrant's ass, by referencing the tractor that Lukashenko bought for Putin, while the band members played with military weapons and uniforms on stage. And that wasn't disqualified for being political.

If you take the Ukraine 2016 entry, that was explicitly singing about their pain over what the Russians did to the Tatar population in Crimea in 1944, with clear allusions to what Russians did when they invaded Ukraine's Crimean peninsula in 2014. And that wasn't called "political" either.

Even this year, we have the entry from The Netherlands being political, with both the lyrics and videoclip referencing the borderless Europe (which IS a political issue, as Brexit, if nothing else, had made clear). I've seen people pointing out online that the song isn't political, because the whole borderless Europe thing is a metaphor for the singer's grief for his father/parents. I have no problem with that reading, but let's acknowledge that there could have been many metaphors for that, and he chose a political one.

So why is Jewish pain treated differently? Why is our pain labeled "political," when the metaphors for it in the songs aren't that, there are no specific political mentions of people or organizations in the song (unlike the Georgia 2009 entry, which slipped Putin's name into the song's title) in either version, when there are no political statements being made in the song, there's just expressing our pain, and trying to find a way to cope with it?

This WAS the biggest massacre of Jews since the Holocaust, and expecting Jews not to write about it, not to sing about it, not to try to process it through art... Our pain is not political. It's human. When Ukraine won in 2022 with a song that wasn't originally political, but became one, as it was adopted by Ukrainians suffering from a war that they did not choose, but had to fight, singing it wherever they were displaced (I remember the winners, Kalush Orchestra, coming to Israel to sing it for and with Ukrainian refugees who found shelter here), I thought it was quite obvious, even for people who don't like politics at Eurovision, why the song won, and why everyone overlooked the fact that it was only partly based on its qualities as a Eurovision song. I don't expect Israel to win, I very much expect that, even as Israelis embrace this song about our pain during a war, that we didn't choose, but have to fight, and while hundreds of thousands of us are still displaced, we will get a lot of hatred, instead of understanding and sympathy. But I still have to speak up. I still have to point out that treating Israeli or Jewish pain differently is wrong.

(as a footnote, I wanna get ahead of the usual, "Why is Israel allowed to participate in Eurovision to begin with? It's not in Europe!" comments, while I haven't come across the same ritual for certain other Eurovision participants, like North African Morocco, just-as-Asian-as-Israel Lebanon, transcontinental {despite some of these countries only being considered European culturally, while geographically speaking, they're fully Asian} Georgia, Russia, Cyprus, Turkey, Azerbaijan and Armenia, and the one that's a continent all on its own, Australia. They all have the right to participate, because they all belong to the European Broadcasting Union. Just like Israel)

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sleepymccoy · 2 months

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Please choose your favourite of my (imo) niche star trek headcanons

Now that I'm writing these, I wonder if any of them are straight up canon that I've forgotten lol

I'm gonna further defend my headcanons under a readmore, but it's up to you if you want to read that or just vote on the summary 😘

Scotty's actor is Canadian. Also he's so Scottish? Like, he's called Scotty, he drinks scotch, he is Scottish, so on. Too much. I think he has Scottish heritage, maybe his mum is Scottish, so he knows the phrases and his accent work is comedic but solid. But he himself was born in like Quebec

I have a whole post on McCoy's ex wife being Vulcan, it rules, give it a read here

The way America crumbles in trek history I think opens them up to invasion. I don't think Russia is still in charge, I think they've moved on from that and country borders are less political more cultural in TOS times. But I think briefly Russia had everything and Chekhov is joking about that when he says shit like that saying is Russian. We know, Chekhov, everything was Russian once, get over it. His joke is less about things being Russian and more like someone making the same joke about how everything was Roman once

TOS writers had a little cheat sheet of characterisation rules I saw here once and one said that Sulu has many varying interests, so if you need an info dump that's not one of the other main guys things, use him. So I've taken that and gone with he isn't actually into plants, it was just a six month project to better learn how to take care of them. He spent a lot of time complaining about them to Chekhov. Basically a hyper fixation and once he figured it out he lost interest, but retained all the knowledge

Cos Rand has that trick of heating up the coffee with a phaser on low. That's resourceful with ship technology that uses batteries, not mainframe power. I think she knows what matters when a ship breaks, and food and comfort need prioritising cos she grew up on a ship that was always broken. Broken ships are easier to tolerate if the coffee is served hot

I think Chapel's fiance kinda sucks in that ep, even if it was just a robot copy, and I think she loves being in space. I think she feels both relieved and guilty about it all, it's bad

#star trek tos #poll #star trek

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httpskuzuu · 7 months

Text

Softer

hola :D fyodor is alive - fyodor esta vivo I was thinking about making a masterlist or something like that, I don't know if when I upload this I will have it published or how I will do it

anyway, I really liked this and enjoyed writing it, it's longer than I usually post but Idk, by the way, I hated translating this, it was a pain in the ass, but that's what I get for joining a mostly English community ññññññññññññ-- well, this is mostly inspired by Sinner by TheBloodySadist, you can find it in Ao3 if you want to read it, I had an obsession with it a few months xd

jaja this has gone on too long, well, adiós adiós :p

Yandere!Fyodor x Reader

English is not my mother tongue, sorry for the mistakes

sumary: You tried to escape and now you have to take the consequences, but you make something change in Fyodor... (juju, mistery >:p) Pt.2

tw: yandere behavior, kidnapping, failed escape attempt, explicit punishment, explicit violence, blood, broken bones, humiliation¿, manipulation, brainwashing, stockholm syndrome, reader needs therapy, stabbing, nudity, sedative, Fyodor is a fucking tw

You tremble under the weight of the boot on your ribs, you swear that at some point you hear them cracking along with an agonizing pain throughout your body.

The pressure on your body makes it impossible for you to breathe properly, which is a serious problem considering you are hyperventilating. Every breath burns your exhausted lungs and aggravates the pain.

You'd ask Fyodor to kill you already if it weren't for the fact that your throat is in a terrible condition from so much screaming and pleading.

"Well, I see I can't trust you, can I?" Despite the situation, Fyodor's tone provokes you inner anger, sounding so sarcastic. Something deep inside you tells you it's not sarcasm, it's concern, but you can't believe it, especially not coming from Fyodor.

You imagine that, if you had the strength at this moment, you would kill him with your own hands. You know well you wouldn't be able to, but it's pleasant to think about it.

"I do everything for you, and still you try to escape." He puts more pressure against your ribs and you've never felt as much pain as you do now. "You spoiled brat." He growls and his Russian accent becomes much thicker.

He removes his foot from your body and you can breathe. Relief courses through your veins and, out of pure instinct, you thank him for that act of kindness. He could have stretched it out longer, put more pressure on you and broken your ribs more, but he was merciful and gave you a break…. A break, you know that your punishment is not yet over.

You don't know yourself and your thoughts. One thing you have to hand it to Fyodor is that his training is really effective, but you're tougher than that, or at least you like to think so. Realistically, right now, you just want to curl up against him.

A kick in the side snaps you out of your thoughts, you moan and cry from the pain, your throat burning with fire. You never want to utter a sound again in your life after this.

"Aw, you poor thing… Does it hurt? Now you know how I feel every time you leave me." He's lying, you know that, but that doesn't take away the guilt that settles in your head free-form.

You shouldn't have run away, Fyodor isn't even that bad if you behaved: no gratuitous physical harm and he takes better care of you than you could ask of a kidnapper. You were an idiot, you deserved all this for not appreciating your life with Fyodor properly. God… Why did you try to escape in the first place? The Russian would always would catch you, you were just causing trouble.

Ignoring your destroyed throat, you decide to speak. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I won't try to escape again. Please give me another chance, I'll be good…"

Fyodor kneels down next to your agonized body. He puts his hand against your tear-stained cheek, at first you flinch, thinking he was going to hurt you more, but then you lean almost automatically against his cold hand.

You cry harder as you feel Fyodor's gentle touch, you don't quite understand what's wrong with you, you just know that you want to melt against his hand. You close your eyes and tremble. You want a hug from him, you know you shouldn't want that, that it's disgusting, he kidnapped you and hurt you, but at a time like this, when you've been disobedient, he's still showing you affection….

"Shh, it's okay, милый." He catches the falling tears with his thumb. "I know you're sorry, but your punishment isn't over yet." You automatically tense up and slowly open your eyes to look at the man in front of you, there is a smirk of superiority painted on his face, observing your pathetic appearance.

You don't dare open your mouth to complain because deep down you know very well that you deserve it, you deserve the pain for being so bratty and causing inconvenience to Fyodor. You accept what lies ahead of you and let Fyodor pull his hand away from you.

With his grip firmly on your hip, he guides you to turn around. You keep the cheek that was previously receiving the loving touch against the ground a thousand times colder than Fyodor.

You concentrate exclusively on the Russian's hands, it's just an idiotic attempt to ignore the pain all over your body. He pulls up your shirt, leaving your back bare against the cold, why is everything so cold all of a sudden? Fyodor is too, in a way he brings you peace of mind, it's like he's everywhere, even in the air…. What the hell are you thinking? You firmly believe you're delusional at this point, these are not your real thoughts, it's clear to you, he put all these idiotic ideas in your head and now you can't get them out. It's agonizing in a certain way.

The only thing you hear is your irregular breathing, if it wasn't for Fyodor's hand clamped on your hip, you would think you were alone right now, and you don't know if you would like that more or less.

Something sharpening presses against your upper back. Everything breaks down in a moment as Fyodor makes a straight cut across your entire back. It hurts horrendously, especially as the blood starts to spurt out. You start to feel dizzy and for a few moments you convince yourself you're going to pass out, but no, your body is still holding on, focused solely on Fyodor's hand.

"Breathe, моя любовь. It's just a cut." You repeat Fyodor's last sentence in your head like a mantra: it's just a cut, it's just a cut. He could have done it much worse to you, you were fine, just a cut.

You take comfort in closing your eyes hard and imagining that you are once again a child at the doctor's office, that you are simply having blood drawn for a blood test because you have not been feeling very well lately. You make a fist with your hand and clench it, digging your fingernails deep into your palm, it's as if you are clutching the hand of one of your parents for comfort. There is no more pain, it's okay, it's all right-

Another cut, this time horizontal, creates a cross on your back. You don't care, you're at the hospital, and you're safe, nothing will happen to you. It's just a cut.

Fyodor stabs the weapon into your side. You open your eyes wide as a torn scream comes out of your mouth.

Fuck it all, do you really deserve this? Have you been so horrible? You assume that Fyodor simply hates you, that he wants to torture you.

Fyodor pulls the weapon out of your body, you look out of the corner of your eye and the wound doesn't seem to be that bad, you thought it was deeper because of the pain, but no, it was something apparently superficial. You didn't want to know how much it would hurt if he had really stabbed you deeper.

Fyodor's voice right next to your ear startles you. "Sorry, was that too much? Did I hurt my little one too much?" That mocking tone again, but you hear a hint of love and concern, or so you assume. No, it's impossible for Fyodor to hate you, if he hated you there wasn't that hint of love, was there? If he hated you, he wouldn't say to you like that: my little one, his little one.

"I can't take it anymore! Please, Fyodor!" He leaves a chaste kiss on the back of your neck, and you cry disconsolately, you don't know why, but you do know it's not because of the pain, the pain doesn't matter anymore.

"You can." Fyodor's voice is the ultimate authority right now, and if he says you can take it, it's because you can. "You don't want to disappoint me, do you?"

After those words you instantly panic, you desperately shake your head, of course you don't want to disappoint him! You have to accept your punishment, it was your fault in the first place.

"Brace yourself, dear." Fyodor leaves a trail of kisses from the nape of your neck all the way down your back, above the vertical cut. You assume he's filled his lips with blood and hate yourself at the thought of how attractive he'd look like that.

A new cut interrupts your hatred. You scream, but nothing more, you can take it, for Fyodor….

It's just one cut.

You don't know how many cuts there are next, you are not able to count them. You don't feel your throat anymore, but miraculously it still works, your screams are still coming out of it, you are relieved because you still want to keep your voice to talk to Fyodor, to ask him to hold you.

Fyodor removes your shirt completely and lays it aside on the floor. He holds you firmly and helps you sit up, any movement is hell for your ribs, but you endure it by concentrating on your kidnapper, on his loving but steadfast touch.

You look at him dizzy, teary-eyed and shattered. He is smiling, you have not disappointed him. Your head hurts as you cry disconsolately against his chest again.

"What's wrong? Why are you crying now? Your punishment is over, I won't hurt you anymore."

"You…" You're unable to speak, it's too much at once, the pain and your thoughts coming together in a ball of discomfort. You shake your head and hug him tightly.

"Are you afraid?" You weakly shake your head. It's true that Fyodor scares you, especially on these occasions when he punishes you, but you're not crying about it now.

Funny, you don't know why you're crying, but you do know what you're not crying about.

Fyodor is silent, thinking about why you're crying. "Is it about the pain?" You deny again.

Fyodor hums thoughtfully. "If you don't tell me what it is, I can't help you." You ponder on that: does he want to help you? Is he serious?

You make the feeble attempt to gather your thoughts and speak. "It's just- I don't know" Your voice comes out shakier than you wish it would. "When you touch me… It feels so good, I don't deserve it, I don't-"

"Oh, I see… Aren't you crying because of something bad? Is it because it feels good?" You nod quickly, yes, that's as close as you feel. You're happy when it touches you, when it's good to you. Were you crying out of happiness? Well, you guess so, although it feels more depressing.

"It's okay, relax." He leaves a kiss in front, and it breaks you inside. "You've taken the punishment very well, come on, you deserve to be taken care of."

The process of getting up from the floor is horrible, not only because of the pain all over your body and your numb legs, but because your mind doesn't stop spinning around Fyodor's last sentence. It feels horrible and so good at the same time that your mind is only around one specific person.

He helps you up and you let him lean your useless body against his. He guides you through the house, being patient with your slow pace. He's mostly silent, except when he tells you how well you're doing or that not long to go. Since when did Fyodor know how to talk so pleasantly?

You reach the bathroom, he sits you on the toilet and turns on the bathtub faucet. While it is filling, Fyodor takes some pills out of a drawer that you have always found locked. You don't know what the pills are or what they're for, but he hands you one and you take it without question.

You let your head fall against Fyodor's stomach, even though he is standing upright he doesn't move an inch and lets you be comfortable, he strokes your hair and you sigh lovingly. You don't deserve it, but you need more of this Fyodor, the soft Fyodor who takes care of you and makes you feel good, what did you have to do in the future to keep it in this shape? If you need to be damaged for that, well, you are willing to do it.

"The tub is full." He warns and moves a little away from you, causing you to raise your head. You miss a little that he's touching you, even though he's only been separated of you for three seconds. He holds you under your armpits and helps you up. "I need you to stand up on your own, can you, дорогой?"

You try not to focus so much on Fyodor asking you if you could do it instead of just sending you the order, and focus on standing on your own.

The Russian undresses you completely, his hands are soft, and you feel them all over your body. They are so cold, and you are so cold too now that you are naked. You are vulnerable, now more than ever, and Fyodor's fixed gaze on you disturbs you. You are simply an easy prey to hunt, his prey.

He doesn't look like a hunter now, as much as his gaze is like knives stabbing through every spot he focuses on, you think he's not doing it on purpose. Fyodor doesn't know how to be nice, he never has. He knows how to be neutral: he can keep you alive and give you necessities, but he can't kiss you and keep you warm.

But there's something wrong with all this, he's being warm because since when are his hands so soft against your battered body? You need him, you need him so much it hurts, is this his way of being nice? Okay, fine, you accept it without complaint.

When he puts you in the tub you want to die, the cuts on your back burn at the contact of the water. You don't dare say a word at that or ask Fyodor to pull you out, you're afraid you'll upset him, that he'll get tired of you being so weak and whiny and stop being gentle. Fyodor could have left you lying on the cold floor, bleeding, but he didn't. You can't be an unbearable child to him.

The Russian starts washing your body, putting special emphasis on your cuts and the wound on your side. You look at his serious face with need, why were you only now realizing how handsome he was? Mmmh, you must have been blind before. He notices obviously your shy look on his lips and he smiles, that smile indicating that he was superior to you and despite that, he was still keeping you alive and forgiving of everything you did.

He approaches you and gives you the only thing you needed to be satisfied for today: a kiss. It reminds you of all the good things, strangely enough in those memories Fyodor also appears and disturbs you minimally.

You question yourself that, maybe, Fyodor does know how to be gentle.

This is the proof you need to know that now this was a new version, right? He kissed you. You feel a warmth spreading throughout your body, now it is warm, and his hands are warm too. There is a big change in temperature and it feels like heaven.

After that, Fyodor continued to wash you with special care, ignoring how your face might explode from how red it was.

The only thing that could crush the heat was tiredness, you almost fell asleep a couple of times, but you didn't want to fall asleep because it would be like wasting time with this soft Fyodor, what if tomorrow he returned to his serious and impassive face? You can't waste this time or you would regret it.

"Go to sleep, take it easy. I'll take you to bed when I'm finished." You looked at him as the most merciful being in the world. He cared about you…

You hold back your sobs for these acts of kindness, you don't want to cry anymore, not only to avoid possible discomfort in Fyodor, but for yourself, the headache is unbearable.

You let yourself fall asleep, with your head supported on your knees and Fyodor's soothing touch.

You had a nightmare which you don't remember, or don't want to remember. You wake up with your body held in Fyodor's arms, warm and gentle.

Since when did everything become so homey? Homey? Would that be the right word? Describing any situation involving Fyodor with that word doesn't feel natural to you.

You find it hard to feel your body, and your thoughts don't flow as quickly and aggressively as they used to. It's like being enveloped in a cloud, full of comfort and calmness.

You just feel something on your side, at the site of the shallow stab wound. You think maybe it's some bandage, but your limbs are asleep and too comfortable against Fyodor to move them to check. Otherwise, you feel nothing, only someone else's hand on your lower belly, it's extremely intimate in your perspective.

You turn your sleepy head and glance sideways at Fyodor. He seems calm, looking at you, his face is emotionless again and it scares you. You come to convince yourself that he is still the soft Fyodor, if he wasn't his hand wouldn't be on you, he still hasn't changed, you repeat that to yourself until you believe it.

"… Fyodor, do you know what?" Your voice comes out weak and hoarse, you wonder how soon your throat will heal. You're thankful you can't feel it well, so there's no pain anymore.

"Mmmh?"

"I think I love you."

"Do you?" There is a change, minuscule, but a change.

You nod and look away from his face, you can't stand it, no. There has been a change, you don't know in what. There's been a change, a change! Is it good or bad? You want to think it's a nice thing.

"You're different."

"I am? In what way?"

"You're softer, something nice."

"You're drugged, you don't talk sense."

"But you're different! Seriously, you never take care of me."

Silence rules the room and it hurts. Why did you talk? What idiocy, it's your fault everything that happens now, all your fault.

"You cried with happiness when I helped you sit up." Your gaze returns to the other.

"I know, so what? You want me to cry again?" There are no bad intentions behind your comment, there really aren't. You feel your brain empty, and you can't quite interpret the situation, what is Fyodor trying to tell you? Is he angry? Is he going to punish you again? It's exhausting to use your brain in this state, so you just give up and go with the flow.

"No, I don't want that." The silence stretches a little longer and, for just a few seconds, Fyodor looks away. He looks away. "I just… I thought maybe you'd be happier if I treated you good."

"Ah…" He wanted you to be happy? Really?

"I know I hurt you, but you know I only do it when you deserve it, don't you?" You nod and the cuts on your back burn for a few seconds. "Good. I really want you to be happy, with me."

You feel like at any moment the old Fyodor will appear through the door and say something like it was all a test, and then punish you for failing it. It's a horrible feeling, but you come to believe that it will seriously pass.

"So… Are you still going to be soft?"

"Yes, only if you are obedient in return."

Yes, yes, yes. He's going to keep being gentle. For some reason your chest hurts, and you sob, Fyodor has a few drops of surprise in his expression. You hide from his gaze and just focus on the yes, it's like releasing a horrible burden out of your body. You weren't afraid he was lying, something told you he wasn't, his expression maybe, or his voice, or….

"Are you crying with happiness now too?"

"I like the soft Fyodor…"

"Mmmh, that's good, isn't it?" He pulls you a little closer to his face and leaves a soft kiss on your forehead. You'd like to kiss him in return, but you can't move. "I'll keep being soft then."

I swear all I could think about while writing this was to to send it all to hell and make these two fuck

maybe I will make a second part

#bsd x reader #bsd x you #bsd fyodor #fyodor #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #fyodor x reader #fyodor x y/n #fyodor x you #yandere fyodor #yandere bsd #yandere bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd

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littlexscarletxwitch · 5 months

Text

── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝗳𝘂𝗰𝗸 𝗶𝘁, 𝗶𝘁'𝘀 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗲

paring: yelena belova x fem!reader

tag(s): smut with plot but not really, a bit of angst but then again not really, nsfw, wlw sex

warning(s): MDNI, +18 ONLY read at your own risk, explicit wlw smut, wlw sex, oral sex, kinda toxic relationship, mentions of drinking alcohol, grammatical errors, unedited

word count: 3k

note: I'M SO SORRY GUYS IT SOOOO LOOOONG. College had been kicking my ass. Agh! I need a break from that shit. Anyways... I was actually going to make the smut part longer but I kinda didn't want to ruin it, so this is what you get lol. Also I literally googled the russian pet names, so please correct me if they are wrong. I hope you all like it! Lots of love, M <3

note 2: I got so many requests and I'm so glad you guys asked me to write your ideas, I really appreciate that. It's going to take me so time but I WILL WRITE THEM and I'm so excited about them. Love the way you guys think lol <3

requests are open! + check my rules here + masterlist <3

⇨ Detka: baby - Moya lyubov: my love - Malishka: little girl - Krasotka: gorgeous

You knew this whole thing was wrong, it was a toxic never ending cycle, but still you could never help yourself when it came to her.

You and Yelena were together for three years, three years filled with love and lust and happiness; but then your relationship became hateful, bitter and full of anger, still the lust between the two of you remained the same.

Allegedly, the two of you had broken up 5 months ago. Allegedly, you resented her for the shit she put you through. Allegedly, you didn’t even want to see her face.

Nevertheless, she always found her way back to you, —back to your bed—. The moment her lips made contact with yours, you knew you had lost all sense of reason. How could you restrain yourself when her hips grazed against yours in a slowly almost painful yet divine pace that had you arching your back and curling your toes?

“Fuck,” you breathed out, as her hands thighten the frim grip on your waist.

You always promised yourself it would be the last time, that it was just your body reacting to hers, that you would be strong the next time and would turn her down. It took you a couple more slips to finally understand that you and Yelena were done, that the two of you were through. But you finally came to your senses.

“You do know this is the last time, right?” you said breathless, feeling your quick heartbeat in your eardrums.

You sword to yourself that would be the last time you let yourself give in to her. Just one more night of pleasure, just one more night of kisses and whimperings and moans, and the next day it would be over.

“Yeah, I know,” though her voice was muffled by your cunt you could still make out the sarcastic tone in her voice.

“I mean it, Yel,” you tried to sound serious, and apparently you did because she lifted up her head for her eyes to find yours.

“I know you do,” and she did know. She knew that you meant it, at that specific moment.

But she also knew your statement wouldn’t last long, that you would soon change your mind and her lips would find their way back to your neck, hips, thighs and cunt.

So she allowed you to think it was over, but it will be over once she decided so.

[...]

It’d been a year since you had last seen her, you thought that was it, that the two of you had moved on at last. But maybe you got it all wrong, maybe all the things she made you feel enhanced by being away from her, maybe you forced yourself to forget about her. But there was no point in trying it, for she had made a mark on your heart. Like a tattoo, always under skin even when it gets removed.

But tonight was supposed to be different, you were supposed to have fun, drink and dance with your girl friends. But for some odd reason you couldn't stop thinking about the blonde. You would mess around with some people, but you found yourself thinking that it wasn’t her hands roaming around your body, or her lips leaving kisses and bites all over your neck, it wasn't her scent and it most certainly wasn’t her hoarse voice reaching your ears.

As you and your friends made your way to the bar, you heard your phone ringing. Even before you took a look at the screen you were 100% sure that it was her calling you, who else could it be then?

Your heart picked up its pace as you looked at the ID caller and your suspicions were confirmed. It was at that moment that you realised that you had never blocked or deleted her contact number.

Before you could answer or decline the call, it stopped. You swallowed down the lump that hard formed on your throat, unsure of what would be next. And soon after it stopped you got a text from her, you were about to read it when you noticed that someone was calling out for you.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” you said, quickly putting away your phone, trying to focus on your friend’s words over the loud music.

“We have to use the restroom. Let’s go,” she said, reaching out for your hand, motioning for you to tag along.

“No,” you step back, away from her reach. “I, um,” you felt your phone burning your hand. “I’m going to get some air, okay?” you noticed she wanted to say something against it, so you quickly added: “I’ll be right back, I promise,” you smiled at them, before making your way out of the club before they would follow after you.

Once the cold air of the night filled your lungs you felt like you could finally breathe properly. You looked at her missed call and her text message on your phone screen, it was simple: an address. You knew what that meant, but you weren’t sure of what you should do. As if sensing your doubt, she called you again. The phone kept on ringing in your hand, as you made up your mind.

Seeing her tonight was a bad idea, right? Yes, you might not be really drunk but the alcohol was messing with your brain and you were not thinking straight. Plus, your friends were going to kill you for meeting her.

Seeing her tonight was a bad idea, right? You weren’t just going to throw away the last year and pretend like nothing had happened.

Seeing her would be a bad idea, right? But your mind had other plans as the memories of her soft lips and her rough hands and her raspy voice all came rushing to your brain, and suddenly it was all you could think of.

Seeing her tonight…? Fuck it, it’s fine, was your only thought as you picked up the call.

“Hello, detka.”

The old pet name sent a silver up your spine, still you were yet to form a coherent thought.

“I missed you,” she paused, waiting for you to say something. “Did you miss me?” she tried again. Still, you weren’t answering her, but she knew you were listening carefully to every word. “You know? I’m all alone right now. I wouldn’t mind some company.”

You could sense the undertone she was using, you were no fool to her tactics, even though you would always fall for them. That was the kind of power Yelena had over you, everytime you would do so much as think about her your brain would just shut down and you wouldn’t be able to hear your own thoughts.

“No,” you stated firmly. Shaking your head even though she could not see you.

“Oh, baby. What’s the matter? You want me to pick you up?” you could hear the jiggling of some set of keys. Your heart stopped for a second, was she really that desperate to come and pick you up? You felt your stomach burning.

“This is… This is not right, Yelena. I shouldn't have picked up the call. I should probably not—.”

“Oh, come on, moya lyubov,” again with the russian nickname that would make your knees weak. “How about this, I pick you up, we get some coffee and we just have a quick chitchat?”

You knew that it never was so simple with Yelena, but you felt your walls crashing down.

“I’m not sure, Yel…” it felt weird to pronounce that nickname after so long.

“Look up, pretty girl.”

You felt your stomach sink as you did as you were told. And there she was, in all her glory. You didn’t even question how she knew exactly where you were, Yelena just knew stuff. You knew she was your ex, but she said it was just a quick chat, can’t two people reconnect? You knew you were stronger now to her advances, you were pretty sure you only saw her as a friend. But, in all honesty, you knew you were full of shit.

Without a word, you sent a text to your friends, put your phone in your purse and got into the car, wrecking all your plans. You knew you should just stop, but you couldn't. You cursed yourself for that, she knew you too well and you hated both yourself and Yelena for that.

As soon as you took the passengers sit, Yelena sped up the car and the two of you left the building and your friends behind.

“I did miss you, Y/n,” was the first thing she said as she rested her hand on your thigh.

She knew how much you loved it when she did that.

“Mmm,” you muttered, unsure of what your answer should be.

“Didn’t you miss me?” she jokingly asked as she gently squeezed your skin.

“What do you want, Yel?”

“I thought I told you,” she quickly took a look at you before looking back at the road. “I just want to chat, that’s all.”

“It’s never that simple with you.”

“Well, maybe this time it is. Maybe this time I want things to be different,” she smiled at you, making your heart skip a beat. She still had that kind of power over you and you hated her even more for that. But not really.

You gently shook your head. It was bad, you shouldn’t have picked up the call, you shouldn't have gotten into the car. You should have thought things more clearly before letting her into your life again.

As you were mentally cursing yourself you didn’t realise that the two of you had already made it to whatever place she had driven the two of you. Realisation hit you as you now had now idea where the fuck you were, you had no other choice but to follow her. Or so you told yourself.

Yelena opened the car door for you and stretched her hand out for you to take. Which you did, you didn’t even fight it, you longed for the contact of her skin against yours. And maybe, just maybe, you thought it would be enough, just by intertwining your fingers in between hers. But, god, you were wrong.

You knew the moment you would step through her front door all sense of reason would leave your mind, and it would only remain the lust and feel of belonging you always felt around her. And you were right, the soon you stepped in, it was like you were that same person a year ago and you had no intention in fighting your feelings, not anymore. You thought maybe you deserve it, as a reward for being all this time apart from each other.

As soon as you entered it was as if you could feel Yelena everywhere. It wasn’t just the fact that she was there next to you with her hand in between yours, but you could all also smell her scent all over her place, you could see her in the furniture she had chosen, hear her in the music that was playing, and even though you had yet to taste her lips you were so overwhelmed by her entire being that it felt as if you already had.

“So, um,” she cleared her throat as she closed the door behind the two of you, getting your attention. “Would you like some coffee…?”

“Fuck it, it’s fine,” you mumbled to yourself once more before dropping your purse and shortening the distance and crashing your lips against hers.

Yelena’s hand quickly found their way to your hips, gently squeezing your flesh earning a low groan out of you. She pulled away gasping for air but the next second her lips were back on yours. You moaned into her lips as her tongue easily slipped into your mouth and found yours to mess around with.

You felt a warm feeling in your stomach as her hands roamed all over your body leaving goosebumps on their way. Then they rested on your ass, grabbing the muscle motioning for you to jump on top of her, which you did without a second thought. The feeling became a small fire in your stomach the moment your chest was pressed against hers.

“I knew you would come back,” she mumbled in between your lips, feeling her grin into the kiss.

As a response you bit her bottom lip, not really sure what you meant by that but it felt good when you heard a low moan escape from her lips.

“Don’t push your luck,” you said once you let go of it, earning a small chuckle from her.

“Yeah, you’re right, krasotka,” her thick russian was only fuel to the growing fire in your stomach.

Her lips found the crook of your neck and she left as many bites and kisses as she pleased, leading the two of you to her bedroom. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your fingers found their way in between her hair.

Once in her bedroom, Yelena gently laid you on her bed. As her lips made their way down to your collarbone, her hand tugged at the hem of your dress slowly and painfully bringing it up to your waist.

On command, you spread your leg open letting Yelena’s head take the place in between your thighs. She kissed and bit them, her lips ghosted over the area where you needed her the most, but all you got was her hot breath which sent a shiver up your spine and made you groan out her name.

“Stop with the teasing,” you begged her, as your legs rested on her shoulders.

“Tell me what you need,” she breathed out.

“I need you… I need your lips on me,” it almost came out as a moan.

And she did as she was told, but it wasn’t quite what you wanted. Her lips kissed and licked your core, but it wasn’t enough since the area was still being covered by your panties. You wanted more, needed more.

“Yelena, please…” you begged her once again.

“Shh…” she cooed as her fingers tugged at the hem of your underwear and slowly pushed it out of the way. “Is this where you need my lips, malishka,” her hot breath over your now uncovered cunt ripped a moan out of your mouth.

“Yes, yes, just please do something. Please, Yel, I—,” a whimper cut you off as you felt her tongue licked up your slit. “Fuck,” you could feel your heartbeat going a mile per hour.

Her tongue went up and down a few times, tasting your juices, loving who wet you were for her. She then made sure to give your clit as much attention, so she wrapped her lips around it and sucked hard. You felt your leg trembling on her shoulders as she worked her magic on you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you were a moaning mess, the fire in your stomach felt like it was taking over your entire body and you only wanted to give in, to let it consume you whole —to let Yelena consume you whole—.

You wrapped your legs around her head, bringing her even closer to you. The thought of her suffocating on your count scared you for half a second, but then as she ate you like a starving woman, the thought only added more to your arousal.

Yelena took a quick look at you: eyes closed, lips slightly trembling and parted, brows furrowed, your leg around her head, your hand flying to meet her hair. She wanted that moment to last forever, she wanted to be forever buried in between your legs if it only meant she could see you like this. But she could not stop time and live forever in that moment, so she could only moan at your sight. And that was what it took for you to finally come undone in her lips.

You cried out her name as your leg almost squeezed her head too harshly, but she could take it. A few curses followed her name as her tongue and lips helped you right out your high.

“I missed this, malishka,” she said breathlessly as you unwrapped your legs around her.

Her nose, lips and chin were glistening from your release, you felt something like a match lighting up inside you once again. Much to your dismay she used the back of her hand to clean some of it, which she noticed that it had bothered you since you slightly frown. She chuckled at just how cute and precious you were.

She crawled on top of you, placing her knee in between your legs and her lips found yours. You moaned as you tasted yourself on her lips and tongue, feeling the fire coming back to life.

“I missed you… so much,” she said in between kisses. “Tell me… you missed me too…”

Drunk on her scent, lips and words you couldn’t think properly. But still the words you blurted out were the truth: “I did… I missed you too…”

“Then we should… make up for… the time we lost…'' she said as her hand expertly tugged down the cleavage of your dress, she smiled to herself as she realised you weren’t wearing a bra.

She trailed a path of kiss from your neck, down to your collarbone to finally end with her lips sucking your right nipple.

“Yeah, we should…” you breathed out.

“Then, we are going to be here for a while,” she said, her words were muffled by your tit inside her mouth.

You giggled at her words but then it turned into a moan as she went on sucking.

You knew the whole thing would fire back eventually, but your head was empty, blank, no reasonable thoughts. Just one that it keep you going and that was the only thought you were willing to listen to: ‘Fuck it, it’s fine.’

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M

#yelena belova #yelena belova x fem reader #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x you #yelena belova x y/n #yelena belova imagine #yelena belova smut #florence pugh #florence pugh x reader #florence pugh imagine #littlexscarletxwitch's fic #[🎧⊹♡] based on songs i love #Spotify

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brewsterispunkk · 1 year

Text

THE TUTOR

part 2/4

pairing: eddie munson x afab!reader (period is mentioned), eddie munson x fem!reader

WC: 4.1k

summary: reader and eddie begin their little deal.

warnings: idiots. just idiots. also brief SA-- nothing explicit, just groping--NOT main pairing, recreational drug use

A/N: here is part 2! hope u love it! pls pls pls leave feedback ;) read it and weep.

Senior Year Bucket List

1) Get drunk

2) Skip Class

3) Do a drug

4) Sneak out

5) Skinny dip

6) Get a boyfriend, lose my virginity

You sighed and shook your head as soon as you’d written that last part, hands only half-shaking.

This was fine, you thought to yourself.

It wasn’t weird, you kept telling yourself. It wasn’t. Eddie himself had asked you to come to school Monday with an itemized list of what exactly you’d felt like you’d missed out on. “A bucket list of sorts” he called it.

You had to keep yourself from adding “feeling safe” to the list of things you’d felt you’d missed out on.

That was difficult for you sometimes.

For the most part, you’d been able to compartmentalize what had happened to you last summer: the deaths, the torture, the “mall fire.” The rest of Hawkins knew that you’d survived it, along with Steve, Robin, and the kids. You’d gotten away with minor bruising to the face and neck after a Russian tried to choke you in an effort to get you to talk. It wasn’t ideal, but it could have been worse. Steve had been the one to take the brunt of the torture. You and Robin had screamed yourselves hoarse while they beat him in the other room.

You sometimes still had nightmares about the sick sound of their fists hitting his face.

When you’d emerged as one of the survivors of what they were calling the “Starcourt Mall Fire,” your mother had been relieved. After your father had split when you were ten, you were all she had. Still, she hadn’t been prepared for the effects of what had happened to you. To be fair, neither were you. Neither were any of you.

You’d always been shy, ever since you were a kid, but now instead of having a generally quiet disposition, you were skittish. The slightest noise made you jump, and you couldn’t stand to listen to Reagan talk about the U.S.S.R. on the news without having a panic attack. The nightmares had subsided after about two months, though they returned whenever you were stressed.

You found you always looked over your shoulder, always looking out for some unknown thing that might be stalking you. When people talk about saving the world, they never talk about the ugly parts. About the broken fingernails and the insomnia and the muffling of sobs behind your hand as you break down in the girls’ bathroom.

It’s a lonely thing, being a hero. An unfair thing. You felt like that night at Starcourt, when Hopper and Billy Hargrove hadn’t emerged from the fire, your adolescence had been stolen from you. That it had disappeared with the smoke and ash as it engulfed Scoops Ahoy and the rest of the shopping center. You hope that if Eddie actually does follow through with this little deal of yours, you’ll be able to experience at least a little of it.

- - - -

“So,” Eddie drummed his hands on the top of your desk as he slid into the seat in front of you. “What do you have for me, miss tutor girl?”

He was awfully chipper for 7:00 in the morning. You blinked at him and skated your gaze across the room.

It was close enough to first period for the room to be reasonably filled with students, most too sluggish to notice. But a few girls towards the front looked over their shoulders at him, eyes narrowed, before zooming in on you, where they widened curiously.

“What, scared for your reputation?” Eddie was only half-joking, his eyes a little guarded. They narrowed at you.

You shook your head almost comically.

“No,” you burst. “No, not at all. Just had a weird night.”

“Hm,” he looked at you skeptically. You rolled your eyes.

“We’ve already talked about this, Eddie. I don’t have a reputation for you to ruin.”

He snorted at that.

“Alright then,” he leaned forward, his chin on his fists. “What’s got you so skittish, then? Another crazy party like Friday?”

“No,” you sighed, leaning down to retrieve your list from your backpack. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

“Okay.” He looked like he didn’t believe you. You didn’t blame him; you couldn’t have been that convincing. You couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“Did you bring it?” He asked.

You nodded, slamming the sheet of notebook paper onto the desk and slid it over to him.

“Here you go,” you pulled at your sleeve nervously. “Just don’t laugh, okay?”

Eddie looked at you and feigned shock.

“Me? Laugh at you? I’m offended.”

“Eddie, I’m serious,” you felt your cheeks flush and your stomach plummet. “I’m just–It’s embarrassing. I’m being very… vulnerable and if you’re gonna laugh, we can just forget about it—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” his warm hands covered yours where they were sitting on the desk. He squeezed your palms reassuringly. “I was kidding. I won’t laugh. Scout’s honor.”

You looked into his eyes for a moment to see if he was serious. All you saw was sincerity. You let out a deep breath.

“You were a boy scout?”

His lips spread in a wry smile as he turned to the paper.

“Nope,” he unfolded the list. “It’s the thought that counts, though, right?”

You shrugged.

“I guess?”

“Okay, what do we have here?”

You sat in awkward silence as Eddie scanned the page, dark eyes focused. Hie brows were furrowed and his lips pouted in concentration.

“‘Get drunk,’ we can certainly make that happen. ‘Skip a class,’ you won’t need to ask me twice.” He stopped for a moment and huffed a laugh.

You felt your cheeks heat up.

“What–”

“‘Do a drug.’” He said with a secret smile–like he knew something you didn’t.

“Yeah,” you drew out. “I figured you’d know a guy.”

“Oh,” Eddie laughed. “I know a guy.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he smiled at you, before turning his eyes back to the page. “Ohh.”

Eddie’s eyes sparkled as he turned them back to you. He looked like a sprite, you thought. With his wild hair and mischievous smile. He was gorgeous.

“‘Get a boyfriend,’” he set the list down on the table. “Am I going to be playing match-maker, teacher’s pet?”

You rolled your eyes. He was teasing you.

“If that’s what it takes,” you quipped, your nervousness having melted away. “And I am not a teacher’s pet.”

“Whatever you say,” he raised an eyebrow at you.

As you opened your mouth to respond, the clearing of a throat interrupted you.

You looked up to see Cameron Reyes leering over Eddie.

“Hey. You’re in my seat,” he sneered. “Beat it.”

Eddie sighed, before slinking out of the seat slowly, taking his time.

“My apologies,” he smiled at Cameron, before dropping into his own seat, next to you.

You glared at the back of Cameron’s head.

Why did he have to be such an asshole?

Cameron was on the swim team and you’d had classes with him since Kindergarten. He hadn’t always been a dick; In fourth grade when you’d skinned your knee, he’d helped you up and walked you to the nurse’s office. It wasn’t until high school, when he’d begun running with guys like Tommy Hagan, that he’d changed. Now, you couldn’t stand him.

That was the way of things, though, in Hawkins. There were the bullies and the bullied—rarely anything in between.

- - - -

As you walked down the halls, you felt their eyes on your legs and you regretted letting Robin convince you to wear this skirt.

The denim felt heavy on your hips. You wiped your clammy hands on the blue material, wishing that you didn’t have to walk practically across school to get to pre-calc.

“Looking good,” someone whistled from behind you. You felt dread seep down your spine.

Please no, not here.

This wasn’t the first time you’d been catcalled.

The first time was when you and Robin were thirteen and walking to the general store down the road from your houses. A few men in a pick-up truck had rolled their windows down and told you in great detail all they’d liked to do to you. You and Robin hid inside the general store until the clerk called your mom to pick you up. You hadn’t even gotten your first period yet.

However, this was the first time you’d been catcalled at school. It still felt just as scary as the first time.

“Where have you been hiding those legs, teacher’s pet?”

You whipped around at the nickname, bristling at it. You hated when people called you that, unless that person was Eddie.

You were faced with a basketball player; one of the guys who hung out with Jason Carver and sometimes Lucas. Thomas Reed. Your skin crawled at the way he and the two boys behind him looked at you.

“Fuck off,” you spat at him before turning on your heel and walking faster to your destination.

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that!” He called after you, but you could barely hear him over the blood rushing in your ears.

It only calmed when you’d reached your classroom.

- - - -

“Are you even listening to me?” You smacked his hand where it was tapping on the wood of the library table. Outside, a heavy autumn rain pummeled the sidewalk, the trees swaying with it.

“Yes,” Eddie rolled his eyes.

“What did I just say?”

“That…Holden is a whiny little bitch.”

You sighed, bringing a hand to your forehead.

“No.” You ground out. “And if you write that in your essay, Ms. Taylor is going to fail you and me, so please, can you take this seriously?”

He sighed and had the nerve to look a little guilty. It made your heart clench a bit.

In the few sessions you’d tutoring Eddie, your crush had done anything but lessened. In fact, it had grown tenfold. It was one thing to admire him from across the room, it was another completely to spend time with him and actually be able to talk to him.

You found that in addition to being cute and pensive, he was kind and not at all the scary loner that everyone painted him to be. If he hadn’t cemented his reputation by being an avid player of D&D, he would’ve been popular, you thought.

And all this goes to day: you couldn’t stay mad at him, even when you wanted to.

“Okay,” he said, blowing his bangs out of his eyes. You briefly reminded yourself to offer to cut them for him later—he’d been complaining about them getting in his face all session. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

“What?” Your attention snapped back to him. Eddie looked at you like you’d grown another head.

“Uhh, I asked what you were saying?”

“Oh! Oh yeah,” you shook your head. “I zoned out.”

“I gathered that.” Eddie snorted, leaning forward. “Uh, off-topic, but I was wondering, when do you wanna get started on that bucket list?”

“Oh. Whenever.”

“I was thinking we could start this week.”

“So soon?” You practically squeaked. As excited you were about these new experiences, you were nervous. Especially because the person you’d be experiencing them with was Eddie. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself.

“No time like the present,” Eddie’s voice was chipper. “So, what did you wanna start with?”

“I thought we’d start small and work up to something bigger?” You asked.

“That sounds good,” Eddie nodded. “How does skipping class work for this week?”

“Ugh, not well actually.” You sighed, sour. “We have that exam this week in Taylor’s and then for Chem I have—”

“Relax, we don’t have to start with that one. Hmm, what else…”

“We could always—”

You cut yourself off, thinking better of it, but Eddie caught you.

“Nevermind.”

“No, what is it?”

You looked at him skeptically.

“If you wanna do something, you gotta tell me. It’s your bucket list, tutor-girl, not mine.”

“What if we…did a drug?”

God, you sounded like such a teacher’s pet saying it.

“Okay, teacher’s pet.” Eddie’s face was gleeful, excited. “You’re full of surprises. We can do that, definitely.”

“Okay,” you let out a breath.

“Any reason why you jumped to that one?”

“I just– I’m so stressed.” Thomas Reed’s lustful gaze flashed in your mind and you shook it off.

“You okay?” Eddie grabbed your hand on the table. You swallowed.

“Yeah,” you said lamely, mouth dry. “Just–a lot going on. School.”

“School,” Eddie repeated like he didn’t believe you. His eyes held yours for a moment before he nodded. “Okay teacher’s pet. Drugs it is. Any preference?”

“Nothing too crazy. Just something to take the edge off?”

“I can do that,” he smiled. “This is gonna be fun.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just think you’ll be funny high.”

“We’ll see,” you narrowed your eyes at him. He just smiled at you for a moment. Your eyes held his and you had the sudden urge to reach over the table and kiss him. You coughed, turning back to your notes in front of you.

“Anyway, what do you think Salinger’s trying to say?”

“Other than the fact that Holden is annoying?”

“Eddie, I’m serious—”

“I am too!” Eddie insisted. “All this shit about ‘phonies,’ when he’s just like them–”

“You know, I thought you’d relate to Holden.” You smirked at him.

“What?”

“Well, he’s an outcast—all teenage angst and—”

“I’m twenty, thank you.” He snapped at you, causing you to stutter.

“Oh, no I didn’t mean outcast like—”

“No, it’s okay,” Eddie chuckled, waving you off. “It’s true. And I like it that way.”

You eyed him skeptically.

“Really, I do.” He folded his arms over his chest. “There are too many assholes in this school. If I wanted to fit in, I’d have to act like them. At least a little bit. Besides, I’ve got people. Not much, but I’ve got’em.”

You hummed.

“I’ve never thought of that.”

“What, Holden being a bitch, because—”

You smacked his arm, laughing.

“Okay, okay, sorry,” Eddie giggled. He giggled. Your heart leapt. “What, though? What did I say that was so profound?”

He was being sarcastic, you could tell, but you didn’t care.

“The whole—having to sacrifice part of yourself to fit in. It’s true. I’d never thought of it like that.”

He hummed, eyes holding yours a moment, before his grin broke the moment.

“Maybe I should be the one tutoring, huh?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

“Turn to page 225.”

- - - -

Thomas found you again the next day, this time before school as you were at your locker.

“Hey there,” he smiled, sliding up next to you, effectively boxing you in between him and the locker. You jumped, moving as close to the locker as you could. “How are you today?”

“Leave me alone,” you ground out, trying to slip past him, but his hand in a hard grip on your arm stopped you.

“Aw, but we could have so much fun, teacher’s pet.”

“Let me go—”

“Where’s your little skirt?” he asked, grip tightening on your arm as you scrambled to get away.

You silently cursed whoever in the administration office had placed your locker on one of the most abandoned hallways in the school.

“Your legs looked so good—”

His palm came to squeeze the meat of your ass and your stomach churned. Without thinking, you spat in his face, palm coming to connect with his cheek.

“You cunt—”

“The hell is going on here?”

Eddie walked briskly up to you as you stepped back from Thomas. He moved to stand between you two, face hard. It was the mask he put on every day in front of the rest of the school, the ones who thought he was mean and scary. Only now, you weren’t sure how much of it was a mask.

“Nothing, man.” Thomas waved him off, wiping his face. He glared at you in a way that made your feet stick to the spot.

“It doesn’t look like nothing.”

“I said it's nothing.”

“And I said—”

“It’s fine,” you mumbled.

“Hey wait—”

Eddie moved to grab Thomas as he walked away from the two of you.

“I said it’s fine,” you said louder this time, and reached out to grab Eddie’s shoulder and pull him back toward you.

“Bullshit!” He spun and turned toward you, clearly pissed off. “What the hell was that?”

“I said it was fine, Eddie!” You burst at him, voice cracking. You took a deep breath.

“Honey, are you—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you interrupted Eddie’s suddenly soft voice. You wiped a stray but of moisture from under your eyelid. “Let’s just go to class.”

“But–”

“Eddie, drop it,” you all but snapped, before adding lamely, “please.”

“Fine,” he grumbled. “Lead the way. Taylor’s gonna be pissed if I’m late again.”

You could practically hear him simmering as he walked a half-step behind you to class, but you didn’t care to acknowledge it. You’d made it abundantly clear you didn’t want to talk about it. If he pushed you, you might just snap.

As the two of you made your way down the halls, you felt eyes following you. They were all wondering: what was the quiet nerd doing with the freak? You didn’t care to acknowledge that either.

Let them wonder, you thought. I’m done caring about their rumor mill.

- - - -

“Jesus, Eddie.” You gasped and looked around.

There was no one in the janitor’s closet with you, but still: with that much weed on him, Eddie would be expelled and arrested. You had no idea how he’d gotten it in the two days since your conversation.

“What?” He asked, out of breath. He’d pulled you in here between third and fourth period, scarring you half to death in the process. “I told you I’d get the stuff.”

“Yeah, but I didn't know you meant so much,” you scoffed. Now, looking down at the green, wooly buds you were going to smoke, you felt your stomach flood with anxiety. You weren’t so sure about it anymore. “Where did you even get it?”

“I know a guy.”

“Fine, don’t tell me,” you rolled your eyes frustratedly. “What did you drag me here for, anyway?”

Eddie furrowed his eyebrows, looking genuinely confused at your hostile tone.

“To…let you know I got the stuff.” He drawled, before narrowing his eyes at you. “You okay, sweetheart? You look like you’re gonna be sick.”

Your stomach was churning. Between the stuff with Thomas that morning and now this, it was too much.

You pressed a hand to your abdomen as the faint smell of weed permeated from the open baggie between Eddie’s fingers.

God, he had pretty fingers, you thought somewhere in the back of your mind. It was something you'd revisit when you weren’t about to have a panic attack.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Eddie rushed toward you as you doubled over, hands on your knees, trying to catch your breath and calm the nausea. His hands found your shoulders, and another wave of the sharp smell of marijuana made you retreat further into your mind.

All of a sudden, you weren’t there; you were back at Starcourt with Billy Hargrove’s hands around your neck, the smell of the weed he’d smoked earlier still on his clothes.

Your breathing shallowed and you gasped, trying to breathe, but in vain.

“Hey, hey, breathe for me,” you faintly heard Eddie over your own heartbeat. “You gotta breathe, honey. C’mon, breathe for me. Deep breaths, like this.”

He pressed your palm to his chest as he inhaled deeply.

You looked up at him, at his wide, panicked eyes and did as he said, slowly inhaling a shaky breath.

“That’s it,” he took another deep breath, eyes not leaving yours. “Just like that. Okay. Another one, now.”

You took a deep breath, much easier this time, eyes never leaving his.

- - - -

“So…” Eddie began, eyes finally meeting yours. “You wanna tell me what the hell that was?”

You sighed, tilting your head back to lean against the wall where you were sitting. You looked up at the fluorescents in the janitor’s closet.

“That was a panic attack, Eddie,” you said monotonously.

“Don’t be a smart ass. What happened?”

You sighed again.

It had taken five minutes for Eddie to talk you down from your… episode. After, he’d let you catch your breath. You’d thought that you’d be able to just go about your day from there. You were stupid to think he’d let this go.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“Jesus, sweetheart, I don't care about that. I just wanna know what the hell caused it. Did I–”

“No,” you said immediately. “You didn’t—”

“Did it have something to do with this morning?” Eddie’s voice was low, and as serious as you’d ever heard it.

You remained quiet, eyes trained on the light above you. Eddie took that as confirmation. His eyes flashed dangerously as you finally looked at him.

“I’ll kill him.”

Eddie moved to his feet with purpose, moving to open the closet door.

“No!” you grabbed his ankle, scrambling. “No, Eddie. It’s not worth it.”

“Bullshit, it’s not worth it—”

“Please, let’s just get out of here. Let’s go smoke. We’ve practically missed all of fourth period anyway.”

“Honey, he can’t just–”

“I know, Eddie,” you stood up level with him. “But right now, I really wanna leave, and that’s more important than whatever revenge plot you have.”

He looked at the door obstinately for another moment before turning back to you.

“Fine.” he said, not fully convinced.

“Thank you,” you took a calming breath. “Good. Besides, it’ll be like killing two birds with one stone, right? Two items off the bucket list at once.”

- - - -

Eddie’s car was smoky; a hotbox is what he called it.

As you took a long drag of the joint he passed to you, the deep, leafy aroma filled your lungs. As you breathed out, all worries or stress you had about school or Thomas or even the Upside Down diminished to an afterthought.

So this is why people smoke, you thought to yourself, giggling a little bit.

“What is it?” Eddie turned his head to you, unruly curls brushing your cheek.

The two of you were sprawled out on the floor of his van, shoulder to shoulder and head to head, about twenty minutes into the session. You’d learned this so far: that Eddie smelled good, like cigarettes and cologne and something musky, and that his eyes got even more glassy when he smoked. All that to say: you wanted to kiss him. Bad.

You passed him the joint, your fingers brushing his in the process.

“It’s just that I finally get why people do this so much,” you laughed.

“It’s been twenty minutes,” Eddie laughed with you.

“And I feel better already!”

Eddie went quiet, taking two puffs from the joint. You turned to look at him, eyes immediately darting to his lips. He was looking pensively at the corner of the van.

“Not fair,” you grabbed the joint from him. “Don’t hog.”

“I get them too, you know.” He said all of a sudden, somber.

You stopped, looking at him still. Eddie turned his head to face you, nose only an inch from yours.

“Not so much anymore, but when I was younger. When I first came to live with Wayne.”

“Wayne?”

“My uncle,” he swallowed, turning his head away from yours. “I live with him. Have since I was twelve. My dad, he was… not a great guy.”

You were quiet for a moment, passing the joint back to him.

“My dad left.” You said. “Sometimes I’m not even sure I remember what he looks like.”

Eddie grabbed your hand, squeezing.

Instead of the flutter of anxious butterflies, you felt a calm wash over you at his hand in yours.

“Do you, uh…” Eddie trailed off, taking a deep huff, “wanna talk about what I saw this morning?”

You sighed, not feeling anxious, but feeling tired.

“You remember the skirt I wore the other day?”

Eddie swallowed visibly, eyes darting to your legs before your face again.

“Yeah.”

“Robin helped me pick it out in June,” you fiddled with your sweater. “She convinced me to wear it the other day, finally, while the weather is still at least a little nice. Anyway, Thomas noticed my skirt. He hasn’t left me alone since. And today, he…”

Eddie took a long drag.

“He grabbed me, grabbed my ass. Fucking pig.” You rolled your eyes. “I’m not even, like, scarred by that. You know how ridiculous that is? That I’m not even phased by it anymore?”

Eddie just shook his head, glaring at the ceiling.

“Eddie?”

He wordlessly handed you the joint.

“Toke up, sweetheart.”

You chuckled.

“Jesus, what an asshole.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, taking a long drag.

“Someone should—”

“Someone should, but someone won’t.” You looked at him. “They never do.”

“Hmm,” Eddie hummed, biting his lip in concentration.

“Wanna skip the rest of the day?”

“God, yes.”

Th next day, Thomas Reed had a busted lip and a black eye.

#eddie munson #eddie x you #eddie #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x fem!reader #Eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie x reader #the tutor #eddie fanfic #eddie fic #eddie x y/n #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things 4

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zanarkandskylines · 1 month

Note

Hello! I was wondering if I could request a balugou or Todoroki x reader helping reader grieve their father. Their father died unexpectedly, and even years later they haven’t processed grief a lot yet. Like some days they’ll be fine, then something will remind them of their dad, or randomly in the middle of the night they’ll cry when they realize they lost their father. If not, totally okay! Love your work so so much!

omg anon, absolutely! i (unfortunately) have a lot of feelings about grief and have no problem talking/writing about it as i find it therapeutic. i super appreciate the respectful approach and thank you for reading my work! supporting my little fleeting thoughts brings me more warmth than you know. 😭💗 i am gonna choose bakugo over the two of them since i don’t think i could do todoroki well enough, hope that’s okay!!

lost in the echo 『 ♡ 』 bakugo x fem!reader ⇢ it all happened so fast - one moment, your family is happy and healthy. the next? it's broken and in disarray, loss shattering your whole world. in a world of super heroes, people often forget just how painfully human they are when sickness strikes.

꒰ tags & content ꒱ heavy talks of grief (parent's passing), talks of self harm/substance abuse (drugs/alcohol), talks of cancer/illness & hospitals | major emotional hurt/comfort, eventual fluff, sprinkles of angst about being perceived while grieving, soft bakugo, reader’s best friends are bakugo and mina, bakugo’s secretly crushing on reader, “happy ending,” characters are 18+ ꒰ cross posted to ao3 | wc; -1.5k ꒱ -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist

☆ inspired by "neon grave" by dayseeker ☆

⋆ ˚ʚɞ — just a general note to please, please mind the tags for this fic. it's not dark content, per se, but it deals with heavy subject matter (descriptive self destructive habits & harm) and could be upsetting for some. much love for you all! ♡

───

“This party sucks,” you whine, leaning on Mina’s shoulder. “Monoma’s drinks are weak as hell.”

Mina pats your head and exhales dramatically. “Might be time to call it a night, babe. It’s almost midnight, and they’re weak cause you’ve downed six cups.”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever.”

The two of you had been invited by some of the class 3B students to hang out in their dorms over the weekend, AKA drink and bullshit the night away. Months ago, you wouldn’t have been caught dead at any of these parties, but nowadays? You were looking for any way to silence the nagging voice in your head. Mina tagged along, mostly to keep an eye on you since none of your other classmates attended said parties. She’d been on her phone most of the night, texting and scrolling in the corner as you knocked back drinks.

“Who the fuck are you texting?” Your words came out acidic, but that wasn’t your intention. The alcohol was beginning to sink in, stirring the emotions in your chest. It was Russian Roulette, you never knew which one would be loaded in the chamber and ready to fire.

Mina clicked her tongue at your tone, raising her eyebrows. “Why do you care?”

Ah, that was code for “I’m texting Bakugo updates on how you’re doing because we’re worried for your wellbeing.”

Logically, you knew they just cared about you. You’d had a tough couple of months - nothing crazy, just that your dad fucking died and tragically lost his battle against cancer.

The news wasn’t easy to hear, let alone digest, the longer it sat with you back when your mom first broke the news. Cancer. One of the most gut churning words in any language. The sheer mention of the term is enough to make anyone’s hairs stand on end, especially when it’s applied to someone you love and care about.

Fluorescent orange bottles lined your kitchen counter back home, multitudes of medication prescribed to keep your dad in a haze while his body decayed. They taunted you, a constant reminder of the grim reality your family was stuck in. You’ve memorized the smell of the hospital, too - that faint stench of death mixed with cleaning supplies. Late nights in the glow of vending machines of the ER lobby and long days spent listening to nurses drone on about hope and miracles. They even had the gall to give you and your mom false hope, declaring he was in remission one week before he died.

You shake your head to rid yourself of the memories, pissed off that even in your buzzed state of mind, all of it was crystal clear. Mina gives you a quizzical stare, realizing that you haven’t heard hear her talking to you the last few minutes.

“We’re leaving,” she exclaims, grabbing your wrist. You tug it from her grasp and chug the rest of the drink in your hand, tossing the now empty cup to the floor.

“Fuck off, Mina! I know you’ve been talking with Katsuki all night. You two treat me like I’m a fragile little bitch!” You yell, waving your arms for dramatic effect. At this point, she’s used to your combative outbursts. She knows you’re grieving, but goddamn, she wanted to smack the shit out of you when you got like this.

“Suit yourself, I’m goin’ to bed.” And with that, she leaves.

Mina actually walks out and leaves you.

You storm to the door, throwing it open and pursuing her down the hallway of the Class B dorms.

“Minaaa!” You call after her, slurring the latter half of her name. She’s got her phone to her ear as she cocks her head to the side, acknowledging she heard you but isn’t listening.

You’re not proud of what you’re about to do.

Sprinting to catch up to her, you take the phone out of her hand from behind, the screen blinking the caller ID briefly - Bakugo. A sinister cackle escapes you while bringing the phone to your ear.

“Katsuki fuckin’ Bakugo. You and Mina are the fucking worst. Why can’t you just let me self destruct, huh?!” The rage bubbling in your guts was too strong to ignore. The metaphorical gun was loaded, and unfortunately for Bakugo, he was the target.

“You treat me like I’m some weak-ass bitch. Just ‘cause my dad fuckin’ died doesn’t mean shit! I’m not a goddamn child, Katsuki!” Your voice cracks over the word ‘child.’

“Treating me like a kid is rich coming from you, ya know. Hah!”

Mina attempts to grab the phone from you, but fails when you duck out of her reach, dancing down the hall away from her. Bakugo still hasn’t said a word back to you.

“The guy who treated sweet little Midoriya like shit for no reason, bullied him over a fuckin’ non-existent grudge. You’re the goddamn poster child of a shitty friend.”

“Y/N, ENOUGH!” Mina screeches, ripping the phone from your hand. She turns away from you while raising the phone to her ear once more.

“I’m sorry Baku-“ Mina’s interrupted by soft snivels. She could tell he tried to hide it - you made him cry.

“Hey, she’s just drunk and being an asshole. She doesn’t mean it,” she whispers. “Get to bed, I’ve kept you up long enough.” Mina hangs up the phone and turns her attention back to you. She doesn’t say a word - her eyes tell you how disappointed she is with your actions.

You quietly sulk behind her back to the Class A dorms, reveling in the guilt of your actions.

───

Monday comes along and you still haven't said two words to Bakugo. Admittedly, you're ashamed of yourself and don't have the courage to apologize right now. It wasn’t the first time you’ve gotten into a small tiff, it always goes back to normal. You’re sure this’ll pass and he’ll just talk to you again…right?

But he doesn’t.

Classes wrap for the day and he leaves homeroom without looking your way.

───

The silence in your dorm room is starting to drive you mad, not having a decent enough distraction for the endless loop of thoughts circling in your mind. You wander into the bathroom and lazily open your medicine cabinet. A set of translucent orange bottles occupied the bottom shelf - you’d taken them from home, stealing your dead dad’s various medications. A pang of guilt stabs you in the gut while you shuffle through them. You had zero idea what most of these pills even did, but if it got you high? Who fucking cares.

You’re about to dump a few in your hand when something stops you, dropping the tablets onto the floor.

What the fuck?

“Dad…?” You speak aloud, knowing full well how fucking insane you sound for thinking your father’s ghost smacked the medicine out of your hand. As expected, there is no response, just dead air. You scurry back to your bed, grabbing for your phone. Instinctively, you’re about to click Bakugo’s name when your eyes fall on the time: 11:56PM.

You call him anyways.

After a few rings, the line picks up and you hear shuffling before he verbally answers.

“…Hey.”

“Uhh, hi. Sorry for waking you.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Can you come to my room?”

There’s a pause.

“Yeah.”

“Thank you. Door's open.”

The line ends with a click.

A minute or two later, your dorm room door cracks open, Bakugo stepping inside and closing it quietly behind him. He hesitantly makes his way over to the bed and sits beside you.

“Y’okay?”

“I almost took some pills. Something stopped me, though and I didn’t.” Shame creeps through you as you're acknowledging the destructive behavior for the first time in months.

“…I’m glad you ditched ‘em.”

Another pause.

“I’m sorry for the other night.”

Bakugo inhales deeply before shifting his gaze to the floor. “Yeah. ‘S fine.”

Obviously, it was not fine.

“Katsuki, seriously. I’m sorry for being an asshole.” You place a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t deserve to have you here right now.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t say shit like that. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t wanna be.”

The two of you sit in silence for what feels like an eternity.

Bakugo speaks up first. “Why’d you call me over? Y’coulda told me about the pills over the phone.”

Your eyes begin to well with tears, overcome with emotions that you'd been withholding for too long.

"I miss my dad," You say between hiccupped sobs. "I don't know what to do...it fucking hurts."

Bakugo doesn't hesitate to pull you close, awkwardly throwing his arms around you. "I know."

Everything comes pouring out of you, every single emotion that you've shoved away into the imaginary closet in your head since the funeral. No matter how many times you tell him that he can leave, he doesn't. He stays with you the entire night, laying beside you as you cry yourself to sleep.

───

When you stir awake the next morning, Bakugo's arm is securely hooked around your waist as he's peacefully resting behind you. You give him a light shake to wake him up.

"Mornin'," he grunts, sleepily opening one eye. "How ya feelin'?"

Honestly? You felt...okay.

"Good, I think. Better than I have in awhile," you say, rolling over to face him. "Thank you. I'm sorry again for-"

Unexpectedly, his lips are on yours, silencing your apology. You let out a squeak before melting into the warmth he offers, tugging on your waist to pull you closer to him. He breaks the kiss long enough to mumble, “Forget about all that. Just shut up and kiss me, dammit.”

You can’t help but feel guilty about his affection, how you didn’t think you deserved it after treating him so horribly. All Bakugo wanted to do was be there for you when you pushed him, and Mina, away.

“But…why now?” You ask while pulling away, perplexed at how casual he’s being about all of this.

He just shakes his head, grin plastered on his smug face. “Cause I don’t like seein’ you cry. And Mina may or may not have blabbed about a certain drunken rant ya went on about me.”

What the hell was he…oh. Ohhhh.

Dammit Mina!

“What did she tell you?!” You blurt out, covering your face with your hands. Bakugo grabs your wrists, pulling your hands away from your flared cheeks as he laughs.

“She didn’t say shit, but now I wanna hear it.”

You smack him playfully in the arm, huffing as you turn over. He scoots up and lays his head behind yours on the pillow.

“I care about you, idiot. That’s why. Do I need another reason?”

You close your eyes, a smile settling on your lips as you grab his hand, moving back to snuggle closer to him.

“No. That’s good enough for me.”

The pain in your heart momentarily subsides and offers you a glimpse of hope.

Things will get easier, no matter how dark it is.

💥 tags; @slayfics

#bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader fluff #bakugo x reader angst #katsuki bakugo #bakugo angst #bakugo fluff #tw: grief #mha bakugo x reader #my hero academia bakugo #my hero academia #☆.from the stars #☆.rei writes

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voidpetrova · 8 months

Text

hard to get — kai parker x reader

☄. *. ⋆

content warnings and genre: swearing, alcohol consumption, clichés — drama

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

synopsis: you were the girl next door, he was the devil's advocate. you liked your russian literature, he liked his women—all of them, in fact.

✧.*

the parties took place on the front lawn of 4347, mystic falls, every sunday afternoon. despite the supernatural secrets lurked around every corner, it never got in the way of the little girls of your quiet neighborhood. lizzie saltzman wpuld bring the tea set, which was appropriate, since she was the hostess. hope mikaelson provided formal attire from her deceased mother's closet. and josie saltzman invited the additional guests—stuffed animals for each of the girls—some of whom hadn't been to a party in years. of course, it never occurred to the three young girls, that while they were busy playing out their fantasy, one of the older girls in the neighborhood was engaging in a fantasy of her own.

your were the walking cliché embodiment of the good girl next door – quick-witted, kind-hearted, and always ready with a sharp retort. your life had a predictable rhythm until the day you crossed paths with a neanderthal. up until that point, you had a thing going on. you were there, every morning, a book in one hand with a coffee cup in the other, basking in what the day had in store for you on your front porch.

kai, who was an enigmatic playboy with a smirk that could melt hearts and a reputation for leaving a trail of broken promises, set his sights on you the moment he saw you with bonnie bennett. he sauntered over, confidence radiating from every step, and leaned against your picket fence. “hey there, gorgeous,” he purred, blue eyes dancing with mischief. “mind if i join your afternoon?”

you barely glanced up from your book, arching an eyebrow. “is this the part where i'm supposed to swoon and hand you my heart?” your tone dripped with sarcasm as you turned the page, ignoring his presence.

kai chuckled, undeterred. “i like a challenge,” he replied, flashing his signature grin. “so, what's a smart and stunning girl like you doing with a book like that?”

“reading it and wondering how many times i've heard that line,” you shot back, your lips quirking into an amused smile.

undaunted, kai persisted. day after day, he found new ways to engage with you in conversation, each attempt met with a witty retort. it became a dance of words and glances, a tantalizing game you played on the quiet streets of mystic falls.

“i have a feeling you're just waiting for me to sweep you off your feet,” kai teased one afternoon, leaning on the hood of his car as you walked by.

you chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “and i have a feeling you're mistaking me for someone who would willingly fall for that.”

as the weeks went by, kai's relentless pursuit of you showed no sign of slowing. he became a fixture in your life, a presence that simultaneously annoyed and intrigued you. you debated, exchanged barbs, and even shared moments of genuine laughter, all while kai's intentions remained clear.

“when are you gonna stop playing hard to get, sunshine?”

“depends, when are you gonna stop being hard to want?”

but then something shifted. beneath the playful banter and sarcastic jabs, a connection began to form. in between your arguments, you would noticed the way kai's eyes softened when he thought you weren't looking, how he listened intently when you spoke about your passions, and the times when his laughter seemed unguarded and genuine.

one evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and painted the sky in hues of orange and pink, you found yourself seated on your porch swing, just like every other night, lost in thought. kai appeared beside you, surprisingly subdued. “you know, i've never met anyone quite like you,” he admitted, his voice carrying a note of sincerity.

you turned to him, your gaze steady. “is that your way of saying i'm a challenge you can't resist?”

kai's lips curled into a half-smile. “maybe it's my way of saying i'm not sure i want to resist.”

your heart skipped a beat, a mixture of emotions swirling within you. you opened your mouth to respond, but before you could find the words, kai leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both unexpected and electrifying. in that moment, time seemed to stand still as your connection deepened.

pulling away, kai looked at you with a mixture of uncertainty and hope. “i've wanted to do that for a while,” he confessed, his bravado replaced by vulnerability.

your couldn't help but smile, your walls slowly crumbling, but the hesitation never making a full departure. “of course, it's just a few steps away from sleeping with me, isn't it?” the smile on kai's face slowly faltered, even all the while he knew you were joking, your words couldn't help but sting.

your banter had evolved into something deeper, something that left you both breathless and eager for more. as you continued to explore your feelings, you soon discovered that beneath kai's playboy facade, was a man capable of genuine emotion, while kai found in you a kindred spirit who challenged him in ways he had never experienced before.

“you know,” he began, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he began to wander, as if he was nervous to tell you something. “i haven't slept with anybody since we kissed.” you scoffed, but you couldn't ignore the way his words made you feel. it was what he was known for, yet he was straying away from it just for you.

you raised an eyebrow, giving him a skeptical look. “i should be checking for signs of the apocalypse. the world must be ending if kai parker, the master of fleeting romances, is suddenly turning into a monk.”

he let out a soft laugh, the sound surprisingly genuine. “okay, maybe monk is a bit extreme, but let’s just say i’ve found myself more intrigued by a certain someone’s company than just a quick roll in the hay.”

you feigned surprise, placing a hand on your chest dramatically. “kai parker? interested in more than just a casual fling? this must be a parallel universe or something.”

he shot you a playful glare. “hey, i'm not saying i'm proposing here. just—noticing that maybe there’s more to life than moving from one hookup to another.”

you tilted your head, giving him a thoughtful look. “so, what? you’re saying you’re looking for something real?”

he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “i didn’t say that exactly. i'm just saying that being around you— it’s different. and yeah, maybe i'm curious to see where different could lead.”

a mix of emotions swirled within you. you had spent so long building up your defenses against his advances, and now he was dropping his playboy facade? the irony wasn’t lost on you.

“different,” you echoed, your voice softer than before. “you do realize that ‘different’ for you is still probably light years away from what most people consider normal, right?”

kai smirked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “who needs normal when you’ve got interesting?”

you couldn’t help but chuckle, his words catching you off guard. “interesting, huh? is that your way of saying i’m a puzzle you’re trying to solve?”

he leaned in, his tone teasing. “nah, puzzles are too much work. more like a mystery i want to unravel, one piece at a time.”

you rolled your eyes, but the corner of your mouth tugged into a smile. “you are ridiculous, kai parker.”

he chuckled softly, the smile lingering on his lips as he looked at you. “and you like it.”

before you could offer a sarcastic retort, he closed the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was surprisingly tender. it was a kiss that held the weight of unspoken emotions, a silent promise of something more.

as he pulled away, he met your gaze with a newfound seriousness. “i just wanted you to know that I’m not playing games here.”

your heart raced as you looked into his eyes, seeing a sincerity that was both unexpected and strangely comforting. “and i just want you to know that i’m not the kind of girl who falls for pretty words and empty promises.”

his fingers brushed against your cheek, his touch gentle. “i wouldn’t want you to be.”

there was a moment of shared understanding between you, a silent agreement that while the journey might not be easy, it was one worth exploring. and as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the two of you, you realized that maybe, just maybe, God had something beautiful in store for you.

but just as your relationship was blossoming, a rumor swept through mystic falls, threatening to tear them apart. it was said that kai had been with another girl, a betrayal that shattered your trust and left you heartbroken.

unbeknownst to you, the rumor was nothing but a cruel lie. kai had remained steadfastly devoted, his feelings for you growing stronger by the day. he had never been with anyone else, consumed by thoughts of you as he gave himself a few days off, attempting to surprise you with days' worth of planning dinner reservations.

as days turned into nights, you found yourself growing more perplexed by kai's absence. the rumor that he had slept with someone else gnawed at you, fueling a mix of disappointment and betrayal. the possibility of a genuine connection seemed to crumble beneath the weight of the gossip, and your heart ached for what you thought had been lost.

seeking solace in a familiar friend, you found bonnie's comforting presence. she listened patiently as you poured out your heart, sharing your confusion and the sinking feeling that the connection you had felt with kai might have been a mere illusion.

“i just can't believe he'd do this,” you lamented, your voice tinged with sadness. “after all the time we spent together, the conversations, the moments.”

bonnie placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “i know how much you've been through already. it's okay to feel hurt. but remember, rumors aren't always true. maybe there's more to the story than you know.”

still, the pain lingered, and in an attempt to take your mind off things, bonnie suggested a night out at a club. she wanted you to let loose and forget your worries, even if just for a little while. she knew you were a gorgeous girl and, despite not treating sex like a playtoy, you had a few tricks up your sleeve. you knew just the way to curl your hair, you knew just the dress to put on to get everybody's attention—just the perfume to wear to turn heads, and just the makeup to put on to capture as many compliments as you knew how.

the club was alive with pulsating music and vibrant lights as you and bonnie danced your cares away. in the midst of the throbbing crowd, you found solace in the music's rhythm, allowing it to drown out the doubts and uncertainties that had been plaguing your mind. as the vibrant lights of the club danced around you, the beat of the music pulsed through your veins. her idea to let loose was working, and the worries that had been consuming your mind were beginning to fade. you swayed to the rhythm, feeling the music's energy wrap around you like a warm embrace.

bonnie leaned in close, shouting over the music. “you look stunning tonight!”

you laughed, the sound lost in the cacophony of the club. it was liberating to let your guard down and simply enjoy the moment. as you and bonnie chatted, the conversation turned unexpectedly towards your feelings for kai. it was a subject you hadn't discussed openly with anyone before, but the club's pulsating atmosphere seemed to encourage honesty.

“okay, fine,” you admitted, a blush rising to your cheeks. “maybe i've started to feel differently about him. but with all these rumors going around, i don't even know what to think anymore.”

her eyes glinted mischievously. “well, if you ask me, rumors are just noise. i told you once and i'll tell you again—you should follow your heart and see where it leads.”

before you could respond, a deep voice interjected, sending a shiver down your spine. “wise words, indeed.”

you turned to see klaus mikaelson, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made your heart race. his presence was magnetic, his charm a force to be reckoned with. the combination of the club's energy and his undeniable allure created a heady mix of emotions.

“klaus,” you greeted, trying to maintain your composure despite the butterflies that had taken up residence in your stomach. “didn't expect to see you here.”

he offered you a smoldering smile, his eyes never leaving yours. “life is full of surprises, my dear,” he smiled, and you couldn't help but follow his footstepw away from the dance floor. “can i buy you a drink?” normally, you wouldn't have accepted, but tonight was about letting loose. you nodded your head, earning a smile from him.

as hw engaged you in conversation, his words laced with innuendo and flirtatious undertones, you found yourself both flattered and slightly uncomfortable. his attention was like a spotlight on you, and though you were no stranger to attention, there was something different about the way klaus looked at you.

his words were magnetic, drawing you in with their subtle promises and unspoken desires. you laughed at his jokes, allowing yourself to be swept up in the whirlwind of the night. it was both exhilarating and overwhelming, a whirlwind encounter you hadn't anticipated.

amid the laughter and exchanged glances, you couldn't help but notice a shift in the atmosphere. people around you were suddenly casting curious glances towards the entrance, and your heart skipped a beat when you followed their gaze.

there he was, kai parker, standing at the entrance of the club. his piercing blue eyes were fixed on you, and a whirlwind of emotions crossed his face – surprise, disbelief, and something else you couldn't quite identify.

as if drawn by an invisible force, your gaze locked onto his. time seemed to slow as the space between you and him was filled with unspoken tension. it was as if the world had fallen away, leaving just the two of you in an electric bubble of awareness.

bonnie nudged you playfully, breaking the spell. “seems like someone's here to join the party.”

you tore your gaze away from kai, the intensity of the moment leaving your heart racing. your cheeks were flushed, a mix of emotions swirling within you. as you turned back to klaus, his expression held a knowing glint.

“ah, young love,” he mused, his tone suggestive.

you shot him a look, half-amused and half-embarrassed. “it's not like that.”

he chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “isn't it, now?”

but as klaus's attention remained on you, kai approached with determined steps, his eyes locked onto yours. the atmosphere around you shifted once again, this time with a palpable sense of tension and uncertainty.

his arrival had disrupted the easy dynamic you had shared with klaus, leaving you in a whirlwind of emotions you struggled to understand. the club's vibrant energy seemed to mirror the storm of feelings raging within you, and you knew that the moment kai reached you, everything was about to change. as he closed the distance between you, the anticipation was almost suffocating. jis eyes bore into yours, a mixture of emotions swirling within them – surprise, confusion, and something else that sent a shiver down your spine.

“hey,” he said, his voice softer than you had expected. it was as if the whirlwind of the club's atmosphere had transformed into a bubble that contained just the two of you.

“hey,” you replied, your own voice catching slightly. his presence was overwhelming, and you felt a mix of nerves and a strange fluttering in your chest.

kai's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he turned to bonnie, his tone casual. “mind if i borrow her for a minute?”

bonnie glanced between the two of you, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “of course not. i'll be right here.”

as you followed kai away from the club, the silence was heavy with unspoken tension. the music seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the sound of your heart pounding in your ears.

“i heard there was a rumor going around,” he began, his voice a mixture of curiosity and something you couldn't quite decipher.

you sighed, your gaze dropping to the floor for a moment. “yeah, about you and someone else.”

he let out a frustrated huff, running a hand through his hair. "i knew these rumors would start eventually, but i didn't think they'd mess with your head like this."

you looked up, meeting his gaze. “kai, i thought—”

he reached out, gently lifting your chin with his finger. his touch was electric, and his eyes held a sincerity that took you by surprise. “you thought i was different. and i am, (y/n). i haven't been with anyone else since that night we kissed.”

your heart skipped a beat, his words resonating deeply within you. “how do i know you're telling the truth?”

kai's expression softened, his fingers brushing against your cheek. “you can trust me, (y/n). i know i've made mistakes in the past, but this... what we have, it's real.”

your breath caught in your throat as his words washed over you. there was vulnerability in his gaze, a side of kai you hadn't seen before. the emotions that had been swirling within you since you met him were suddenly overwhelming, and you felt a lump forming in your throat.

kai's thumb brushed against your lips, his gaze locked onto yours. “can i prove it to you?”

before you could respond, his lips met yours in a kiss that was both gentle and intense. it was a kiss that held all the unspoken emotions between you – the doubts, the longing, and the newfound realization that maybe, just maybe, you had both been wrong about each other.

as the kiss deepened, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you lost in the moment. the whispers of the club's music echoed in the background, a haunting melody to the story unfolding between you and kai.

and just when you thought nothing else could possibly matter, a new voice cut through the haze. “am i interrupting something?”

you pulled away from kai, turning to see klaus leaning casually against a nearby pillar, a smirk playing on his lips. the mischievous glint in his eyes told you that he had been watching, his presence a reminder that the supernatural world had a way of turning even the most intimate moments into a spectacle.

kai shot him a glare, his arm protectively wrapped around your waist. “actually, you are.”

klaus chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. “my apologies, young lovers. i'll leave you to it.”

as klaus walked away, a mix of embarrassment and amusement flooded your cheeks. kai's fingers squeezed your waist, and you looked up at him, the tension from moments ago replaced by a newfound warmth.

“you know,” he said, his voice a playful whisper, “i think i'm okay with people knowing we're not just friends.”

you smiled, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. as you looked into his eyes, you realized that sometimes rumors were just that – empty words that held no power over the truth.

“me too,” you replied, your voice filled with a newfound confidence.

and as you leaned in for another kiss, the club's vibrant energy seemed to swell around you, a backdrop to the unexpected twist in your story. with kai by your side and the promise of a real connection between you, the night held endless possibilities, and you were ready to embrace every one of them.

#tvd #the vampire diaries #kai parker #kai parker x reader #kai x reader #kai parker angst #kai parker fluff #kai parker smut #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikealson x reader #tvd kai #tvd klaus

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