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masterwords · 10 months

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too late to turn back now

Summary: Reid is angry about being lied to about Emily and at Rossi's dinner party, it finally reaches the boiling point. Hotch was never his intended target but it's too late now and it kind of feels good to let it all out.

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan (yeah baby)

Words: 3k

Warnings: swearing, alcohol drinking, mentions of canon death (emily's), implication of hotch's past abuse

Notes: We got called over the mountain to play a weekend of tournament baseball so I totally spaced off @criminalmindsweek. I wrote this quickly for Day One using the prompt “I can’t believe I ever trusted you!”. It is not my best quality, you can probably tell I wrote it all within about an hour beginning to end. But I also kind of had fun because I like to make Hotch & Morgan kiss. (I also used a kiss prompt sent in as a request for an added bonus! 7 - ...to get them to shut up) I also really like to play with canon mean/angry Reid. He doesn't get enough attention. I'll do better the rest of the week! Everyone should go write or make pictures or edits or something. The editing on this is shoddy at best.

read on AO3: too late to turn back now

There is a quiet electricity in the air, some kind of strange tension that has been building all night. The moment Spencer showed up, everyone felt it. He brought it inside and it was coming off of him like a briny wind on a riptide. JJ went right at it, smiling, offering a glass of wine. She thought for sure it was aimed at her and if she could diffuse it and get her friend back they’d all be better off.

He took that glass from her and smiled back, clinked glasses with her, but that clean ozone scent never dissipated. If anything it only got stronger.

“It’s good to see you,” she says quietly, hopefully. He nods. He smiles.

“You too.”

Over their quiet conversation, Rossi continues talking, showing people how to craft his carbonara and she’s acutely aware that the feeling of impending doom never goes away. It makes the hair on her arms stand up. Glancing around, she wonders if anyone else notices. If they can feel it too. A room full of profilers and they all seem caught up in a moment that’s hanging by a thread.

It takes a while. She’s lulled into a sense of calm as Reid makes his way around the room, person to person. As he laughs, as he drinks his wine a little too fast, a little too eagerly. He rarely drinks, but he seems to be enjoying himself and when Emily offers him a refill he gladly accepts. JJ watches him carefully from where she stands talking to Penelope.

Everything seems to be returning to some kind of normal, the way they were before Doyle. People are laughing and joking, the wine is going down a little too easy and everyone seems relaxed. Happy. She finds her way to Emily and visits with her, loses sight of Reid for the first time since he came inside. She thinks that’s okay. He doesn’t need a babysitter...it’s her that he’s mad at, after all, and they’ve been good. He hugged her. Maybe he's on the track to forgiving her, maybe she's going to get her friend back.

The sound of his voice, shrill and high, startles them all. JJ leads the charge into the foyer to find Reid with Hotch cornered in an oddly one-sided stand off. They all hang back anxiously while they try to get a read on the situation. When Reid stands at his full height he’s eye to eye with Hotch, and when he squares his shoulders he no longer looks meager. He looks a little menacing. Coiled and explosive. Hotch doesn't look worried, but he does look serious. Cautious. He's acutely aware of the volatility in the situation.

“I can’t believe I ever trusted you!” Reid yells at Hotch who is standing like a deer caught in headlights. He blinks but keeps his mouth shut while Reid prepares his next round of artillery fire. That ozone smell is back and the charge only needed one little spark. Hotch must have provided it though JJ can’t imagine how. He goes out of his way to be diplomatic, to keep quiet, to be calm. What could he have said or done?

Maybe he didn’t need to do anything. Maybe it was only by virtue of his being there, the right place at the right time, that Reid’s electrical storm was gathered and found fuel. Reid gulps down what was left of his wine and sets the glass on the table beside him.

“I’m sorry, Spencer.” Hotch uses his first name in an effort to diffuse the situation, but it only seems to make it worse. Like Hotch shouldn’t dare to use his first name, like it’s an offense. He realizes it instantly and closes his mouth.

“No. No you’re not! You lied to all of us and then you...you disappeared! You just left us! We needed you and you went away.”

People flood the room, forming a semi-circle around the pair of men staring at each other. JJ expects Hotch to fight back, to say something smart, something biting that will shut this down and return the night to its natural state. To defend himself, his actions, the decisions they made. To tell Reid that it was the only way. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t say a damn thing and she finds herself angry at him for a time, angry that he won’t just tell Reid to shut up, that he’s out of line, anything.

“Spence,” JJ starts when it’s clear to her that Hotch isn’t going to do anything, but Hotch raises his hand dismissively, holding them all back and quiet. Reid needs to let this out, they’re not working, they’re not at the office. If he needs to blow off this steam Hotch can take it. He knows how to take this.

Not like it’s the first person he ever loved to shout in his face. To call him worthless, to call into question his intentions. He’s acutely aware of the way Reid’s fists pump at his sides. Like he’s forcing energy through them, down his arms into his fingers, back up again. A closed circuit. One wrong move and one of those fists is going to connect with his jaw, he’s certain of that much. And if it does, there’ll be enough force there to knock him out. He can take that too, but he’d rather not so he keeps a careful eye.

“You left us!” Reid seems stuck on that part, and Hotch thinks he has his very narrow opening to do a little damage control. He never wanted to go. He would have given anything to stay with them, not to be in Pakistan, not to leave them or his son. He’s always protected them, shielded them and he failed them this time. Reid’s anger is justified in his mind, and that’s why he doesn’t fight back.

“The decision to send me overseas was made above my pay grade. They gave me a date and a time for a flight and an order to keep it confidential. I didn’t want to leave, Reid. I had to leave Jack, my family, all of you. I wasn't given a choice.”

“That's not true. You had a choice. But you’re good at keeping secrets so what's one more? Did you even tell Jack before you walked out that morning? What else are you not telling us? Huh? What else are you lying about?”

“Reid,” Derek warns, stepping in finally. Derek’s voice is firm when he speaks, it’s calm but tinged with anger. He’s content to let Hotch fight his own battles, but Reid is punching below the belt and Hotch lacks the instinct for self-preservation. (Lacks or more to the point, ignores. Simply doesn’t even try.) He’ll just keep letting Reid knock him around until he tires himself out and he’ll probably think he’s doing the right thing.

“He’s a liar, Morgan! That’s all he does is lie! He’s never been on our side, he only cares about himself. Gideon would never have done this, he would have - ”

“Gideon left us, Spence,” JJ says quietly. “He left us and he didn’t come back. Hotch came back.” Reid just shakes his head furiously, unwilling to budge. He’s in the middle of a storm and Hotch waves JJ off. She almost doesn’t listen but Hotch looks so serious she can’t open her mouth again. This is more about him leaving the team than it is about Emily, it’s about Reid feeling abandoned.

“That isn’t the same. He would have...he never lied to us…” He’s grasping at straws now and he can feel his own resolve weakening. He’s hurt more than angry but he’s stuck, he doesn’t know what to do with all of this now. The whole party is focused on him. Derek interrupts him and makes it easier by cutting him off before he says something he’ll really regret, as if he hasn’t already dug a deep enough hole.

“Kid, that’s enough. Don’t make me say it again.” He wants to shout now. He’s nearly there...how can Reid stand there, knowing that Gideon just abandoned the team, and think for one second that it’s the same as what Hotch did? Hotch didn’t walk out on them. Hotch is standing here right now accepting full responsibility for hurting everyone and Gideon left a letter and never saw any of them again. Not a word.

Reid is fuming and Hotch is deadly silent. His arms are at his side, fingers flicking over his thumbnail. It’s the only movement he’s making. His body language isn’t defensive at all and that alone infuriates Derek. JJ can feel the BAU crumbling beneath her feet, everything they’ve worked for and tried to keep in tact since Emily died is falling apart. Rossi is searching his arsenal of tactics for diffusing a situation as quickly as he can but nothing seems appropriate for this moment. There’s not a joke he’d feel good using, not a distraction, nothing he can think to save his friends from the storm. It just needs to play out and then they can do some damage control.

“Guys,” Emily says finally. They’re killing her buzz. She smiles while she talks, thinking if she makes light of it for a second maybe someone will follow her and realize this is all silly. “If this is all about me…”

Reid turns to her with angry tears in his eyes, fists balled at his sides now to stop his hands from flapping around like desperately caged birds. He's found a new target for his rage. “If this is about you? EVERYTHING is about you. He lied to our faces…”

She isn't going to be quiet like Hotch, though. She can give as good as she gets. “So what? I certainly wouldn’t be standing here if he hadn’t and I think deep down you know that. Nobody asked me if that was how I wanted it to play out. I woke up from surgery a new person, shipped off to live a new life all alone. You don’t think that fucked me up Reid? Because it did. So you want to go back in time and take the lie back? Would that make you feel better? Fuck it, let’s go.”

“The laws of physics don’t…”

“Reid, stop. Please. Jesus. Leave him alone. That man carries more guilt in his breast pocket than an army of Catholics...he’s already done the work for you, he doesn’t need your help. Why are you so busy yelling at him when I’m standing right here with my arms open?" She waits now, watching the way his face falls, the way his shoulders slouch a little and she no longer sees the desperate anger clawing its way out of him. She's made progress. "I’m starving and there is perfectly good pasta in that room getting cold...that is a crime against humanity. Come eat with me, Reid, please. Can we just do that?”

A cold silence falls over the room, and Emily is sure she’s failed to get through to anyone. Reid is looking at her and contemplating what she said but he hasn't moved. She still feels like a ghost. This life might never belong to her again but dammit she’s going to try. All she thought about was coming back to these people and now they’re all here and they’re all different, too. They’re angry and they’re sad and they’re fighting. They never fight.

Penelope stares, feeling like she’s going to jump right out of her skin. Everyone is upset. Everyone is raw and feeling their way around in the dark, and maybe Reid just said out loud what they were all thinking but now that it’s out there it feels ugly and wrong and she just wants to hug Reid and hug Hotch and tell them that it’s all fine, everything is good, Emily is alive and their family is back together.

“I should go,” Hotch says quietly, finding his voice, finding Derek’s eyes. “It’s late. I’m sure Jessica would like to get home.”

He doesn’t say goodbye to anyone, just makes for the front door to grab his jacket. There are voices behind him, people pleading in unison for him not to go, for him to stay. If he leaves, the team feels fractured in a way that might be forever. Penelope is louder than the rest, begging with tears in her eyes for Reid to make it okay, begging Hotch to stay and talk it out.

He doesn’t have anything to say, though. They all know his reasons, they’ve all heard his apologies – if they don’t want those things, he can’t force them. He knows he made the right choice, the only choice, but he also knows that he’s not owed forgiveness. He knows that the choice hurt a lot of people. It’s lonely at the top, that’s what everyone always says and he knows it’s true. He has to exist outside of the team as much as he does inside of it, and right now Reid needs the peace and the security of having his team, his peers surround him...but not Hotch. In this he is an outsider.

Refusing to lay down and accept defeat, Derek follows him and grabs him by the hand. “You don’t have to go,” he says, gripping a little too tight. He can feel the tiny bones in Hotch’s hand shifting, sinew like rubber bands tight beneath his fingertips. Hotch has lost so much weight, he’s a shadow of the man who left months ago. They’re not dealing with that yet either. They’re not really dealing with anything, just slapping band-aids on and moving forward.

“I think I do. It’s okay.” He says that last part in a breathy half-voice and knows that he has to leave now before his shields are down completely. He knows this will blow over, given some time. Reid will come around. And if he doesn’t, they’ll figure it out when things aren’t so heated. He can’t see any good coming from him staying. It’ll only make things worse.

Derek leans in and kisses Hotch because he is so done talking. He kisses him because he wants him to shut up, because he wants to distract him from how incredibly frustrating he’s being. How he won’t stand up for himself and is making excuses for his exit. Everyone is still watching, everyone sees the way Derek leans in and presses Hotch against the wall, braces himself with his free hand. It’s passionate and a little desperate.

JJ can feel a new electricity in the room. The mood shifts. It's a different kind of intensity.

Hotch’s first thought is simply to wonder if this is another secret or lie that Reid will be angry at him over. This wasn’t exactly the way he imagined the team finding out about the two of them...but if he was being honest, maybe Reid wasn’t totally wrong because he did like this particular secret. He’s allowed to like keeping things to himself. Keeping something private and safe. Not exactly sneaking around but there was some excitement in it.

But there is excitement in this too, because Derek’s lips taste like comfort (and deep red wine). His lashes flutter against his cheek and he melts into the wall, momentarily forgetting where he is and how many people are watching. Derek is acutely aware of all of it. He can sense their eyes on his skin, but he can taste Hotch’s breath and he can feel his heartbeat and that’s more important.

“If I can forgive you, I think everyone else can too dammit. You kissed me with that lyin’ ass mouth for months.”

Hotch tries to smile but can’t even seem to force it. He’s got tears in his eyes and what shows up on his face is about the saddest excuse for a smile Derek thinks he’s ever seen. It’s pathetic, even for Hotch. “Have you forgiven me?”

Derek sighs and brushes the tears from Hotch’s cheek with his thumb. “I’m workin’ on it.”

Hotch nods and purses his lips. The answer isn’t surprising. None of this was ever going to be easy, and they’ve got a long road ahead of them. All of them. This little gathering may have been a little premature, given the raw emotion still on the surface. “Apologize to Dave for me, please? For causing a scene. And tell everyone to take tomorrow off. I’ll see you later Derek.”

“Hotch, wait…”

The door clicks closed and all the air in the room seems to vanish. Derek is left standing alone, staring at the door wondering what the hell to do next – whether to turn around and face the looks of confusion and field the inevitable questions or go after the man he loves. Emily makes the decision for him, like she usually does.

“If you don’t follow him out that door, you’re an even bigger idiot than I ever imagined Derek Morgan. Don’t you dare ruin something perfectly good over me. You people are all nuts.”

He turns and looks at her desperately, eyebrows raised, tears in his own damn eyes now. Everyone is watching and waiting to see what he’s going to do. How this night could get worse. He thinks he could hear a pin drop in another room. This night has gone so far off the rails he can’t even see his way back. She’s right. He needs to go, there isn’t anything for him here. He might not be all the way to forgiving Hotch but he does love him and that’s enough right now. Some things just take time.

“Go you moron. I’ll smooth things over here with my effervescent wit and charm.” She smiles big, and he’s almost afraid of her but he’s also certain she’s right. She’ll fix it. She’ll make it okay.

“Thanks Em.”

#aaron hotchner #spencer reid #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #criminal minds #fanfiction #hotchgan

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xenomorphee3 · 1 year

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Expanded on the Recom Banshee naming flashback of my first chapter :)

[Flashback to the Hallelujah Mountains after all the Recoms have claimed their banshees]

The recoms were atop the floating mountain where they had just all finished claiming their banshees. The feelings of shock and sadness at the thought of their Colonel having plummeted to his death on the back of a banshee, turned to a proud, celebratory environment where each Marine was excited at their achievement and the prospect of being able to fly around and travel much more easily. The first volunteer after the Colonel was Prager who claimed his banshee actually having found a way to tie its mouth shut using the unclipped sling of his rifle. After him it was Z-Dog, Wainfleet, Ja, then Lopez, and Mansk was last. Mansk was taking time to really scope out banshees, wanting to make sure he got one which suited him—if it chose him of course.

The whole thing took about two hours, next Marine up when the other was getting in the bond sealing flight time with their new companions. Then, once all were claimed, they all flew to another floating mountain, one with a grassy top, to rest and wind down. Spider rode on Miles' banshee and Miles held Spider tightly with his huge hand as they descended down to their stop. Spider hated that he felt this way, but he felt... secure. And also exhilarated. He had never flown on a banshee before. He always asked Lo'ak, Neteyam or Kiri if he could and they always said they would let him, but it never happened. Now here he was, his first banshee ride ever... with this man. This... Quaritch. His "father". And Spider was very relieved that he didn't die because of him not telling him to tie the mouth shut. He was reliving the relief, impressed thoughts, and even slight amusement and joy he felt when he excitedly popped up from the sky on the uniquely dark-colored banshee.

While the Marines were all resting from the action and exhilaration of claiming their mounts at their floating pit stop location, Spider was taking a moment to tell them how to best design a saddle based on how Na'vi ride their banshees. At one point, Spider lightly confronted Ja for disagreeing with him, pointing out that, "If you rode it like that, it couldn't breathe, dumbass." The other Marines chuckled. Ja was unamused. But the Marines all exerted a lot of effort claiming their banshees, so they were just kind of winding down, taking in the sights of the beautiful scenery around them. Mansk was particularly enjoying his new mount, standing next to it and petting its face gently.

Miles was at a distance from his Marines, standing at the edge of their floating mountain, looking out into the sky at the Hallelujah Mountain Range. Pensive. His right hand on his hip, left hand clutching the top his vest, his tail swaying gently. This was the location of his past life's last stand. He was also thinking about what he just achieved and found himself greatly relieved and thankful that he just survived that ordeal- which he very easily could not have. One wrong move, or if the banshee pulled from him, it was over. He'd have plummeted to the surface and that would be the tragic, non-climatic end of this new life of his. Dying yet again at the surface underneath this mountain range. What a shit way to go. Can't believe the kid omitted such a crucial piece of information. "Did I mention you're supposed to tie the mouth shut first?" What a little shit. Should give him that old school ass whippin' just for that.

Miles shook himself from his bleak thoughts and heard his Marines talking and laughing and walked over to them. They were sharing what names they were going to give their banshees, Z-Dog looked to her approaching Colonel and said, “So Colonel, what’s yours’ name? Cupcake, right?” she said cheekily. “That’s what you called it before you decked it in the face.”

“Cupcake, huh?” said Miles. He looked towards his banshee, who mildly hissed at him when they made eye contact. He said, “Fits.”

[Flashforward to Miles flying on Cupcake, nothing but sea in front of him.]

Read more!

A New Mission (158234 words) by Xenomorphee

Chapters: 26/?

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obsidiancreates · 5 months

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As My Friend Has Stood By Me, So Shall I (Part 18)

Sweet Then Sour

(Warning: This chapter contains a lot of discussion about Weight and Loss of Weight)

Even with a quickened pace after the Orc encounter, it takes a few hours to reach Dale. Tauriel is waiting for them at the entrance to the city, and as soon as they can see her Kili breaks away to rush into her arms! She laughs and easily sweeps her dwarf up off his feet and to her lips. Fili pretends to gag, and Bilbo laughs at it. Kili and Tauriel are very sweet, and he’s happy for them- but he understands why Fili may be a little tired of his lovestruck brother.

“Did you face any dangers on the road?” she asks as she sets Kili back down.

“Only one Orc, easy enough. I shot it straight through the eye.” Kili mimics nocking and firing an arrow.

“Almost the eye.” Fili grins as Kili shoots him a ‘shut your mouth’ look, and Tauriel just smiles. She looks at Bilbo and nods to him.

“It’s been some time since we’ve spoken, Master Baggins.”

“Bilbo, please, I’ve had enough Master Baggins to last a lifetime.” Bilbo adjusts his belt a bit- it’s looser on him than it once was. Tauriel’s smile fades a little as she takes him in. Bilbo notices, and waves his hand as though it can wave away her concerns. “I hardly see you around the mountain.”

“I try to make myself scarce. While the King may accept me…”

“He’ll get the others sorted out soon,” Kili promises, taking her hand. “He sent a raven to Amad about it already, and she sent back saying as soon as she read that you fought for us against Thranduil’s orders she began planning our ceremony.”

Tauriel laughs lightly. “The lack of love for my king is genetic, then.”

“Nah. I don’t hate him- I’d just put salt in his wine the next time we have negotiations.”

“You will not.” Bilbo puts his hands on his hips. “Let’s try to avoid a second war, thank you. Just pour him a poor vintage and give him food that’s been sitting out just slightly too long to be truly fresh- just excusable enough to be poor planning or bad manners, but still a slight. I did it all the time with my less savory relatives.”

“Ooooh, that’s a good one.”

“And here I’d hoped you would keep your dwarves out of trouble,” Tauriel says as she leads them into the city, eyes gleaming.

“Then you forgot about my breaking them out of your prison.”

“I suppose I did.” She waves to a couple of children who shout hello to her as she passes by. “For all the woes of the mortal world beyond our borders, I’m glad you did break them out. I’ve seen more of the world now than I did in centuries within our own borders.”

“I know how you feel. I hadn’t even been out of The Shire before this whole adventure.”

“Your lands are to the West, aren’t they?”

“Yes, past Rivendell a good ways.”

“I’ve heard there are trees in the West that my kin of old woke before we settled in the East, along the borders of a river in a quiet land of green and growing.”

“Really? … Suppose that explains the Old forest in Buckland, then. We always thought it was the river flowing through it.”

“Hang on, you said there’s no magic in The Shire. What’s this Old Forest?”

“There isn’t magic. The Old Forest is just… odd. They say the trees move and speak, and- well, like Tauriel said. They’re awake.”

“That is magic!”

“Well, Hobbits didn’t do it! We avoid those trees! Terrible business, they’re all dangerous- sometimes the pathway through just changes places.”

“Many of the trees that were woken before the Third Age have grown bitter, and cruel,” Tauriel says sadly. “I cannot blame them- they were felled for the ambitions of Men, and then again when the great evil waged war on the world. The loss hardened them against love, and hope.”

“Why didn’t we learn any of this before we went to The Shire?” Fili pokes Bilbo. “We could’ve ended up there by accident!”

“You couldn’t, there’s borders. Very clear ones.” Bilbo looks up into the sky, squinting. “Is it midday already?”

“Huh, it is.” Kili looks at Tauriel. “Once we get to the market, actually, I need to have a word with you. Just a quick one.”

“Of course- oh, my lord Bard.” Tauriel pauses to give a slight bow as the King of Dale passes by. Bard pauses, arms full of firewood, to take in the party.

“Is this a royal procession, or a friendly visit?” he asks after a moment.

“We’re just here to see the market,” Fili says, speaking not as a prince to a king, but a traveller to a local resident. “We heard you’d gotten in some nice fabrics and seeds and stuff, and thought we’d treat Master Baggins here to a day out.”

Bilbo regards Bard with a polite, somewhat stilted small bow, and a pull like a wince to his expression as he avoids eye contact. His last words to Bard months ago had been… dismissively rude at best, after all, and not said in the most clear of headspaces.

Bard just nods politely at him. “It’s good to see you all out of the mountain, then. I was beginning to worry I’d offended your Master Baggins, and your King by extension.”

“No, I uh- I’d like to apologize, actually.” Bilbo clears his throat, rocking on his heels a bit and still not making eye contact. “I was more than-than a bit rude, when we last spoke, and I’m… sorry.”

Bard shrugs. “No harm done, then. Our kingdoms remain friendly.” He looks Bilbo up and down a bit. “We just got an old bakery cleared out, and the oven was well-preserved. There’s baked goods to be bought in the market now.”

“Oh, ah, thank you.” Bilbo adjusts his belt again. “I don’t suppose there’s clothing, either?”

“Not for sale at the moment- only spare fabrics. All of our proper clothing is still being distributed among the people.”

“Right. Um, thank you.”

Bard gives the group one last nod, one last lingering look at Bilbo- and then he leaves.

Bilbo huffs and pulls his tunic a little above his belt, trying to make it a bit baggier, a bit less showing of his lack of weight. “If I get one more comment about eating more, I’m going to start stuffing pillows down my shirt. That goes for you boys, too, and everyone else in our Company.”

Fili and Kili hold up their hands.

“You’re the one who said Hobbits need seven meals a day to us,” Fili defends.

“Seven a day?” Tauriel says as they begin walking again. “That must be a joke.”

“Not in the slightest. But seven meals a day are a bit hard to come by here and now, as we all know. I’m managing just fine on three, and I’ll keep managing until we won’t all starve just to satisfy my want for Elevenses.”

“The Shire must be a very plentiful land, to support peoples of such appetites.”

“Plentiful, peaceful, and perfect.” Bilbo straightens up a bit with pride. “Honestly, I think once Erebor is all settled we should all go back- yes, Kili, I mean Tauriel as well. Hobbits have the best parties of any of the people of Middle-Earth, I guarantee you.”

“His pantry was bursting,” Kili says to Tauriel, and for the rest of the walk to the marketplace he describes all the foods he and his kin had downright plundered from Bilbo’s pantries and larders. Fili begins humming the song they’d sung as well, and Bilbo, despite the panic it had brought him then, begins humming along with Fili.

When they reach the marketplace, it’s as close to ‘bustling’ as a slowly-rebuilding city like Dale can be. Hardly close to the stories of old Thorin, Balin, and Dwalin had shared before, but far more cheerful and prosperous than Laketown had been- prosperous in terms of fair trade, at least. With few traders from outside of Dale itself and a small group of tailors and whittlers from the mountain involving themselves in it’s burgeoning economy, most prices are based solely on the amount of money that each family has so far been given by Thorin- which is quite a bit, but still slow-coming, after a deliberation by Thorin, Gandalf, and Bard in which they agreed it best to send the shares out in parts to try and avoid any such as Alfrid or The Master from rising to be claimed by gold sickness.

And, indeed, there’s the smell of fresh-baked goods in the air. Bilbo’s stomach suddenly growls, quite loudly, enough for his three companions to turn and stare in shock and amusement while he turns red from embarrassment.

“We knew you weren’t eating enough!” Kili finally bursts out, getting Bilbo and shoving him towards the source of the smell.

“It’s just because I skipped breakfast to make it to this outing!” Bilbo protests.

“Uncle had breakfast delivered to your room hours before you came out! I knew you were skipping meals!”

“What?” Bilbo hadn’t even noticed any food- which, actually, is alarming. He’d been so busy searching for a hiding place for his Luck…

Another thought takes that one’s place. “Hang on, who has access to my room while I sleep?!”

“Just us.”

“Us- everyone in the hall?”

“Course. Why wouldn’t we? What if someone got past the guards and attacked one of us?”

“Fili. Don’t you think it’d be harder for that to happen if we have good locks that no-one but the person in the room can unlock?”

“... But then we can’t either.”

“This can’t be a dwarf thing. This is just you thirteen, surely. I want locks, thank you.”

“But-”

“Locks, Fili! With a key just I have!”

“... Alright, I’ll tell Uncle. But that means no more meal deliveries.”

“I’ve already been demanded to have group meals whenever possible as it is, I can live with it.”

They get inside the bakery, and Bilbo is plunked unceremoniously into an ancient salvaged chair by Fili while Kili gently leads Tauriel to sit and kisses her hand before joining his brother at the counter.

Tauriel watches Bilbo try to smooth out his tunic while grumbling to himself. “You are much thinner than I remember you being in the tents.

“Not you too,” Bilbo grumbles.

“Your dwarves have lost far less weight than you.”

“... Too tell you the truth,” he casts a glance at the princes to make sure they’re out of earshot, and then says lowly, “My appetite's been a little thin these last few months. I think it’s all the being inside The Mountain.”

Her worry smoothes out into understanding. “Your people are more like mine?”

“Not quite living in trees, but not living so far underground either, and certainly not spending nearly all our time indoors. Back home I have- had, a little garden of my own, and plenty of good windows, and a nice bench by my gate where I liked to sit with my pipe and occasionally a book.”

Tauriel nods. “I worry about Kili asking me to come live with him in the mountain for the very reason you feel ill at ease.”

“He’d probably move into Mir- Greenwood, with you, if you asked.”

“My Lord Thranduil has… not made it clear if I’m welcomed in his kingdom anymore. I last spoke to him before I carried Kili to the tents, and though he was no longer angry with me…”

“He wasn’t clear.” Bilbo nods. “I’m sorry, Tauriel.”

It’s then that Fili and Kili come back with one of everything available- which isn’t much by Shire standards, but quite a bit by the standards of Bilbo’s last two years of meals now. Seed cakes, scones, breads, and a nice bit of butter- apparently in the last months someone had discovered the descendants of domesticated cows of old, and their mild tempers still carried in their blood after all this time, and so a few in the city had managed to set up a small dairy farm.

And, after months of an appetite so weak he hardly picked at anything other than that single feast of Hobbit-like cuisine Thorin had arranged one day, Bilbo finds himself actually digging in. He eats happily, hardly even contributing to conversation, and Fili and Kili seem more than happy to let it remain that way.

They return to the counter twice more before Bilbo finally feels satisfied, as though he’d been starving to death this whole time and somehow never noticed. His belt no longer bothering him by sliding down so much, he thanks and praises the baker as they all take their leave to the markets outside. The sun, shining down on them with loving warmth, feels all the brighter now that Bilbo feels well.

Yes, that’s it. He’s felt unwell these past months. How had he not noticed?

Fili and Kili whisper something to each other in Khuzdul, and then Kili looks up to Tauriel and whispers something in stilted, broken Silvan. The sound shocks Bilbo so badly that he trips and needs to be caught by Fili lest he break his nose.

“What happened?”

“Nothing, nothing. I just never thought I’d hear an Elvish language come out of any of our parties’ mouths.”

“It sounded alright?” Kili asks nervously. “Did it uh, make sense?”

“I couldn’t understand it,” Bilbo says, apologetic even as something in Kili’s face seems to lift at the revelation. “I’d like to, but I only learned a bit of Sindarin during our stay in Rivendell.”

“I’d be happy to teach you Silvan, after I’ve helped Kili refine his. I don’t know that I could teach two at once.”

“Focus on you two, I’ll just send for some books when things are settled and learn it that way.”

Tauriel nods, and smiles down at Kili. “You spoke well, my love. I understood it completely.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The three hang slightly back from Bilbo as the hobbit flits about the stalls, examining the fabrics and seeds and any other goods available, meager as they are. He seems more at home here than any of them have seen him- no small feat for Tauriel, but quite a large one for Fili and Kili. Even in his own Smial all those months ago he hadn’t seemed completely natural or at home- probably because his home was quite literally invaded.

Now he barters and haggles and schmoozes and makes quick acquaintances, and even seems to pick up on what is, judging by his expressions, some delightful gossip.

And all the while, his hands barely twitch to his midsection- only once or twice, and only for a brief moment.

But still Kili points it out when it happens. “That,” he whispers. “In the mountains it’s worse. He can’t keep his hands still, and without pockets he usually has whatever trinket it is gripped in his fist.”

Tauriel nods in understanding. “I’ll speak with one of the elves I know to still hold respect for me. If I’m allowed to pass through our lands again, I’ll find Mithrandir and tell him of this.”

“Do you have any ideas about it?” Fili tries, keeping his voice low and pulling his brother and who he’s pretty sure is his future sister-in-law into a more hidden alcove of the ruins. “Right now our best guess is the gold sickness, but it’s… different.”

Kili nods. “Uncle doesn’t seem completely convinced either, but we don’t know what else it could be.”

Tauriel shakes her head. “It’s no magic of the elves, and I know little of the magic of other races beyond what I encountered as captain of the guard.”

“There you three are,” Bilbo huffs, quickly walking over with arms full of fabric scraps and seed pouches and an ancient but surprisingly well-preserved book on Gardening In Mountainous Areas. “You’ll never believe what I’ve heard from the vendor over there. There’s been a party of men from some other settlement trying to sell webs gathered from Mirkwood. Apparently the spiders are trying to flee the forests and setting up nests at the edges, only to get killed by just about everything under the sun.”

“Serves those things right,” Fili says with a grin.

“Ha, couldn’t agree more! Dreadful things.”

Fili perks up, and then looks between Kili and Tauriel with a look that says ‘This is going to be important’. “Hey, remember when I bumped into you at the market weeks ago? You said you heard them talk.”

Bilbo’s demeanor shifts. His satisfied smile melts away, his bright eyes taking on a wary look. “I-I might remember.”

“What’d they say again?”

“I fail to see how that’s relevant.”

“Aw, come on.”

Bilbo shifts his feet, hugging his goods closer to himself in a guarded fashion, like he’s trying to create a barrier between himself and the other three. “Something about sticking you all and eating you, if you just have to know,” he snips. “And that Sting stings and then screaming.”

“Well, that’s not surprising,” Kili says, though his own expression had soured with worry at the way Bilbo just… changed, when it was mentioned.

Bilbo nods, and then looks away. “I’m going to ah, go wait by the bridge entrance for you all to finish up.”

And just like that he’s gone, disappeared into the crowd without a trace.

Kili and Fili both look up at Tauriel, who’s eyes trail after where Bilbo had headed.

“The spiders do not speak,” she says finally. “... It could have been the dark poison in the air along the path.”

“Maybe,” Fili agrees, “But when he mentioned it before he did that thing, reaching into his pocket and getting all strange. I think it’s connected.”

“Gold sickness wouldn’t give him ears for the language of Fell creatures.”

“No, but, like we said, whatever he has might be magic. Or it could be both at the same time.”

“Could even be three things,” Kili says. “Sickness, the trinket, and warrior weariness. What if whatever he’s got on him is making the sickness and weariness worse?”

Tauriel lets out a long breath. “Something wicked ails him,” she says softly. “I cannot see what, but I feel it.” She looks down at the princes. “I’ll go to Greenwood before nightfall tonight.”

“Thank you, Tauriel.” Fili gives her a respectful bow.

Kili hops on top of a nearby bit of broken building and leans up to kiss her. “The sooner we have Gandalf here, the better. I’d hate to lose an Uncle before he’s even our Uncle.”

#the hobbit #fanfic #my attempts at fanfic #eating disoder trigger warning

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scorchedhearth · 1 year

Note

16. At your lover's complaining, rubbing a spot where they ache, smiling as they lean into your touch and melt at both the touch and warmth.

this screams early days gl kyle and alex :D <3<3<3

you're right, that it is prime kylealex material! enjoy those two, i know i did while writing this :]

meaningful gestures

“You’re such a baby,” Alex rolls her eyes at what must be Kyle’s fifth or sixth moan of the night. All that earns her is an offended gasp, followed by another pained one when it shakes his ribs and bruised shoulders. His hand flies to his side to hold it as she rolls her eyes again and goes back to what she was doing.

“Am not,” he pouts and sits next to her on the sofa, disturbing the pictures laid around her as well as her notes. She clicks her tongue but Kyle ignores it. “It really hurts!” He whines, and sticks his lip out again. “It feels like my entire body was wrung by a metal press. Or slammed through a mountain. Ground through a-”

“If you had used your ring to make a shield, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.” She snaps, harder than intended.

“Come on, I was in the middle of a fight! I was a little busy trying to stop that maniac from destroying half the city.”

“Another reason for you to make shields! To protect yourself from those who want to hurt you!” Alex can’t help it, her voice raises along with his. She snaps her mouth shut and goes back to the notes on her lap in stunned silence. It’s not that she wants to make him suffer, or that she enjoys seeing him in pain or uncomfortable. It’s just that she saw him being thrown through multiple layers of concrete and for one dreadful, terribly long minute she thought he was dead, and in that minute she hated him for not being more careful, for making big showy guns with his ring of his instead of dodging the punches more skillfully.

And then the Green Lantern flew out of the debris, and he caught the villain of the day, and he signed autographs in the aftermath. And Alex snapped his picture and sent it to the paper and he got them takeout to eat in her kitchen. And she still can’t forget the worry in her throat hours later.

It’s only when her gaze phase through the same sentence for the fourth time that Alex realizes she’s been lost in her thoughts for the past several minutes. Kyle is still there, looking put off and awkward, still clinging to his ribs, although he is trying to muffle his winces when he moves. Alex bites her lip, and tries to think about her next move even though she’s decided what she wants to do already.

“Come on,” she sighs and gathers the papers around her in one pile.

“What,” Kyle asks suspiciously, eyeing her like a wild animal, warry and yet curious, and she can’t help but huff a laugh. Once the notes have been safely transferred to the coffee table, she pats the cushion beside her and urges Kyle closer.

“Come on, we can’t let the hero go around with sore shoulders.”

“Oh,” he says rather daftly, then grins, wide and bright. “Yeah, we can’t have that.”

“Don’t push it, pretty face,” Alex raises one eyebrow and lets the knot in her stomach undo itself at the easy back and forth between them. With a healthy amount of groans and shuffling and shoving, Kyle ends up sitting in front of Alex with his back turned toward her, his hips bracketed by her knees.

“Tell me if it hurts,” she says softly and lays her hands over his shoulders, where he’s been complaining the most along with his ribs. There’s a sharp hiss at the contact, soon quieted when she starts moving her hands, rubbing large circles over his shirt.

“Your hands are so warm…” He groans, and then louder when she wraps her finger around the base of his neck and squeezes. “There, right there…” Kyle instructs and she’s happy to follow his input, focusing her efforts on the upper part of his body and the neck.

She’s careful not to push too hard, lightly pressing her thumbs near the spine jutting out at the top of his back, smoothing the pads of the fingers along each ridges and back up again. It’s a soothing activity, grounding, reassuring to Alex who can feel him right in front of her, real and alive and well, and a good one for Kyle too judging by the sound he’s making and the way tension bleeds out of his shoulders as the minutes go by.

Alex doesn’t dare go near his ribs, she’s seen the bruises there and they’re not pretty, but she’s happy enough to sit there and rub his shoulders, feel the way Kyle sways with each large swipe of her hands, his back bowing towards her as he chases her hands, the warmth of his body and the muscle under her fingers, the smell of his shampoo, fresh and strong from the still drying strands of hair brushing his neck, the one that screams home like nothing else could.

“Mhhh… I love you, Alex,” Kyle mumbles, one of his hands fumbling around the couch before landing on her knee, where it rests hot and heavy.

“I know. I love you too,” she adds quietly, and then leans closer. “Promise me you’ll be more careful.”

“I will.” Kyle answers without hesitation. “I’ll make so many shields, you’ll have to call me Sir Kyle.” In a flash of green, a knight appears in her living room, a big wide shield held up in his hands and Kyle’s mask covering his face.

Alex smiles, and leans just an inch more to press a kiss at the top of his spine, right over the bone. “Okay.” She murmurs, and swipes her thumb right over the spot she kissed, as though to hide it, to keep it just for herself, even when she feels Kyle squeezing her knee. “Thank you.”

#dc #kylealex #ough thinking about them always makes me sad ;__;#thank u for the prompt!! i loved it <3 #kyle rayner #alexandra dewitt

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gaoau · 4 months

Text

松野千冬

Raison d'Être warnings — none. word count — 2.0k

prev. — next.

It had already been over a year since she first met Chifuyu; since she found Ai in a soaked cardboard box under a thunderstorm. The months had passed by, days of moving forward buying that stupidly gigantic canvas on impulse and scavenging her brain for ideas on how to use it. [Name] never did think for a moment that she would ever manage to accomplish something so big and fascinating by herself, with her own hands, using her own mind. As she traced the last brushstroke of white acrylic on her painting, she released a breath she didn't know she was holding. The nine-hundred and ninety-ninth Winter square was finally complete.

[Name] took a step back, and then another one, and then a few more, maneouvering around Ai sleeping on the floor, so she could take a better look at her accomplishment—her biggest one in her art career yet, if she dared say. Which she did dare, admiring the endless all-nighters and obsessive hours spent grinding away with pens and paintbrushes for this painting to come together. Nine-hundred and ninety-nine little squares of Winter wonderlands, forests, lakes, mist across mountains, sunsets and sunrises; days of self-hatred and self-doubt and a devastating impostor syndrome that wouldn't let go of her neck no matter how hard she tried. Now, it was one full painting.

"Phone, phone, where's my phone…?" She tapped her palms over her body and dug her hands into every pocket she wore. Judging by her speakers still playing music, her phone was somewhere nearby. Her eyes zeroed in on it lying on the table, abandoned after powering through the last hundred Winters. With Chifuyu on speed dial, the line was ringing before she even realized. A moment later, he picked up and greeted her with his regular pet name. "Chifuyu, hey, my love, can you come over real quick?"

It threw the poor man for a loop in an instant. She had explicitly stated she'd be busy through the weekend. He was alert on his couch with the phone tightly gripped between his fingers. "I can, is everything okay?"

[Name] laughed—[Name] cackled almost distortedly. "Oh, everything's more than okay." He could hear the wide grin spreading on her lips, the sound of rain playing in the background. He hadn't realized it'd been raining until it coupled with her joy.

He walked under the rain regardless. By the time he was ringing her doorbell, [Name] allowed him inside while holding a container with that india ink she loved so much. She beamed at him with a brightness she only displayed at very specific moments when her excitement took the reins and overflowed. With her free hand, she grasped onto his wrist to drag him inside her apartment, barely giving him time to kick the door shut behind him. Wordlessly, she pulled on him like a ragdoll and positioned him right before the canvas, then tugged him a few steps back for good measure. Chifuyu didn't need more than a single glance at her enthusiasm to understand she had finally finished her painting. He gazed at the hundreds of squares blending into one another but keeping their framed independence, and when he blinked to get the full picture, he noticed how they all formed cohesive pieces that joined to create a mountain range rising taller than him.

He turned towards [Name], mouth agape at the fascinating concept she had manifested with her own hands. She grinned back at him, almost bouncing on the balls of her feet while she wrapped her arms around him, cautious of the ink she was holding. "What do you think? I even have a name for it and all!" She squeezed him tightly, eliciting mirthful chuckles from him as he reciprocated the hug. "I can't believe I did that!"

"What's the name?" His soft laughter tickled against her cheek when he planted a kiss on her skin.

"Can you guess?" She stared right into his eyes, so intense and blue and so refreshing in all their thousand repetitions of Winter. A teasing snort escaped her at the sheer confusion scrawled over his face. "A Thousand Winters," she spoke the kanjis for his name rearranged with a different pronunciation and a new addition. It was his name, the one she had said she didn't like all that much, but the same one she called him so lovingly with the adoration in her voice. She pulled away from him, his arms falling limp to his sides as he tried to process her words, and snatched a fountain pen from among her scattered supplies.

As he watched [Name] scribble the characters for the name on the corner of the canvas, at the bottom of the gigantic forests made out of pieces of Winters, Chifuyu found his brain once more. Of course he couldn't guess! She had kept it secret from him all this time. "Didn't you say they were nine-hundred?" He gawked at her, mock-betrayal across his face.

Next to the neatly written 千の冬, [Name] sliced the pen nib around to imprint her signature. She turned to smile at him cheekily. "I lied. It's thirty by thirty-three." Her hand motioned towards the painting, showcasing the multiplication of rows and columns all together.

Chifuyu struggled with the numbers in his head. "So… nine-hundred and… ninety…?" He squinted at her, hesitating on the words coming out of his mouth.

[Name] giggled at his failed attempt. "Ninety-nine," she corrected. "It's mathematically impossible to have a thousand symmetrical rectangles in a bigger rectangle, so they're nine-hundred and ninety-nine." There was something about her explaining her art with fancy words that made Chifuyu's heart flutter. He didn't get a single thing she said, but she made him want to sit down and study math all day long.

"So it's not one thousand?"

"The big guy is the thousandth." She still held the pen in her hand while she cupped his face. "Or you. I did do this because of you, Chifuyu."

It dawned on him as soon as she emphasized his name. [Name] had mentioned this painting was a challenge; the jarring white she despised, the colors that overwhelmed her, and all the black she manipulated to her will like an extension of her body. She tackled art in a way that terrified her, basing her ideas off his name, off the thousand Winters in his name, using amounts of white she wasn't comfortable with. He understood now why she didn't like his name at first. Here she was now, gazing into his eyes in adoration, standing with a completed painting of snowy landscapes behind her. She challenged herself because of him.

She planted a soft kiss on his nose before letting him go and leaving him to his stupor. A sparkling grin grew on his face, proud of [Name] for overcoming her own doubts, with him, with Ai, even with Kazutora. His arms shot out before he could hold himself back, hands reaching behind [Name]'s neck and pulling her closer. His eyes fluttered closed as he placed his lips upon hers with the softest of touches. She could feel Chifuyu smiling widely into the kiss and chuckled, her palms falling instinctively onto his hips. It was so warm and so right, to follow his lead; to follow Chifuyu like the abandoned puppy she'd been. She melted into his arms and allowed him to steal the breath from her lungs with just one kiss.

When Chifuyu very reluctantly and very out of breath pulled away, leaving [Name] to chase his lips, he found her dazed eyes admiring him as if he were aligning the planets in his hands for her. He selfishly wanted her to look only at him and nothing else. "Calls for celebration, doesn't it?" he hummed, head dipping to rest on her shoulder.

Owners definitely resembled their cats, especially Chifuyu, seeing he nuzzled into her neck the same way Peke J did. Her arms held him firmly by the waist. She laughed softly, "It's just a painting."

"It's not!" Chifuyu whined, "[Name], you've been working on this for months! Come on!"

Goosebumps erupted on her skin as his offended exclamations brushed against her. "Okay, okay, what do you got in mind?"

"Dinner at home, crack open some beers?"

"You just wanna get drunk."

"With you." He kissed her shoulder for good measure. Maybe it would convince her.

"Fine, lemme get Ai's leash."

Chifuyu perked up at her exasperated sigh. He stole another kiss from her lips before rushing to pick Ai up in his arms. The dog was way too big to be carried, but that didn't stop Chifuyu from spoiling him. [Name] rolled her eyes at the pair, umbrella and leash in hand. It was a sight to behold, all her favorite things, those she grew to love, coming together. Chifuyu, Ai, and the rain; [Name] was alive for them.

More cans of beer ended up empty than actually intended, but it seemed the alcohol could hardly hold a candle to [Name]'s buzzing excitement of finishing that gigantic canvas—or in Chifuyu's case, the pride for his girlfriend. With Ai and Peke J curled upon the couch and fast asleep, [Name] took it upon herself to clean up the kitchen after the extravagant dinner Chifuyu suggested. She forced him out of his seat, hearing him whine about his tipsy brain as he cleared out the table.

He snuck up behind her at the sink before she could start washing the first pot. His arms snaked around her waist. "Just leave it, I'll do it tomorrow," he mumbled into her shoulder.

"You already cooked dinner."

"And you did a—You made art! With my name!"

[Name] chortled and turned in his arms to face him. "Okay, now I clean up."

"No, let's go!" His fingers looped around her wrist and tugged her away from the kitchen.

With wide eyes, she stumbled on her feet as he suddenly began dragging her through the house. "Go where?!" Chifuyu cackled at the confusion ringing in her voice. He only glanced at her face, grinning at her widely. Then he burst open the door to the backyard. "Chifuyu, it's raining!" [Name] pulled on her hand and came to a halt, slipping from his grip.

Chifuyu darted out underneath the pouring rain, letting the water smite down on him and seep through his clothes. The lightning illuminated his charming smile and the thunder drowned out his voice. "And?!" He stretched out his arm to beckon her closer, prompting her to step under the storm with him. "It was raining when you found Ai, but that didn't stop you!"

It didn't take [Name] much consideration to intertwine her fingers with his. Chifuyu drew her into him and spun her around on the grass. There was no moon in the sky as they twirled and stumbled and danced and laughed along to the melodies of the universe, conspiring to have them hug in each other's joy. Her chest tightened up and her heart skipped every possible beat; it felt like she was truly living. She hoped they weren't disturbing the neighbors with all their obnoxious cackling. It was almost like Chifuyu read her mind when he sealed her lips with his, quieting down the sound of their voices.

The moment Ai dashed out of the house to bathe under the rain with them, [Name] knew this was a day she'd never forget. He barked and sprinted around the two of them, ignoring the thunder booming in his ears. He'd grown and she'd grown; he was alive and she was alive. She dipped down, slipping from Chifuyu's arms to plop on the uncomfortably wet grass. Ai jumped onto her to lap at her face in glee. They really had come so incredibly far.

#Raison d'Être #Tokyo Revengers #Tokrev #Tokrev x Reader #Tokyo Revengers x Reader #Matsuno Chifuyu #Matsuno Chifuyu x Reader #Chifuyu x Reader

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lyon-amore · 2 years

Text

Stand by me 2 end

Part 1 ------------------------- I see Ashley examining Jake, all the while biting my nails. I knew Ashley, she was a legal girl. The truth is that none of Stephan's band was a bad person, he didn't want bad vibes or troublesome people. Perhaps that was why he was always surrounded by such friendly people. He was a magnet with them. “Stephan gave me and Susy quite a scare when he called us.” she comments, as she examines Jake. "I'm so sorry," I answered, feeling bad for having worried them because of me "I just didn't know who to turn to." "Perhaps to a hospital?" Her tone is disappointed with me "At least, the wound is well sewn, what happened?" "Well, answering the first question, yes, he has been in the hospital," I lie, calmly, "only now his fever has risen. And the second question… He is a policeman, so in a raid he was shot." "How crappy, girl," she replies, finishing examining him. "Wait, I thought the cops weren't on you. You know, because of your father and what happened to him." "Yeah, I guess things change." She collects everything and looks at me with a frown. "Are you sure you didn't shoot him?" "Oh my God, Ashley!" I keep from shouting out loud, offended. "Just kidding, I believe you." she laughs softly "I have seen how you were looking at him while I examined him, I also worry with Susy when she wants to go alone to climb mountains. She always packs a first aid kit for her when she leaves without me." "It's just that if I lose him... I don't know what I would do..." Ashley hugs me lovingly, sighing. I cry again, returning her hug. This is difficult for me. But I am clear that anything would happen to be with him. I accompany her to the entrance and she looks at me calmly. "If the fever comes back up, give him a paracetamol, every eight hours," she explains, "though I'd rather you take him to the hospital, Macie, he'd be better cared for there." "No, it's fine," I smiled trying to remain calm, "I'm not going anywhere, so I'm going to take care of him for as long as he needs." "You still haven't told me what your Romeo's name is." "He doesn't like me telling his name to people he doesn't know," I continue to lie, "he's a bit reserved." "Alright-" "And... Could you not tell people that I have a man in my house?" I see how she frowns and lets out a small laugh. I bite the inside of my cheek, embarrassed that I've brought someone else into this. "And at the moment I don't want anyone to know." “My mouth is zipped shut.” She gestures as if closing it, then smiles at me. "Good luck with him, Macie." "Thank you Ashley." We say goodbye and I lock the door. I let out a long breath and walk back into the room with Jake. I lie back next to him checking his temperature. It was still hot. "Let's hope you're okay in the morning…" I murmured, taking his hand again as before. This time I will be more careful that he not to get up again. I wake up with the vibration of the phone on the bedside table. Stephan. “Hello?” I answered quietly, not wanting to wake Jake. "How are you? Are you better?" "Yes, I'm better." I slowly get out of bed without disturbing him. I walk out of the room and lean against the wall. "What happened to you? You scared the hell out of me." "These days have been hard," I answered, being honest now, "you know why." "Oh, yeah, you went to Duskwood because the police station called you, right?" "Yes… And that has made me sick, I came back feeling very bad." time to lie now. "But it all cleared up, right?" He sounds worried. Stephan, even though he is my cousin, he is like a brother to me. So I understand his concern “you told the FBI that you had nothing to do with that guy, right?" "Sure, everything that has been said about me is a lie, so don't worry." "I'm glad to hear that," he sighs and lets out a laugh. "Because, come on, you? Into research stuff again? And with a hacker? That's like the plot of a movie." "Ridiculous, right?" I let out a laugh, lying to him hurts, we've always told each other everything. Except this. Like Lian. I've lied to everyone I've ever loved. But it was the right thing. "Well, I have to hang up," he sounds exasperated now, "Soph wants us to go to the restaurant soon to meet some fashion entrepreneurs. She is going to promote her brand." "Okay, bye Stephan and good luck with it." "Thanks, I'm going to need it. Goodbye cousin." I hang up and go back to the room. Jake is still asleep. I send a message to Lian to bring me Henry. I can't just walk away and leave Jake alone. I explain that I'm not feeling well because it's been stressful days and I've ended up a little sick. She immediately accepts it, concerned. I sit in the chair and stroke Jake's hair. He looks calm sleeping. He said that he hasn't slept since last year maybe that's why he is so exhausted that he doesn't wake up? I should prepare something to eat for when he wakes up. He needs to recover energy. After half an hour, Lian brought Henry to me in his cage. I let him loose around the house, although he preferred to follow me into the kitchen. He looked like a puppy instead of a rabbit. Hours pass and still Jake does not wake up. I haven't even eaten because I want him to wake up first. I have no appetite for being worried. It's eight in the evening and he's still sleeping... I drop to my knees on the bed, holding his hand. I avoid crying this time, hoping that he will suddenly open his eyes and not see me in this state. Henry stays next to me, sleeping curled up. I smile when I see him and look back at Jake. "Come on Jake... Open your eyes..." What if he's in a coma? Oh God, no… Please don't be, I wouldn't know what to do then. He has to be fine. Sure. "I've thought about going to Duskwood again," I try to speak to him so that he would listen to me, perhaps that's how he reacted "I still haven't had time to go to the Aurora Bar, Phil still owes me a drink." I joke, knowing that he doesn't like Phil. Maybe he so he wakes up. "Dan wants me to see a movie with him." again, I try to find his reaction "And since I like horror movies, I thought it would be a good idea… Just the two of us, what do you think?" Nothing. There is no reaction. I exhale charged air, placing my head on the bed. I squeeze Jake's hand tight. I didn't want to cry, but I do. I think I've been crying for years since the car accident. I think I started crying again after the video of Jake telling me the truth. Since then, I haven't been able to stop doing it. The next thing was when Jake told me that he was going to go to the mines instead of me. I cried for it. Because I was expecting something horrible to happen. And of course, it happened. I also wanted to protect him at that moment, from exposing himself to being discovered. And look how we are now. "Jake, I swear if you don't wake up I'm going to do something crazy," I threaten, trying that too. "Please... Wake up... Even if it's for five minutes..." Ten at night. I'm not hungry. I'm not sleepy. I just keep waiting for him to wake up. I barely feel my legs from being on my knees for a long time. I get up slowly, sitting on the bed. I caress his face, watching how he breathed very slowly. I check his temperature. At least his fever is down. "I just hope it doesn't get worse all of a sudden," I mutter, angry with myself for letting him go to that mine. Why did I listen to him? I could have gone without a problem. Look how he is now! “Because I couldn't bear the thought of losing you. I like your idea of wanting to take me to a good restaurant, but to me, I don't care if it's a small one. I don't care if I don't dress up, I just want to be with you, it's the only thing I want most." I cry again… I don't want to… I don't want to but I can't control myself "You told me you weren't going to let them separate you from me." I lean in placing my forehead against his. I swallow hard, searching for the right words. "I want you to tell me 'I love you'," I whisper "I don't want you to do it by making jokes to calm me, I need it. Tell me ‘I love you. I'll be fine. I'll be by your side'. I want you to hug me, I want you to keep everything you promised, because I've always trusted you, Jake. Not only you say that you changed your mind when you met me, because you no longer preferred loneliness. I thought that I would also be alone because there was no one with whom I could connect so well, but you came into my life. You put up with my anger, that I expressed myself with total sincerity towards you, without bothering you. Just like me, who accepted that you didn't care about my friends until you got to know them. I accepted your flaws and you mine." I rub my nose with his, feeling my lips tremble. I'm nervous. I'm scared. I don't want to go through losing someone I love again, it won't happen again. "I love you, Jake... Wake up, please..." I bring my lips close to his. Leaving a small kiss on his lips. As I pull away, I see how his eyes begin to move, slowly opening them.I remain silent, bringing my hands to my mouth to avoid screaming with joy. He slowly turns his head and looks at me, smiling weakly. "Good... morning..." "Good night, more like." I replied, wiping the tears from my face. "Are you crying?" "Yes... I'm sorry, I was so worried that-" "I'm fine, Macie." He tries to sit up, but I stop him. "I wanted to hug you..." "Well, you'll have to wait so you can move properly." "Can I at least hug you lying down?" I smile nodding, lying down next to him. He wraps his arm around my body, placing it around my waist. His other hand brushed my hair away from my face, to see me better. His smile, even if it is a little pain, is of happiness. He kisses my forehead and then my cheek. I hope he doesn't know that I kissed him on the lips, he would think I took advantage of his state. "Don't ever do this to me again…" I tell him, snuggling into his side. "You can't scare me like this, Jake, you're not allowed to." "I thought you liked horror." "Well, yes, but in real life -... "I remain silent, analyzing what she had said "Excuse me, but… are you asking about the 'Dark Mystery Forum' or about any particular case? " “‘Phil still owes me a drink.’” He tries to imitate my voice and I blush “Dan wants me to see a horror movie with him.” "Were you awake?!" I sit up suddenly, bringing a hand to my lips. Because if you have heard that. EVERYTHING I said, then... I know he's trying to smirk, but he can't. Instead, he laughs weakly. I cover my face in shame. Never before have I been embarrassed as much as I am now. "I love you, Macie." "No, you don't deserve to tell me now...Liar," I say annoyed, but not seriously. "I worried about you and you pretending to be asleep, You can’t do this!" "I wasn't faking it, it just took me a while to clear my head completely." "Yes, of course..." Henry climbs onto the bed, walking over to Jake. "So this is Henry," he says as he lets him sniff his hand, then strokes him. "Yes, my little Henry." I look at the scene with a smile. It was quite sweet. Jake looks at me and smiles. I smile back. "By the way…" he begins to say. "Yes?" "I keep saying you're a lousy nurse." "Oh, come on, haven't I healed you well?" I roll my eyes, crossing my arms "I think I've done everything perfectly enough not to bear blood." "I mean because a nurse shouldn't take advantage of a sick person and kiss him, don't you think?" I look away, avoiding looking at his face. No. I'm not going to fall for that. I will not confess. "Macie..." "It's not true, I haven't kissed you." "Where's the Macie who made me blush for texts?" I don't want to admit that my pride has shattered the moment I face him and that his presence has made me weak. "I'm not mad," he continues, taking my hand so that I doesn't sit idly by. " Just upset." "Sorry, I really didn't mean to," I replied, trying to look him straight in the eye "I was very worried about you and just wanted to-" "Upset that I wasn't awake enough to kiss you back." I try to calm down after hearing his words. Jake never lets me down when he talks. I smile at him and watch as he kisses my hand. A gentleman. He melted me at that moment, seeing that his lips have a small smile. "You're going to have to stay here for a while, at least until you heal," I commented and looks at me, intertwining his fingers with mine, "which means no hacking, no escapes, no phones." "You mean it's safe to be here?" "Let's just say... only one person knows you're here." He frowns and I try to calm him down. "She was a doctor, Jake, and a trustworthy one. I couldn't leave you without examining you, do you understand?" "What story have you told her?" "That I shot you to keep you in my house." he laughs and I continue. "I told her that you are a policeman and that the bullet wound is for your job." "But she won't say anything, will she? Nor my name." "Don't you know who you're talking to?" I raise an eyebrow with a smile of pride "Journalists sometimes love to lie so that people accept our opinion as unique and valid. Of course I haven't said anything, you can continue to trust me." He sighs in relief and I lie back down next to him. Everything was calm again. He caresses my cheek very carefully, as if I were the one who was hurt. Slowly moving down to my lips, carefully tracing them with his thumb. “Thank you, Macie,” he whispers, his deep voice sending shivers through my body, “I don't think there was another person I could have put my life in their hands." "Yeah, well, you're lucky I love you enough to see all that blood." "Then I'm lucky you do." "Yes... But please, don't put yourself at risk like this again, okay?" I pleaded, my voice cracking "Just imagining for a second that you couldn't come back to me, it's made me rethink dying with you." "Don't say that-" "I'm serious, Jake, I've never fallen in love like this before," I confess, squeezing his hand tightly, afraid that he would get up again and walk away scared by my words. "You don't know how much I've suffered since I didn't hear from you after that message. Scared because you had left my side…" "I'm sorry, angel." I can't help but love that nickname he had given me. A smile escaped from my lips when I heard her, excited. And he knows it because he also confirms it with a smile, "I'm not going to worry you like this again. But I already told you: They were not going to separate me from you, and I have fulfilled it. Here I am, by your side. And I will never allow myself to be separated from you. Not now that you're finally in my arms. I love you Macie. I will always put my life in you, no matter what. Why does he always know how to say the exact words? My heart is racing so fast it feels like it's going to burst out of my chest. He places his hand behind my neck and pulls me close to him.The way he kisses me, slow, careful, makes it like ecstasy for my whole body. I had never tried drugs, but I was sure this must be it, because it had become my new addiction. With my free hand, I place my hand on his chest, feeling his heart. It was beating very fast, just like mine, which made me happy to know that it was okay. I notice how the weight of the bed is different, as if it wants to move. Then, he complains and I stop kissing him. "It would be better not to do anything for a while," I comment between laughs, "don't you want your stitches to open because this nurse takes advantage of you?" "I hate being hurt…" he groans, putting on an annoyed face "That wasn't how I had planned our meeting. I'm really sorry." "You're alive, that's what matters." I closed my eyes hugging him. He plants a kiss on my forehead and I smile. Henry curls up at the foot of the bed and falls asleep in seconds. It wasn't how I planned it either, but it had happened. Still, I was the happiest woman in the world, because I had finally met the man who had made me the happiest. I trusted his word that he was no longer going to separate from me. "You was joking that you would go to the Aurora bar the next time you went to Duskwood, right?" "Good night Jake." "Macie-" “Yeah, I know, you're exhausted. " "Should I at least be worried?" I plant a small kiss on his lips, with a mischievous smile. "You have no competition, that's impossible." "I'm glad to hear that."

#duskwood #duskwood jake #duskwood mc #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood original characters #duskwood fanfic #duskwood everbyte #duskwood game #everbyte studios #everbyte game

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carbo-ships · 1 year

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Chapter XIII

Beginning: Chapter I Previous: Chapter XII

It felt wonderful to be back at her seat at the dinner table, nestled in between Papa and Aether, their hands clasped tightly as Mountain said their version of grace. Laughter and lively chatter filled the dining room as they quickly fell back into old patterns. It had been months since the ghouls had seen Aether smile this much. The new ghoulette, Sunshine, had of course heard very much about the angel after leaving her quarantine. It warmed her heart to see Aether so lovestruck.

The spirited dinner stretched on well past Papa’s bedtime, and after failing to hide several yawns, he announced his intention to retire for the night. He pressed a kiss to Ardis’s forehead and secured her permission to take her on a stroll through the gardens the next morning, then bid goodnight to the ghouls and exited down the corridor. The ghouls decided to continue their conversation in the comfort of their common room and made their way there once the table had been cleared.

The ghouls all settled down on the various couches and cushions, and Aether wordlessly offered Ardis a seat on his lap. She blushed, but accepted. Aether was so deep in puppy-love that he didn't even care about the other ghouls' teasing. She sat across his lap with her head resting against his shoulder, gazing up at him adoringly as the rambunctious chatter started up again. He had his tail wrapped around her calf and periodically gave it loving little squeezes. Swiss caught his eye and grinned. Aether had done his best to dampen his wistful sighs during her absence, but Swiss could see now just how much of that had been a front.

An hour or two later, Aether noticed Ardis starting to nod off against his shoulder. She must have had a long day of travelling, he realized, and it was getting rather late. "I think my angel needs some rest," Aether told his peers.

"Your angel?" Swiss laughed.

"Yes," he doubled down with a smile. "My angel." He carefully stood from his seat, carrying the sleepy girl in his arms. "Goodnight, everyone," he called quietly as he walked out the door. Ardis, blinking herself awake as they travelled down the hallway, quietly offered to walk on her own two feet. "Nonsense. I've got you. Like I said, I enjoy this. Allow me the pleasure." She smiled up at him shyly and made no further complaints.

When they reached his bedroom, he kicked the door shut behind him and gently set her down. She hugged him tightly, nuzzling her face into his broad chest to hide how warm her cheeks felt.

"I can't tell you how glad I am that you're here," Aether mumbled into her hair as he wrapped his arms around her. "I thought I'd never see you again."

She timidly gazed up at him with that dreamy look in her eyes. "I guess I couldn't stay away," she giggled.

He chuckled in return. "Don't look at me like that, cara, it does things to me!"

She smiled and sighed. "Aether?"

"Mmm?"

"Can you take your mask off for me?" she asked bashfully.

He grinned. "Of course. I suppose it has been a while, hasn't it? Close your eyes and give me a moment." She closed her eyes obediently and he removed his mask. Setting it down on the dresser, a thought crossed his mind. "Here's an idea… Keep your eyes closed, bene?" He found one of his neckties and carefully tied it in a makeshift blindfold for her. "There, now I can have both my hands." He gently took her waist to let her know where he was. Her fingertips trailed up his arms until they met their mark. He watched her adoringly while she gently cupped his face. He'd missed her touch. "Again with the beard!" he laughed, noticing how she seemed to be paying special attention to it.

"I like it!" She defended herself sheepishly as she traced his jawline with her fingertips. "It's like a secret."

"A secret? What do you mean?"

"Well," she explained, "everyone knows you have eyes, a nose, and a mouth under that mask, but only I know you have a beard." She seemed very proud of that fact.

He chuckled. "Yes, you, and Papa, and the other ghouls, and—"

"Oh, forget it," she sighed, clearly embarrassed.

He felt some sympathy in his heart. She'd expressed herself so genuinely, and all he'd done was tease her. She deserved better than that. "Here, cara, since you like it so much." He pulled her back into his arms and leaned down to rest his cheek against hers, letting this beard tickle her skin.

She gasped with delight, nuzzling him back. "Oh, Aether!" she squeaked, holding him tight. She could feel her wings fluttering with sheer joy. He slowly rubbed her back, pulling her ever-closer. It felt so good to have her securely in his arms again. They stood there for a few minutes in the middle of his bedroom, silently enjoying each other’s presence.

"Shall I put my mask back on so we can go to bed?" he finally offered as he released her from his hold. He was eager to cuddle her properly.

"I, um… Before we do, I…" She fidgetted with her blindfold, adjusting it to make sure it completely covered her eyes.

He didn't like how nervous she seemed so suddenly. "What's wrong?" he asked gently.

She took a deep breath. "I think I'd like to kiss you."

His heart skipped a beat. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You– What? Are you sure? Ardis, I–"

"We– We don't have to, if you don't want to!" Her words spilled out anxiously.

"Tesoro, you know I want to," Aether assured her, caressing her waist comfortingly. "I just don't want you doing something you'll regret. You have such a gentle little heart. I don't want to hurt you."

"I know, I just…" she mumbled.

He still hesitated. "Would this be your first kiss?" When she nodded, he felt his face flush. Any confidence she had seemed to be dwindling. She looked like she wanted to hide. He pulled her closer, determined to talk this through. "Cara, if this is what you really want, I'm more than happy to oblige. But I know it's been a while since we've seen each other, and I don't want the emotions that's bringing up to cloud your judgment."

"No, I–" She swallowed hard. "I've wanted this for a long time."

His heart was hammering in his chest. The urge had plagued his thoughts for months, and she'd admitted to feeling the same. "Well, then." He took a breath and recomposed himself. He couldn't hold himself back any longer. As cautious as he wished he could be, it would take a stronger man than him to say no to this. "If it's a kiss my angel wants, it's a kiss she'll get." Gently holding her chin, he leaned close and kissed her sweetly. He could feel his tail twitching with delight. The way she clutched at his shirt sent a shockwave of excitement through his whole body. He only let himself linger for a moment before pulling back. He was determined to not let himself get carried away. "How was that?" he asked nervously.

Instead of answering, she kissed him again.

Next: Chapter XIV

#SIKE THE NEW CHAPTER IS NOW!!!!!#yes i know i posted one like. 4 hours ago. however #carbo writes #etere

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url-is-under-construction · 3 years

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𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐧 𝐀 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 | 𝐇.𝐋 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬:

𝐒𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬: You worried too much. That was what he always told you when you brought up a nasty feeling in the pit of your stomach. Sometimes you were right though, and that’s proven when the two of you run into him during your drifting session.

𝐀/𝐍: I’m literally in love with this gif. In-fucken-love. Also, sorry this request took me yonks, I’m back on my bullshit where I literally forget that writing is a thing that I do and love? So yeah, it ain’t much but it’s honest work.

Cars had never been something of interest to you.

Obviously when you saw a decent car you could stop to appreciate it, but other than that you never noticed the hype about them. Your family hadn’t brought you up with cars, none of your friends had ever been into them, and the one girl you hated throughout high school who thought she was ‘not like the other girls’ had never shut up about them.

So yeah, they never caught your interest.

It wasn’t until you had a gap year in Japan, traveling the world and meeting new people, that you finally started to notice them, admire them, and grow a passion for them after the first proper job you could find in Tokyo was working in some bar by a garage.

Listening to them, looking at them, seeing the adoration in their owners faces every time they looked at their cars, whether it was a Supra or a Civic.

That was how you met him.

Han was mysterious at first and never really opened up to you, but the more drunk nights he spent sitting in front of you while you slid him bottles of corona across the rustic bar top the more he opened up to you.

The two of you bonded and grew closer, gradually transitioning from just talking at the bar to actually going out together and spending time with one another, not that the two of you would ever admit they were dates.

You learnt all about his past, his family, despite him telling you how afraid he was you would leave him for it. But you proved him wrong, and now some two years later the two of you were still together.

“You comin’?” He called out as he carefully shut the door of the s15. ‘Mona Lisa’ as Twinkie liked to call it.

“I dunno, I just...” You trailed off as you got in beside him, also careful to shut the door knowing you would never hear the end of it if you slammed it. “I have a bad feeling about tonight.”

Han’s eyes widened and he turned in his seat to face you.

“Baby we do this like every week.” He reassured you, his voice soft. “We’ll be fine.”

“Yeah I know but like, it’s just this feeling in my stomach.” You tried to explain.

“Y/n, you’ve had a stressful month with work and everything. You’ve been worrying about everything, and this is a time for you to just let go and relax.” He placed his hand on your knee. “We’re gonna be fine. Promise.”

You swallowed and nodded, pushing down your anxiety.

Han was right, it had been a crazy stressful month for you with your job, you had been busting your ass off for a promotion, and when you finally got it you realized just how many new responsibilities you had.

Sitting passenger with Han while the two of you went drifting up some mountain or along some abandoned road somewhere was one of your favorite things to do, and of course it would relax you rather than worry you even more.

“You’re right.” You smiled, placing your hand over his. “Let’s go.”

As much as you had convinced yourself that the two of you would be fine, throughout the drive you couldn’t help but feel the anxiety creep back into the pits of your stomach.

A grin made it’s way onto your face as the two of you find a familiar road a good half hour or so from the city.

You close your eyes as Han drives, drifting perfectly, loving the feeling and just leaving your worries behind. You were also exhausted, and it was only just now hitting you as your coffee was wearing off.

You had almost thought you were about to fall asleep when Han slammed the breaks, jolting you awake.

“What the-” You began to ask but he cut you off.

“Stay in the car.”

You watched, mouth agape as he left you alone in the Silvia, walking in front of the car to a parked 350Z on the other side of the road, and your eyes widened at the familiar face who was also getting out of the car.

DK.

You watched, your heart beating faster and faster until it was almost going through your chest as the two men argued, occasionally giving the other a shove to the chest.

You watched as Han said something to DK, clearly pissing him off and turning around to walk back to you.

Your breath stopped as you watched DK pull something out of his waistband, pointing it at Han.

Panicked, you opened the car door and stormed out, ignoring the bite of the icy air as you stared down the man in front of you.

“Put the fucking gun down before I call the cops.” You said harshly, your voice cold and calm despite your erratic heart beat and breathing.

He scoffed at you, glancing up and down at your figure with an impressed grin on his face, licking his lips much to Han’s dismay.

“I control the cops princess. But nice try.”

“No, that’s your uncle DK.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest. “And last time I checked, your last meeting with him didn’t go too great.”

His face fell at that.

“So put the fucking gun down or you’re going to have a huge damn problem.”

Begrudgingly, he stuck it into his pocket, placing his hands up in mock surrender as you turned and walked back to the car, Han following silently with one last dirty look at him.

“Hey!” DK called out to the two of you as you were about to slide into the passenger seat. “Next time your girlfriend won’t be around to help!”

“Just get in the car.” You whispered to Han, answering DK with a loud door slam even though it killed you.

Han followed suit, the two of you sitting in silence until DK’s car had long disappeared.

“Don’t say it.” He said as you opened your mouth to speak.

“I told you so.”

#han lue #Han Seoul-Oh #han lue imagine #han lue x reader #fast and furious imagine #fast and furious x reader

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father-time-and-baby-new-year · 3 years

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happy 200! i’m so glad to see your blog grow, it’s one of my favorites and i adore all your writing. i’ve never cried so much and i love the kind of unsettling feeling you write in your fics, it’s perfect in the category of yandere and dark content. in particular, i loved your drabble about shigaraki mourning over a dead reader and i’ve reread that one too many times to count haha! as for asks for headcannons and drabbles, it would be amazing to see that with bully!eren especially since he was such an awful person to the reader. i’d love to see him suffer honestly, but if you don’t want to write it, that’s completely fine! once again, i’m so proud of you for hitting 200! that’s such a huge milestone and hopefully, there will be many more in the future! :)

SYNOPSIS: bully!Eren has to navigate the world without you.

Pairing: Bully!Eren x Fem!Reader

A/N: I can't even explain in words how much I CHEESED at this message like my grin was ear to ear. can't explain how many times I read this. It singlehandedly made my day anon, and to repay you for my happiness....here is some angst. this is a slightly different route than the shiggy one but I hope it still suits you <3

TW: mentions of death, past dubcon/noncon, mentions of trauma, bullying, alcohol addiction, drunk driving, abusive behavior, revenge porn, nonconsensual photography/videography, mentions of infidelity, angst, so much of angst, violent behavior

WC: 2.5k

It's not like Eren had been doing a lot of soul-searching. He's not delusional enough to label his half-assed epiphany of "maybe I'm a shitty person" as soul searching.

It's just the conversation with his very sick mother burned holes through the back of his mind. Carla had asked about you and why you don't come by the house anymore. How she missed baking with you in the kitchen, and how you sweetly smiled whenever you would see soft creamy peaks form in the meringue.

Eren felt like he was swallowing needles as he assured his mother with false truths, that nothing was going on and distance between childhood friends is natural, and if it means so much--ok ok he'll bring you over.

He stays until he sees her chest slowly rising and falling into a gentle asleep. He touches the tip of his ears, unsurprised by how hot it was.

Eren, when you tell a lie, the tips of your ears turn red.

You're not at school the next day. Or the day after that. Or the day after that.

Guilt is not an emotion he feels often but the events of the past weekend replay in his mind. It was just a dumb party that Floch threw, and he was surprised to find you cornered by a trio of thee dunderheads. Like a distorted fairytale, he swept you away from the bad guys like a knight in shining armor, to only shove you in an empty room and demand compensation for playing hero.

Fuck, with that big mouth, you would think that you'd know how to suck cock.

Use your tongue stupid slut. If you use teeth, I'll shove this dick in your ass without any prep.

No, I don't care, you're taking all of it.

There's a video on his camera roll. How could he not record it? You're sobbing, mascara running down your cheeks, looking so beautiful and ruined with jizz smeared at the corner of your mouth. He was brutally fucking your mouth, making you take all of his length.

Breathe through your nose dumb whore. Or else you're gonna run out of air.

You were pleading with whatever garbled sounds you were constricted into producing.

Breathe through your fucking nose. This is for your sake. Otherwise, I don't mind face fucking your lifeless body. You'd be more useful that way anyways.

Eren is conflicted with muting the video because he can't stand to hear himself like that. But he didn't want to miss out on your pitiful whines.

He remembers the distraught expression on your face when he was finally done with you. He tucked himself inside, and sneered, "I've got a girl coming here. Get lost." You looked so fucking distraught. Why? All he did was make you suck his dick. He didn't even fuck you.

He should have. Eren thinks grimly when he stares at your empty desk on the first day you didn't show up to school. He's gotten off to the video more than enough times than he can count over the weekend, and he was aching to see your pretty face twisted into a terrorized expression when he flipped up your skirt to grope your ass.

Kindly, Eren decides he'd allow you to have a rest day. But the second day, Eren pays a visit to your house finding it dark and locked, like no one was home and hadn't been there for a while.

On the third day, you're declared missing.

Your incompetent workaholic mother who finally came home and decided to give a damn reported you missing to the authorities who had scratched their heads because as far as they knew, the pivotal 72 hours were up.

Paradis was surrounded by forests. No one wanted to say it, but they were all thinking it. If you got lost in there, chances are you wouldn't make it out.

Eren wasn't always this admired and fawned over. He had his fair share of behavioral issues that frightened people (not you though, not then at least, not when you were children, and you still came back every day to play).

But when he channeled that anger into sports, there was somewhat of a star in the making, especially for some small-town boy. He was becoming extremely popular, and that's nice and all, but at the end of the day, he has a mother whose health was taking a sharp decline. He was constantly under stress, stress that he took out on you.

Where did his favorite stress-ball go?

It's all fucking surreal. Having detectives in the school. Not that there were many students to question (because christ, did you even have any friends after Eren turned everyone against you?).

Eren was questioned. He can't help but mirthfully chuckle. Maybe this was your grand plan, maybe you were able to finally sort out a mountain of evidence against him. If you were going to fuck him over, didn't you want to see it happen with your own two eyes?

The dark-haired boy wishes that was true. If you had gotten your revenge, would you be here? No, revenge isn't the right word. If you got any justice for what he made you suffer, would you come back?

Hi, I'm Detective Hange. I would like to ask you some questions today. You're Eren Yeager, right?

Yes, that's me.

How do you know ___?

We were childhood friends. We're uh, we're not as close anymore.

When was the last time you saw her?

Friday night at Floch's party-

-Floch Forster right? There were a number of kids there from your school.

Yeah. It was a big party. She uh, doesn't usually come to parties but she was there that night.

You were the last person to be seen with her. Other kids have said that they saw you and her entering a room together, and then only her leaving the said room.

[Sigh] Yeah we sorta...hooked up.

I thought you said you guys weren't close anymore.

You can be not close to someone and still hook up with them.

But you guys were close once right?

Yeah. Once.

The dark-haired boy asks if he was under any suspicion. The detective waves their hand in a dismissive gesture, “If her diary tells us anything, it’s only that she really liked you.”

Were detectives even allowed to divulge that sort of information? Eren doesn’t know but the stray detail that they offered off-handedly made him feel like he was swallowing needles.

At that point, Eren honestly still doesn't believe you're gone. You had a habit of running away, even when you were little kids, but you always came back.

Still, he participates in the search parties with a renewed vigor, even going alone in the forest with a flashlight on most nights.

And he's just so fucking tired. The darkest crevice of his mind almost wishes you were dead because this ignorance was just agony. Almost. Because he still clings to the feeling that one day, he’ll stroll into class and find you in your seat in the back of the class, looking out the window like some cliche shojo manga protagonist.

There are folders and folders on his phone. Albums. The most recent one is dedicated to your crying face as you were choking on his dick. Earlier albums are composed of creepshots of your panties, of that obscene o-face, of your skirt flipped up and your ass cheeks, pictures of your cleavage, videos of you thrashing as he dunked your head into toilets like a villainous middle school bully.

Pictures of your neck covered in hickeys, your naked breasts, ass cheeks striped with red after getting spanked, your leaking cunt, just endless and endless media dedicated to pieces and pieces of your body like you were never a whole person.

The earliest ones though tell a different tale, from off-guards to your drooling face as you napped in the middle of the day.

He has a favorite picture. Your eyes are watery from the cold, snowflakes stuck between lashes, nose and cheeks flushed red, and you're smiling. Smiling right to the camera. Right at him.

"Eren, are you taking a picture?" You asked, bouncing in place, giddy that it was finally snowing.

"Not of you, shut up. Get out of the way." His voice is gruff but not harsh.

You laughed and jumped into frame anyway, and the bright streetlamp behind you made you seem like you were wearing a halo.

He wishes he had more pictures of you being...yourself. Because now your crying face displayed over countless pixels haunt him. But like a fucking degenerate, he still jerks off to all the nudes he coerced from you. Sometimes he cries when he's jerking off which is probably the most pathetic thing he's ever done. This is what you've reduced him to.

He hates the sound of his own voice.

Breathe through your fucking nose. This is for your sake. Otherwise, I don't mind face fucking your lifeless body. You'd be more useful that way anyways.

Eren goes through the motions of life without really feeling like he's in the moment. Seasons change and time flies. His mother dies, and his withdrawn father dies a year later. He proposes to Mikasa because it's something he was always supposed to do. She loves him unconditionally, so even when he doesn't put any effort into the relationship but proposes, she says yes hoping he'll change and be a good husband.

He doesn't go to his parents' funerals because they're already dead. What's the point. He doesn't visit the candlelight vigils in your honor either. After tearing his ACL again and a somewhat traumatic injury, he kisses his pro-football career goodbye. To be totally honest, he's relieved. Because he had gotten quite bored, and maybe he was looking for excuses to quit the entire time. It's not like you'd be cheering on the bleachers anyways.

Mikasa has an affair, more out of a desire to see her fiancé feel something for her as opposed to any burning lust. But when she asks him if he's ever cared at all, with tears springing out of her eyes, he's just calmly drinking his fifth of whisky.

The dark-haired man doesn't even look up, "Let's break up."

"Is this about her, huh? Fucking get over it already Eren. She's GONE. And you have some big fucking audacity moping about her death like you weren't making her cry in the bathroom stalls every fucking day you piece of shit."

"Get out."

"You know what, I bet she killed herse-"

SMASH

The dark-haired woman doesn't finish her rant because the whiskey bottle smashes on the wall next to her head, sending glass everywhere and staining the carpet amber. She's unharmed, knowing it wasn't Eren's intention to hit her but Jesus Christ, what a monster.

She packs her bags and leaves the town like she should have a long time ago. All her friends had left years before and she stayed behind because that's where Eren was. She thanks her lucky stars that they didn't marry.

It's funny because he had always imagined himself being the first to move out of their small town, but he's the one staying. He can't leave this place. feels too tethered to ever leave. Every diner and liquor store is saturated with memories of you. He remembers buying cigarettes and exhaling the smoke to your face to piss you off in empty parking lots.

Maybe he stays in case you'll come back.

Eren's days consist of alcohol-fueled hazes. He doesn't know how his liver is still functioning. He doesn't know he's still alive after crashing his car into a tree when he was drunk out of his mind. He was on his way to get some more vodka.

He barely recognizes himself in the mirror anymore, not that he looks at himself much. His hair is long, nestled around his shoulder because he couldn't be bothered to cut it, dark circles under viridian eyes, and a perpetual stubble on his jaw.

His parents had left quite a sizable inheritance so there's no need to work but he's good with his hands. Likes crafting up birdhouses and cabinets, and occasionally does odd jobs around the neighborhood, never charging the elderly.

He's under the sink, tinkering with a wrench against the pipes when he hears the old lady coo at him.

"We're so lucky to have you Eren. I'm surprised a handsome young man like yourself doesn't have a special lady. The girls must be lining up at your door!"

The dark-haired man winces, and offers no comment, knowing that that the older lady was susceptible to long tangents.

"You know, we're getting a new neighbor." Eren grunts as a response. "They're young, I've heard. Isn't that exciting? Oh my, Eren! I think they're gonna be living in the house right next to yours..."

He tunes out the rest of the conversation because doesn't really care. He just hopes his new neighbors are quiet.

It's Sunday noon when obnoxious noises of moving trucks and people wake him up from his deep slumber. Eren's annoyed to wake up despite the fact he's probably been sleeping over 15 hours. He oscillates between getting too much sleep and getting none, his sleeping habits completely dependent on his dreams.

His nightmares are too visceral, visions of your corpse asking him if he'd enjoyed hollowing your soul with his teeth.

His dreams are achingly sweet. You in your prom gown, shining so iridescently like diamonds were sewn into the silk. He's dancing with you, holding you close, and then after you guys go to your favorite diner and gorge on burgers and milkshakes.

There's a peal of distinctly feminine laughter that stirs up Eren's senses. He's so pathetic, was the mere sound of a woman laughing getting him excited?

He sighs. He thinks of the whore he's frequently visited because of her resemblance to you. Hair color, skin color, face shape--with enough alcohol, he could really convince the person beneath him, was you. Maybe it's time to give her a call, but she's gotten so fucking needy and he hated how her voice didn't match yours.

The green-eyed man peers from the lace curtains, irritated by the brats playing on his lawn. A full family next door? Great, just what he needs.

The friendly knock on his door breaks him out of his daze. He contemplates whether he should answer but on the second more muted knock, he lets his feet guide him.

He turns the knob.

And Eren Yeager completely shatters.

Because it's you isn't it? You're the person standing in front of him? He can hear what you're saying but he doesn't really register it, soaking in the cadence of a voice he had long forgotten because all he had were pleading whimpers and frenzied moans stored on his cell.

He's shaking. Is he dreaming? He's dreaming, right? He knows it's you. You're older, far more beautiful than he's ever seen you. You have a different hairstyle, wearing clothes he would have mocked you for, and there's this joyfulness within you that makes you glow.

There's a mess of emotions electrifying in the pits of his stomach from euphoria, anger, and dread. He could feel his skin growing clammy like he was about to vomit at any second.

"Hey, are you all right?"

Doe eyes full of concern peer up at him. He voices out the syllables of your name like a desperate prayer.

You tilt your head to the side, "How do you know my name?"

#eren yeager x reader #bully eren yeager #toxic eren #eren yeager x you #yandere eren x reader #eren jeager x reader #eren x fem!reader #eren yeager x reader fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #dubcon tw #tw noncon #tw abuse #tw drinking #tw drunk driving #eren yeager fanfiction #dark content #dark fic #tw trauma #tw depr

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weepingvoidpenguin · 3 years

Text

One of Your Favorites

Jealous Bucky x Reader

Summary: You have an objective. Get Rumlow to confess. Simple enough, right? No. Aside from his usual condescending attitude towards you, Bucky has made it extremely apparent that he doesn’t think you’re capable of - well, anything, but especially not handling Rumlow. And yet, he is the biggest challenge of this entire ordeal.

Warning: T R I G G E R WARNING!! ATTEMPTED SA, DRUGS, language, light smut. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO NOT READ IF SA WILL TRIGGER YOU.

Word Count: 8.3k

“We have good intel stating he’s working as a double agent for HYDRA. Selling information, exploiting tactics, even going so far as to tell them where we’ll be and when.” Natasha scanned the room, making sure she had everyone’s attention during the briefing.

You slouched back in your swivel chair and twisted to-and-fro slightly with your hands gripping the arm rests on either side. It took all of your willpower to act engrossed in her words. And you meant every single drop. You’d been paying attention, sure, but the only issue was the dominating presence two seats to your right and directly in your line of sight to Natasha. You rolled your chair to the left to clear the path for the third time, only for him to block your way without missing a beat. The growl that left your mouth was nearly involuntary. Nearly.

How long would this man act like a child? Despite his graceful and seemingly unsuspecting movements, you were fully aware his placement was intentional. This was not the first, nor did you doubt that it would be the last, time that Bucky acted impudently toward you. Frankly, you’d grown bored of his behavior. It was the same thing everyday. He would act a nuisance during the briefings, speak over you whenever he had the chance, steal the limelight from you and invalidate any concerns or thoughts you shared. The whole charade grew tiring and he had been dancing on thin ice for months now.

You averted your gaze from burning holes through the freshly washed, brown locks and switched your attention back up to the redhead. Thankfully, too, because you managed to catch the end of her sentence just as she locked eyes with you.

“And that’s why Y/N is going to be the one to extract the information from him,” she finished.

You blinked, “Wait, what?”

Bucky straightened his posture and threw a quick glance your way, “Yeah, what? She’s got no heat, couldn’t toast marshmallows if we gave her all day. She shouldn’t lead this, she wouldn’t know how,”

“Well, tonight might be a good time to start learning, then,” Steve chimed in, throwing a wink your way. You smiled and appreciated his aid, not because you needed it but because at this point, you were seething and if you opened your mouth to defend yourself this meeting would go south, quickly. Luckily, Steve always believed you were capable of a great deal of things and knew you strove for more experience so any opportunity to lead or expand was one he thought you should take.

“Besides,” Tony spoke up, twirling a platinum pen between his fingers from across the table, “our little double-agent has always had the hots for Y/N so unless you’re gonna be the one to bat your eyelashes at him and get him alone in a room, Mr. Barnes, we have to use his own flaws against him.” He turned to face you and held up a hand, “Not to say that liking you is a flaw, you’re great Hot-Stuff but exploiting him is our best option indefinitely,”

“Do I have to seduce him?” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest and raising a brow towards Nat, trying your damned hardest to avoid the unmistakable glare the brown-haired super soldier was sending your way.

“The only thing you have to do is extract any information on him that you can. Get him a little drunk, catch him in a slip-up or two, take note of any inconsistent stories and be on your merry way,” she reassured, “How you manage to do that is up to you,”

“Ooh, extortion,” Clint chirped up from the far back corner, his hands rubbing together maliciously around an arrow he pulled from his sheathe, something you noticed he did a lot when he was uninterested; be it a person, mission, or conversation.

“No. Not extortion,” Steve shut it down and you chuckled at how Clint’s countenance fell into one of disappointment.

“Not yet anyway,” Natasha mumbled and you sighed as she walked around the room and handed each of you a folder with your individual objectives inside.

“But he’s such a pervert,” you grumbled.

“All the easier,”

The rest of the day was drudged with Nat while she taught the pertinence of body language (both yours and theirs), verbal ruses, and overall ensnarement. You bat your eyelashes until you were certain you would catch enough wind to fly away, smirked enough that your cheeks began to ache and raised your eyebrows ‘til you felt the impending wrinkles on your forehead. By the end of the drill you weren’t sure you were even going to make it to the company party from the migraine creeping its way on.

“How’s the bait coming along?” His voice alone caused you to roll your eyes but you paid no mind while you rubbed at your temples and stood up alongside Natasha.

“She’s not gonna be able to lie to me any time soon but she can flirt her way to whatever she wants,”

“Benefits of targeting a narcissistic misogynist, they don’t think anyone can fool them.” Tony belted as he sauntered into the room with strawberries, offering them out to you while he munched on one.

“She’ll still mess it up,” Bucky countered, “Make someone else do it,”

You plucked the fruit off Tony’s tray and examined it, trying to figure out whether you were going to consume it or use it as a weapon.

“I really appreciate your words of encouragement, James. Unfortunately, they’re not wanted, nor are they needed.” You bit into the fruit and glided towards the door, looking over your shoulder at the super soldier, “So unless you actually have something to contribute, I suggest you stay the hell out of my way while I get the job done,”

Nat walked out behind you and handed you a tiny, skin-colored device meant to conceal itself and you placed it in your ear.

“The conversation is gonna be recorded so we can catch any inconsistencies. We’ll all be able to hear what you’re saying so tread on delicate waters but don’t be afraid to shake mountains if you have to,”

You nodded and opened your door for her to enter your room knowing she’d want to help you get ready for the event. Natasha, shocking as it turns out, enjoys company while preparing for events. She would much prefer to be surrounded by people than be alone. You never had gall to ask her why that is. Or maybe you respected her too much to ask.

An hour had passed, maybe two, but you enjoyed the silence between you both. There was no need to fill the empty quiet when it was so comfortable and welcoming. You two spoke without words at times and that was probably your favorite personal skill. Eventually, there came a knock on your door and you opened to find Wanda with her flat iron and make-up bag in tow. It’d long since been decided that your room was the gathering center.

Wanda helped you finish touching up your outfit and you waited on your bed while they finished getting ready. Nat occasionally quizzed you on certain situations and how you should act depending on the tones and moods of the conversation. You tried to explain that you didn’t have difficulty reading a room but Nat tested you all the same.

“And if he puts his hand on your thigh?” She called out from your bathroom.

“Then he loses it,” you practically sang in response.

You were met with a flying hairbrush and laughed at the onslaught.

“You’re not the only one with that mentality,” Wanda called out as well, her iron glossing over thin strands of hair.

“Nat knows I can handle myself.” You sat up on the bed and went over to your closet to collect your favorite pair of shoes to go along with the formal attire Nat selected for tonight. “What a coincidence that we happen to have a company party the same night we have to extract information,” you hollered over your shoulder, moving aside terribly worn shoes while you scoured for the pair you had in mind.

“This objective has been in the works for weeks now,” Nat released the tendril of hair from around the barrel and pinned it to her head so it could cool.

“Wow, thanks for the heads up, then.” You gripped the desired pair and placed them beside your nightstand for later.

“The plan wasn’t solid until we knew for a fact that Rumlow was coming. It’s a company party so it’s not mandatory but once he heard you were making an appearance, it didn’t take very much persuading,”

You rolled your eyes and plopped back down on your mattress, “He’s so annoying, I doubt I can hold much of a conversation with him,”

“Take a shot or two to ease your nerves, if he sees you drinking it’ll put him at ease too. He’ll be more inclined to drink,” Natasha recommended. “But don’t act too out of character. If you were always curt and short with him and suddenly you start acting over-friendly, he may get suspicious. He’s an idiot but he’s a paranoid one,”

You nodded, taking a mental note to have a half-empty bottle in your grasp when Rumlow arrives. If he thinks you’ve already been drinking, he might also consider catching up.

“Y/N? Not uptight for once?” Wanda sarcastically questioned. “I can’t picture it,”

“Oh, fuck off,” you grumbled and in turn received laughter from the two girls. “Besides, of all of us I’m by far the least uptight. Barnes takes the cake for that one,”

There was a beat of silence that you didn’t register before you were met with a response.

“Ya know, he’s not as bad as you paint him out to be.” Nat unpinned the curl from her head and moved on to the next section, “He’s got some serious loyalty and always willing to volunteer first for everything,”

You lifted your head to stare at her reflection through the mirror, “What are you talking about? He’s annoying and irate and lacks a filter,”

“Mmm, irate isn’t the word I would use,” Wanda countered, looking over to Natasha.

Nat shook her head in response, “I’d lean more towards . . . over-protective,”

“Much better,” Wanda agreed.

You squinted your eyes at their image and felt the corners of your lips turn downwards, “Over-protective? Since when are you two defending Barnes?”

“We’re not defending him, per say.” Wanda glanced over to Nat, “We’re just trying to give you a fresh perspective,”

“You could give me a brand new pair of eyes and I’d still see him the same,” you retorted, now leaning on your elbows due to the strain on your neck.

They ignored the comment, “And he’s only annoying to you,”

“You’re telling me he doesn’t annoy you at all?” You asked, an eyebrow raised.

“More like . . . he doesn’t go out of his way to mess with us.” Nat applied a nude color onto her lips.

“So you agree that he goes out of his way to irritate me,” you stated rather than asked.

“That’s been made very apparent,” Wanda responded. “But you have to wonder why,”

You huffed a little and sprawled back out on the bed just to result in staring at the ceiling above. If you looked hard enough your mind would create pictures from the chaos of the cracks and shapes began to form. Sometimes, when the night lay still and life seemed to dwindle at the edges of your reality, you could swear a familiar face fashioned together and your imagination ran wild with the images you’d see. Some that brought a warmth to your cheeks even now.

You shot up out of bed and shook the memories from your vision. Ugh. He haunts you even when he’s not actively tormenting you. How he’s managed to crawl his way so deeply within your skin you had no idea but you fought for control of your thoughts whenever you caught them slipping into that hellhole.

“Or slipping into euphoria,” Wanda chimed in.

“Wanda!” You scolded, crossing your arms, “Euphoria my ass,”

“Yeah, he thinks so too,” she continued and you chucked the abandoned hairbrush back their way.

“Stay out of my head,” you jokingly sniped at her but was met with a low chuckle.

“I didn’t even have to be in your head to know what you were thinking of,” Nat defended and caught your weapon of choice.

“Are you guys done yet?” You rolled your eyes and stretched yourself out before swiping up the pair of heels you’d chosen and sliding them onto your feet.

“Why? Are you in a hurry to see a certain someone?” Natasha teased and Wanda let out an eruption of laughter.

“All right, I’m done.” You made a beeline for the door and threw it open, “Lock up when you’re finished!” You bellowed over your shoulder and made your way to the top floor of the building where all the parties are typically held.

You didn’t run into anyone on the way up and you used that time to calm yourself, prying inch by inch away from the invasive thoughts that called for you in the darkest hours of the night. But, then again, maybe those tormenting thoughts weren’t that bad? You mean, he certainly IS handsome, very much so actually. And he has the most knee-wobbling smirk you’d ever come to know, not to mention those little tricks he does with his knives always manage to entrance you. God, did he know how to use a knife.

On more than one occasion had you caught yourself staring at how his hands encapsulated the hilt of the blade. How they clenched and relaxed, drawing out some of the more prominent veins on one of the extremities; of course, you were even more so enticed by the hand he hid as well. You’d imagined what it felt like to have such strong hands grip onto your thighs and coax you into spreading them open with just a few teasing touches here and there. You couldn’t fathom the front you’d put up would last very long, he was stellar at pulling reactions from you. He’d see you break under his caresses and he’d degrade you like he always did but this time it’d emit a different response from you, one that made you whimper and shake. At that, he’d probably call you a good girl, he definitely seems the type to switch between degradation and praise, and would press his mouth up just where you wanted it the most. You’d try your hardest to be quiet but damn the way that tongue moved against you and the way he’d pull you harder against his face at each sound of pleasure you let slip past your lips. He’d enjoy it, too. Eyes closed as he devours you, he likes to put on a show for you to watch. Give you a memory that’ll slick your thighs later that night if he hadn’t fucked you into a coma by then. He’d make you watch him and if you dared to close your eyes you’d earn a firm, cold smack on your ass. He knows you like when he uses temperature play. He growls a little too, he can’t help his innate behavior. Then, just as the accumulation is coming to its apex he’d pull away abruptly and kiss you straight on your mouth so you can taste yourself and that’d earn him another whimper which would result in another smack that leads to that cold metal trailing its way to your core and just as he pushes the tip of his finger inside-

You cough and straighten your posture as the elevator door opens. When had you leaned up against the back wall of the elevator? Oh Gods, you could feel the slick at the apex of your thighs and you squeezed them together as inconspicuously as you could in fear that you were producing a . . . scent that would be rather difficult to conceal. But the slick only grew worse when you locked eyes with the person stepping into the elevator.

Fuck.

“That’s what you chose to wear?” He asked, a certain venom in his tone that immediately calmed the ache in your heat.

“And what would you have me wear instead, Barnes?” You quipped back, your body facing forward as he took his place beside you in the cramped space.

There was a beat of silence. Then another. “Not that,” he responded.

“Well I’ll make sure to ask you next time since you have such impeccable taste,” you retorted, your eyes yet to abandon the sight of the closing doors.

You weren’t sure of all the effects of the Super Soldier Serum that had been injected into Bucky and all that it heightened but you prayed to any God that would listen that his hearing wasn’t one of those things. You were too preoccupied with attempting to settle the hot pulse beating between your legs to worry about how loud your discomfort came across.

“What do you look so nervous about?” Bucky’s gruff voice prodded. “You can’t possibly be nervous about the mission considering how big-headed you are,”

You took a deep, long breath and held it to soothe you. Had you not been so previously preoccupied, you’d have given him hell for the insult. “I’m not nervous about that,” you sniped and rested back against the cool wall to satiate your burning skin before lifting your gaze to him only to find him already examining you.

“Of course not, I just said that,” he retorted, bringing a gloved hand to his face to rub along his jaw, “there’s obviously nothing for you to worry about,”

You scoffed, “And why is that, Barnes?” Cue the dramatic crossing of your arms.

“You’re smarter than Rumlow and significantly better trained. Overall, he really doesn’t hold a candle to your ability,” He paused for a second, his whole frame tensing until he remembered to relax, “But that’s not really saying much considering it’s Rumlow,”

You hadn’t noticed you raised your eyebrows until you felt your face fall, “Ah, there he is. You had me worried there for a second, Barnes. Thought you might actually try something new and display common decency for once,”

A corner of his mouth turned up subtly and he shook his head. You trailed your gaze down to his hidden hand and stared long enough to burn a hole through the fabric.

“If something’s bothering you, Dollface, go ahead and speak up,”

You weren’t sure what possessed you to say anything, especially knowing how touchy the subject was for him but the words left your mouth anyway, “I don’t know why you insist on hiding yourself,”

He lurched his head back, your statement seeming to have a physical affect on the man and you mentally slapped yourself for saying anything.

“I’m not hiding myself,”

“But you are,” you interrupted, your thoughts coming out in pools of candor, “you aren’t your hand. You aren’t your past. You are you. Presently. You’re not the Winter Soldier anymore. That’s not even the same hand you had back then. It’s not tainted and neither are you. I say drop the gloves,”

“And why would I care about what you say?” He growled, his eyebrows furrowed together and his neck tight in potential restraint.

The elevator dinged and you looked towards the opening doors, “You don’t have to but they don’t look right with your suit either.” You walked through the exit and sauntered over to the others who had already gotten the party started, leaving Bucky dumb-founded behind you. “I need a shot,”

“Already ready,” Tony quipped up, holding the small glass in the air for everyone to behold before bringing his cheek to yours in mock welcoming, “This’ll up your tolerance for the next hour, try to get all your drinking done within that time-frame,”

You pulled away with a warm smile after faux kissing his cheek, “Finally!” you displayed and threw the liquid back in one swift motion, your face scrunching together against your will.

“Yeah, she’s got a kick to her,” he mumbled and handed you a fruity drink to chase it down with.

You went around and said hi to everyone as you recognized most of those present. You made small chatter with those lesser known and drank the liquid in your hand significantly quicker than you’d like to. You excused yourself after you finished the drink and walked over to the bar, scanning the room as you were handed another glass. No Rumlow in sight.

You headed towards the foosball table and gripped the handles after setting the beverage down on the counter beside you. You flinched as a reflection of light caught your eye and at first you thought your glass was the source. Until your eyes fixated on the reflection’s actual origin. To your far right, and up a few steps you found Bucky conversing with Steve, a dull light emitting from his hand. Not a glove in sight.

“So, where’s your boyfriend?” Sam inquired when he filled the opposing spot.

You rolled your eyes, “Bucky’s not my boyfriend,”

“Bucky?” Sam’s tone chirped up teasingly, a knowing look wearing on his face.

Your grip tightened around the handles and you slowly pulled away to throw the little white ball through the circle, your hands immediately twisting the miniscule players around. Your eyes shot back and forth, your sight never leaving the darting sphere. Sam still managed to win the first point.

“Ha!” He shouted in triumph, bringing his finger up as if to scold you, “Don’t think you got away with that comment either, Y/N,”

“What comment?” you questioned and gulped most of your drink before slamming it back down on the table.

You heard your earpiece come to life with quiet static and you tried to keep your face masked. Rumlow had entered. Not a surprise either, the party was finally starting to pick up now.

Sam threw the ball in and you turned the players meticulously this time, brute strength hadn’t helped you earlier so maybe you should take it slow. Steve made his way over to the table and threw his drink back, the liquid trickling down the side of his face before he wiped it away. Sam won the second point.

“I play winner,” Tony chimed, standing beside Steve.

You made a point to catch up and now you two were tied at three each.

“Best out of five?” You proposed, quirking an eyebrow at Sam.

“If you didn’t want to play anymore you could’ve just said that,” he teased and you smirked at him as Tony made a subtle show of handing you another drink and you finished your second. “Loser takes two shots?”

“Deal.” You nodded, knowing you didn’t have much of a choice as a small crowd began to form around you two. Rumlow amongst them.

Your jaw dropped when Sam shot the ball directly into your goal as soon as he’d let the ball go.

“What the fuck?” You shouted, “No fair! That doesn’t count!”

Thor erupted in laughter to your right and you blinked slowly, staring at the gargantuan man.

“It most certainly does,” Sam shouted back, his grin practically touching his ears.

“Sam, take it easy on her,” Bucky muttered from beside him, quickly averting his gaze from yours and his expression loosened, “The brat hates losing,”

“Brat?” You snarled.

Bucky took a swig of his beer, watching you the entire time and you reeled back the fire beginning to form in your chest just to bring your drink up to your lips and chug the entire thing down. You handed it over to Tony who left to replace it.

“Last point,” Sam stated, “It’s not too late to quit now,”

You shook your head and blinked away the feign distortion you were supposed to have. “Just play the ball,”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he teased and threw the ball in.

You wanted to win. Desperately. But you had a character to play tonight and she was supposed to be drunk. So you hit your hand against the corner of the table just as Sam happened to make the winning point. You grumbled and threw him a glare when Tony broke through the crowd.

“Coming through,” he shouted, handing two small glasses to you while you gripped your knuckles in pain. “Noooo, you’re not getting out of taking these. C’mon, take your punishment,”

“Yes, Daddy,” you grumbled and cringed at your own words when the realization hit you. Whatever. You were supposed to be drunk, anyway.

“Daddy?” Tony quipped and pulled the drinks back towards himself, “Maybe you should be cut off,”

“What?” You argued, leaning slightly on the table with your hand and snatching the drinks from Tony’s hold, effectively spilling some on yourself. “See?” You lifted up the half empty shot glass, “This barely counts as a shot,”

“I’ll get her a new one,” Rumlow offered and disappeared before anyone could argue.

“She really doesn’t need another-” Bucky tried to interject and take the shots from you but you twisted around and chugged down the one full glass.

Water.

You looked up at Tony and his smirk was barely noticeable. But you could tell. Bucky nearly ripped the other drink from you but Tony blocked his path and you exaggerated your next drink as Rumlow broke back into the crowd, shot in tow.

“Here.” Rumlow’s calloused hand held the drink up above you and you stared at him with a questioning look. “Open,” he ordered and the fire burning in your chest fought to destroy everything in its vicinity. You bit your lip in refrain but tossed your head back and opened your mouth.

Static broke over your earpiece. Don’t drink that! Wanda’s voice erupted.

Your eyes widened as the liquid made its way down but you coughed hard to stop whatever you could.

Why? Steve’s voice came through right after.

You choked on the liquid and shut your eyes at the way it burned its way down. You reached your hand out to grab someone’s drink to ease the burning and grasped a tall glass and tossed it back. The burning didn’t ease up and you felt a hand rest on your back.

“Are you okay?” Rumlow’s voice rang out and your skin nearly recoiled from the contact, “How about we get you some water?”

You looked up at him when the burning subsided minimally and nodded your head, letting him lead the way to the bar. He parted the crowd and someone took step right behind you to follow when the presence suddenly died out abruptly. You turned around to check who it had been and found no one.

Why? Steve asked again.

Where’s Wanda? Bruce broke through.

You lifted your head and flitted your gaze around the room until you found the familiar Sokovian on the couch, laying down with her eyes closed. You pulled away from Rumlow but his grip on your hand tightened and his steps grew in haste. You whirled your head to yell at him but the way the room swayed with the movement cause you to shut your mouth in surprise.

Didn’t Tony say you would have a higher tolerance?

“Couch...” you muttered, pointing over your shoulder just in case your target was curious enough to ask but the message was delivered.

Rumlow hoisted you up onto the bar stool and stood on your open side, using his body to keep you from falling over. Or to cage you in.

“I don’t feel good,” You rested an elbow on the countertop and held your head up.

“I can’t imagine you would. You’ve been chugging those drinks like they’re water.” Despite that, Rumlow motioned to the bartender and asked for two more.

You giggled and your head lulled forward with the action. You let Rumlow catch you from tumbling over. Why did your body feel so heavy? Not to mention the way everything around you dazed about. You couldn’t catch a single action, let alone attempt to read Rumlow’s body language. But you did happen to notice the way his eyes searched the room before coming back to you.

“You okay?” You rested your forearm against his chest and pushed slightly to allow yourself a better view of his face.

A small smirk, “Am I okay? What about you?”

You smacked your lips and brought the ice cold glass to your lips. That’s not water. “I’m doing reeaalllyy good,” you drawled.

Rumlow chuckled and pushed you deeper into the chair, “I can tell.” He took a sip, his attention never faltering from your body, “Just be sure to pace yourself from here on out,”

You made a show of cocking your head to the side and letting a smile sprawl onto your face as you studied him.

“What?” he questioned, a curious lift in his brow.

You shook your head gently and kept your gaze on him over the brim of your glass, “You’re just . . . not what I was expecting,”

“And what were you expecting?”

Don’t forget to bat your eyelashes. “Worse,”

“Sorry to disappoint,” he jeered, his attention once again cast throughout the room before centering back on you.

You followed his action but quickly came to the conclusion that moving any pace faster than a sloth was going to make you nauseous and you could barely keep a thought together. Your stomach began to rise in your chest and the fear seized your throat shut. Why couldn’t you hold onto a thought for longer than a second? It was like you were aware of your lack of consciousness but could do nothing about it because any thought or bout of panic phased through just as soon as it arrived.

“What are you so tense for, Rumlow? You know you’re not currently on the clock, right?” You teased, your head leaning on your shoulder as you spoke.

He brought his drink up to his lips and finished it off in three gulps, “I’m not tense. It’s just hard to turn it off sometimes,”

You nodded slowly and pushed your drink towards him, “Relax. You know everyone here,”

He shook his head and placed your drink back in front of you before asking for another beer.

“And two shots!” You shouted to the bartender, throwing two of your fingers high up and instantly regretting how fast you’d done it.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” He asked you, a side smirk beginning to form.

You placed your finger over your lips and hushed, “Shh, I won’t tell if you don’t.” You dragged your lower lip down and his eyes fixated to commit the scene to memory. “Besides, I always feel dumb if I’m the only one drunk,”

He motioned to the rest of the party, “Believe me, Sugar, you’re not the only one enjoying yourself,”

“But are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Enjoying yourself?”

Your skin crawled when he placed his rough hand on your barren thigh, “Absolutely,”

Don’t forget what you’re here for. Don’t let the objective slip. Gods, how the fuck were you supposed to retain anything when you were so sleepy? And why was it so warm?

“Hot,” you mumbled, fishing around in your glass for an ice cube to rub on your face.

“Thank you,”

You threw your head back in laughter and nearly earned yourself an up-close and personal view of the floor had Rumlow not wrapped an arm around your waist and held you steady. Once he was certain you weren’t going to toss yourself onto the ground, he parted your legs and stood between them to keep you rooted to your seat.

All the movement had you spinning and you white-knuckled Rumlow’s cotton shirt to keep yourself grounded to something, anything. Red warning lights were firing up in your chest and you tensed with the way your body buckled to the panic coursing through you. Your heart pounded in your ears and danced across your skin, lighting it on fire and making the room too stuffy to bear. Please, no. Not now. Focus. Snap out of it. Come back, stay back. Your breathing hitched and you looked down at the sensation crawling its way up higher on your thigh. Too hot. Everything was too hot, if you didn’t get out of this now you would never-

“Vision!” You cheered, happy to see your friend.

The presence on your thigh recoiled slightly.

“I’m taking Wanda to her room, seems she’s had a bit too much to drink,” Vision informed and you’d only just then noticed the body in his hold.

“Wanda!” You smiled, admiring her peaceful features as she slept in his arms. You poked at her cheek then jerked your gaze back up to Vision. “What? Wanda doesn’t drink,”

She’s not acting, Sam’s voice erupted in your ear and you flinched at the sound.

Vision’s eyes went from you to Rumlow then back to you slowly, “Y/N . . . are you okay?”

You beamed at him and slowly brought up your thumb. “Good,” you responded.

You followed Vision’s gaze back up to Rumlow and smiled at the agent beside you. You guess he’s kind of cute. In a strange, unsettling way.

“She’s had a lot to drink, so we’re just trying to slow down the pace. Aren’t we, Y/N?” Rumlow looked down at you.

You nodded fervently, “Yup!”

Vision hesitated but knew he didn’t pose much of a threat with Wanda in his arms unconscious, so he quirked a smile and walked towards the hall.

Someone get to Y/N, something’s not right, Vision ordered and you lifted your head up to find him. You could have sworn he just left.

“Here.” Rumlow handed you a glass, “Drink this, it’ll cool you down,”

You stared at the glass in his hold and looked up at him, “You drink it first,” you slurred, holding your finger up at him.

He cocked his head to the side but took a swig of the drink and you watched it go down his throat. You shrugged and grabbed at it.

Do not drink that, Nat ordered from somewhere and you looked around in wonder at who she was yelling to.

Bucky, Sit down! Steve growled.

Like hell, responded a voice you knew all too well.

Your smile grew and you looked through the crowd, “Bucky!” You feverishly called, completely expecting to see him before you. Rumlow’s head lifted instantly, his eyes scouring the area.

“I’ve got this, Pretty Boy,” Tony hastily spoke, “How ya doin’, Hot Stuff?” He interrogated and you reeled at the tone.

“Quite well, thank you,” you responded tenaciously and attempted to take a swig of the drink in your grasp.

Tony’s hand shot out and covered the top, slamming the cup back down on the counter and effectively getting the drink all over your dress.

“What the fuck?” You tried to shout but the words came out heavy and required too much energy to speak.

“You’ve had enough for tonight,”

“It’s just water,” Rumlow defended but Tony paid him no mind.

Your jaw dropped open and you glared at the older man. Who the hell did he think he was? Tony’s stare burned through your skull and despite your irritation, you couldn’t help but wonder why he was so pissed.

“Are you mad at me?” You drawled, lulling your head to the side.

“No,” he responded curtly.

“Am I being too loud or something?” You pushed. You couldn’t imagine you were any louder than any other drunken bastard at this party.

“No,”

Get her out of there or I swear to God I will, his voice hissed into your ear.

Your eyebrows rose slightly in excitement, “Mmm, Bucky,” you smiled and Tony nodded.

“’Mmm, Bucky’ is right. Wanna go see him?” Tony offered, sticking out his hand for you to take.

You fell forward into Rumlow’s chest but shook your head furiously none the less, “For what? So he can tell me I’m horrendous at my-”

Oh shit. Your job. The job.

If only your body didn’t feel so heavy and your mind so light.

You pushed off Rumlow’s chest and glared at Tony, “I can handle myself,” you insisted, a new sort of sober tone making its way through that caused him to do a once-over. “I know what I’m doing,”

“How many drinks have you had?” Tony challenged and you fell silent.

Then you felt a tap, and another and a few more.

“Six,” You said, hoping you’d counted right.

Tony, don’t you even fucking consider it, Bucky threatened.

“You could at least change, recuperate and then come back,” Tony offered and you sighed a breath of relief before nodding.

“Deal,” you agreed, “I’m hot anyway,”

Tony gave you one last glance before turning around and blending into the crowd on the other end of the room.

You looked up to Rumlow who’s gaze was still locked on the sea of people, “Don’t you wish you’d taken that shot now?” you tried to jeer, every last word bringing you deeper and deeper.

“Are they always that intense?” He questioned, not turning his attention to you.

“They can be over-bearing,” you admitted, hand grabbing the water from earlier and pressing it up against your forehead, “They consider me the baby so they’re always criticizing and suffocating until I just wished they’d disappear.” You took a gulp, “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the family and I like that I have a cause but . . . they don’t let me do anything. It’s exhausting,”

You let out a long breath and smeared the condensation from the glass onto your chest. Rumlow studied you then, not just your body but your reaction. He was watching how you dropped your shoulders at the confession and how you faced your back to them to block them out.

You plastered your torso on the countertop and tried to slow your heartrate down. You couldn’t be the only one here unfathomably hot.

“Why is it so fucking hot?” You questioned, fanning yourself weakly.

“There are a lot of people around,” Rumlow offered, “how about we go somewhere else? Tony did say you had to change,”

You peered up at him through half-lidded eyes and meekly groaned in compliance. “Fine,”

You lifted yourself away from the counter and gently placed your feet on the floor. You’d touched the ground faster than anticipated. Had the ground always been so close?

“Don’t worry, I gotcha.” Rumlow threw an arm around your waist and helped you trudge towards the elevator.

Where the hell are you going? Bucky yelled and the sound of shuffling could be heard from his end.

We can’t let you leave with Rumlow, Y/N. We’re not even sure you’re acting anymore, Sam stated.

Rumlow pressed the button when you couldn’t muster the strength to do it yourself. The level that your room was on lit up and the doors began closing. You thought you saw Rumlow wave at someone but the mock smile on his face didn’t make it seem like a warm good-bye.

Your legs had all but given out by the time the elevator reached your shared floor.

“Heavy,” you muttered, letting Rumlow carry your weight fully.

“I know, Sugar. We’re almost there,” he soothed and you conceded to the fatigue wearing you down.

Your head hung low and your arm dangled uselessly at your side. The familiar sound of your door sliding open caught your attention but you did nothing. You couldn’t.

“How . . . know . . . my room?” You questioned, each word causing you to pull from an empty well of energy.

“I’ve been here before.” Rumlow tossed you onto the bed and sprawled you out.

“Oh. Ok.” You tried to turn on to your side but strong hands gripped down onto your ankles.

Rumlow sighed and slipped the heels off your feet, examining the pair like he wanted to wear them. You extended your feet until you felt every muscle in your leg stretch to its capacity and let out a groan of pleasure at the release. Those shoes hurt so bad.

“You seem . . . intelligent, Y/N.” Rumlow dropped your shoes onto the floor and slithered to the side of your bed, standing beside it with his hands tucked into his pockets.

A bead of sweat trickled down your forehead, “Hot . . .” you croaked and he nodded.

“You’re right. It is getting kind of hot.” He brought a hand up to his neck and ripped off the tie hanging around it.

Get the fuck out of my way, a growl erupted in your ear.

We’re going with you, Buck, Steve responded before knocking something over.

“So, what I have a hard time understanding is. . . why you’re here?”

You groaned a weak ‘huh’ but even that didn’t sound right.

“You’re good at what you do, you finish every mission successfully and yet you’re underappreciated.” He took a seat at the foot of your bed and placed one of your legs into his lap, “Why do you allow them to treat you like that? We wouldn’t,”

The shuffling in your earpiece halted.

“We?”

He began to massage your calf and brought your knee up to his lips, peppering light kisses on it. “We could use someone with your skillset, babe. We’d take real good care of you,”

The shuffling started again.

Rumlow had made his way onto your thigh at this point and you let out an involuntary moan when he skimmed over a delicate part on your inner knee.

“Ya like that?” he questioned but didn’t wait for a response. He brought a hand up to his temple and grabbed the earpiece. You figured he just hadn’t taken it out from his earlier shift but when he pulled it apart, you understood why he always kept it on him.

“Flash . . . drive earpiece?” Your weak tone tilted a little. “W-why tell . . .”

“I figured I’d give you the option to leave since you seem so . . . suffocated. If you said yes tonight then I would remind you tomorrow. If you didn’t,” he chuckled, “well, you wouldn’t remember anyway.” His hands trailed to your mid-thigh and you squeaked. “I’m impressed though, I’ve never given anyone else as much as I’ve given you tonight. The drug usually works so quickly on others, but not you. It’s kind of hot, actually,”

Sick fuck, Natasha growled through a ragged breath.

The world around you was slow or maybe it was you that was slow? You couldn’t tell, honestly. But when Rumlow moved as if he could predict your actions before you could make them, you wondered whether you were moving at all.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon,” Rumlow sighed.

You shook your head, or thought you did but despite the way your body was live-wired, it remained still against all desire.

Fight. Move.

You managed to push your legs shut but his hand slithered between and spread them open similar to opening a door, but this required much less force.

“Kill,” You threatened and the sinister smile that crawled its way onto Rumlow’s face was vile enough to sink your heart into your stomach.

“Kill is fucking right.” Someone snarled and your door was ripped from its hinges.

Rumlow’s hand jerked away from your body and Bucky seized his open palm, intertwining their fingers and pushing Rumlow’s so far back that they touched the back of his own hand. The cracks were sickening onto themselves but had you not been so weak you would’ve turned from the sight altogether. You really couldn’t fathom how his fingers were still attached at all.

“Lay another hand on her and you won’t be able to use it again.” Bucky spit.

Despite Rumlow’s pain, the sinister smile remained sprawled on his face, “You should’ve heard the noises she made,”

Bucky’s grip tightened and the bones in his palm broke next, “I did,”

Natasha flew in right behind Barnes but completely dismissed the two and headed straight for you with a needle in hand. Your eyes shifted from the needle to Nat’s face and back again until she stabbed it into your upper arm. Ouch.

“Wha-”

“Shh,” Natasha hastily hushed, “Keep your strength, you should be back to normal soon,”

Steve came behind Nat and scooped you up to lead you out of the havoc going on in the room. Nat turned her focus to Bucky and reached over to grab the earpiece from Rumlow. Who knows if his nose will ever heal back normally. You held one finger in the air as Steve stepped over the splintered door.

“Goddamit, Y/N,” Steve huffed, jogging towards the elevator and pressing the floor that led to the infirmary.

“We won,” you croaked out, a small smile on your face and Steve shook his head.

“I’m never going to hear the end of this,”

Steve looked you up and down for bruises but couldn’t find any and you promised you weren’t lying to him when you told him Rumlow did not get very far in his ‘advances’ at all. You had to swear the mid-thigh was the worst that it came to.

Bruce was the one that took a few blood samples and made sure everything was reversing back to normal. Apparently, as soon as Rumlow took you to the bar Tony handed Banner the shot glass that Rumlow gave you and Banner ran analysis on it. The cure was pretty easy to find.

After being given strict orders to lie down for the next hour or so, it had been decided that Rumlow was to be turned in considering all the evidence required to make the arrest was in the flashdrive and everyone was to gather together for a ‘family night’. Whatever the hell that meant.

You were in the middle of debating which movie to pick with Steve when the infirmary doors flew open.

“Where is she?” Bucky nearly shouted upon seeing Bruce.

“That’s my cue.” Steve stood up just as Bucky rounded the corner, “If you need anything me and Banner will be right over there,”

You smiled and thanked him then turned your attention to the super-soldier who just arrived at the foot of your bed.

He didn’t say anything for a while, just looked at you. No, not really. Not at you but through you. A few painstakingly slow seconds went by that way.

“You owe me a new door,” you joked, a half-smile on your face.

“Are you okay?” He asked, finally registering your presence.

You nodded slowly, “I am,”

Then a few more seconds.

Bucky turned his gaze down to his hands, both of them barren and on display for the world to see, before shifting his weight between either foot, “Did he- did he touch you?”

“Not really. Just really liked my legs for some reason,” your attempt at another quip didn’t reach Bucky. He stared back up at you waiting for an answer, an honest one. You sighed, “The damage is more mental,” you admitted, now you were the one not able to look up, “I didn’t like being in this altered state of mind. It’s invasive and . . . scary. He could’ve done things, much worse things but it never got that far or that bad. It was more realizing that I wasn’t completely conscious or present and having that state of mind be taken advantage of, that mostly frightened me. Ya know?”

“More than anyone,” he answered immediately.

You looked back up towards him, finally making eye contact, “But I’m fine now, really. Just a little spooked. Steve wants to do a movie night tonight and I would actually prefer that over being alone.” Your eyes fixated on the way his hands clenched and unclenched on the bar by your feet, “If I’m alone then I’ll get stuck in my head about it. Besides, I consider this a hard victory with a few bumps in the road,”

He chuckled, lulling his head a bit, “You’re too stubborn for your own good,”

You shrugged, “Maybe. How’s Rumlow?”

Bucky hissed and moved over to the side of the bed where he took a seat, “He’s unconscious. And has a hand that he’ll never be able to use again. But other than that, he’s fine,”

You chuckled and Bucky watched how the laugh met your eyes. He liked that look on you. It was one of his favorites.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You questioned once it fell silent between you two again.

“You called me Bucky earlier,” he remembered.

You scoffed, “I call you Bucky all the time,”

“Not to my face,”

“Not to your face,” you agreed, a teasing smile dancing on your lips and Bucky had one that mirrored yours.

“It was nice. Hearing it, I mean,” he admitted and a wave of warmth made its way to your face.

“I see your hands are exposed,”

He looked down as though he weren’t aware that he’d taken off his own gloves, “These bad boys? A friend of mine reminded me that I’m not my past. I’m my present. Why hide my growth?”

You twiddled your thumbs together, “She sounds smart,”

Now he scoffed, “Oh, it wasn’t a girl, it was some old buddy of mine.” He quirked up a brow, “Unless the person being a girl would make you jealous because in that case it was most definitely a girl,”

You fought against the natural tug at the corners of your mouth, “Is she at least pretty?”

“Stunning,”

“Smart?”

“Genius,”

“Good at her job?”

“Amongst the best,”

“Then consider me jealous, Barnes,”

Bucky chuckled and you watched how the laugh met his eyes. You liked that look on him. It was one of your favorites.

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thesunicarusfellfor · 3 years

Note

Hello! I'm in love with the way you write c! Ranboo like hsgsj- amazing! So I would like a request Yandare c! Ranboo and tubbo with a soft reader that is oblivious on how they act twords them but loves them unconditionaly (just fluff please maybe maybe put a Micheal seen in there as well because Micheal is the best character 😌)

I think this is the best compliment I have ever received... Thank you so much🤍🖤

I didn't know whether or not to do headcanons or a full-length fic, so I went with a shorter story if that's alright. ^^ if it's not feel free to send another request!

FYI THIS CAN BE SEEN AS PLATONIC OR ROMANTIC

Too Sweet (For This World) Yandere!C!Ranboo x F!Reader x Yandere!C!Tubbo

It was very common for you to see something out of the corner of your eye, but when you looked, you only saw a bunch of purple particles drifting slowly towards the earth due to gravity. You just assumed there were quite a few endermen still hanging around Snowchester, or some of the goats had come down from the mountains when you saw small little horns peeking out from behind bushes.

There were a couple times a day where you accidentally and very conveniently bumped into Ranboo out in the crater of L'Manberg or Tubbo when walking around Snowchester. It honestly was funny to you that you always seemed to bump into them when you were feeling sad or lonely. Plus, after talking to them and spending time with them, your problems almost magically seemed to disappear!

Such as, there was one time when you were helping clean up the red vines around buildings and Fundy was nagging at you for being so slow or bad at doing everything. After storming away and ranting to Ranboo about it on the verge of tears, Fundy practically scrambled up to you the next day shaking and almost crying, apologizing for every single thing he's ever said or done.

Huh... Maybe he felt that bad about it to the point where he was crying?

Although Fundy never said anything mean to you again, he also stopped hanging around you completely.

When you mentioned this to Tubbo, he explained that Fundy must not have been a real friend and that he and Ranboo would always be there for you before anyone else.

Once the mansion was built, the two platonic husbands eagerly invited you to stay with them, even saying they had Foolish make a room specifically for you! At first, you quite enjoyed your home around L'manberg, but then one day you returned home to a wall of your home completely destroyed by vines, deeming it unlivable. Although a tad convenient..

Tubbo and Ranboo had heard about it through your sobs when you called them, saying you had no clue what to do anymore. They had arrived at your side in almost minutes and quickly helped you pack and move everything to the mansion.

"I thought Snowchester was like... Half a day's walk away from here..." You sniffed, rubbing your red and puffy eyes. The two men of greatly varying heights tensed up momentarily.

"We were in the area." They both blurted out at the same time before glancing at each other.

Tubbo cleared his throat first, "I was in the nether, but luckily for you, I was close to the old L'manberg portal!" He smiled softly at you as you three walked away from your old home.

"M-Me too!" Ranboo coughed awkwardly, causing Tubbo to shoot him an odd look that you decided to brush off, "Now, uh, come on! Michael needs to meet his new mother!"

You blinked in surprise at the new title but didn't question it much, assuming it was simply just a title. Unbeknownst to you, your two best friends already thought you were part of their platonic relationship, despite you never agreeing nor denying, or them even asking.

It took a few days, but the zombie piglin warmed up to you and practically saw you as another one of his parents, which made Ranboo and Tubbo extremely happy. Instead of placing you into one of the regular rooms, they had Foolish turn the basement into two heavily secured rooms a few days before your house had been destroyed, strangely enough, and even designed one perfectly to your liking!

After washing the fruits you had, you walked towards the bookshelf and pulled on the fake book that caused the shelf to swing open. You walked down the quartz stairs after shutting the hidden door, then made your way up to one of the two doors with a pink sign with 'Michael' written in yellow cursive paint. Punching in the code, the iron door slid open and you stepped in before closing it behind you.

A loud cooing grunt was heard and the sound of quiet tapping echoed through the room before a pair of arms wrapped around your leg. "Hello, Michael." You giggled softly as Michael made grabbing hands up towards the bowl of fruit. Placing it down on the table, the child eagerly ran over and began munching on the food as you brushed over the books on the shelves to find one you haven't read to Michael before. "What about... The story of Persephone?"

A disappointed grunt was your only response.

"Guess I did read that one... Hm... Oh! What about the story of Icarus?" This time his response was a happy squeak and tippy taps of his hooves against the warm quartz floors. You sat down in the rocking chair and waited until the child scrambled over and jumped into your lap.

You opened the book and began reading to him for an hour until your eyes slowly slid shut to the quiet snores of the child of your two best friends, who at this point was beginning to see you as a mother.

Quiet 'meh' sounds and 'vrrr'ing noises and a dim flash woke you up from your spot in the rocking chair. Cracking open your eyes, your arms shifted around the nether hybrid as you saw Tubbo holding a camera making happy bleating noises, while Ranboo, who was the source of the buzzing noises, took the book you had been reading from your limp hand to put it back on the shelf.

"What time is it?" You murmured softly to keep the child asleep as you rubbed the back of your stiff and sore neck.

"It's about 5:30pm. Still rather early. Tubbo walked over and gave you a gentle yet affectionate headbutt while he scooped Michael up from your lap to bring him to bed. This caused an odd whining noise to come from the enderman hybrid before he quickly walked over and rested his forehead against yours, resting it there for a few moments before pulling back, his cheeks flushed the same colours as his eyes.

You giggled softly and gave him a gentle pat on the head as he helped you up. He held onto one of your hands as Tubbo eagerly went for the other, jokingly sticking his tongue out at Ranboo who gave a noise of mock offense, causing you three to giggle softly as you left Michael's room and went upstairs.

Tubbo and Ranboo weren't big fans of you leaving the basement on your own, and you were rarely allowed to leave the mansion even with the two boys at your sides. The former president told you it was because he heard rumours of Technoblade searching around for all the members of his cabinet back when he was in charge of L'Manberg, and he just wanted to protect you.

You saw no problems with his story as it was extremely believable. Your history with Technoblade hadn't been the cleanest and he would've definitely taken one of your canon lives back during the attack on L'Manberg, had a stray black and white firework not saved you that day. It had fired off and must've swerved a way that wasn't predicted, because it hit Technoblade hard enough in the chest to knock him away from you.

You don't remember much of that day, except for Ranboo immediately running over to you and dragging you away from the destruction and chaos. Thanks to him, you were almost completely scar free and standing proudly at three canons lives.

A gentle hand on your shoulder brought you back to reality and you saw two sets of eyes staring at you with concern. "Hey... Are you feeling okay?" Ranboo asked softly, tilting your head up to place his free hand against your forehead, "See. I told you she should be getting more sunlight, Tubbo!"

"I'm okay, I'm okay!" You laughed softly at their worry, rubbing your thumbs along the back of their hands, "Just... Remembering the war with Dream and Techno..."

"What about it?" Tubbo asked, bringing you into the living room to sit down with your friends on either side of you.

You pursed your lips together for a moment as you looked at the ground, "Just how... Scary Techno is. And how he was about to kill me without a care about who or what I was."

Angered growling and seething noises came from Ranboo and Tubbo as you felt their grasps tighten around your hands, almost to a painful degree. You looked up and saw their expressions stone-cold and steely although vastly different from each other.

Ranboo's green eye was purple, and the black tone of his skin was beginning to seep into the side with the lack of colour. The corners of his mouth were slowly splitting open wider and wider as his lips parted, allowing you to see the glowing purple colour inside his mouth.

Tubbo's was less obvious. His eyes were blank but also had a bright fire, one burning for revenge, reflected in them. His ears weren't flicking and neither was his tail, his entire body stiff except for a faint sound giving away the fact that his teeth were grinding together.

As much as you tried to endure it, the grip became too harsh and you couldn't help but give a small pained gasp. This caused all physical contact with you to suddenly vanish as the two boys immediately flung themselves away from you, horror and fear in their eyes.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry!"

"Are you okay?! Do you need an ice pack?!"

"Or a bandage from my claws?!"

They were both kneeling on the ground in front of you with both of your hands in their grasps again. They repeatedly turned your hands in their own, testing the joints and checking for marks or bruising. "Boys, boys!" You laughed softly, placing your hands on their heads to ruffle their hair gently. You pulled your left hand adorned with two beautiful rings and held it up for them to see, flexing it and moving it around, "See? Perfectly fine. No pain whatsoever!"

While they seemed to have calmed down a lot, they still seemed to be extremely upset and guilty. "I'm still going to get an ice pack... We don't want our wife to be injured..." Tubbo murmured as he quickly got up and walked towards the kitchen.

"I will get started on dinner. And as an apology, I'm making your favourite. (F/f)." Ranboo tried to be a little more upbeat than Tubbo, but you could still see the small amounts of guilt as he turned and followed after the goat hybrid.

Sighing softly at their overreactions, you leaned back against the couch...

Before doing a double-take.

Adorned with rings?!

You quickly flung yourself forward again and looked at your left hand. On your ring finger were two diamond rings, one gold with a green gemstone, and the other silver with a black gemstone, both glistening a faint purple from enchantments...

...

When did these get put on you- wait... Did Tubbo say... wife?

#tubbo x reader #yandere tubbo x reader #ranboo x reader #yandere ranboo x reader #mcyt x reader #yandere mcyt x reader #mcyt #ranboolive #ranboo #tubbo #dream smp #dsmp #ranboo dsmp #ranboo dreamsmp #tubbo dsmp #tubbo dreamsmp #tubbo mcyt #ranboo mcyt

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spaceman-earthgirl · 3 years

Text

Supercorptober 2021 Day 7: Party

Fic link. Series link.

Lena’s hiding. This is technically her party, she should be out there, talking to the CatCo employees and various party guests, but here she is, hiding in her best friend’s office to avoid any awkward social interactions. Or, more specifically, to avoid having to talk to one person in particular.

At least Kara’s office is a safe space where she shouldn’t be found.

Lena knows she can’t hide in here forever, but for now, she’s going to take advantage of being alone.

She hopes no one has noticed her absence.

No sooner has she had that thought, when the door handle turns and she suddenly finds she’s not alone anymore. She holds her breath for a moment, but then Kara is there, and all the worry turns to relief as she finds her best friend in the doorway, blue eyes filled with concern.

“There you are, is everything okay?”

It does stupid things to her heart that Kara noticed she was missing.

“I’m fine,” Lena smiles. “I just needed a moment.”

“Can I join you?” Kara asks, waiting for Lena’s nod before she steps into the room, pulling the door shut behind her.

“It is your office, after all,” Lena adds, eyes on Kara as she crosses the small room, ends up perched on the edge of her desk.

“Do you want to talk about why you’re hiding in here?” Kara asks after a long moment. She’d wondered if her best friend would let it go. Apparently not.

Lena sighs, but if you can’t talk about this sort of thing with your best friend, then who can you talk about it to? Sure, she’s in love with said best friend, but that’s besides the point right now.

“James asked me out.”

Lena can’t look at Kara as she says it, eyes focused on the twisted fingers in her lap, but when the small “oh” falls from Kara’s mouth, Lena looks up, catching the ripple of Kara’s jaw.

“So…umm…how come you’re hiding in here then?”

“We got interrupted before I could answer this morning, and ever since he’s been trying to talk to me, so I’ve been avoiding him.” The party had started fine, but that was only because James hadn’t arrived yet. But of course he’d be here, he is CatCo’s CEO after all, and she’d spent the first hour of the party after he’d arrived, strategically moving around the room, all the while keeping an eye out for James and avoiding him.

“And you’re avoiding him because…?”

“He looked so hopeful when he asked, I just feel bad saying no and I don’t want to lose him as a friend.”

She’s sure she’s just imagining the way Kara’s shoulders relax.

Usually, she’d have no problem saying no to unwanted advances, but she actually likes James, not in the romantic sense, but she likes working with him, likes being a part of Kara’s group of friends, and she doesn’t want something like this to put it in jeopardy.

“I considered saying yes,” Lena finds herself admitting too. “It’s nice to feel wanted for once, but it wouldn’t be fair to him and I’d only be stringing him along.” Another reason she’d almost said yes was because she’d wondered if that’s what she’d needed, to get over Kara, to throw herself into another relationship, but that’s not fair to any of them either.

And honestly, she’s content with her life, happy having Kara in it just as she is, as a friend, even if that’s all they’ll ever be.

“I don’t know if I ever told you this, but James and I were nearly a thing, before I realised we should just be friends. And we’re still friends now. He’s a good guy, he’ll understand and accept your decision if you tell him no.” Kara pauses. “And if he doesn’t, then I can deal with him for you,” she grins, clenching her fists, looking ready to fight. “I can even throw him off this planet, if you like.”

Lena laughs, already feeling better. “That won’t be necessary but thank you.” Her smile falls as she sighs. “I suppose we should get back out there.”

“Or…”

Lena lifts an eyebrow. “Or?”

“Or we steal as much food as we can carry and sneak out. We can go back to my place, eat food, and have a party of our own.”

“I should really go and talk to James.” She already feels bad, avoiding him, she should just go and talk to him, get it over with. Knowing Kara is here helps.

Kara gives her a small smile “Okay,” she nods. “New plan, you go and talk to James, I’ll get the food, and we’ll meet back here in ten and we can go back to my apartment and watch a movie and eat food until we feel sick?”

Lena laughs. “Sounds like a plan.” She figures she’s made enough of an appearance at this party anyway.

She finds James easy enough in the crowd and the conversation is quick and painless and she should’ve just done this earlier as he smiles and nods at her answer.

She makes her way back to Kara’s office, talking to a few people on the way, and when she returns, she finds a mountain of food sitting on Kara’s desk, her best friend standing beside the pile, looking uncharacteristically nervous as fingers adjust her glasses.

Lena’s never seen Kara ignore food when it’s right there.

“Is everything okay?” Lena asks.

“I…” Kara swallows, glancing through the open door, so Lena steps inside and closes it, giving them some privacy once more.

“You said something earlier,” Kara starts again, fingers now twisting together in front of her. “You said it’s nice to feel wanted, like it doesn’t happen often, but I want you.” Lena’s breath catches. “It might not be the best time to say it, maybe I should’ve told you months ago, or maybe I should have never have told you at all, but I want you, and I wish I had the courage to just ask you out like James did.”

“You want…” Lena breathes, she can’t even get the words out, it just doesn’t make sense. She never imagined that Kara might want this too.

“I want you,” Kara says, nerves from before gone, words said loud and clear, ringing through the small room. “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”

Kara’s been brave, Lena can be brave too. “You already have me,” she says, stepping into Kara’s space, hands rising to cup Kara’s cheeks. “You’ve always had me.”

“Can I kiss you?” Kara whispers into the small gap between them, blue eyes so close.

Lena’s not sure how they got here from her hiding in this very office, hiding from the advances of someone else, but she’s not going to complain as she nods.

This is everything she’s ever wanted.

Kara’s nose bumps into hers in the next moment and it’s a little clumsy, but no less perfect when Kara’s lips meet hers, warm and gentle. Lena hums into the kiss, relaxes into Kara’s embrace as hands land on her hips, as Kara crowds her against the desk so she’s surrounded completely by her best friend.

Though, this isn’t exactly best friend behaviour.

“I want you too,” Lena breathes into the kiss. She’s not sure she exactly said it before, but she wants Kara to know to. “I love you.”

Kara pulls away then, but not before Lena feels the way Kara’s lips curve up against her own. “You love me?” she grins. “Rao, this really is the best evening ever.”

Lena laughs. “Are you sure that’s not the big pile of food behind you?”

Kara barely spares the food a glance before soft eyes are back on her. She shakes her head. “Definitely this.” She peaks Lena’s lips. “And I love you, too.”

#supergirl #supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #supercorp fanfic #suercorptober2021

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biggest-stupidhead · 3 years

Note

Hi! I love your Levi imagines, and I saw that your requests were open, so here goes: Can you write a Levi x female!reader story where his s/o is pregnant and goes into labor when Hange is off on a research expedition, so Levi has to deliver the baby with only his squad for assistance? Bonus points if someone on Levi Squad faints in the process!

Heyyyy anon, this idea is so precious and I will definitely do a lil imagine for this scenario! <3

Summary: You go into labor without your designated delivery nurse.

Word Count: 1.9K

Warnings: childbirth, nothing too graphic.

In the early months of your pregnancy, you and Levi had both been ecstatic. But once the last two or so months had creeped up on you, the two of you began to get anxious. Hange had originally agreed to deliver the baby, seeing that she was the only person that Levi trusted to go near you besides himself. You felt ready to pop as you sat out in the courtyard with Mikasa, she was watching you like a hawk, grey eyes alert and tracking every muscle twitch. It had been strange, as soon as you began to suspect that you were pregnant, Mikasa had began clinging to you. It was as if she sensed the change, eventually you gave up on trying to figure out how she had known, and chalked it up to her Ackerman DNA.

Eren and Jean were running around, Connie desperately trying to keep up with them as they passed a deflated ball back and forth, obviously keeping it out of Connie’s grasp. You smiled fondly as Sasha leapt into the air and snatched the ancient ball from them, passing it to Connie, who ran in the opposite direction. Armin and Annie were laying on a blanket looking up at the sky, Annie’s hand was pointing at a cloud, you could see her lips moving, followed by Armin’s soft laugh.

You hadn’t wanted kids. Not really, that hole had been filled by these fools, but once you all had overcome the issues in Marley, those feelings began to ebb away. Especially once you and Levi began seeing each other. He had been reluctant, but Hange had stayed consistent in pushing him to pursue you. Low and behold two years later, you were married with a bundle of joy on the way. You had felt nauseous all morning, crampy, and sore in your lower abdomen. It wasn’t until the afternoon, about two hours prior that you had felt the first contraction. They were closer now and you weren’t really able to hide them anymore. So Mikasa noticed when you flinched for the second time in twenty minutes. She turned and placed a firm hand to your shoulder.

“What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?” She asked, those coal grey eyes scanning your face for an answer.

“I...have been having contractions.” You admitted guiltily as you rubbed your swollen stomach to ease yourself.

“Uh oh...” Mikasa’s expression dropped, skin paling as the realization struck her. Hange had left only days prior, for an important meeting alongside Erwin and the other high up military personnel.

“It’s fine, I’m fine. It isn’t quite time yet, just maybe help me get back inside?” You were beginning to sweat as the contractions began to become more intense. She nodded and helped you to your feet, the others all noticed the movement and followed like little ducks. You only managed to stumble into the parlor and fall onto one of the sofas there, the teens all towering over you.

“What do you need?” Annie was standing at your side, the back of her hand pressed to your forehead.

“I’ll go get Levi!” Jean offered before taking off and up the stairs, sprinting up them two at a time.

“I’ll go get snacks!” Sasha sprinted towards the kitchen, Connie chasing after her. Armin was standing frozen as he watched Mikasa and Annie both take your hands. Eren was just as bad as Armin, those jade green eyes wide and focused on the space between your legs.

“Uhhhh (Y/n)....I think that-” Eren’s face was beet red as he stumbled over his words.

“Your water broke!” Armin informed you as you tried to meet their eyes over your stomach.

“No, I could have sworn that my contractions were-”

“What in god’s name is-” Levi froze, Jean panting alongside him as they all stared at the fluid dripping down your legs, soiling the couch and your cotton dress.

“(Y/n)...” Levi’s face was pale and his eyes were wide as he rushed to close the space between you. You eagerly gripped his hand as another contraction he let out a shaky breath along with you as the contraction ended.

“What are we supposed to do?” Eren said numbly as he stared at Mikasa who was propping your up.

“We...need to get her a better bed or, something.” Mikasa spoke slowly, Annie nodded in agreement, her icy eyes scanning the room.

“Move those chairs, then go get a mattress from one of the rooms down the hall.” Annie ordered, Eren and Armin darted off to complete the mattress task, while Jean began shoving the chairs out of the way. Connie and Sasha returned, with rags and towels along with an apple shoved in Sasha’s mouth. In mere minutes the room had been transformed into a makeshift delivery room, basins of clean water and mountains of towels. Mikasa and Levi helped you down onto the stripped mattress, Mikasa settled behind you, allowing you to recline back into her. You were shocked by how calming it was to just feel her heartbeat. Levi started by your side, his hand gripping yours. That was until Annie cleared her throat and looked down at your knees.

“Someone...needs to check...” Annie trailed off as everyone shared uneasy glances. Connie shook his head violently, Jean looked green along the gills, Sasha crunched on the apple. Armin swallowed loudly.

“I can...coach someone but I don’t think that I’m comfortable actually...” He flushed as he spoke and you let out a low groan.

“Look I don’t give a shit who does it, but someone needs to see how dilated I am.” Your breathing was deep and somewhat controlled as the room once more fell silent.

“I’ll do it.” Levi said finally as he placed a kiss to your knuckles before shuffling to the end of the mattress. Armin joined Levi, but his eyes were glued to the ceiling.

“O-Okay you need to take your fingers and line them up at the erm...you know.” Armin’s cheeks were so red. Annie huffed, unamused as she joined them at the foot of the mattress.

“Sit down, you’re making me nervous.” You said breathily to Jean, Eren, and Connie who all quickly came to rest on the floor near your head. You grimaced at the feeling of Levi’s fingers against you.

“Uh...what am I looking for?” Levi’s voice was unusually high as he clutched your calf nervously.

“Four fingers!” You groaned, leaning back into Mikasa as you felt yet another contraction.

“That’s two in five minutes, it’s nearly time.” Armin informed, eyes still on the stone ceiling.

“Four? Then...it is time.” Levi said breathlessly as he lifted his head to meet your eyes.

“Great okay, start your breathing like Hange taught you (Y/n).” Mikasa spoke surprisingly calmly as she rubbed your shoulders. You began to pant, shutting your eyes tightly as the lower half of your body felt like it was being torn in two. You let out another moan, you vaguely noticed that Connie and Sasha had both gotten up and were rummaging through the bookshelf.

“-It says in this book that...the baby’s tail should fall off in no more than three days?”

“Are baby’s born with tails?”

“No...at least my siblings weren’t..”

You let out a bark of laughter at the pair as they debated the contents of the book.

“Shut the fuck up you two and get those towels ready.” Eren ordered, his face pale and voice high with panic.

“Yeah what he said.” Jean agreed, his hand covering his eyes as he held your free hand tightly.

“Okay but this book says-”

“For the love of god just-” Eren made it half way through his sentence before you let out a low groan as you pushed for the first time. Armin nodded in approval, Annie as holding your dress up as Levi narrowed his eyes in concentration.

“That’s it, take your time.” Annie encouraged as she reached into her boot for her dagger. You felt your baby slide down, and into the birth canal.

“I...can see the head!” Levi announced as he held his hands out for the baby as you prepared for another good push.

“Good, only a few more (Y/n)!” Armin assured you as he blindly reached out and braced himself on Levi’s shoulder. You moaned, throwing your head back into Mikasa’s shoulder as Eren dabbed your neck with a damp towel.

“So close, you can do it.” Mikasa encouraged as you let out a choked sob, your pelvis felt as if it was about to rip in half as you felt the head crowning.

“Okay Levi, you need to guide the head out, twist so that the shoulders can come out.” Annie informed calmly as she watched Levi gently rotate the baby’s head, allowing the baby to slip free. He let out a shaky gasp as he held the newborn in his hands while Annie sliced the umbilical cord. Armin finally looked as Connie wrapped the baby in a fresh towel.

“I’ll clean-” He pushed the towel aside and beamed at you and Levi.

“-her. I’ll clean her up.” He said as he and Sasha rushed to the nearest basin to wash the baby. Mikasa rubbed your arms as Armin began guiding Levi on the steps to delivering the placenta.

No more than five minutes later, you had your baby girl against your chest. Her head was amazingly full of black silky hair. Her eyes were shut, but you had a feeling that when they opened that they would be a charcoal grey. Levi shuffled up next to you, pressing a kiss you your temple, his lip trembling as he looked down at your daughter.

“You did it.” You said breathlessly as you smiled up at Levi.

“No...you did it.” He said as he gently placed his hand over your daughter’s back, which was rising and falling steadily. Mikasa shifted as she tried to worm away from you, Levi gladly taking her place.

“What will you call her?” Eren asked as he wrapped an arm over Mikasa’s shoulders. You swallowed thickly and looked back up at Levi who was still busy staring at your baby.

“Kuchel.” You said without hesitation, Levi seemed startled when he heard the name, and then his eyebrows furrowed as he fought to keep his face free of emotion.

“Yeah, that’s-” His voice cracked and he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

“-that’s perfect.” he finished his sentence and the kids all mumbled their agreements as they watched you push your dress aside to feed your baby, who was cooing and gripping at the seams of your dress.

“Kuchel.” You hummed as Levi stroked her back, her eyes cracked open for the first time, and you choked back a sob at the sight.

Her eyes were not grey, but a familiar (e/c), she had your eyes.

“Oh-” Jean choked back his own sob, biting his knuckles as he turned on his heel and buried his own face in Sasha’s shoulder as he cried.

“Jeanboy” Connie said teasingly, despite the thick emotion in his own voice.

“Let’s get out of here everybody.” Annie advised as she watched Levi thread his finger through his daughter’s as she began to suckle on your breast.

“Congratulations.” they all murmured as they took their leave. You relaxed back into Levi, finally able to be alone for the first time with your little family.

Lol I loved this, I used to want to be a labor and delivery nurse. But that was before I realized that Chem is NOT my friend. Anyway, sorry I couldn’t squeeze in someone fainting, but if you care I think that Jean would be most likely to. Only because he’s an only child and doesn’t know what child birth is like.

But seeing as how much they have been through in the canon universe I doubt that childbirth would be the most disturbing sight lol. Hope that you enjoy this! Requests are still open so send me stuff :)

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jingyismom · 3 years

Text

Time for more sex-cursed Lan Wangji!

a messy, self-indulgent spree imported from twt and lightly edited

explicit, wangxian, 9k, canon divergence fix-it

mild dubcon because of the nature of sex curses (but like, they do their best to communicate around it), and cw for brief thoughts of self harm, no other warnings

This curse's origin is mysterious, perhaps politically guided. Someone is trying to throttle Gusu Lan's alliance prospects by removing Lan Wangji's stellar marriageability after Sunshot. It works, after a fashion.

Wei Wuxian is in the Burial Mounds, farming and hardening his heart as the resentment worsens his health, subsisting on memories of Lan Wangji's single visit.

Lan Wangji is at home in Gusu, pining away while they rebuild the Cloud Recesses.

One day, he begins to burn up with unexplained fever.

The healers examine him quickly and thoroughly and determine first that he's been cursed. This is not entirely shocking, but it of course angers the entire sect. Next they test for the curse's nature. It turns out to be a very classic, very coarse type of love curse.

The afflicted will burn up, losing all their sense and senses, and eventually die, if their body's “needs” are not satisfied by the one it craves most.

The healers are disgusted. Lan Xichen and Lan Qiren are outraged. But Lan Wangji becomes very calm at the news.

Before, he felt anxiety. The urgent desperation of a dying man waiting to be told how to live.

Now he is just waiting to die.

For you see, the choice between throwing himself at another human being—no matter who they may be—and meeting death with dignity, is an easy one.

Everyone else privy to this information disagrees. The argument that follows is short, but heated:

"Well, Wangji?" Lan Qiren begins once the initial furor has died down. "How do you wish to...go about this?"

Lan Wangji, over-warm and aching, looks up at him from the examination bed. Gusu Lan funeral rites are ancient and immutable. He does not understand the question.

Lan Qiren purses his lips and glances around. "We must find the person first," he prompts.

Ah. The person responsible. Yes, Lan Wangji does have business with them before he dies. He stands, only swaying slightly. "I am well enough to exact justice. Let us cast the rebound."

Lan Xichen steps forward then, and gently pushes him back to sitting. "It has been cast. However, justice can wait. Your health must come first."

Lan Wangji looks between his uncle, his brother, and the one doctor allowed to be present. Surely they would not be joking at a time like this.

"I do not understand," he says.

The three exchange a look. "Breaking the curse must be our priority," says Lan Xichen.

Lan Wangji is not sure he heard correctly. But it would be cruel to give him unfounded hope. "I was unaware there was another way."

"...There is not," says Lan Xichen, his gentleness unfailing.

Lan Wangji experiences a moment of deep confusion before the horror sets in.

"You cannot mean this," he says through his shock. "Surely you cannot mean to cast aside so many disciplines at the whim of a base villain."

"The disciplines are a guide," Lan Qiren says, hands behind his back, looking into the distance, "to ensure a life well-lived. They are not meant to inspire martyrdom."

Lan Wangji's mouth falls open. He stares at his uncle, mute with betrayal. He has never heard of any such leeway before, not in regards to disciplines of such a serious nature.

"You can understand, can't you?" Lan Xichen says. "That no rule is more important than your life.”

Lan Wangji disagrees vehemently. "I would not buy my life with such behavior."

Lan Qiren huffs in irritation. "We may perform a marriage in haste, if you wish."

Lan Wangji balks at him. That his uncle should speak so flippantly of...such a thing. It is unimaginable. And besides, forcing a marriage on Wei—on anyone in this way is surely only adding insult to heinous injury.

"I refuse," he says.

Lan Xichen exchanges a look with the doctor, and sits beside him. "Perhaps the other person should be allowed part of that choice."

Ridiculous. "There is no such person." Preventing this course of action is worth one lie, Lan Wangji reasons.

"With respect, Hanguang-jun, if that were true, the curse would not have been able to take hold," says the doctor.

The use of his title feels uncomfortably ironic from a woman who helped deliver him at birth. He glares at her. She smiles tiredly in return.

"Wangji," Lan Xichen says. His tone is beginning to grate on Lan Wangji's raw nerves. "You will at least try, won't you?"

Lan Wangji stares at him in disbelief, in anger, in righteous indignation.

"Never," he says.

A hand slaps his shoulder. "Apologies," says the doctor, and the world goes dark.

-----

Lan Wangji wakes to dark wood beams dappled by lacy sunlight, and a faint smell of char in the air. His head is heavy, his limbs full of lead. He swallows around the dry thickness in his throat.

"Water," comes a familiar voice.

With effort, Lan Wangji sits up. His stomach is roiling, his mind fogged from the coma and the curse both. The doctor, crouching beside him in the carriage, offers him a bowl of water.

He takes it, and asks, "What have you done?"

She sighs.

"My duty," she says, "with the help of your brother."

She draws back the curtain at the carriage entrance, revealing a sea of black, twisted trees and gray tumbled walls.

Lan Wangji's blood freezes in his veins. He just barely stops himself from asking how they knew.

"Why," he asks instead, a much safer question.

She considers him. "Your brother said if he was wrong, he would beg forgiveness afterward. But it couldn't hurt to have an expert in resentment and curses look at you anyway."

A stab of sick embarrassment makes Lan Wangji’s stomach clench.

Has he been so obvious? Is he such a lovesick fool that anyone with eyes can see his shame?

The doctor pats his shoulder gruffly and he flinches, expecting more needles.

"Ah he's your brother, he's bound to know things you don't want him to," she says. "Come on. Out you get."

He allows her to tug him out of the carriage and onto solid ground. The air is stifling with resentment, but he is glad to be free of his bonds. Now he can look for his chance to get away.

There are six Lan disciples flanking them. He eyes them warily, wondering what they know. When the doctor pulls him out of earshot, and pitches her voice low, he is satisfied that they have not been fully informed.

"Your family and I agreed to give you a chance first," she says. "You have 24 hours to take care of this yourself. After that, I will personally tell Wei-gongzi of your brother's message. I have been assured he will not jeopardize your well-being if fully-informed."

Lan Wangji gapes at her. He does not know what he expected to happen, but it was not this...this...mercenary attempt at...forcing...

The curse has weakened him such that he cannot fly his sword. He can hardly walk in a straight line, let alone run. He has very little recourse now that everyone in his life has gone absolutely mad. His heart is racing with the adrenaline of upheaval, of fear, of impending death.

He wrenches his arm from her grasp and stalks off of the road, into the brush. She calls after him, but he does not mean to escape. He cannot manage that alone. Instead, he sits. He takes a deep breath. He sinks into meditation.

"Hanguang-jun," she calls. She approaches, hands on her hips. She sighs. "Well, if it's like that, then there's nothing stopping me from telling him right now."

She turns, and Lan Wangji feels a lurch of helplessness, when a new voice rings clear through the fog.

"Tell what to whom?"

Lan Wangji's eyes snap open. Wei Wuxian is standing on the other side of the carriage, the child A-Yuan in his arms, eyeing the Lan delegation with suspicion. Wen Ning is with him, and the Lan disciples shift nervously just looking at him, but Wei Wuxian sets A-Yuan in his arms, and he leaps away up the mountain.

"Might I assume this little party has come for me?" Wei Wuxian goes on, twirling his flute. His eyes are shrewd and cold, similar to the way they had looked when he had first returned during the war.

At the sight of him, at the sound of his voice, the curse...reacts.

A horrid, uncomfortable shiver of need runs through Lan Wangji's body alongside his own simple relief and joy at seeing Wei Wuxian again, looking relatively well. He fights it, keeping still among the weeds, hoping against hope to go unnoticed.

"Yiling Laozu," the doctor greets him with a deep bow. "We have indeed come to humbly beg your aid."

"I see," he says. "And what will you give me in return?"

The doctor hesitates, clearly discomfited by the context Wei Wuxian is currently unaware of. "We may...discuss that. Once we have informed you of the details."

Wei Wuxian hums, considering. Cold. Detached. "And if I am disinclined to—"

He breaks off. The doctor has moved so that she and Lan Wangji are both in Wei Wuxian's line of sight. Lan Wangji closes his eyes rather than see the moment of recognition, rather than feel the weight of Wei Wuxian's eyes on him, like this.

"Lan Zhan?"

Lan Wangji clamps his jaw shut. It is a struggle not simply to crawl to him.

The renewed ice in Wei Wuxian's voice when next he speaks makes Lan Wangji aware of the warmth with which he had said his name. His curls his shaking hands into fists on his knees.

"What have you done to him?"

The doctor sighs. "We have done nothing. He has been cursed, which is why we brought him here. If you—"

"Daifu," Lan Wangji interrupts, his voice thin.

She stops speaking.

Lan Wangji opens his eyes, but does not look at Wei Wuxian, not yet. If he is careful, and uses his remaining strength correctly, he can perhaps...perhaps guide the situation. Toward escape. With Wei Wuxian's help.

He may have to lie to him. He hopes he will be forgiven, all things considered.

Lan Wangji stands slowly, carefully, considering each movement so as not to reveal the state he is in.

"I will speak with him," he says to the doctor.

She eyes him. "24 hours," she says.

He does not acknowledge this. He thinks they both know it will not come to that, though his idea differs greatly from hers. He judges, from the time they have allotted and his own weakness, that he has perhaps a day and a half, total, to wait them out. Doable, if he is careful and intelligent about it.

He can manage.

He walks over to Wei Wuxian, careful to keep two arm's lengths between them. This close is already too close: a fine, constant tremor has made a home in all of his tightly-locked muscles. He feels the moment his fever begins to rise further. The sides of his throat hurt, the interiors of his ears. He wonders if his hearing will go first, or his eyes.

"Allow me to explain," he says to him.

"Of course," Wei Wuxian answers.

He sounds strange. Cold, still. Lan Wangji wants to look at him, and almost slips, but manages to stop himself. He follows him up the hill, past the wards, through the resentment that clings to them both, now. He keeps his careful distance, following behind.

"What happened?" Wei Wuxian asks, as they walk.

"A curse," Lan Wangji says carefully. "Origin unknown. The rebound has been cast. I did not wish to burden you with this, but they are...they will not listen to reason. Wei Ying, if you would but help me, I would deal with this on my own."

"Oh?"

"I...wish to seek justice. They will not allow it. But you understand. If there is another path off the mountain, if you would show me the way past them, I could—"

Wei Wuxian stops dead, and Lan Wangji, with his eyes in the ground, runs into him.

For a blazing, agonizing moment, he is touching Wei Wuxian, clinging to him, every element in his body sighing and crying out at once in satisfaction, in the torturous need for more.

He tears himself away, stumbling back, almost falling. Wei Wuxian reaches out as if to catch him, but falters.

"Lan Zhan, you can hardly stand," he says, alarmed, "and you want to go and fight someone?"

Lan Wangji draws himself up taller again, trying hard to stop his shaking. He cannot look at him. He cannot look. He is already dying, now, just from not looking. "It is my right."

"...It is..." Wei Wuxian says at length, watching him closely. "And it still will be once you're well again. Your doctors really couldn't tell what type of curse it is?"

Lan Wangji says nothing, trying to think past the way every inch of his skin feels as if it is burning clean off. The pain of it screams through him, worse than anything he has ever felt. Wei Wuxian is still speaking, but it is hard to make sense of it. When Wei Wuxian begins walking again, slowly, it is all he can do to both follow and stay away from him. This, here, now, is worse than death. If it lasts, he certainly will not be sane when the end finally comes. He lets go of any thoughts of a dignified death.

Fortunately, by the time they reach the cool dark of the cave Wei Wuxian calls home, the pain has subsided to a distant roar. Unfortunately, he hoped never to reach this point. He tries his only play again, unable to think of any new tactic.

"Please show me the way off the mountain," he says without preamble.

Wei Wuxian is quiet for a beat. "You really don't want my help that much?"

Lan Wangji is so confused by this question, and then struck by the irony of it, that he almost begins to laugh. A shivery, jittery feeling fills his chest, and he leans against the nearest solid surface. He wishes he were wearing a loose outer layer over his blue travel robes, the better to hide his shaking. He does not know how to respond.

"You haven't so much as looked at me once since you got here," Wei Wuxian goes on, digging through strange pots and objects on a table, "so I get it. But you'll have to forgive me if I disregard your objection to the kind of work I do, when it comes to your life."

"My life, my life," Lan Wangji mocks, accidentally out loud. Why is everyone suddenly so obsessed with his life? He was ready to give it freely in the war, but chance let him keep it. What difference does giving it now in the name of keeping himself clean of shame make? Why will nobody allow him this choice?

"What shame?" Wei Wuxian asks.

Lan Wangji buckles at the realization that he has said all of this out loud. He goes to the floor, to his knees.

"Nothing," he says. "The shame of not having warded off such a simple attack."

"Lan Zhan...you want to die because you didn't defend against a curse you didn't know was coming?"

Lan Wangji lapses into silence. He has said too much already. He does not know how to get out of this. He can only...he can only stay quiet. Refuse to speak or move.

"Lan Zhan...I feel like I'm missing something here. I only want to help.”

Lan Wangji grits his teeth and stares hard at the floor in front of him. He has rarely ever felt so trapped, so utterly helpless. The extended, full-body pain is dulling his mind by the moment. The hems of Wei Wuxian's robes come into view, and it takes everything in him not to fall forward into him, to plead, to beg. His breath is hitching at random intervals now, his heart tripping as it prepares to fail entirely.

There is a soft gust of air, and an odd prickling sensation across his face.

"Now let's see—oh," Wei Wuxian says. "I...oh."

Lan Wangji wilts at his stilted, awkward tone. He knows now, surely. Can see him truly.

"So that's why you want to leave, and why they won't let you. They want me to find another way to break it, to stop you from...ah."

Lan Wangji sorts through the words, trying to comprehend them.

"Sorry," Wei Wuxian goes on. "I...it's unbreakable, otherwise. A very old, airtight spell. You...will Gusu Lan start a war with me if I do just let you go...ah, handle this the old-fashioned way?"

Comprehension dawns. And with it, a way out.

Lan Wangji rushes to agree. "They—" He cuts off. Will they? If they think Wei Wuxian has willingly let him die, rather than...

He takes a breath. Another. Forces his mind past the endless litany of pleas for relief.

"Show me the way " he says, his words breathless and short, "and then tell Lan-daifu what you have done. And why. But give me time to. Get away. And you will be safe."

Wei Wuxian pauses. "How...ah. How far—how much time?"

Lan Wangji tries hard to come up with an answer for that. His progress will be slow. But he need only find a place to hide.

"Half a day," he hazards.

Wei Wuxian seems to vacillate. "Are you sure you can make it on your own?"

Lan Wangji wants to rage. To weep. To curse himself to the heavens for being so depraved toward so endlessly kind a man. His heart hurts, even as his body strains toward him.

This lie may be the worst he will ever tell.

"I will be fine,” he says.

"Alright." Wei Wuxian sounds unconvinced. "I trust you."

Lan Wangji nearly convulses, holding back a sob. How will he ever be forgiven?

He cannot think of it. Only this, only what comes next. Only keeping Wei Wuxian safe from this mess.

"Lan Zhan?"

"Mn," he manages.

"Would you look at me, now? I haven't...used any demonic cultivation on you. It's safe, I promise I won't. I just. Can't we say goodbye properly?"

Lan Wangji has not moved from the floor. He does not move. He should try. A parting gift. Just one look.

But if he is going to leave. If he is going to succeed. He cannot.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian says again, frustrated now.

Lan Wangji does not look. He is so close to freedom from the horrible pull, from the way his very veins are trying to tear themselves free to wrap around Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian steps forward, and Lan Wangji's breath leaves him all at once. Suddenly, there are fingers beneath his jaw, kind but firm, tilting his chin up. He has no choice but to look.

(Inspired by this art.)

Wei Wuxian is there. Tall and strong and perfect, tiredness mixed with something bittersweet on his lovely face. Lan Wangji's entire being melts toward him, a deep, sharp tug from inside his bones, a mindless, helpless, straining need that pushes a low, wanting sound from his throat.

Wei Wuxian snatches his hand away and backs up half a step, staring at him.

"Sorry," he says, blank. Confused. "I thought it was...I didn't realize...sorry."

Lan Wangji, now that he has looked, cannot look away. He has overbalanced without Wei Wuxian's support, fallen forward onto his hands, but he cannot stop looking at him. He will look at him, and keep looking; he prays Wei Wuxian is the last thing he sees before he dies.

The most shameful part of this is that none of it is the curse twisting his thoughts. None of this is. All the curse is doing is making the way he always feels impossible to ignore.

"Wei Ying," his voice implores. He does not mean it to.

Wei Wuxian takes another step back and looks down at the bowl of powder in his hand, confused. "I was certain it was that curse," he says to himself. "If I was wrong, then maybe I could break it..."

Lan Wangji tries to scrape his composure back together. He tries. He tries. His fingers scrape on the rough stone floor. He does not reach out for him. That is something.

Wei Wuxian looks at him again, then hastily away. Lan Wangji does not ever want to know what it is he sees.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian says, as Lan Wangji shakes, and shakes. "Where...where were you trying to go? I thought you...I thought you were, ah, thinking of a certain someone."

Lan Wangji's arms are weak. They are going to give out. He cannot answer him.

"I'm confused, and I...may have made a mistake," Wei Wuxian goes on, still backing away slowly, "but I just want to help. Can you tell me what was happening before, and what's happening now?"

Lan Wangji shakes his head, and the motion shatters his fragile balance. He falls, and curls tightly around himself in the dirt.

"Lan Zhan!" Wei Wuxian says, suddenly close.

Lan Wangji sees his hand reach out, then pause, and he can't stop himself from taking hold of it, just to be touching him. His body screams for it, and he gasps raggedly at the contact.

Wei Wuxian wrenches his arm free. Lan Wangji wishes he were dead.

"Fuck," Wei Wuxian mutters to himself. "I...I'm sorry. I made this so much worse, I..."

"No," Lan Wangji rasps. He cannot hear Wei Wuxian berate himself thus. His dignity has now died, and he himself will soon follow. This is all that matters. "Not your fault."

Wei Wuxian huffs, crouching beside him. "It is...at least partially my fault, at this point, I'm pretty sure. You wouldn't be...reacting. Like this. If it weren't. Is...can I...do a few more tests? To check what I got wrong, and maybe—"

"You were not wrong."

He does not mean to say it.

His need to reassure has overridden his sense, and his mind is too slow now to piece together what it will mean before it leaves his mouth. The regret once it does is instantaneous. He tries to curl himself yet smaller in the dirt.

Wei Wuxian is silent. Lan Wangji cannot stop making small, pitiful, pained sounds in the back of his throat. Everything hurts. Everything.

"I don't understand," Wei Wuxian says quietly.

Lan Wangji lies shivering on the floor, arms locked around himself to prevent any more untoward behavior. He cannot take it back. He cannot try to explain. There is nothing he could say, regardless.

"Lan Zhan...but you..."

He can hear Wei Wuxian thinking, but it only registers in the far back of his mind. The rest of his consciousness is taken up by pain, and by ruthless restraint.

"You wanted to leave to get away from me," Wei Wuxian says, finally.

Lan Wangji does not answer. He wishes he had his sword. He would use it now to end this.

Wei Wuxian begins to back away again, and Lan Wangji’s body moves without his permission. He grips the skirt of Wei Wuxian’s robes in his fist and drags himself closer, pressing his cheek to Wei Wuxian's knee.

Shameful. Wanton. The small part of himself that is still aware berates the action. But he cannot let go. He cannot move away. The only part of him that is not howling with pain is the side of his face pressed to coarse fabric.

"Lan Zhan, you…," Wei Wuxian is trying to gently pry Lan Wangji's fingers from his hem. "You wanted to leave, remember? You don't want...you don't."

"Want," Lan Wangji croaks, pressing closer. "Wanted to spare you."

"Ah, Lan Zhan...I...I'm still not sure it's that specific curse, it could...there could be other..."

"It is," Lan Wangji says, half-crawling up Wei Wuxian's leg. He wants to stop himself. It is impossible.

"Lan Zhan...you...you shouldn't—"

"Stop me," Lan Wangji pleads, nuzzling against Wei Wuxian's thigh, "Wei Ying, I can't...please. Stop me."

There is a long near-silence filled with harsh breaths, in which Lan Wangji is almost certain he imagines the light touch of fingers brushing his mussed hair back from his forehead. Then Wei Wuxian speaks.

"No," he says. "You'll die, if I do. Lan Zhan. I won't let that happen."

He touches Lan Wangji's face. Lan Wangji whimpers into him.

He knows this will break the fragile repairs they have made to their friendship. He will likely never see him again, at least not on good terms. The thought makes him feel ill. He should protest. Refuse. Flee. He can do exactly none of these things. He reaches for Wei Wuxian's wrist, to hold his hand to his face, but Wei Wuxian flinches away.

"You can't...Lan Zhan. I'm going to help you," he says, "but you have to...you can't...you can't touch me."

Lan Wangji feels another tight clench of shame. He nods against his leg. He understands: he knows any small part of this is too much to ask, let alone bearing his unwelcome, curse-fevered grasping.

"Okay," says Wei Wuxian. He slides his fingers beneath Lan Wangji’s chin again, tipping his face up.

He looks so uncertain. So beautiful in the dim light. Lan Wangji wants to weep with it.

"Lan Zhan, I know it doesn't count for much like this, but you have to tell me. You have to tell me what you need."

Lan Wangji turns his head, pressing his face between Wei Wuxian's thigh and stomach, trying to reach into him, to feel more of him, to stop hurting just enough to think. It does not work.

"You," he breathes, into the scent of earth, and stringent soap, and Wei Wuxian.

A harsh, uneven breath ghosts across his hair, and Wei Wuxian's hands grip his shoulders. He thinks he is about to be pushed away again, but instead Wei Wuxian pulls him up, pulls him close, folds him into his embrace.

Lan Wangji sobs into his shoulder, trying at once to get closer and to hold himself apart, instinct demanding, even now, that he try to conceal his obvious, disgraceful hardness. His muscles quake under the strain of doing both and neither, and Wei Wuxian smooths one hand down his back, pressing him close, pressing them flush. Lan Wangji chokes back a shocked sound.

"Shh," Wei Wuxian soothes. "It's alright."

It is not alright. It is the end of the thing Lan Wangji holds most dear.

But he does not have it in him to argue. He is shifting against him, his overheated body begging for touch, indeed for ravishment. He is mindless with it. The pain is not subsiding but slipping sideways into something more, something different, something necessary.

He is on his knees on hard stone, breathlessly held in the arms of his beloved. He has dreamt this: sweetly, hazily, with and without hope. But never like this. Never sick with remorse, with need, dying and demanding and defiling. His deepest desire twisted into a nightmare.

He whimpers again, his lips finding the soft coolness of Wei Wuxian's throat. Wei Wuxian jerks away again, and Lan Wangji fists his hands tighter at his sides, trying, trying not to overstep again.

"I—sorry," he gasps out. He will never be able to apologize enough. But he will try.

"Don't apologize," says Wei Wuxian. "I—"

He cuts himself off. Lan Wangji does not have enough sense to wonder why. In the same moment, one of his thighs gives under the strain, and he falls against him heavily. They tip over, to the floor, and he reaches out on instinct to brace them both. When he is again conscious of himself, Wei Wuxian is lying on top of him, breathing hard, both of Lan Wangji's wrists pinned to the floor in one hand. Lan Wangji arches against him inadvertently, and turns his face into his own bicep.

"Sorry, I...so sorry," he pants, his hips flexing, searching for friction. "I have...no control...”

"I know," Wei Wuxian says, "I know, I shouldn't have..." he swallows hard. "I'm going to keep you like this. Can I?"

Lan Wangji nods frantically, his eyes shut tight. He does not care. Anything that he can do to make this any less invasive for Wei Wuxian, he will do.

Wei Wuxian pulls away then, his hold still firm on Lan Wangji's wrists. Lan Wangji squeezes his eyes shut and tries to stop moving, to stop searching for touch, to stop making such a disgusting spectacle of himself, but to no avail. What feels like centuries later, he hears the telltale sounds of talisman activation. He is too far gone in his pain to look up, to see what they are. He simply lies there, pinned and writhing, his breath catching in his throat. The sounds it makes are small, pitiful, desperate.

Just like him.

Eventually, Wei Wuxian leans back over him, a considering look in his eye. His hand hovers at Lan Wangjis belt.

"I—should I..."

"Yes," pleads Lan Wangji.

He needs Wei Wuxian's skin on his skin. He does not know how discerning the curse is about what happens now, but it feels as if he will die without it. Wei Wuxian takes what looks like a fortifying breath and unties the belt. Lan Wangji, unable to help, instead hinders the process with his ceaseless movement. But Wei Wuxian manages it with deft hands, and immediately unties each layer of robes in quick succession until Lan Wangji’s chest and stomach are bare.

The cool air of the cave does not soothe his burning. It burns like ice instead. Lan Wangji shivers, an ugly whine escaping him.

"What," Wei Wuxian asks, pausing, "what is it?"

Lan Wangji shakes his head. He will bear it. He will not make demands.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian says, "you need to talk to me, I...I don't want to make this even worse, or, or draw it out longer."

Something small and dark crumples in Lan Wangji's chest. He does not want that either. He will need to speak. To ask.

"Hurts," he says, rough and thick.

"Where?"

"...Not...not touching me."

Wei Wuxian makes a distressed noise and lays both his palms flat over Lan Wangji's ribs. Lan Wangji groans, pressing up into them.

"Please," he whispers, helpless. "Please."

"Oh, Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian murmurs, something sad like regret. He leans closer and slides one hand down. Lan Wangji shudders under him. "I'm just going to..."

Lan Wangji nods again, holding his breath to stop the whines from escaping the back of his throat.

Wei Wuxian unties Lan Wangji's trousers and slips his hand inside. Clever fingers wrap hesitantly around him, and he bucks up into them with an obscene moan. It is minor relief from the most consuming pain he has ever felt, and it is simultaneously the most intense pleasure he has ever experienced. All of these sensations, coexisting in his fallible human body, feel likely to rip him apart.

"Wei Ying," he moans again, when Wei Wuxian moves his hand.

He gasps for air, his body twisting into it, his whole being searching for Wei Wuxian. He makes another piteous sound, the torment of it all overwhelming. Wei Wuxian leans down against him then, his own robes open, pressing them skin to skin.

Lan Wangji sobs. It is something. It is something. The pain abates somewhat, and he sighs, turning toward him, his mouth brushing Wei Wuxian's hair. He has the wherewithal now to fight the urge to kiss his head properly, his face, anything he can reach. He holds himself still beneath him instead. And Wei Wuxian touches him, and touches him. The incomprehensible pleasure builds, and builds, until Lan Wangji cannot breathe. But it does not break.

Something almost like soft lips brushes his throat.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian says into his ear, "this, is this...will this be enough?"

The pleasure is just another kind of pain, now. Lan Wangji shakes his head as sweat rolls off of him, as he tries and fails to get enough air to speak.

Wei Wuxian clears his throat. "What, then?"

Lan Wangji's body knows what it needs. But he does not want to tell.

"Come on, Lan Zhan, after all this? Don't get shy on me now."

He misses the joking tone he is aiming for, but the pure, unmistakable Wei Wuxian-ness of the tease sends a surge of genuine desire through Lan Wangji. He wraps his legs around Wei Wuxian's hips and pulls him down. Wei Wuxian breathes in sharply.

"You just...you want...but only..."

"Please," says Lan Wangji, barely voiced. "In—" he cannot say it. "Please."

"Ah," Wei Wuxian whispers, into his skin. "If—are you sure?"

Lan Wangji whines. He wishes he were not so very sure. He wishes he were not asking Wei Wuxian to do something so intimate, so extreme. He wishes Wei Wuxian had let him die before it ever came to this.

"Alright Lan Zhan, just hold—hold on," he says, and is gone.

Lan Wangji clamps his mouth shut on a scream as the agony slams back into him, worse even than before.

Not soon enough, Wei Wuxian returns to divest him of his boots, socks and trousers. Lan Wangji fights him without meaning to, trying to keep his knees curled up to his chest, trying to minimize the hurt. Wei Wuxian is briskly patient, handling him with aching care he does not deserve.

And then he is upon him, chest and stomach, hips and thighs, smooth and hard and exquisite. Lan Wangji almost forgets the pain in the rush of gratitude, of solace. Their robes trail off them both, gathering dust as they move together in halting fits and starts.

"Don't let me hurt you, Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian grits out, a strong hand lifting one of Lan Wangji's thighs by the back of the knee.

It is nonsense. He could not hurt Lan Wangji any more than this. And Lan Wangji could not stop him now if he did.

But the kindness. Even in this. Tears prick at Lan Wangji's eyes. He will miss him. He will miss all of Wei Wuxian with all of himself. He will never stop missing him. He will never move past this regret as long as he lives. How could he? Every breath he draws will be by the grace of Wei Wuxian.

Suddenly there is slick pressure against him, against his most private of places, and he gasps, loud and wretched. Wei Wuxian exhales, uneven and deep, and pushes in, in, in. Slowly. So slowly. Lan Wangji bites down hard on his lip to keep from begging for it. His arms are pinned, as are his hips, Wei Wuxian holding him steady, holding him still. Lan Wangji loses all sense. There is only the weight of Wei Wuxian, the full, stinging press of him, the searing pain, the devastating euphoria of being this close, and yet so very far in every way that counts.

Ages pass before Wei Wuxian is fully seated inside him. By then Lan Wangji's breaths are wet and shallow; scraping, desolate things. He does not know any longer what hurts and what feels good. It is all one and the same. He only knows he needs more, in some primal, wordless way.

He asks with the arch of his back, the squeeze of his thighs. He tries, somehow, to keep quiet, but fails more often than not.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian says tightly, "try to relax, I'm going to move. Tell me if it...if it's right."

Lan Wangji manages a loose nod, though he barely understands.

And Wei Wuxian moves. He rolls his hips against him, shifting inside of him, and Lan Wangji groans. Each deep, short thrust pushes air from his lungs, and he lacks the strength to catch it again. It is beyond pleasure. It is ecstatic. To have Wei Wuxian around him, inside him, panting above him. A deep, villainous part of him wants it never to end. The rest of him howls for release.

He is dripping now, steadily, onto his own stomach. He can feel it pooling on his belly, unpleasantly cool. He whimpers between desperate, panting breaths, beyond words.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian says, breath shivering across Lan Wangji's collarbone, "I can't...can't keep this up, you feel too—" his breath catches, and he pauses. "I'm going to finish. You need to come."

Dimly, distantly, the idea that Wei Wuxian should derive pleasure from this, no matter how perfunctory, gives Lan Wangji a perverse sort of satisfaction. It snuffs out like a candle at the nebulous thought that perhaps in another world, they could have had this for real.

In this world, the fact remains that this has gone on far too long. But Lan Wangji can do nothing about it. He meets Wei Wuxian's thrusts, leans into the pleasure, tries to gain the momentum to go over the edge. He should be able to. It should be easy. He has been so hard for so long, has been given more now than in his absolute wildest and wettest of dreams, and yet he hovers, scant inches away.

Wei Wuxian loses patience, his head dropping to Lan Wangji's shoulder. He grunts softly and fists Lan Wangji's wet cock, quick and merciless. Lan Wangji cries out, shuddering violently with the extended, expansive stimulation, worked both inside and out, helplessly, utterly unmade by Wei Wuxian's touch.

And still he does not crest. He is sobbing steadily now, ugly and jagged, and Wei Wuxian kisses his shoulder, his throat, his cheek.

"Were we wrong?" He asks, breathless. "Lan Zhan please, tell—show me, I...I can't...you...I can't lose you. Lan Zhan?"

Exhausted, Lan Wangji turns his tearstained face toward him, blindly seeking. Perhaps they were all wrong. Perhaps he will die now, like this. And perhaps it is selfish of him, but having heard those words, he finds his regret to be less than it should be. Everything, everything hurts. But Wei Wuxian will miss him, too. Of course he will. They are zhiji. This, miraculously, will not erase that. It is more than he deserves. Wei Wuxian has always been more than he deserves.

Lan Wangji heaves, and writhes, and cries.

Wei Wuxian kisses him. Soft, gloriously cool lips on his.

An odd, fleeting, hollow feeling.

The dam breaks. The pain goes suddenly quiet. Roaring to fullness in its absence is the killing swell of such a long-delayed climax. It is possible that he calls Wei Wuxian's name. It is impossible to know.

The world, again, goes dark.

-----

Lan Wangji wakes to gray light and distant birdsong. A sharp edge is digging into his shoulder. He shifts, then goes still at the deep ache in his entire body.

He remembers.

"Hanguang-jun should drink this," says a brisk voice to his right.

Wen Qing sits there, watching him. His heart skips a beat and he looks down. But he is fully clothed once more.

Her smile is wry as she holds a cup out to him. Laboriously, he sits up to take it. It is bitter, but familiar. A restorative. He thanks her formally.

She shakes her head. "No need.” She turns to go.

"Wen-guniang," Lan Wangji says. She pauses. "How long has it been gone?"

She turns to stare at him. He knows she knows what he means.

"How? When?"

She looks away. "You'll have to ask him."

The pang of loss he felt upon waking with Wei Wuxian gone speaks for him. "Will he let me?"

He lies on the slab of rock that serves as Wei Wuxian's bed for too long. It is difficult to tell the passage of time in the Burial Mounds, but it seems slightly brighter than it had...before. He reasons that it could well be the next morning. He wonders if Wei Wuxian slept beside him, then tosses the thought away as gross indulgence. He wonders instead, as he has many times since his last visit, if Wei Wuxian sleeps at all.

First, his excuse to tarry is meditation. He works at it, simultaneously restoring his drained core and healing himself, until the discomfort fades from his every movement to just a specific few.

Once that is done, he has no reason to be idle. But the voice in his head, Wei Wuxian's blisteringly cold one that had called him his proper name all those months ago, keeps him in place. He hears it saying all manner of things in response to seeing him now.

"What more could you possibly want of me?" Wei Wuxian sneers in his mind. And he would be right to do so.

But Lan Wangji does not intend to ask anything of him ever again.

And there is the other thing. The fact that his robes should be uncomfortable, filthy, but they have been cleaned, dried, and arranged back onto his body properly. Comfortably. Almost as if—

He dares not imagine. But at the very least it does not speak of utter contempt.

So he rises. He follows the path Wen Qing told him of. And he does something foolish. He hopes.

After no short while of walking, he comes to a slightly darker, more silent corner of deadened forest. He rounds a bend and sees Wei Wuxian crouched a little ways off, and then hears high, lilting notes as if through water. The energies are strange here, and Wei Wuxian is speaking to with them in their own language.

Lan Wangji approaches until he sees Wei Wuxian go still. He says nothing. Wei Wuxian drops his flute from his lips.

"Are you well?" He asks without rising or turning.

"I am."

Wei Wuxian nods. "Your people are waiting for you."

It is a dismissal. Lan Wangji recognizes this. But he will impose just a little bit longer.

"Your core," he says. Wei Wuxian stands abruptly, still facing away, gripping Chenqing. "Can it be replaced?"

Wei Wuxian whirls to face him, anger and fear warring with the questions on his face.

Lan Wangji has other questions, too. But they do not matter. He is intelligent enough to piece together the cold, empty space where Wei Wuxian's core should be, the tired guilt on Wen Qing's face, and...

"Your scar," he says, dropping his gaze to the scorched earth.

He should not know of it. But he does, now, and he also owes a greater debt than he can ever repay. Wei Wuxian does not respond. How dearly Lan Wangji wants to see his expression. But he will not infringe on any more of his privacy.

The wind howls. He waits.

"You won't tell anybody," Wei Wuxian says uncertainly.

Lan Wangji stiffens. "I will not."

"Nobody told you?"

"Nobody.”

Wei Wuxian pauses, momentarily satisfied.

"You're not going to ask how? Or when?"

Lan Wangji would like to. He would like to know everything of Wei Wuxian, even his sorrow, his pain. But he is not entitled to those things. There is only one point that matters.

"Can it be replaced? Can the procedure be reversed?"

Wei Wuxian sighs. Lan Wangji can tell he does not wish to speak of this.

"So single-minded, Lan Zhan," he scolds, then shakes his head. "The chance of success would be small; the chance of finding a donor, much smaller."

But this is all Lan Wangji hoped to hear. It is enough. He goes to his knees, arms circled in front of his chest.

"Allow me," he says.

"Lan Zhan!" Wei Wuxian darts forward, trying to pull Lan Wangji up from the ground. Eventually he gives up and goes to his knees in front of him, pushing at his arms. "Lan Zhan, stop this," he says, panicked. "Don't be stupid, stop—Lan Zhan, you can't be serious."

"Please allow me," Lan Wangji repeats, eyes downcast.

"Stop this!" Wei Wuxian shouts. "It can't be done, and I wouldn't take it from you anyway!"

Lan Wangji flinches bodily. He had not considered...but yes. Everything in him is sullied. He bends at the waist, bowing further.

"Apologies for the offense," he says, then snaps his mouth shut. His voice is too obviously strained.

"Lan Zhan?" Wei Wuxian says, still alarmed.

Lan Wangji needs to leave. He has already overstayed. But he...he has not tried hard enough.

"This debt is too great to repay in one lifetime," he says. "Please inform this one of what he may do to begin."

Wei Wuxian sags, dragging one of Lan Wangji's wrists with him. "Lan Zhan, there is no debt between us."

Lan Wangji only just stops himself from glancing up. He does not understand.

"I owe you my life and more," he says. "You took great pains to save me, even as the situation proved me unworthy of it. I owe—"

"You owe me nothing," Wei Wuxian insists, shaking Lan Wangji's arm. "There were no great pains. Nobody is unworthy. Well...you aren't."

Lan Wangji opens his mouth to protest, but Wei Wuxian speaks over him.

"People have...desires, Lan Zhan. There's nothing unworthy about it."

"But you—"

"Stop," he says. He sounds so, so tired. "If you hadn't been...dying. If we—" He stops. "Just keep my secret," he says, and lets go of his wrist. "And live well."

Lan Wangji closes his eyes. The thought of going back to his home, his life, after this, had not yet occurred to him. It sinks him from his knees to the ground. How can he do this? How can he leave him this way?

"Wei Ying," he pleads. "I must...I must do something. I cannot...I..."

"Why, Lan Zhan?" Wei Wuxian asks, not unkindly. "You have responsibilities. People to protect, just like me. Live well, and count things even between us. Why not?"

Lan Wangji’s chest caves in. He does not make the sound clawing up his throat.

"You...truly, you must know why," he says. "After... you must know. I would not leave you in need. I could not."

"Ah, Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian says sadly. He shuffles forward. Lan Wangji startles at the feel of fingertips on his cheek. "You're too good. But all I need is," he huffs, "political asylum for me and 40 friends? It's not your burden."

Suddenly yet slowly, like the first burst of sunrise, an idea reveals itself on the horizon of Lan Wangji’s mind. It is unorthodox. And likely unwelcome. But it is all he has.

"My uncle made a suggestion," he says. "When my affliction became known. It is true that he did not know what it would mean, but I would hold him to it. If it is not...hateful, to you."

"I don't know what you mean," Wei Wuxian says warily.

Lan Wangji steels himself. "You are perceived as the head of a sect. A proper alliance could protect your people, and Gusu Lan is in need of hands for rebuilding. The person who cast this curse upon me has given the perfect excuse, and made themselves scapegoat. If you would...I would not ask anything of you, if you agreed. It would be a marriage in name only, as you wish it."

Wei Wuxian's silence turns to spluttering. "M—Lan Zh—marriage?? What—how—"

"If the idea is odious, I will not mention it again. But as I said. My uncle suggested it. And under the circumstances, he cannot refuse."

"Your—he—Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan, look at me. Look at me, please."

Lan Wangji looks at him. His eyes are wide. Disbelieving. Concerned.

"Your uncle would qi deviate if you even hinted at such a thing," he says. "Gusu Lan is in a precarious enough position, you don't need...I have nothing to offer in return." He pats his lower stomach, empty of spiritual energy, emphatically. “Nothing. Don't be ridiculous."

"It is not ridiculous," Lan Wangji argues, certain now that he is right. "You can offer more protection for us, and we can offer legitimacy. The person who cast this curse can be seen to have forced our hands. Has—has forced our hands."

He stops himself. He should not push this. Wei Wuxian is looking at him as if he does not know him.

"You don't want to marry me, Lan Zhan."

This gives Lan Wangji pause. It is a confusing objection, to say the least. He stares, trying to comprehend. He clears his throat. Takes a breath.

"If you are under the impression..." he stops. Drops his eyes once more. "...that the...impetus of the curse. Is the whole of the way I—”

"Demonic cultivation," Wei Wuxian interrupts. "It would be unhealthy. For you. And your elders! They wouldn't let me, not if I were...attached to your sect. To you.”

A fair concern, and one Lan Wangji has been turning over in his own mind as well. "Is this your only objection?"

Wei Wuxian casts about. "Ah..."

Lan Wangji takes one last plunge. "The elders can be reasoned with, compromises can be made. I am not concerned for my health: being near you could never be harmful to me." He hears himself, then, and amends, "Though you need not. Be near me. That is not a condition."

"You would defend this?" Wei Wuxian asks, bemused.

"Defend what?"

"My cultivation path. You..."

Lan Wangji resists a sigh. "I understand the reason, now. And I believe...if you did not object. We could work toward making it safe, without stripping you of what your hard work has created."

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian says. He reaches out, then stops.

Lan Wangji stares at his hand, hovering between them. His heart is beating so hard he can feel it in his eyes, in his tongue.

"Wei Ying."

"You would let me, though?"

His tone is gently mocking. His head is cocked to the side, the edge of a smile playing across his lips. It knocks the breath from Lan Wangji's chest.

"Let you?" He asks, dazed.

"Be near you."

Lan Wangji's heart stops. It is a moment before he can respond.

"I would. Always."

Wei Wuxian takes his hand, and sighs. "You don't owe me this," he says again.

"I do," Lan Wangji counters, off-kilter. "I owe you. And I want to. I would want to, even if—"

He loosens his tight grip on Wei Wuxian's hand. He is saying too much, taking too much, being too much. He settles himself. Finds the words that matter.

"It would be a thing happily given, with no strings attached, should you wish it."

Wei Wuxian laughs strangely. "Lan Zhan, you really..." He shakes his head. "I'd marry you in an instant, you know," says.

Lan Wangji's neck hurts from the speed with which he looks up at him. Hope, warm and liquid, blooms through his limbs.

"But I can't make this decision on my own," Wei Wuxian goes on. "It's not just my life. We have to talk it over with everyone."

"Yes," Lan Wangji says, surprised, and eager now that he sees the possibility of success. Of doing something of use.

"Alright," says Wei Wuxian, a smile hidden in the corner of his mouth. "I can't promise...but it...it could work."

"It will," Lan Wangji says, certain that the strength of his conviction alone will carry them through if need be.

He feels strange and dreamlike, confused but heartened by the turn in this conversation. That Wei Wuxian can stand the sight of him, let alone wish to ally with him personally, seems too wonderful to be true. Another Wei Wuxian hallmark.

"But Lan Zhan, no more talk of strings," Wei Wuxian says.

Lan Wangji sobers and nods. It is unseemly. Of course their understanding must be a tacit one, now.

But his hand is suddenly in both of Wei Wuxian's.

"You need to stop feeling guilty," Wei Wuxian says, looking down at it. "If I were your husband...if I were. We could try all that again, but without the impending doom. We could try it again any way we like, any time—all the time—and we'd—"

"Wei Ying," Lan Wangji interrupts, strangled. His heart is in his throat. He cannot comprehend what he is hearing. His ears, his face, are on fire.

Wei Wuxian smiles down at their hands, one part shy, one part mischief. "I think we could get really good at it, if we had the chance, don't you?"

Lan Wangji stares at him. "You..."

"Mn," says Wei Wuxian, meeting his eyes.

He shines so bright, even without any core to speak of. He takes Lan Wangji's breath away.

"I take it back," Wei Wuxian says, his voice suddenly urgent. "I like strings. Mine is that if this happens, I want to be your real husband. In name, in practice, in bed, and in your heart. Because you would be, in mine."

Lan Wangji's voice sticks in his throat. He feels...he feels unreal. He does not know what to do, to say. Perhaps they never broke the curse at all and he has simply gone mad. But Wei Wuxian's fingers stroking his palm, the root-knotted dirt beneath his shins, are real. He sways, unbalanced.

Wei Wuxian reaches out. Catches him. Folds him into his arms for a second time. Lan Wangji's breath shudders out of him.

He is on his knees, breathlessly held in the arms of his beloved. He has dreamt this many ways. But never has it been so real, so full of hope. He wraps his arms around Wei Wuxian in turn, buries his face in his shoulder.

Wei Wuxian huffs. "Jiang Cheng is going to be so angry."

Lan Wangji comes back down to earth. It is true he had not thought of this. He makes to pull away. "How should—"

Wei Wuxian clutches him tighter. "I don't care," he says, "I don't care, we can manage him." He pauses, then speaks more softly. "Maybe...I could see shijie's wedding after all. Or—no. It's too soon, I—"

"Yes," says Lan Wangji. "You will. We will go together."

Wei Wuxian takes a deep breath, and lets it out into Lan Wangji's hair.

"Together," he says.

It takes several serious, and at times uncomfortable, discussions, but in the end, Gusu Lan’s Second Jade is indeed thoroughly removed from the marriage pool of the great sects. The curse caster is found and punished. And everybody else lives happily ever after.

The end.

-----

(Thank you for coming on this wildly self-indulgent journey, I hope you enjoyed it. If you’d like to read some actually nicely-polished, fleshed-out fics by me—including another sex-cursed LWJ—check out my AO3.)

#my fic #mdzsnet #the untamed fanfic #theuntameddaily #bottom lan wangji #that tag just...has to go there bc i know people actually find things through it #on tumblr??? you ask #yes my friends evidently #anyway here's...this #angst that morphs suddenly into the MOST indulgent of fix-its #does it have a consistent tone??? is it Good??? who knows. unimportant #is it not enough to simply tweet 9 thousand words in 3 days and then yeet it at your tumblr followers too #this isn't FOR a literary award....it's for melodrmatic wangxian Feels and nothing else #i hope you enjoy it!!!! <3

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