#i miss him so bad it's not funny i am going numb to act like it doesnt hurt | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

divine-mistake · 3 years

Text

bitter fruit

Summary: “The mission was already a success!” you say and you can feel tears burning the back of your eyes. You will yourself to blink them back. “You had the files, the base was set to detonate, I don’t understand why you didn’t just stay on the fucking jet.”

“Because you were going to die.”

Characters: Bucky Barnes/(f)Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut (oral fem receiving, Bucky is a slut for consent), language, graphic depictions of violence, blood

Word Count: 9338

A/N: This is a tumblr request for @buckybarnes101 who requested an enemies to lovers with eventual smut and I got so so carried away with this request and ended up writing this 9k chonker! (5k of it is smut so, carry on) HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY! Enjoy!!

main masterlist | AO3

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you snap, “maybe about saving all the innocent people that’ve been trapped in HYDRA’s basement for god knows how long?”

Bucky snarls at you, grabbing the front of your tac-suit and pulling you up until your nose is inches from his. A striking pain shoots through your side like a bullet, which is funny, considering the hole he stitched up for you what seemed like seconds ago.

But just like your relationship, numb one second and blazing the next, it’s like some switch has flipped in his brain in a matter of minutes.

You should really give him some more credit—the man describes his brain as spaghetti most days. And as funny as it sounds, it really isn’t. You’re keenly aware of the haunted look that fills his eyes when he struggles with his past.

Except when he acts like this, it’s hard to remember that.

Something smells of smoke and gunpowder. People are screaming. The men who just ran through the door are shouting in Russian, you know, because you’ve heard the same language from Bucky’s mouth when he’s having nightmares. Faintly, you realize there’s a pain just above your hip. You don’t have time to look. The gun is in your hands and you’re firing. Someone—innocent, crying—bumps into you as they flee the scene. Your shot goes wide.

Bucky’s voice crackles over the comms. “Where are you?” He sounds panicked.

“Got held up,” you respond. “I’m on my way. Civilians headed to you.”

He curses your name. “I told you to get back to the jet!”

The butt of an assault rifle is hurtling toward you and you duck, rolling across the dirty concrete. The pain in your side flares up, burning. You think you might’ve gotten shot. You return the favor, killing two more HYDRA agents.

“I took a detour.”

A moment to breathe. Your eyes roam over the cells that you uncovered in the base, checking for any signs of life you previously missed. It’s all dead bodies and blood. You’re starting to feel weak.

“Get back to the fucking jet, agent! The base is rigged to blow!”

Before you can reply, someone grabs you by the hair, the muzzle of a gun pressed into your neck. On reflex and instinct alone, you thrust your elbow into his side and disarm him just in time. The gun goes off, bullet lodging in the concrete. Fucking slug would’ve ripped right through you.

“Bit busy,” you reply to Bucky.

Your name is lost to the sound of you firing the last few rounds into your attacker. When you’re sure he’s dead, you slump to the wet floor, knees unable to hold you any longer. The pain in your side is killing you—probably literally. A gasp escapes you when you press your fingers to the wound, trying to staunch the blood from the bullet hole, but at this point, you guess it doesn’t matter. The base is going to go up in flames in a few more minutes and you don’t have the strength to get back to the quinjet.

And really, you don’t want to. Bucky’s gonna be pissed.

“Hey, Barnes,” you wheeze through the comms. He doesn’t reply. “You know how you got all pissy at Sam when he ate your last loaf of that banana bread, and you put all those laxatives in his brownies and he was shitting for like, days? Yeah, that was me. I ate your banana bread.”

He never replies, but you chuckle all the way until you fall asleep, cheek pressed into a pool of someone’s blood.

He says your name now, catching your attention again, and when you roll your eyes at him he shakes you again. With a hiss of pain, you try and shove him away from you, but his dumb super soldier ass is too heavy.

“That hurts!”

“Good!” Bucky finally lets you go and you slump against your seat, wincing. “Maybe the pain will make you stop being so fucking reckless! You defied a direct order from your captain. You could have died.”

“Maybe I should have,” you mutter back, not looking at him.

“I should be so lucky,” he seethes. “If I hadn’t gone back for your dumbass, your body wouldn’t have even been recovered. You would have rotted in that damn HYDRA base. Is that what you want?”

You snort. “Ain’t like I got a family who wants my ashes.”

Bucky throws up his hands, exasperated, and then decides to pace up and down the aisle of the jet. He doesn’t look at you, and you only sneak glances at the rage painting his face when you’re sure he isn’t going to see you staring. He looks just as worn as you, the sole sleeve of his tac-suit bloody and ripped up, charred remains and soot skimming his boots where he’s tied the laces tight. Sweat-matted and probably dried with blood, his hair is falling in chunks from the bun he usually keeps it in for missions now, and he has to brush it out of his face every few paces he takes.

In another phrase, Bucky is fucking hot right now.

Maybe death would have been tragic, you muse, since you wouldn’t get to see the absolute specimen of your partner anymore.

For as much as you two hate each other, you can’t deny how gorgeous he is. Ripped to match the gods, carefully trimmed beard only a little more bristled than the one Steve sports these days, and god, the man wears a sweater like it’s Armani.

When you blink, you realize he’s looking at you, and your face flushes. It isn’t the first time he’s caught you staring at him hungrily, you’re sure, but most of the time he gets this stupid smug look on his face, lips wide in a smirk, and sometimes he’ll even throw you a flirty little line that has you gnashing your teeth and snapping at him to fuck off.

But this time, he’s so angry that he just stares at you, eyes narrowed in a glare.

“When we get back,” he says, nostrils flaring, “I’m benching you.”

“What?” you cry out, eyes wide. “Why the fuck—who the—who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Your captain!” he roars, and you almost swear the whole jet shakes with his fury. “You disobeyed my direct order to retreat to the jet and instead you almost cost us both our lives. Why the fuck shouldn’t I bench you?”

“I didn’t ask you to come save me!” you shout back, trying to stand from your seat. Almost immediately, Bucky shoves you back down.

“Not only am I your captain for this mission, but I’m your partner. I’m responsible for you. What, you just expect me to leave you behind?”

“The mission was already a success!” you say and you can feel tears burning the back of your eyes. You will yourself to blink them back. “You had the files, the base was set to detonate, I don’t understand why you didn’t just stay on the fucking jet.”

“Because you were going to die.”

The way that Bucky is looking at you right now steals all your breath away, steals all the fight you feel in your bones. You watch the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the way the vein in his neck jumps, the way he holds his jaw tight. His eyes, a blaze of blue, are looking at you like he’s afraid you’ll dissolve right in front of him, leaving behind a body bag of skin and bones and teeth. That’s all you are, maybe.

“Stay with me,” he says, voice so close to your ear. “Please, just stay with me, doll.”

It’s all hazy. The world is black. You can’t open your eyes, they’re so heavy. Your body hurts so bad, so fucking bad. Someone is jostling you and it hurts so bad and you just want to open your mouth and scream.

“You’re okay.” It’s Bucky, you realize in some vague fog of a dream. “You’re going to be okay, I’ve got you.”

Your leg feels like it’s on fire. The air smells like the fourth of July, all fire and gunpowder and barbeque. Burnt flesh. It’s hot and thick, the smoke you’re breathing in.

“I have so much to tell you,” he whispers, maybe. Or maybe that’s just how it sounds in your mind. “So much to say to you. So much to apologize for. I need to tell you something. You told me about that dumb fucking banana bread. I have something I gotta tell you, doll.”

What? What does he have to tell you? You want to ask but your throat is so dry and your lips are glued together.

You want to tell him you aren’t dying, and god, he’s being so dramatic. But you can’t, because you might actually be dying.

Instead, you try so so so hard to open your eyes, and a sliver of light invades your vision, and even with the way your eyelids shudder, you can see Bucky’s face. Just a little bit. He’s covered in blood, you think.

Oh, but his eyes. Fuck, you love his eyes. Thank god you opened yours so you could stare at his eyes before you go to sleep again. So blue. So deep. So icy and sad and hurt and beautiful.

“Please,” he says, and you swear it’s the only time he’s ever begged you for anything.

Of course, you tell yourself before your eyes close again. I’d do anything for you.

“Why do you care?” you whisper, and he blanches, because you swear his damned super soldier hearing can even hear your thoughts.

But fuck it, you’re young, wild, and free, and you’re alive now too, so fuck it.

“Why do you care?” you repeat, louder this time, very clearly addressing him. “Why do you care so much if I die? You’ve hated me since the day you met me,” you spit the words out like poison.

Bucky turns away, gaze trained on something other than you and your bloodied tac-suit.

“We’ve always fought about this,” you continue. “This isn’t anything new, Barnes. You knew I’d go down to save those people. You knew I’d risk my life to get them out. You know this and you still fucking went after me. So why?”

The silence eats at every edge you have until it consumes you, and Bucky never replies.

You watch him walk away, toward the cockpit, and you don’t have the energy to follow him and finish the fight.

“Get it through your pretty little head before you go on a mission and get yourself killed, doll.” Bucky’s smirk sends a shiver through you and you aren’t sure if it's anger or arousal. You bite down on your tongue to keep from lashing out. “You can’t save everyone.”

“Bullshit,” you say before you realize. Bucky’s eyes go wide. “I took this job because I have the ability to save people, so I’m going to save everyone.”

His mouth opens but you cut him off.

“I don’t care if you can’t save everyone, but me?” Your finger is braced against his hard chest and he doesn’t recoil. “I’ll save everyone or I’ll die trying.”

“Hey,” Steve says, trying to move between you two, but you barely notice his presence.

“You’re stupid,” Bucky hisses.

You smirk. “You’re not as skilled as you think you are.”

“Shut up,” he snarls.

“Make me,” you snap back.

“Guys,” Steve tries to interrupt.

“Meet me in the ring.” Bucky’s eyes are glaring down at you, heated. “Let’s see if you can handle me, doll.”

“Buck!” Steve’s hand falls on Bucky’s shoulder, working to hold him back from stalking off to the gym. But Bucky shrugs him off.

“Back off, Steve.” He looks over his shoulder at you as if daring you to follow.

And, fuck, you’ve never backed down from a challenge in your entire life, so you follow him all the way to the training room, watching the way his muscles strain through his tight t-shirt the whole way.

He’s kind enough to hold the ropes up so you can duck under easier, but you roll your eyes and leverage your foot against the spring and tuck your legs underneath you to jump the top rope easily. You throw him the same look that he did, a coy gaze over your shoulder, and then you beckon him forward.

His nostrils flare and you wonder what he’d look like on top of you in bed.

“Wrap your hands, for god’s sake,” Steve shouts, but you ignore him in favor of cracking your knuckles for good measure.

“I’m not planning on getting mine bloody,” you tell him, and Bucky laughs brusk.

“You should plan on losing,” he says, smirking.

With a twist of your jaw, you crack your neck. “Not planning on that, either.”

Like big cats, the two of you circle each other, toes so light the mat makes no noise. Bucky’s eyes are focused, narrowed, and beautiful like this, you think. He’s calculating every single movement you’re making and it sends a heat down to your core. This is all just foreplay to you.

Until he charges, and then it’s on. You’re a flurry of limbs, defensive stances and blocks. Bucky is unrelenting and the fucker is fast for his size. He never uses his metal arm to attack, but the manic whirr and click of it as he moves is alarming. There’s a window of opportunity when Bucky overshoots a right hook and you duck underneath his arm, and you’re able to get behind him and kick him the back of his knee. He falters for not even a second and then it’s back on.

It’s a dance, weaving between limbs and twirling kicks aimed at his head. You struggle to figure out how to take him down—he’s so big, like a fucking brick wall. There’s very little chance you can flip him. You’re going to have to try and get him in a hold, but there’s no way he’s going to allow you to do that.

But maybe you can bait him. You go on the attack now, whiffing a couple of good punches and sending a straight kick right at his jaw that he barely dodges. While you’re recovering, before your foot is even planted back on the mat, Bucky does exactly what you want him to do. He slides up with a fist and you feign a misstep, ducking right. His follow-through is too heavy and you grab his wrist, locking it in your grasp, and then your heel goes straight into his abdomen, right under his center of gravity.

He goes down and you relish in the moment his eyes blow wide with the shock of being caught off guard. You scramble on top of him but he rocks his hips up and starts to roll you both until you’re underneath him. In retaliation, you lock one foot around his calf and use your other knee to jab his stomach, and then you roll him underneath you instead. Your forearm presses against his neck, legs squeezing his middle.

God, he’s fucking pretty, his blue eyes all big and pants falling out of his pink lips. Sweat is dripping from his hairline and rolling off the bridge of his nose and it pleases you, the fact that you made Bucky Barnes bust his ass in a fight. You know you have to look like a drowned dog by now, so how the fuck is he still so pretty? For that, you press down on his throat harder until he taps the mat—a yield.

Immediately you’re off him, panting as you lean against the ropes, but a shit-eating grin is plastered on your face. Bucky looks anywhere but you, wiping his damp face on his shirt, which gives you the most perfect flash of his carved abs.

“So,” you say, breaking the silence, “we can agree to disagree, right?”

He stares at you for a hard moment, a longer moment than he has before, and you swallow as desire crawls up your spine. Then, Bucky ducks under the ropes, grabs his towel, and gets the hell out of dodge.

“Fuck you too, Barnes!” you shout, and you know he must’ve heard you.

He helps you walk off the quinjet and you hate literally every second of every moment that you have to have his arm wrapped around your waist. Mostly because you’re pissed at him and you hate being babied, but also because god, you can imagine Bucky holding you like this in a different context way better than you should be able to.

Those thoughts are the demons in your brain and you need someone to exorcise you. Probably Natasha. No, Natasha will make fun of you. Wanda, then.

As soon as you’re out of the hangar, Bucky asks FRIDAY if there’s anyone in the medbay, and your neck about snaps in half from how fast you turn.

“No,” you say. “Absolutely not. I’m not going to medical.”

He cuts you a glare. “As if you have a say in it.”

“I do have a say! It’s my body! This is the twenty-first century, Barnes. My body, my choice!”

“You’re injured,” he grits through his teeth. “We’re going to medbay.”

“I don’t need to go!” You start dragging your heels, trying to make yourself heavier, but Bucky is a super soldier and probably throws mack trucks for a living or something. “You stitched me up! The burns aren’t that bad, either. I’m fine, I’m not going to medical.”

“God, can you ever give me a break?” he groans. “Why are you always so fucking difficult?”

“I’m not being difficult!” you snarl, trying to push away from him, but his grip tightens. “Why the fuck do you care so much?”

“You’re so fucking stupid.”

“Yeah, maybe I am, since I don’t know why the fuck you give two shits about saving my quote-unquote dumbass who almost got us both killed, and I don’t know why the fuck you care about getting me to medical when you’re gonna bench me anyway! Right, thanks a lot Barnes, I’m so stupid for not fucking figuring it out!”

“You are!” he roars, and then your back is against the wall, his hand cushioning your head from hitting it. He corners you there, covering your body with his, ducking down so your mouths are so close you would only need to reach up a little to kiss him, and god, that’s tempting.

Not tempting enough when you’re this pissed off, though.

“So that’s what it is, huh? You just think I’m some stupid, incapable little girl who is so impractical because all she wants to do is save lives? You think I’m so stupid that I don’t know that people are going to die? And they’re going to die because I can’t save them? Maybe you should think about how I could never live with myself if I didn’t do everything possible to save them, so I risk my life to get them to safety. I would never ever risk yours, you stupid, arrogant, ignorant—”

Oh, Jesus.

His lips are hot when they crash against yours, pinning you between him and the wall. It’s desperate, the kind of kiss you’ve never had before. It’s so desperate and you want to pull away and ask him, Bucky, what are you so desperate for? He kisses you like he wants to keep you, his mouth swallowing yours like he can’t get enough of you. It’s hungry and begging and you don’t ever want it to stop, your teeth nipping blood from his bottom lip as if it’ll stop him from leaving, but he pulls away, leaving you breathless anyway.

“You’re stupid,” he repeats again and you watch his tongue dart out to taste the blood you’ve ripped from his skin. It sends a thrill of pleasure through you. “You’re so stupid.”

And he kisses you again and you decide that sure, maybe you’re stupid, you’ll be stupid all day long because he’s going to kiss you stupid.

It’s your hands that move first, you realize in some random corner of your mind. Your fingers twine in his brown locks, tugging the hair tie away and flinging it somewhere. Vaguely, you realize you’re still in the middle of the hallway, on the way to the elevator, but you don’t give a shit. The hand that isn’t twisting Bucky’s scalp finds the material of his tac-suit and starts pulling at all the straps and buckles, searching for a sliver of his hot skin in any capacity.

His own hand, the one not holding the back of your head, skims over your waist and flutters down your uninjured hip, grasping at the flesh underneath your suit. Suddenly, you’re overcome with the need to get these fucking clothes off, and immediately, and you break the kiss so you can suck down air and ask the man you’ve been hating, been pining after, to take you to bed.

As you do, Bucky trails a hot path of sloppy kisses down your chin, over your jaw, against your neck, until he finds the juncture of your shoulder and attaches his teeth there, nibbling on a patch of skin that is so distracting you forget about your question for a minute. And then your fingers run over a rough spot on his suit and you remember.

“Bucky,” you gasp out, and it sounds so heady that you nearly throw your head back. “Bucky,” you repeat, more urgently, when he doesn’t let up, your hand is tightening on his sleeve and tugging on it.

His head snaps up now, eyes piercing yours, concerned.

“Are you okay?” he asks, moving your hair away from your face to look closer at you.

“Bed,” you rasp out, but barely. “Now, please.”

He doesn’t move for a second, just staring at you like he’s scared, like he’s surprised you would ask. You see his eyes sort of glaze over, a reminder of the nightmares he’s seen, the nightmares he replays over and over in his head, but you’re selfish and your core is pulsing with a heat you’ve never felt this hot before and you need him here, not wherever his mind is taking him.

“Please, Bucky,” you say, and he blinks, and then he’s present again.

“Anything for you, doll,” he whispers, and your legs nearly collapse beneath you at the thought. Bucky scoops you into his arms carefully, trying not to jostle your wound too much, and then he sweeps you into the elevator and you’re speeding toward his room and hoping to god that Steve isn’t prowling around.

In a haze of kissing and excitement, you barely recognize that Bucky’s opening his door until it’s closed behind you and he’s walking you through his room and to his bed.

God, you’ve wanted to be in his bed for so fucking long.

He drops you among the sheets gently, so starkly different from the harsh tone of his voice only a few minutes earlier when he was yelling at you, and you’re not sure what you like better. You want Bucky to fuck you, to rip you in half and put you back together like he always does. But you want him, so badly, to make love to you just as much, but you’d never admit that to him.

Bucky’s kissing you so sweetly now, and then his kisses get more forceful, more needy, and you suck on his tongue until he’s panting above you. His hands are everywhere, sliding over your suit, unstrapping and unzipping and unbuckling all your gear, and your hands fumble in tune with his, trying to help him get you out of your clothes.

Just before he takes off your vest, he kisses you and asks, “Is this okay?”

You rip the vest off yourself, sitting up on your elbows to rip your undershirt off with it, leaving you in a black sports bra.

And you revel in the way Bucky stares at this new flesh. His lips find your sweaty skin, covering every inch that’s been revealed now as your fingers start taking his tac-suit apart the way he did yours. Soon, you’re frustrated, and you whine and pull at it until he huffs a laugh and takes it off himself. His vest gets thrown to the side and his tank top follows, leaving him bare-chested.

Your fingers are shaky as they touch his tanned skin and you almost laugh at how nervous you are. You’ve spent so long looking at him, hating him, wanting him, and now you have this stretch of his wide chest in front of you and all you can do is let your fingertips glide over him, mouth parted, eyes hazy.

His pupils are blown wide, too, and Bucky takes your hand in his and presses it against him harder, and suddenly you’re feral.

Your hands slide over every part of him, taking in the expanse of him. His biceps, his strong shoulders, the hard planes of his body. As gentle as possible, you trail your fingers closer and closer to the scar where metal meets flesh, and you glance up at him, a silent question, and when he gives you the smallest nod, you smooth over the gnarled rift of skin. You don’t ask if it hurts. He gives no indication that it does. And when you reach up to press a soft kiss to it, he shudders above you.

“Please,” he whispers, so quietly. “Let me touch you, doll.”

You lay back and start to unstrap your holsters, gesturing for Bucky to help you with your pants. He unlaces your boots for you as you throw your weapons to the ground, the clink of belts and buckles mingling in the silence, a song that ignites the excitement inside of you.

Your core is molten lava, the apex of your thighs dripping and Bucky hasn’t even touched the most intimate parts of you yet. Every single fiber of your being is trembling in anticipation, and in your hurry to strip your pants off, a twinge of pain shoots through you as you bend the wrong way, stitches pulling.

Bucky curses—like he’s the one who’s hurt you and you aren’t the idiot trying to rip her pants off—and just like he can flip the switch on his attitude, he flips the switch on this, too. He’s off of you before you realize, sitting back on his haunches, staring down at you in panic.

“I’m—Baby,” he breathes, voice shaking. “I'm sorry.”

His hands are outstretched, reaching for you, trembling as he swallows hard. You watch as his eyes shift in the space between your face and the white gauze wrapped around the bullet wound in your side.

“Bucky,” you hiss and grab him by the back of his neck, pulling him down. He doesn’t budge, not much at least, but you meet him the rest of the way and your lips collide with his in a thunderous crash, and like instinct, he kisses you until you can’t breathe.

“Doll,” he mumbles against your mouth and you drink the word from his tongue, distracting him. “We can’t.”

“We can,” you growl back, teeth reminding him of the pulsing ache between your thighs. In search of more, your hips roll up and meet his own, causing a groan to tumble out of his mouth into your own.

Fuck the pain—you’ll grit your teeth and bear it. This is the only moment you’ll ever have him, and by god, you need him.

Your hands return to your pants. “Help me,” you plead, breathless, unable to shimmy out of them. Bucky’s already pulled your boots off, socks coming with them, and his fingers find the heated flesh right beneath your waistband.

“Are you sure?”

All you can do is whine his name until he understands, and then Bucky is peeling your black pants from your legs, the rush of cool air rolling over your hot skin feeling almost as good as his hands are going to feel if he’ll just put them on you.

When his palms finally fall upon your thighs, rough and calloused and big and warm, you need much more, so much more. The way he trails his fingers down your knees, caressing your calves, brushing atop your ankle, and then coming back up to have his thumbs follow the ridge of muscles in your thighs, it all makes you shiver in pleasure. You’re so hot, sweat pooling in the small of your back against the bed, the dampness of your core becoming harder to ignore.

You squeeze your thighs together in an attempt to relieve the ache and Bucky notices—of course he notices—and his mouth finds your neck again, sucking until dark bruises begin to mar your skin, until you’re bowing off the bed, arching toward him, trying to get something, anything. Anything from him.

At some point, you realize he’s just torturing you on purpose, letting his hands roam the stretch of your stomach, smooth over the hills of your hips, and then draw down your legs until you’re shaking as he kisses you so softly, and then so roughly, like he can’t decide if he wants to grow old with you or if he wants to ruin you for whoever comes after him.

You sit up and reach around, fingers intent on unclasping your bra, but Bucky stops you with a nip at your bottom lip.

“Will you let me?” he asks, so sweetly. Bucky’s hand finds yours and bats them away, his fingers on the hooks as he waits for your answer.

“Yes,” you moan as his other hand tickles down the curve of your side. “God, please, yes.”

“Bucky,” he says, smirking against the side of your neck.

“Shut up and undress me, for fuck’s sake.”

“Well, when you ask so sweet like that, baby.”

With a quiet click, your bra comes undone and Bucky pulls it away from your body, and then your breasts are bare before his eyes. Now, it’s your turn to be doused in ice, to freeze, for the switch to flip.

You feel shy beneath his gaze, the way he looks at your nearly naked body with such reverence, as though this is the moment he’s been waiting for. Your knees close and your elbows draw in over your chest without your permission. It’s not like you want to hide from him, but he looks so perfect atop you, so beautiful in every single facet, better than any dream you’ve ever had of him, and you can’t stop yourself.

What have the other girls looked like underneath him? Better than you, surely. Prettier, skinnier, smaller, sexier. For fuck’s sake, you’ve got a nasty burn on the side of your leg and were shot through your left side only a few hours ago, your middle wrapped in medical tape. You can’t be that pretty a picture.

You’ve had your shot at him and you’re gonna lose it.

But when you look up, Bucky’s looking at you like you’re everything. His face is flushed, red creeping down his neck, and his eyes are soft, hazy, glassy. Gently, his fingers find your jaw and cup your cheek, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth.

“Let me look at you, baby.” His voice is almost as rough as the worn skin of his hand, dry and gravelly and thick with lust. When Bucky moves to grasp your wrists, you let your eyes flutter closed and nod, allowing him to peel your arms away from where they hide you, and you hear the sharp intake of breath he takes.

“God,” his voice shudders. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, doll. I couldn’t have dreamed you up if I tried, and I promise you, I tried.”

Your eyes fly open at this. “What?”

If it bothers him, he doesn’t act like it. Bucky leans down to nuzzle his nose against your collarbone, kissing and licking your skin like he’s making constellations out of your body—bruises connected only by his tongue.

“I’ve thought about this since the day you kicked my ass in the ring.” He sounds like he’s reciting a prayer, all whispered desires. “Your perfect lips, what they’d feel like, how soft they are. If you’d touch my scars, and how your fingers would feel on them all if you did.”

His mouth closes over the mound of your breast, the clash of tongue and teeth upon your nipple forcing you to arch into him in pleasure. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream and you aren’t quite aware that you’re even whining until his free hand crawls up from your hip and cups your other breast, thumb strumming over your peaked nipple. The breathy moans that pour from your mouth fill the room and only seem to make Bucky work faster, work harder, as he drags every drop of pleasure out of you with every instrument he has. Your hips buck up and into his, your thinly-clothed core catching the tent in his pants—his tac-suit, you realize, is still on—and it makes you both groan in a symphony of need.

“Need you,” you somehow manage to get out between your heavy panting, hips still searching for something to relieve the ache in your center. “Bucky, please.”

He releases your nipple from his lips, the chill assaulting the wet bud making you bow from the bed once again. Bucky places a kiss on the other, letting his tongue lave over it until it's just as wet and hard.

“I imagined what you’d sound like,” he says against your stomach, punctuating his words with a smattering of kisses across your skin. “Thought about what you’d—fuck, baby—I thought so much about how you’d look beneath me all spread out, just for me.”

The sound you make in reply is almost embarrassing as how soaked your panties are.

“Wondered how you’d taste.” He lets his tongue drag across the hem of your underwear and you press up, trying to get his mouth closer, but his hands settle on your hips and gently hold you to the bed.

“Bucky!” you try and growl, but it comes out an octave too high. “Please!”

“What is it, babydoll?” His fingers curl underneath, thumbs riding the line of skin just beneath your panties.

“I need you!” You throw your head back against the pillow. “I’ve thought about it too,” you admit, breathing hard. “How you’d touch me like this, how you’d feel inside me, please, so please just—I need you, Bucky.”

“You got me, baby,” he says and it sounds so fucking beautiful. “I’m right here. I got you, doll. Gonna take care of you, okay? Will you let me give you what you need?”

You answer by trying to press your hips up again, and Bucky shifts until his hands are cupping your ass and he drags you down the bed, closer to him, closer to his own hips where you can feel the bulge of his cock begging to be released.

“Your pants,” you remind him, wrapping your uninjured leg around the back of his thigh. “I want to feel you, please, Bucky.”

“Okay, doll,” he says, laying a kiss just above your panty line again, and then he’s pulling away and you whine despite it.

You listen as Bucky fiddles with his gear, going through the same motions as you had to go through earlier. The clink of his knives, the buckles of his holsters, the heavy soles of his boots as he throws them off. When you sit up, Bucky is standing in his black boxers, the faint light streaming into his room highlighting the shine of the scars that cover his body.

He looks as breathless, as flustered, as aroused as you feel. His hair is mussed from your hands, falling over his shoulder in the thick waves that feel so soft between your fingers. The lust is evident in the way his eyes roam over your body, his pupils blown wide, and then he’s moving toward you and fitting himself between your legs on the bed.

Bucky slides his hands over your heated skin yet again, a reminder of how much he wants you, how much he loves the feel of you, before his fingers hook inside your panties and begin to pull them down. Before he gets too far, he stops again, gaze flicking up to meet yours.

“Is this alright?” he asks.

You nod, lifting your hips as carefully as possible in order to keep from jostling your wound, and Bucky slips the last piece of clothing from your body. You hope, fucking christ you hope, he doesn’t realize how soaked they are when he peels them off, but maybe that’s a lost cause.

Because as soon as you’re naked, your glistening core bare to his eyes alone, all bets are off. There are no more barriers, nothing for you to hide behind, no sharp words to keep your feelings at bay.

His fingers skim over your lips, collecting all the honey you’ve made for him as his knees widen to spread your thighs. The simple movement has your hips rolling already in search of more, whimpers falling from your mouth as Bucky stares at your naked form beneath him. Eyes lidded, you watch as he brings his fingers, wet with your juices, up to his mouth.

“Shit, doll,” he curses. Bucky’s tongue envelops his digits and he groans at the taste, sending shocks like a fucking earthquake through your body, through your bones, straight to your core.

He moves closer to you, sliding your thighs onto his shoulder and locking his metal arm around the top of your hips, far enough away from your wound that it doesn’t hurt. Bucky peppers kisses along your inner thighs, biting and sucking in intervals that has you pressing your mound to him, begging for more.

“You taste so good,” he mumbles, breath ghosting over your quivering pussy, pulling a wanton whine from your throat. “Will you let me taste you, baby?”

“God, yes, please Bucky, please, I need it so bad.” The words are frantic, strangled, a mess of moans of breathless gasping.

“I know, sweetheart,” he says. “I got you, baby. I got you.”

And then his mouth is on you, hot and slick upon hot and slick, his tongue parting the valley of your lips and delving into your dripping center like he’s a man starved and you’re the first meal he’s tasted in years. You keen in pleasure, thrashing your head against the pillows until your hair is a tangled mess as Bucky’s tongue flattens on your clit, licking a wide path until it’s well-traveled and your hips stutter, held back only by the cooled metal on your heated skin. Your hands find purchase in his hair, fingers tugging at his scalp, and the motion makes him groan into you.

You call his name like it’s the only word you know, chanting it over and over like it’s a spell similar to the one he’s weaving with his tongue upon your aching clit. He doesn’t let up, tracing words you can’t make out and drinking in all the wetness flooding his mouth. The gentle scratch of his wiry beard burns just right, contrasting with the curls of pleasure coming from your sensitive clit. Without realizing, you grind your core against Bucky’s mouth, the friction only serving to make you into a trembling mess, your insides throbbing with a need to be filled, pussy clenching around nothing.

As if he feels you, Bucky slides his free hand over your leg and to the apex of your thighs, the first thick finger entering you slowly, like he’s testing the waters. You cry out, begging for more, and Bucky relents. His second finger follows as his tongue continues to lap at your pussy, letting you gyrate against his face as you try to fuck yourself on his hand.

“Bucky,” you pant, each letter of his name a stutter with moans, “please!”

“Please what, babydoll?” His voice sends another wave of arousal through you, juices slicking his fingers up more than before. Your stomach is tightening, pleasure in tight curls between your legs, center so close to snapping that tears are beginning to leak from your eyes because Bucky won’t fucking let you move your hips in the way that you want. He chuckles against your pussy, breath teasing over you, vibrations making you quiver.

“I’m gonna—”

Bucky curls his fingers inside of you, stroking your spot, just as his mouth envelops your clit in its heat and he sucks, hard, and the thin thread coiling in your core snaps and you come apart, harder, and a scream tears itself from your throat as warm tears fall into your hairline.

He never stops. As his suckling turns into kitten licks upon your clit, his third finger breaches your opening and slips inside, pumping into you as you ride your orgasm out on his hand. Your hand is tight in his hair until it all becomes too much and it falls to cover your mouth, your teeth finding your knuckle to bite back the sound of your moans.

“Oh no, baby, no,” Bucky says, and when you look down, he’s between your legs, watching you in the aftershocks of your pleasure. His fingers leave your pussy and you clench around nothing, a whine leaving your lips at the emptiness, until Bucky’s metal fingers are pulling your hand away from your face.

“I gotta hear you,” he whispers, the hand covered in your nectar finding your mouth. “Need to hear all those pretty little noises you’re making, baby. I’ve dreamed about ‘em. Would get my cock all hard thinking about ‘em. You gotta keep making ‘em ‘cause now that I’ve heard ‘em, I can’t get enough, babydoll.”

When he moves to trace your bottom lip, red and swollen from his own, your tongue darts out to taste the salt and sin on the pad of his thumb. Bucky places his fingers at your parted lips and you suck them into your mouth, licking all the juice from his skin, tongue swirling around his digits. You wonder if his lips taste like this, too.

He groans as he watches you, his eyes lidded and hazy and lovely, and then his metal hand finds the waistband of his boxers and yanks them off his hips. In one perfect movement, his cock slaps against his stomach, hot and red and already leaking, which makes you flush at the fact that Bucky liked making you come.

Subconsciously, your tongue snakes out to lick your lips as you take in the length, the thickness of his cock, and Bucky gets that familiar look on his face—cocky, smirking, knowing that he’s pushing your limits. He presses you back down upon the bed, his arms bracketing your head as his nose brushes against yours, his heat pressing into the subtle dip where your hip and thigh meet.

The feeling of his cock, hard and heavy against your naked skin, sends you into a frenzy of arousal, of want, of need. You reach out and take him into your hand, your thumb brushing over the velvet head and smearing his precum along his length. Bucky’s jaw tightens, muscle twitching, as you pump your fist around him and drag your fingers along the blue vein riding up the underside. The groan that falls from his lips, the stutter and jerk of his hips, the way he shakes above you is addicting, and Bucky has to pull your wrist away from his cock in order to stop you from getting him off just like that.

“Baby,” he breathes, resting his sweaty forehead against yours.

“Bucky, please,” you beg again. “Please, I need you inside me.”

“You want me?” he asks, and even though his voice is scratchy and thick with desire, he says it like he’s surprised. As if you could never want him.

You’ve always wanted him.

“Yes, god, Bucky. I want you,” you moan, threading your fingers into his hair to smash your lips together in a sharp, bruising kiss. “I need you,” you say against his mouth. “I need you so, so bad.”

“I need you too, babydoll. Need to feel you,” he says, the sound strained, almost like he can’t stay away from you any longer. You feel it too, the ache without him, the way your pussy clenches in anticipation for him.

The head of Bucky’s cock nudges at your entrance and your slick coats him. The soft skin of him brushes your over-sensitive clit and you keen, and he does it again, and again, until you’re shaking, until you wrap your ankles around Bucky’s back and pull him into you, raising your hips to meet his.

“You want this?” His voice is heavy when he asks.

“Yes,” you moan out, rocking against him.

He says your name and it sounds pained on his tongue. “Are you sure?”

“James.” Your teeth snap and gnash on his name, and it awakens something within him that sets every place he touches you ablaze with a new sensation, and Bucky enters you with a slow thrust of his hips.

And it feels so fucking good.

Like straining a muscle you haven’t used in a while, it aches as he enters while you stretch to accommodate his size. The way his cock feels inside of you—touching you in places you never thought you’d be touched, filling you in a way you never thought you’d be filled.

He’s finally, finally yours. If just for this moment, Bucky Barnes is yours.

Your nails incise his back, making new marks among the sea of scarring he’s suffered, as you cling to his body in any way to feel him closer to you. Bucky leaves kisses on every surface of your face, your jawline, your neck. He kisses you everywhere and you wish you could tattoo the feeling into your skin.

“Are you alright?” he mumbles faintly into your neck and you can feel how hard he’s trying not to move, not to hurt you, to give you time to adjust to him. Your fingers trail up and down his spine, drifting into his hair, scratching against his scalp.

“Yes,” you hiss, undulating your hips and making a similar sound fall from his lips. “Bucky, please.”

You don’t know how many iterations of that same phrase you’ve said all night, but you’ll keep saying it, over and over, if he’ll take you like this. Just like this, with his arms trapping your body to the bed, his hips flush against yours, panting above you as he stares into your eyes all lustful and dark and wanting. He smells like the Bucky you’re so familiar with, your partner, Barnes, gunpowder and explosions and blood, with the clean scent of whatever deodorant he uses. If he’ll keep you like this, where you can pretend your his for this moment, you’ll say it over and over

Bucky, please—Bucky, please—Bucky, please—please—please—

When he finally moves, thrusting into your heat with a growl, it feels like time stops.

Bucky fucks you like he loves you, slow and steady, pumping into you fully and deeply until you lose your mind. He fucks you like he wants to ravage you, fast and quick and hard as he holds your hips to keep you steady, and you ignore the dull pain that flares up in your side because he’s fucking you like he needs you, like he can’t exist without you. He fucks you like he’ll never get another chance to touch you. When he fucks you like this, his thrusts falling out of rhythm, out of time, he rests his forehead against yours and you lean up to capture his mouth with yours, tongues sliding over one another sloppily.

The heat is building up inside of you again, and when Bucky lifts your hips and drapes you over his knees, pressing you up with his metal arm, his cock hits the spot inside you that makes you scream over and over. The waves are cresting. The crescendo is approaching. Every grunt and groan he makes mingles with your moans and shrieking pleasure, and it’s all going to culminate into one big moment, you can feel it.

Bucky pulls back to slip his hand between your bodies, sweaty and hot, and his thumb presses gently into your clit. With one sharp thrust, your body arches off the bed as you snap, screaming his name, and Bucky holds you through it.

Your vision goes black—you aren’t sure if it's because your eyes are screwed shut in pleasurable pain or if it's because you’ve passed out. Bucky’s hips jerk wildly into yours and you tighten the grip you have around his waist with your legs, digging your heels into the small of his strong back.

“So tight,” he hisses into your ear. “So fucking wet, baby. Feel so fucking right, made for me, aren’t you doll?”

“Yes, James,” you moan out as you ride the waves of your orgasm. “Made for you!”

Bucky works at your clit again as his rhythm starts to fail, and even with how sensitive you are, you feel the pleasure curling inside you again, hot inside your stomach. You clench and jolt whenever his cock hits the right angle, and all of a sudden, you’re on the edge yet again.

“I can’t,” you cry out, nearly a sob lost to the sound of his hips snapping against yours.

“You can,” he says, so gently. “You can, baby, just for me. You said so, right?”

How is he still talking? For fuck’s sake, your tongue feels like its detached from your mouth and all you can muster are the moans and whines that come from the back of your throat Bucky is forcing out of you.

“Come with me,” you beg, you plead. “Please James, please, come with me.”

“Baby—”

You break apart silently, clinging to his body, holding him to you as every fiber of your being is torn into pieces, shattered. As your pussy clenches and spasms around him, Bucky stutters in his thrusts and you pull him into you, willing him to fall over the edge with you, and he follows dutifully.

He groans out your name as he comes inside of you, liquid heat searing the deepest part of you. Falling back against the pillows, you whisper his name and drag him with you, mouth meeting his for one last clumsy, haphazard kiss. Bucky stills inside of you, still throbbing, and then he whispers something against your lips.

“I love you.”

You freeze, eyes wide, and Bucky pulls away from your embrace to look at you.

“What?” you ask, swallowing thickly. “What did you say?”

“I—” He looks nervous now, but his blue eyes are so fucking sincere. “I’m—I’m so sorry, fuck.”

Bucky moves to pull out of you, to leave, but you tighten your legs around his hips and trap him against you. The cocky smirk he wears, the confident smile, even the look of desire he wore while fucking you—it’s all gone. Left in its wake is the ashamed look Bucky wears that makes him seem small, and you want to smooth it away until he looks at you like he wants you again. Like he wants you to be his.

Like he loves you.

“Why are you sorry?” you ask him, stroking a hand through his hair.

“Because—fuck—this wasn’t supposed to happen.” He glances away from you and glares at the floor and a heartbreaking pain shoots through you. Now, he pulls out of you, shifting to get off the bed and clean up, but you can’t stop the words before they tumble out.

“You didn’t want me?”

“What?” Bucky turns and cups your face in his hand, searching your eyes for something, and his thumb wipes away a stray tear you didn’t realize had fallen.

Oh fuck, here it comes. He told you he loved you in a fit of passion and now you’re the stupid, clingy girl that he needs to leave behind. You’re partners, first and foremost, and you shouldn’t have forgotten that.

But god, he made you feel like you were his, and you wanted that so bad. You want it so fucking bad.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, voice shaking and you wonder if you mean it. “I know I’m stupid, and I know you hate me, and I know it was just sex—”

“Baby, no, please.” Bucky brings your face to his and kisses you softly, sweetly, like he adores you. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry because someone like me shouldn’t love someone like you. God, I shouldn’t love someone as perfect as you. I can’t have you, doll. And I’m sorry.”

Oh. Bucky does love you.

Oh. Oh. Oh.

You surge up and slant your mouth over his, hand gripping the back of his neck to pull him down, fingers twining in the fine hairs where his scalp meets his skin. In this one kiss, you pour everything you think you can into it, everything you feel now, everything you’ve felt since you met him, everything you’ve ever felt at every moment you’ve shared with him.

“I love you,” you say when you pull away. “I love you so much, Bucky. I’ve loved you since the day I met you.”

His eyes are so wide, so afraid, so confused.

“You do?”

“I do,” you tell him. “God, I’ve wanted you for so long, Bucky Barnes, you stupid man.”

You expect him to kiss you now, but he doesn’t. Instead, Bucky cradles your head in his hand and pulls you to his chest, embracing you in his warm arms. He rolls onto the bed, carefully lifting you until you’re situated on top of him, where you wrap your limbs around him and lay upon his warm body. Bucky lays kisses on the crown of your hair, holding you so tightly against him you think you might suffocate.

“I’ve loved you since the day you kicked my ass, doll,” he admits. You laugh.

“Are you kidding me? I thought you hated me.”

“I could never hate you,” he says. “I hated that you would sacrifice yourself for others. I still hate it. It’s why you got hurt today and god, the threat of losing you, it scares me doll. I didn’t know what I would do if you died right there in my arms and I never got the chance to tell you all this.”

You glance up at him, at his beautiful face and his beautiful eyes, the man who you hated and who you wanted and who you love. God, you really do love him.

“I’m not going to leave you,” you whisper, pressing an awkward kiss to his bare chest. “Now that I have you, I could never leave you.”

He laughs at that. “Babydoll, you’ve always had me. I can’t believe you never knew.”

You think back to all the times he’s looked at you, dopey grins and cocky smiles and coy glances. You think about how long you’ve leaned on each other in the two years you’ve been partners, how he’s the only person you’ve ever trusted with your life, how you always work to come back to him. You think about the butterflies that stirred in your stomach the first time you met him, when he shook your hand and gave you the prettiest smile you’d ever seen, the same smile he has plastered on his face right now as looks down at you.

Sitting up, you look at Bucky Barnes, chin resting in your palm lazily.

“Maybe I’ve always known,” you say.

“Yeah,” he says. “Maybe I did, too.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #one shot #drabble #fic requests #inbox me to request a fic!#thanks for supporting me!#bucky barnes smut #smut fic #divine masterlist

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moonrazeeclipse · 3 years

Text

Day at the Amusement Park.

The last time I went to an amusement park was when I was 12 years-old. My memories have been mostly shaky, but what I can remember was the happiness and joy I felt with my mother and father.

It’s been tough for me to have fun these days. Being a 23 year-old working a typical nine-to-five shift made it difficult to have time for myself. Stressed about the quotas, the numbers, job stability, and everything else in between. Good sleep has eluded me for months.

Then I look at my girlfriend, Nicha, and my hope has never been brighter.

Ah, Nicha. Everyone else knew and recognized her as Minnie, but the closest to her called her by her real name. If I thought an average office job was a grindfest, then hers was a gauntlet. Idol life meant she had to be up as early as 3 A.M. and she’d run through several sets of makeup, practice, interviews, and appearances. During one of her off days she and her members visited my building while I just so happen to be on coffee break. One funny stare and the next thing I knew, we were hiding our relationship from the whole world.

No matter how exhausted she got, she kept that same positive, happy energy as if she had unlimited battery life. Each occasional glance as I drove to the old amusement park, she was beaming, singing along to the songs on the radio, like she were a child. This was one of her rare off days where they didn’t have any schedules, so maybe that’s the reason why she’s extra joyful too.

The park itself hadn’t changed much since I last visited all those years back. The entrance looked rusted and devoid of any life or color. There seemed to be way fewer people visiting as well. Nicha offered to take me to that newer park with those virtual reality simulators, but I turned it down with a chuckle, saying that I wasn’t making enough money to spend a day there. Regardless, we entered the place, her hand holding mine, dragging me with the brightest smile on her face.

Whatever she wanted to do, I followed along. Nicha ran ahead of me, acting like a child and not a famous, recognizable idol. Being around me must be freeing for her; she could be herself when I’m with her. None of the rides were renovated or refashioned, which gave me that nostalgic feel. Because there weren’t that many visitors, waiting only took less than ten minutes for each ride. Despite my motion sickness, I powered through the first roller coaster without a problem. The second one? I recalled hurling up minutes after getting off that one as a child. Nicha screamed her heart out on the first coaster, but was overcome by fear on the second. She leaned into my chest while I was fighting every urge not to puke mid-ride. I sought a barf bag once we got off, making her laugh.

“Ahaha! You look hilarious!” Nicha mocked.

“Why are you gloating? Don’t act like you were hiding your face on my chest.” I retorted. She blushed in embarrassment before pretending to run away. No matter how much she loved to make fun of me, I couldn’t get upset. Her wholesome smiles made her a great person to hang out with.

Walking along the park, we came across a row of booths. These booths offered challenges in exchange for prizes. Dad won me a basketball as a reward back then. Even with age, one of the game masters somehow recognized me by my eyes.

“Hey, hey! It’s been a long time! You’re all grown now!” He said, calling my attention.

“Oh, hey. How did you recognize my face?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You have your father’s eyes, that’s why! How’s he doing?” He changed the subject.

“Umm, great I guess.” I honestly didn’t know how to answer, since I haven’t spoken to him in years.

Nicha suddenly came in from behind and hugged me. The game master’s eyes lit up with excitement.

“Oh! Is this your girlfriend? Why don’t you step up and show her your father’s talent?” He challenged me on the spot. I sighed as Nicha moved right next to me. Her beaming eyes and bright smile gave me more pressure to do well.

I was poor at sports, so I wondered how bad I’d mess up at ring toss. I didn’t have deft hands like my dad, and I wasn’t practicing at all. I’m better with keyboards, I murmured under my breath as he gave me the rings. First toss. The ring hit the bottle. My eyes widened. Second toss. The bottle was a little more distant than the first. I threw the ring and to my surprise, it hit too. Shock drowned out my girlfriend’s cheers and the yell of the game master. One more ring, one more toss. The bottle was placed at a greater distance compared to the earlier ones. I was doing better than I thought, so maybe my luck would run out on this turn. I flung the last ring, and time seemingly slowed down as I released it from my grip.

One, two, three, four, five. Bingo.

Nicha hugged me in celebration. I made all three tosses as the game master applauded me. Wow. Honestly, that may have been divine intervention, considering how awful I am at these games. It must have been five minutes before I moved because I stayed frozen in place, unable to let my victory sink in.

“You do have your father’s genes in you after all! Go ahead and pick a prize.” The game master said, snapping me back to reality.

I turned to Nicha, implying that she could choose the prize. She took the hint and pointed at a gigantic brown teddy bear. The game master grabbed it from the shelf and handed it over to me. I gave the stuffed animal to her, and she buried her face on its belly.

“Aaahh it’s so fluffy! You’re really good at this, Minki!” She cuddled the bear as I just chuckled and waved goodbye to the game master.

The rest of our day at the park was just riding the rest of the attractions and eating an ice cream sandwich along the way. Nicha and I had so much fun together, refusing to let go of the teddy bear. The sun had set and nightfall came, and our time was almost up. But before we left, there was one more ride we hadn’t gone in. The ferris wheel.

The passenger cabins were suited for four people, so we hopped on one, including our stuffed animal. She placed the bear next to her as the wheel began moving. From where I sat I could see the bright lights of the highway, overlooking the specks of people thousands of feet in the air. Nicha looked out the window before turning to me, taking my hand.

“I’ve had so much fun with you today,” she said, caressing my hand gently and pecking it. “Thank you.”

I gazed into her eyes, gleaming brighter than the stars in the night sky. She stared back at me, looking at me the same way. Then something sprung in me to lock lips with her. Nicha sunk into the kiss, pulling me close and our tongues swirled with each other. She was sweeter and tastier than dessert. I cupped her cheek and she placed her palm on mine, running it across her face.

She broke the kiss and slowly spread my legs. I panicked a little because of the situation we’re in. Nicha feigned ignorance and unbuttoned my pants, pulling them down alongside my boxers.

“Nicha! We’re still in public, remember?”

“Your cock says otherwise,” she replied, slapping my hardened cock with her hand. “I’ve been missing you so much. I can’t help myself.”

She seized my balls, giving them a rub. “You’re full. You’ve been missing me too.”

I groaned as she kissed me from my balls, making her way up to my tip. Her soft lips felt so good on my shaft. She looked at me with widened eyes, satisfied with the pleasure she’s giving me. I slumped into my seat and closed my eyes, allowing the euphoria of her swirling tongue to override my brain. If that wasn’t enough, she added her sensual moans into her slurps, giving me tingles up my spine.

My hands flowed through her black locks, while the rest of my body just numbed in pleasure. I didn’t realize she took me in her mouth, hollowing her cheeks. Nicha bobbed her head back and forth, coating my shaft with her saliva. We didn’t care if anyone caught us in the lewd act. Nicha had her way with me and my body happily fell under control.

Pop. She released me from her mouth after blowing me off for a while. I was really sinking into that excitable feeling too. Appropriate timing too, as she finished up just as the car was about to reach ground level. I quickly buttoned up my pants as she pretended like she didn’t suck my cock leaving the pod.

We reached my car just as the park was closing, and she gave me a few pecks on the cheek. “When we get home, I wanna fuck you so bad.”

“Sure, baby. I’ll let you fuck me wherever you want.” The thought of her splayed body already riled me up and I couldn’t be any more excited to drive home.

I turned the key. Rough gruffs roared from the engine. Again. Gruffs. In frustration I slapped my hands against the steering wheel. The car couldn’t start. Fuck.

“I just had it checked last week,” I grumbled. It was second hand but I didn’t have any excuse. Nicha giggled. She was still smiling as she watched me suffer and curse my car out. Oh, no matter how terrible a day gets, you’re always the jovial one.

Conveniently there was a subway station nearby whose line started and ended at the park. We both got out of the car and decided to take the train home. Nicha still refused to let go of the teddy bear.

Entering one of the cars, we sat at the back end of the left row. All the walking wore our legs out, so I slumped down in my seat. Nicha set the bear at the corner chair before sitting beside me. Drowsiness began kicking in and soon enough, I fell into a deep sleep holding my girlfriend’s hand tightly.

I felt a sensation below my chest that woke me up. My eyes opened slowly, vision blurring my sight. I looked to my left and saw only the teddy bear. She probably went to the bathroom, I thought. I tried going back to sleep, but I felt that twitching in my stomach again. I looked down and to my surprise, my pants were on the ground. Nicha was on her knees, sucking my erect cock.

“Nicha! What did I say about doing this in public?” I whispered, trying to avoid causing a disturbance with the nearby passengers.

She responded by taking more of me into her mouth, making me moan with her humming sounds. “Mmph, I can’t help myself. Your cock rubbed on me as we slept.”

It took all of my willpower not to submit to pleasure, but I was able to scout the area. There weren’t a lot of people on this late train ride home, except a man wearing a business suit calling someone on his phone seated on the opposite aisle.

I slowly hopped from one chair to the next using the rail, keeping Nicha busy on my shaft without her letting go into it. My free hands lifted the stuffed bear from its seat and placed it to where I was sitting. The prized toy was huge enough to act as camouflage from unsuspecting train-goers.

“Yeah. Let’s discuss the business trip to Japan at the cafe. I’ll move up so you can spot me as I get off,” the man said as he stood up from his seat and trudged to the front.

I sighed a breath of relief, but that was only a temporary win. I looked below to see how Nicha was doing and my eyes widened. She stripped off her overalls as her bare legs were now exposed.

“Nicha!” I almost screamed, panicking at the situation she’d got us into. She giggles at my reaction before kissing my tip with her soft lips.

“While you were busy covering us up I took my overalls off. I really can’t wait for you to fill me inside.” She said matter-of-factly.

I groaned in annoyance but I couldn’t help myself. She was opening herself and I guess my patience ran out too.

“We still have a few more stops to go before our stop,” She added, stroking me with her fingers.

My psyche crumbled under her control again. I resisted her lips, but not her hands rapidly pumping my cock. I threw my head back and allowed the pleasure to jack my brain, grazing my hands on her hair again.

I must have drowned deeply to the delight of Nicha’s handjob that I ignored the dings and voice of the operator over the speaker indicating the train’s destination. My eyes, struggling to open, somehow caught a glimpse of a few new passengers entering the car. Quickly I bent over and took her overalls as well as my large coat and veiled my crotch. She continued jerking me off under the covers, eager to get me to orgasm. The commuters gave me either weird or neutral looks as they walked by. I gave them a gaze of exhaustion, pretending as if I was ill. I just hope they didn’t notice the suspicious bulge below me.

Most of the travelers moved onto another cabin but some of them sat a few rows behind or ahead of ours. Thankfully none decided to sit in the same aisle as us. My hands, which were positioned on my lap, were grabbed by Nicha. She led it down to her clit and I felt her wetness. Even with some bush she was clearly dripping.

“Fuck me, please,” She whispered, each word laced with lust. “I’m so wet for you, babe.”

I hoisted her from the floor and she wrapped her legs around my waist as I rose for a minute before sitting down with her on me. I carefully lined my shaft against her crotch before burying my cock in her walls. She let out a lengthy, low moan as I started ramming into her tight pussy. My hands snuck through her shirt, pinching her taut nipples, making her squeal.

I could feel her juices cream my hair as I grinded back and forth, making sure she feels every inch of my length. One hand escapes her shirt to cover her mouth, preventing her from letting out wild screams. I pulled her face close to mine, her features indicating pleasure as our lips met for a shaky, passionate kiss.

As we continued making out my eyes caught a glimpse of a stewardess slowly making her way across the cabin, punching passengers’ tickets. I broke the kiss off and drove Nicha into my chest, bundling our bodies with her overalls and my coat. The attendant reached us, her formal smile shifting to a confused look at the weird image ahead of her.

“Oh I’m sorry, is she okay?” She asked matter-of-factly.

“Y-yeah. She’s just a little ill, so I’m warming her up, that’s all.” I answered, nodding repeatedly.

Nicha sold my act by freezing in my arms. I reached into my coat and pulled out two tickets. She punched them and smiled as she walked by, believing my lie.

My girlfriend looked me in the eyes, lust ridden over them. I squeal as her finger reaches my cock, still buried in her soaked cunt, stroking me off. Through the pleasant sensation I managed to keep my eyes alert, watching the passengers slowly leave one by one at the next stop. Now it was just the two of us in this cable car.

“We’re alone. Fuck me,” She said as the train started moving again.

Perhaps her eagerness drove me to thrust into her a lot faster than I thought. I rocked back and forth on the chair, drilling her with my shaft. Nicha closed her eyes and let the pleasure fill her, her mouth making a wide ‘O’ shape. At this point we ran out of care for our surroundings, made clear by our audible moaning. Her hands claw my nape and hair deeply, her slender figure bouncing up and down my lap.

The tightness of her pussy, as well as her soft, seductive moans made it hard for me to keep control. I was losing another round to her lewdness and this one would be the hardest of them all. I was all but ready to climax, only slowing down my pumps to keep the euphoria last longer.

“F-fuck, I’m going to cum,” I whispered.

“On me. Fill me, please. Fill me with your cum.”

One. Two. Three. With a heavy groan I reached my peak. I felt shots of warm semen fill her womb. I pumped through my orgasm, shooting flecks of cum in her until I was drained. My hips stopped grinding. I put my head down in exhaustion over that intense, risky session. She cupped my face then kissed me on the cheek.

“T-that was s-so g-good. I can’t wait until we get home for more.”

There’s a clear trail of white on my chair and on my pants. My cock slipped out of her slit as I set her down on the ground.

“This is the last station! Thank you for riding with us.” The operator announced over the intercom. We’re almost at our destination.

I pulled her overalls off my coat and threw it at Nicha. “Put these on, we still have to walk home.”

“I don’t wanna,” she pouted. “I want to go home with your cum dripping down on me.”

I sighed. Nicha decided to be bratty on the way home, when everything was almost perfect and after all we’ve been through. But what else can I do?

I gave her my coat as I took her overalls and placed it in my bag. We got off the train with her wearing my coat, our mixed juices still running down her legs. We enjoyed our little walk home, having forgotten the prized teddy bear that she was attached to all day long, but that didn’t matter. As soon as we reached home, we stuffed our bodies into each other throughout the night.

—————

And that’s my first work done. I didn’t do a lot of editing as I was excited to publish this one. I finally decided to jump into the world of smut writing after being inspired for a while now. Thank you for reading!

#kpop smut #smut #g idle #minnie

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anashins · 3 years

Text

No Talking in the Library || Taeyong

"Losing my virginity? Better say taking someone’s virginity. Triple check."

There are still so many things you want to do in your last semester before graduation, and Taeyong is willing to help you.

_______

Skinny dipping

Partying all night long

Drinking hard shots

Dancing on a bar counter

Playing spin the bottle

Getting completely drunk

Attend an illegal rave

Kiss s/o I just met

Ditch classes

You inhaled deeply and tucked the sheet back into your dress’s pocket and out of your sight, your thoughts revolving around the last point you’ve written again.

Losing my virginity

You were already a few months into your last year of university and yet you still felt like you hadn’t experienced everything a normal college kid should have once done in their young lives.

That you hadn’t really lived so far.

Looking at your friends, they had left you behind a long time ago in the first semester already when it came down to checking off bucket lists. It wasn’t like you were too shy or stayed away from parties and boys, though. The opportunity just had never arisen, and only now you realized that it probably never would if you wouldn’t take fate into your own hands.

You were sick and tired of waiting for the perfect moment and the perfect guy.

Looking at your watch, you realized it was nearly time for your next class and that you slowly had to get going.

Passing by different bookshelves, you were pondering whether to still search for lecture here in the library to read through the weekend in preparation for the project you had to work on the next week, but you quickly resisted the urge to do so as you had already collected enough and headed straight to the door.

“Watch out!” you still heard before the next thing you felt was pain crippling your face.

Only the break of a second was needed before numbness turned into pain and shot through your nerves that even reached the tips of your fingers with the root of the ache being your nose.

“Oh my god!” you squealed and brought your hands to the middle of your face while tears welled up behind your squinted eyes.

“I’m so sorry!” a male voice said, full with panic.

When you dared to open your lids, you looked into the eyes of the guy who had banged the entry door right into her face.

“You nearly killed me!”

“I’m so sorry, y/n!”

When he mentioned your name, you turned keen-eared. Blinking through your tears, you slowly started to get a sharper view of the boy in front of you as well. Just slightly taller than you, dark hair, and an expression as shocked as yours.

You just didn’t know his name anymore.

“Does it hurt that bad? Shall we go to the ward to get a cooling pad or something?”

You shook your head and slowly brought your hands down again. The guy had a hard time biting down the smile that threatened to slip off his lips. With care, he touched your arm in a comforting gesture to reassure you.

“I’m sorry, but you totally look like Rudolph the reindeer now.”

You sniffed. “Yes, thanks to you!”

“Okay, that’s true,” he admitted and retreated his hand. “How about I make it up to you, hm?”

“Uh…” You stared at him, yet you still weren’t able to classify his familiar face.

“Hey!” You suddenly got interrupted by the library’s supervisor, a middle-aged woman who was always wearing a frown and owned the hearing of a bat. “No talking in the library! Go inside or leave, but this door has to be closed, understand?”

You nodded, and the guy made a move to pass by the librarian, but not without whispering to you “Come here!” before you disappeared into the library again, the door closing shut behind you.

Having you by his arm, he dragged you along the rows of bookshelves until he found a quiet corner in the very far back of the library. All the while when you were looking at his back, you tried to remember where you knew him from.

And then it suddenly came into your mind.

When you opened the group convo with your friends, his face would appear right next to the unsaved contact that your friend Johnny had added two days prior.

It was Lee Taeyong.

Johnny, Ten, and Jaehyun’s new roommate who you had also met once before at Johnny’s birthday party last week.

“Hey, at least your nose is not red anymore, huh?” he laughed when he came to a hold.

“Banging a door into my face again, Taeyong?” you asked back. “I have to admit, this is kind of a weird way to hit on a girl.”

“You know my name! Admittedly, even just now I wasn’t so sure whether you remembered.”

“That was true, but once the pain vanished and I looked at your back, that scene seemed very familiar to me.”

He grinned. “Johnny’s birthday party, yes, I banged a door into your face back then as well. I’m sorry, I am actually a gentleman, I just didn’t have a chance to prove it yet. I hope this isn’t becoming our thing now.“

“You mean… you banging doors into my face? I hope not, because you actually seem like a nice guy, and otherwise I have to do a runner right now. I’d like to live a few years more.”

“My roommates wouldn’t like the thought that I scared their friend away, so let’s keep this a secret, alright?”

He winked and you laughed. You liked his humor very much and were wondering why you two hadn’t talked before at Johnny’s party.

„Oh, what’s this?“

Taeyong lifted his hand and picked up something white from the floor. He inspected his finding and then frowned. The next moment, he presented something to you that hadn’t been supposed to get seen by anyone else aside from you. The sheet. Apparently it had fallen out of your pocket while hurriedly walking!

You blushed up to her ears and snatched it out of his hand. “Don’t read this!”

He shrugged. “Well… it was quite hard not to miss the significant writing while picking it up, so…”

“Ugh…” You rolled your eyes into oblivion and wished for a hole to appear right under you to vanish in there right now.

You felt your ears burning and a hot flush running down your back as you remembered the last point you had written down. A stranger knowing about your virgin life! Embarrassing!!

“Do you… actually mean this?”

“Mean what?” you questioned with a shaky voice.

You hadn’t heard the slightest tone of mockery in his voice, you then noticed, and when you dared to look at him again, his gaze was even radiating curiosity, far from scorn.

“The points on this list.”

“Please don’t make fun of me!” you defended yourself. “You don’t know me or why I did this in the first place, so…”

You wanted to quickly pass by him and escape from the scenery, but he grabbed you by your arm and made you stop.

“What I know,” he then spoke, “is that you’re a kind and funny girl, apparently looking for the full college experience, am I right? I would never make fun of someone for that.”

“Okay… thank you. And I’d prefer if you won’t tell anyone about that.”

“That’s a given.”

“So… having checked off anything yet?“

You shook her head, suddenly feeling a weird knot in your stomach. “I just made this today. But now that someone knows about it, it’s probably ridiculous.”

“I don’t think that it’s ridiculous. You just want some fun, what’s so wrong about that?”

You hadn’t looked at this from another point of view, but now Taeyong was giving you his perspective. And he sounded so nonchalant and positive about it that you suddenly didn’t feel as exposed and embarrassed as before.

“You know what I think?” he then blurted out.

“What?” Now, you grew curious.

“I think you need someone to guide you through it, and many more experiences. Go hard or go home.” He grinned. “Someone who’s done all that already.”

“And you’re such a person?” you challenged.

“Let me see.”

Taeyong took the sheet from you again and read through the list. “Skinny dipping? Check. Partying all night long? Every weekend. Drinking hard shots? Also every weekend. Dancing on a bar counter? Double check, except for that one time I fell off. Playing spin the bottle? Boring, but check. Getting completely drunk? More checks than I can remember. Attend an illegal rave? Double check. Kiss someone I just met? I’m not counting this one anymore. Ditch classes? At least once a month. Losing my virginity? Better say taking someone’s virginity. Triple check.”

“Okay I understand!” You yanked the paper out of his hand again. “You probably had a few years to experience all this, and I only have the rest of my senior year left.”

“Why the rush?” Taeyong asked.

Reluctantly, you answered, “I’m leaving the country for my PhD.”

He nodded. “I see.”

Folding the sheet in your hands, you tucked it back into your pocket. “But please don’t tell the guys, I haven’t opened up to them about my future plans yet, but I want to tell them personally when the time is right.”

“Of course.” Taeyong paused. “Well, then what’s stopping you from joining a party with me tonight to get started?”

“The fact that I barely know you yet?”

“Hm, of course, you’ve got a point.” Taeyong pursed his lips and seemed to ponder over something. “Why haven’t we really talked before though at Johnny’s birthday party?”

“I really cannot remember what happened after you’ve banged the door into my face.” You chuckled. “I probably went to cry in the bathroom and then we’ve just lost sight of each other, because you haven’t found a weird sheet from me like today.”

“So… Since you only could remember me just now, we can technically say we’ve just met, right?”

“I’d sign that.”

“Great.”

You barely had time to wonder why he was grinning from ear to ear yet again when you felt Taeyong’s lips on yours the next moment.

They were soft and warm, his movements gentle at first, and he tasted so fresh and minty, and a little bit sweet as though he had drunk some fruit juice just before. Very summerly, and very manly.

His sudden kiss had left you speechless as well as motionless in the beginning, but you, now in high spirits, started to take pleasure in this act not long after his first move as you leaned against him and were welcomed with open arms.

Taeyong was a very handsome guy, there was nothing to deny about that fact, and he was a good kisser on top of that.

His hands made your body angle so that he could circle his arms around your waist and pressed you firmly against him. With your hands, you wandered upwards and sunk your fingers into his fluffy hair just in the moment Taeyong made you part your lips to deepen the kiss with his tongue.

Of course you had kissed boys before. Just because you were still a virgin didn’t mean you had never made out with someone.

But you had never made out with someone this good before.

Although you had gotten a door into your face shortly before, you weren’t so sure whether it was truly only the aftereffects of a possible head injury or Taeyong’s uninterrupted, passionate and oh-so-good kissing or both that got you feel so lightheaded and dizzy.

But what you knew was that you were enjoying that kiss very much.

And that you wanted more.

And Taeyong apparently as well as he proved it to you when his hands curved against your buttocks, and he gently shoved you backwards until your back rested against the wall behind you.

With his fingers, he felt the tender and glowing skin under your shirt’s bottom hem, massaging the spot there lightly as your hands simultaneously grabbed onto his shoulders and pulled him so close to you that no sheet would fit in the slit between you two anymore.

Secretly kissing in the library hadn’t been written down on your agenda, but you took whatever you could get to make your last semester a memorable one.

This was so fun to you that you started to think that this bucket list that you had made wasn’t that much of a bad idea after all if every single one of the experiences would leave you that excited as kissing Taeyong.

When you parted, he was still wearing that grin that now seemed more sweet than smug to you, and you joined him.

“Kiss someone you just met? Check.”

“Well, then our meeting here didn’t go to waste after all,” you concluded.

Admittedly, you wanted more. And by the way Taeyong looked at you, still so turned on and dreamy, he didn’t seem to loathe that idea as well.

“How about putting another point up that list?”

“Such as…?” You tilted your head.

“Making out with someone you’ve just met at a party?”

You playfully looked away as though you were in deep thoughts, but to you, the answer was clear the moment he had proposed the idea to you. “I think that’s an experience I shouldn’t miss as well.”

Just as Taeyong let out a relieved laughter and leaned in to you again, you heard a familiar,

“No talking in the library!”

In front of them stood the librarian with the worst timing ever.

“Technically, we weren’t talking,“ Taeyong cleared up cheekily as he withdrew from you, and you nodded in approval.

The librarian though looked confused.

The wink Taeyong shot into your direction was only visible for you, and you blushed faintly as you agreed, “Yeah, we were anything but talking.”

„But I heard you!“ the elderly woman scolded.

“Well, we did something much more fun than talking,” Taeyong explained, but before the librarian could chide more, you laughingly escaped to the outside.

„So about the party…“ he then started as the library’s door closed behind you. „Since we’re technically no strangers anymore…“

You rolled your eyes, but smiled. „Perhaps, I’ll come to the party.“

„And then move on to check off the other points?“ He smirked.

You stuck your tongue out at him, but were really looking forward to tonight.

#taeyong #lee taeyong #nct scenarios #nct imagines #taeyong scenarios #taeyong imagines #taeyong x reader #taeyong fluff #nct127 scenarios #kpop scenarios #kpop x you #kpop x reader #nct taeyong #taeyong au #my writing #imagine

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whenisitenoughtrees · 4 years

Text

this cup of yours tastes holy (this lie is dead)

“I think you might have missed the part where I said that you almost died,” Logan says, and his voice is steady, but his hands are not, trembling where they have balled into fists on his lap.

He blinks, at a loss.

Janus attempts to save Logan from being poisoned. In the moment, switching out their glasses seems like a perfectly rational idea.

It is not, in fact, a perfectly rational idea.

Content Warnings: poisoning, mentioned blood, mentioned death (no actual death though), mentioned violence

Word Count: 5,772

Pairings: Loceit, background Prinxiety

Written for Whumptober2020 theme no 22. "Do these tacos taste funny to you?" with the more specific prompt: poisoned.

(masterpost w/ ao3 links)

The banquet hall is bright, noisy, and crowded, full of laughter and music and talking, and Janus is almost certain that the ambassador from Halledrin has just slipped poison into Logan’s wine.

No one else seems to have noticed. Janus can’t say he’s surprised. The formal dinner is over; now is the time for mingling, and everyone is deeply involved in their own conversations, their own social circles. Roman knows how to throw a good celebration, if nothing else, and now that the pressure is off of him to preside over all the little details, Janus spots him off to one side, shamelessly chatting up Virgil, who seems… exasperated, if not entirely displeased. He spares them a glance before turning back to Logan, who seems to be doing his level best to escape the conversation, but the ambassador— and just what is his name? Janus has entirely forgotten— is persistent, and Janus would think it no more than an annoyance if he weren’t fairly certain that he saw the man brush one hand against Logan’s wine glass while gesturing broadly with the other.

Which, no. That is absolutely not permitted.

He makes his way across the floor, snagging a glass of his own on the way.

“If I might cut in?” he says, as soon as he’s close enough. “I’m afraid I have a pressing matter to discuss with our illustrious court sorcerer.”

Logan inclines his head toward him, and Janus doesn’t think he mistakes the relief that flashes in his eyes. The ambassador stammers a bit, trying to come up with an excuse to stay, but a pointed look takes care of that, and the man retreats sullenly. Janus smiles at him, thin and knife-sharp, and then takes Logan by the elbow, escorting him to the other side of the banquet hall.

“Was there actually something you needed to discuss, or was that a rescue?” Logan asks dryly, and Janus laughs.

“Oh, you seemed like you were having so much fun,” he replies. “Here, switch with me.” And he presses his wine into Logan’s hand, taking Logan’s for himself. Logan frowns at him, but Janus shakes his head. Not here, that means, and Logan can read him well enough to understand it, little though he likes being unable to ask for clarification. In any case, as soon as the potentially-poisoned glass leaves Logan’s grasp, Janus finds himself able to relax.

“I’ll admit, the man is… long-winded,” Logan says. Janus sniffs at the wine as surreptitiously as he can. He can’t smell anything, but there are plenty of odorless poisons out there. “And yes, I am aware of how that sounds coming from me.”

“You’re not that bad,” he says, trying to keep track of the ambassador out of the corner of his eye. He’s positioned himself at the edge of the room, now, and he is staring at Logan, not even bothering to hide it. “At least you actually know what you’re talking about.”

“I would hope so,” Logan says, and then narrows his eyes. “Just what is Roman doing over there?”

Janus turns his head in that direction, but he’s too preoccupied to pay much attention. The problem with this is that he’s only about eighty percent sure that the drink has been tampered with, and the remaining twenty percent is enough unsurety to prevent him from being able to confront the perpetrator brazenly. Not that that would be his style anyway, but it also means he can’t go to anyone else with it; if he told Roman his suspicions, for instance, his sword would be drawn in an instant. And on the off chance that the drink isn’t poisoned after all, that would irreparably damage relations with Halledrin, and they can’t afford that.

So, he’ll have to be careful with this. Keep hold of the cup for the rest of the night and have it tested for toxins as soon as he can. Take the results, and move from there.

“Oh, dear Fates,” Logan groans, and Janus snaps his attention back to the present. It doesn’t take long to figure out what has Logan annoyed.

Roman’s climbed on the table. And as king, he can do what he wants, of course. But generally speaking, he’s supposed to keep the table-climbing to a minimum.

“My dear guests!” he calls out, his voice rich and booming. He doesn’t sound as drunk as Janus would expect from this kind of behavior. “If I may have your attention, I would like to propose a toast! To my dearest friend—”

“Oh my gods, Roman, stop,” Virgil groans.

“—Virgil of the Western Isles, who single-handedly—”

“Roman.”

“—rescued me from the clutches of the dread Dragon-Witch Alcara, thus saving this kingdom from utter disaster and ruin, and once again proving himself to be a man of the highest courage and determination, yes, courage, stop glaring at me like that, and also, did I mention he did this all by himself?” Roman raises his glass high, cheeks flushed red. Virgil has stopped protesting verbally in favor of trying to strike Roman down with his eyes alone, it appears. “So! To one of the best heroes this land has ever known! To Virgil!”

The crowd echoes the call, most of them smiling good-naturedly, a few laughing at the antics; if nothing else, Roman knows how to play to an audience.

“Not one of his best speeches,” Logan mutters.

Janus shrugs, and finally manages to catch Virgil’s gaze from across the room. He smirks, sardonically saluting him with his glass, and Virgil turns the full force of his glare onto him, mouthing something that is either I’m going to kill you or I’m rowing to mill two; really, Janus can’t tell which.

And then, he realizes that he has a problem.

It’s a toast. Everyone is bringing their drinks to his lips, taking sips, swallowing. Obviously, he can’t do any of this, as he rather likes being alive and unpoisoned. But the ambassador is still watching Logan intently, and Logan is sipping from Janus’ old glass; if the ambassador is expecting something to happen, and nothing does, he will turn his attention to the people around Logan, trying to figure out what went wrong. If that happens, there is a chance that he will notice if Janus doesn’t drink. From there, he will be able to suppose that Janus has caught onto his plans, has caught onto him, and from there, he will become more desperate.

Janus doesn’t want that. A desperate man becomes unpredictable, uncontrollable. A desperate man might act as though he has nothing to lose.

His mind racing, he brings the goblet up to his lips. It shouldn’t be too hard to feign a sip. He’s overthinking this.

He tilts the glass back, stopping just short of letting the wine touch his lips. He swallows a bit of his own saliva for realism. And then, it’s done, and he can relax again.

“Really, he should know better then to put Virgil in the limelight,” he says, keeping the ambassador in the corner of his vision. “He’s going to make him pay for that later.”

“If he would stop being so reckless, he wouldn’t be captured by his enemies so often, and Virgil wouldn’t have to hare off after him at all,” Logan sighs. “I will never understand their intricate courting rituals. Why don’t they just say they have feelings for each other and have done with it?”

The longer Logan goes without succumbing to some kind of terrible sickness, the paler the ambassador’s face grows. Janus is almost enjoying watching him.

“Some people are incapable of saying what they mean,” he says, and Logan looks at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Is that the case?” he says, pointed, and Janus grins.

“Why, my dear master sorcerer, you can’t possibly be implying that I—”

His left arm goes numb. Suddenly, all at once, and he cuts himself off, trying to shake feeling back into it. But it’s not like pins and needles, and as the seconds pass— only a few, surely, but the quick, rabbit-beating of his heart makes it seem otherwise— the sensation spreads, creeping toward his chest.

“Janus?” Logan asks. “Is something wrong?”

He sounds worried, very concerned, and Janus would be flattered, but he’s a bit busy being concerned himself.

“I don’t,” he starts, “I’m not—”

And then, his lungs are set on fire, and the rest of his sentence is lost to a wheezing scream as he doubles over, hands flying up to his chest, the wine glass clattering against the floor, half of it shattering and drawing the attention of everyone in the vicinity, but he can’t care about that because he’s trying to force his lungs to inflate, but he’s burning up from the inside out and he can’t—

“Janus!”

There are arms, around him, steadying him. He looks up to meet Logan’s face, painted with fear and blurry, strangely blurry, and he doesn’t think that he’s crying so why is Logan blurry? But he is blurry, and the rest of Janus’ limbs have gone numb, and standing is becoming increasingly difficult, and the fire is there, growing hotter with each moment, and he opens his mouth to say something but all that escapes is a gasp, and then a strangled squeaking sound, as if the sounds are being wrung from him along with the last of his air.

“Shit, shit, shit—”

It’s almost funny, Logan swearing. He’s usually far too collected for that.

His center of gravity tips. Everything spins, and then, he feels himself being lowered to the ground. The floor is cold against his back, soothing, though it doesn’t help much after the momentary relief.

“What the fuck is wrong with him?”

Virgil, now, hovering over him, frantic.

“I don’t know,” Logan says, and he sounds scared, and that’s wrong. Logan is never scared. “I don’t know, poison, I’d imagine, but I don’t know what—”

“Well can you figure it out?”

Roman’s here too.

“I’m trying,” Logan snaps. “If you’ll give me a bit of room—”

The pain rises to a crescendo, like it’s eating his flesh away, and he lets out a whimper. An honest-to-gods whimper, and no. Absolutely not. He has more dignity than this. He has faced worse than this and come out alive, and he trusts Logan to do all that he can. So he breathes, shuddering breaths, breaths that twist and hurt and seem to move in places that they shouldn’t, and he wrests his mind back under control.

“The wine,” he gasps out, and his voice sounds absolutely wrecked. “I saw— the ambassador from Halledrin— he put it in the wine—”

“So you switched them,” Logan says, and scratch fear. This is fury. “How could you possibly have been so stupid?”

“I didn’t drink it!” he cries, and the exclamation is ripped from him, too harsh, and the exertion sends the pain flaring up, the flames licking at his heart, and he chokes on air. “I didn’t— I faked it, I didn’t drink, I don’t know—”

“Well, how the fuck did you get poisoned, then?” Virgil shrieks, and then, Logan fills his field of vision. He’s chanting something in the Old Tongue, and then slapping his hands on his chest, and just like that, the pain fades as magic rushes through him, warm and sparkling and steady and very, very Logan, and his head clears enough to think properly.

“The Halledrinian ambassador?” Roman snarls, and in that moment, he looks exactly like his brother. “I’ll be back.” And then he’s stalking through the crowd, and Janus wishes he didn’t feel so drained; he’d love to watch Roman make the man sweat, but he can barely muster up the energy to raise his head to look at Logan.

“I was going to keep it until I could get it looked at,” he says. His mouth is dry, painfully so. “I faked a sip, for the toast, but I didn’t take one. I didn’t touch it.”

The magic is still buzzing through him, lending him strength. He’ll ride it for what it’s worth.

Gods above and below, this is embarrassing.

“Are you sure it was the wine?” Logan asks. “It couldn’t have been anything else?”

“I wouldn’t think so,” he says. “I’m sorry, I probably should have—”

“Told me?” Logan cuts in. “I should think so. Honestly, why would you think keeping it from me was a good idea?”

The magic is still buzzing through him. It feels more intense now, almost uncomfortable.

“I didn’t want him to think that I knew anything,” he says. “I didn’t want to risk him trying something else.”

Logan shakes his head. “You’re too clever for your own good, do you know that?” he says, and he sounds completely exasperated, but the anger is fading, and Janus is glad of it. He doesn’t regret what he did, just how it turned out, and he never likes it when Logan is annoyed with him, because somehow, Logan has the ability to make him feel like a child, chastised for trying to sneak dessert out of the kitchen.

“I think I’m just clever enough,” he retorts, and then frowns. “Out of curiosity, what spell did you use?”

“A general cleansing incantation,” Logan tells him, “though at twice the power I would usually put into it. I’m just glad the poison wasn’t more specialized. Some toxins are resistant to magic, you know.”

Janus does know, and under any other circumstance, he would be more than willing to listen to Logan going on about the subject for days. But the buzzing of the magic in his system, Logan’s magic, has graduated from relieving to uncomfortable to something approaching pain, and it’s been a long time since he had to be healed with a spell, but he doesn’t think this is right.

He opens his mouth to tell Logan about it, about the way it feels as though there are ants crawling under his skin, but then—

then—

his body—

seizes—

and rational thought flies out the window as his muscles lock and pain tears through him, biting and sharp and ripping and buzzing, and his limbs jerk and this is a seizure, he’s having a seizure, and his head slams against the ground hard and white lights flash across his vision and he can hear shouting, and something soft is shoved underneath his head to soften the impact as it hits against the floor again and again and again and he can’t speak, can’t breath, and there is blood bubbling in the back of his throat, so much that he fears he’ll choke on it, and all the while there is the buzzing, curling in him and forcing his bones from their sockets, it feels like, scrambling his innards, and it feels like there is something inside of him, something eating him, and perhaps he’s eating himself, has turned into the serpent that consumes its own tail—

He doesn’t know.

There are still voices, panicked and loud, and he should know them, too, but he can’t. Not now.

He just knows that it hurts, in waves, each one worst than the last, and it won’t stop. A strangled scream is ripped from his throat, high and thick, forcing its way past the blood that’s gathered in his mouth, and someone is cursing, swearing up a blue streak, and the people around him sound scared, and he thinks that he is too.

Each wave worse than the last. Once he screams once, he can’t stop.

Unconsciousness, when it comes, is a blessing.

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

Awareness comes and goes in flashes.

He wakes, his body thrashing, trying to escape. Pain like red hot pokers pressing up against him and into him. He wheezes, and there is someone holding him, trying to restrain him, and he’s too weak to push them away.

“Please,” he tries to say, but the word comes out garbled and mangled beyond all recognition.

“Remus,” the person growls, and it must be Virgil, but he can’t pry his eyes open to see, “knock him out.”

“On it,” says someone else, and there is a hand on his forehead, blessedly cool, and then nothing.

Then, again: his entire body on fire, but lacking the energy to so much as lift a finger. He gasps for breath, each inhalation a struggle, and past the white noise in his ears, he thinks he hears someone speaking. Muttering. Praying? He wrests his eyes open, and his surroundings are a blur, but it is Patton sitting at his bedside. Holding his hand, too, he thinks, but he can’t feel it.

He didn’t even know Patton had returned to the castle.

He tries to say something, anything, but he doesn’t have the air to spend on speech. So he lies there, panting, and finally, Patton looks up, and Janus can’t make out his face but he hears his gasp.

“Oh, gods,” Patton says, and leans in closer. “Jan, can you hear me?”

He can’t respond. Can’t so much as nod.

“You hold on,” Patton says, and he sounds like he’s fighting tears. “You hear me? You don’t die from this. You hang in there, and everything’s gonna be a-okay. You got it?”

It’s a sweet lie, a pretty lie, and Janus can’t begrudge him for it.

Darkness again.

And then:

“—cking be giving up!”

“Of course I’m not giving up!”

Logan’s voice, sharp and angry and lined with despair, and his heart skips a beat. Or perhaps it’s not the sound of his voice that does it at all, but the poison, wrapping around his heart and squeezing. He still hurts, every inch of him, but it’s distant, far away, and it should worry him, he thinks, because that probably means that he’s far past the point of pain that his body can actually handle. But his mind is too fuzzy, everything indistinct.

“I’m not going to give up. I would rather die. But without knowing what the poison was, or better yet, having a sample of it, I’m left to flounder, and attempting to use magic has done more harm than good.”

Gods. He sounds so broken.

“Roman said he was gonna try and get answers out of the shithead.” That’s Remus, uncharacteristically serious. “No luck so far, apparently.” A bang, like a fist against a table. “He should let me at him. I’d rip it right out of him, reach my hand down his throat and pull out his fucking vocal chords—”

“Okay, I’m gonna need you to shut up right the fuck now—”

“Oh, I’m sorry, is that too much for your delicate sensibilities—”

“Enough, both of you!”

Logan again, desperate and exhausted, and with a labored, stuttering breath, Janus pries his eyes open. A wave of dizziness assaults him, and the light is far too bright, but he holds out, turning his head to the side in a motion that takes more effort than it should.

His vision is swimming, coming in and out of focus. But it’s Virgil, Remus, and Logan, all standing and arguing with each other.

And it hits him, then: Oh. I’m dying.

“The fact remains that we’re all in the dark here. I’m in the dark. Without knowing what the poison was or how he ingested it, I can’t deconstruct it to find a cure. All efforts to use a spell to detect the toxin have failed, and all efforts to use a spell to heal him have only aggravated his condition.” Logan makes a sharp motion; Janus isn’t sure, but he thinks he’s scrubbing his hand down his face. “It makes sense,” he continues, more subdued. “I was the original target. So of course the poison would be undetectable by magic. Of course it would—”

He breaks off, and Virgil reaches out to him.

“This isn’t your fault,” he says lowly. “Janus made his dumb fucking decision himself.”

“He wasn’t trying to get poisoned,” Remus interjects, sharp. “So how about you take your dumb fucking decision and shove it up your—”

His mind is whirling. Something about the description of the poison, the fact that magic cannot be used to combat it, seems familiar, but his mind refuses to dredge up any memory that he might have of a poison that fits those qualities.

He doesn’t know. Or, worse, he might know, but the poison that is killing him is preventing him from coming up with the information that could save him.

But there’s something else. Something just beyond his reach, something that flits from his grasp when he tries to think about it.

“And there was nothing in the wine,” Virgil says. “Nothing at all?”

“Nothing that the chemists could find.”

“And I checked it for good measure!” Remus says. “Nadda. Zip. Fucking nothing. So how we got here is beyond me.”

That’s it.

He didn’t drink the wine. It wouldn’t have mattered if the wine was poisoned. He didn’t have any.

But he remembers swallowing. His own saliva, just to make it realistic.

There’s only one place the poison could have been.

He tries to speak. But his throat feels full of razor wire, and the effort is enough to bring the rest of the pain back into focus. What starts out as something that might, possibly, be a word devolves into a high, keening whimper, and he can’t muster up the energy to be embarrassed about it, because gods. His back arches, and his fists clench into the bedsheets as he tries to ride it out, but there is no riding it out, because it just won’t stop.

“Janus!”

Suddenly, they’re all very close.

“Shit, shit, you’re gonna be okay, just give us a second,” Virgil says. “Remus, you—”

“Right—”

And no, because Remus is going to knock him out again, but he can’t, not before he tells them what he just figured out, because if he goes under again he’s scared that he won’t get another chance.

“No,” he gasps, and his voice is absolutely wrecked, and speaking hurts, but— “No, don’t. I need—”

He breaks off with a ragged gasp, his throat refusing to cooperate with him, and he could scream with frustration, really would scream, if his voice was working. But then, Logan is there, his face close to his and his eyes very blue.

“What do you need, Janus?” he asks, his voice low and urgent, and Janus gathers his breath, and try again.

“Test the rim,” he says. “It wasn’t— wasn’t in the wine, and it wasn’t a spell. But I—” His words strangle themselves, but he can see the light dawning in Logan’s eyes.

“You put your lips to the rim of the glass,” he finished. “It was on the—” He turns to Virgil, the motion whipcord sharp. “Virgil, go find the glass and have it sent to my— no, actually, bring it here. Time is of the essence.”

Virgil is off like a shot almost before Logan is finished speaking.

“And Remus,” he continues, “I’ll need—”

“You’ve got it, specs,” Remus says. “Whatever support I can give.”

Logan nods, and meets Janus’ eyes again. At least, he thinks he does. His vision is growing dark, shadows curling around the edges like fire-blackened paper, eating away everything he can see. The pain is distant again, and even his own heartbeat seems to be slowing. Logan’s voice sounds as if it’s coming to him through deep water.

“You can rest now, Janus,” he says. “You’ve done well. I’m going to cure you, I swear. This will all be over soon.”

One way or another, he agrees, but doesn’t say it out loud. Even if he could, he thinks it would upset Logan to say something like that. Would upset him to remind him of the very real possibility that this will not end well, that it is already too late. Because his vision is blackening and his heartbeat is slowing, and everything feels so very, very far away, and he doesn’t want to die but he might not have a choice in the matter.

Logan’s face is still hovering above his, and he thinks that if this is the last sight he will ever have, it’s the best one he could have asked for.

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

He wakes to a pressure against his side and a bone-deep exhaustion, and he takes a moment to simply breathe, staring at the ceiling and reveling in the ease of it. He is so very tired, but his lungs inflate and deflate without pain, without anything catching and setting him to coughing, without having to fight his own body to get the air he needs.

Then, he turns his head.

Logan is asleep on a chair next to his bed, slumped forward so that his head is resting against his side, effectively trapping one arm. He is pale and drawn, his brows furrowed and hair sticking out in all directions, as if he’s been running his fingers through it repeatedly. His glasses are still on his face, terribly askew, and on instinct, Janus reaches across his body, trying to correct them, perhaps, or to take them off entirely. But at the movement, slight though it is, Logan startles awake, eyes blinking wide open, lips parted as if to call out.

Then, his eyes meet Janus’.

“You’re awake,” he breathes, and it sounds uncomfortably like a revelation, like the answer to every prayer Logan has ever offered— and Logan isn’t religious, Janus knows, has never seen much point in worshiping distant gods. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he offers, wincing at the sandpaper-quality of his own voice. It’s the truth, though; he feels drained, mentally and physically, and he aches terribly, but the pain is nothing compared to what it was. “I assume you figured it out.”

Logan pushes his glasses back into position on his face, a little more aggressively than the motion should require. “Barely,” he says. “If you had consumed any more than you did, or if I had been even ten minutes slower, you would have died.”

He hums. “I certainly felt like it,” he murmurs, glancing away. “Thank you for saving me.”

For once, he means exactly what he says, but Logan’s expression darkens. “I shouldn’t have had to,” he says, sharp. “That poison—” He breaks off, sucking in a breath, looking away. He vigorously jabs at his glasses, pushing them even farther up his nose. “That poison was meant to target magic in a person’s system, and because you don’t have magic inherently, it turned to attacking your internal organs instead. Every attempt to heal you only fueled its effects. Do you know how I—”

He breaks off again, but Janus is stuck on something else, is stuck on targeting magic, and he has always been good at reading between the lines, so he knows exactly what Logan isn’t saying. Logan lives off magic, breathes it, practically is magic in every sense of the word. Had Logan taken a poison that destroyed magic, it would have destroyed him.

The Halledrinian ambassador chose his toxin well.

“In that case,” he says, “I suppose that this turned out as well as it could have. Obviously, getting poisoned myself was far from ideal, but better me than you, in this scenario.”

He knows immediately that this is the wrong thing to say; usually, he would have realized that before the words left his mouth at all, but his mind is still sluggish, his mouth looser. Logan’s face twists, becomes something thunderous and angry, and the warm candlelight that fills the room— his room, he notices, though he’s fairly certain he was in Remus’ infirmary before— flickers and dances as the air stirs, a slight wind buffeting the bedsheets.

“I think you might have missed the part where I said that you almost died,” Logan says, and his voice is steady, but his hands are not, trembling where they have balled into fists on his lap.

He blinks, at a loss. Were he in better form, he would know what to say here, how to soothe Logan’s worry and wash the past few— well. He has no idea how long it’s been. But he would be able to turn it all around, put the event behind them, if the words would only come, but they don’t, so here he lies, feeling powerless and a bit stupid.

“I didn’t,” he points out, and knows that the rebuttal is weak, that this won’t help. “Clearly.”

“The point is that you could have!”

It’s a shout, and Logan pauses, seemingly surprised at his own volume. He deflates, then, his shoulders slumping, all the fight flowing from him like water from a sieve. He hunches in on himself just slightly, his expression fading from fury to something much more tired, much more worn.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and Janus can only watch as he scrubs at his eyes, almost viciously, and then stares at his hands. “I just— you nearly died. From poison that was meant for me.”

He sounds wrecked, as if that is the worst possibility he could imagine, and— oh.

“I would have died,” Logan murmurs. “It would have decimated my magic before I could do a thing about it, and me along with it.” He looks up, and his eyes are shining with unshed tears, and Janus wants nothing more than to wipe them away. He would try, he thinks, if he felt as though he could move enough to do so, if he thought Logan would allow him the liberty. “But instead of me, it was you. And I had to watch as you died in my place. If you hadn’t been able to communicate how you’d ingested it, I would have been helpless. I would have—” He breaks off suddenly, closing his eyes. “I would have lost you.”

Oh.

He wrenches himself into a sitting position, ignoring the way his muscles scream in protest, ignoring Logan’s startled exclamation. He pushes himself up, reaches out, and snags Logan’s hands in one of his. Too late, he realizes that somewhere along the line, he was divested of his gloves, and his bare skin makes contact with Logan’s. It’s like a bolt of lightning shooting up his arm, and he struggles not to show his shock on his face; he is no stranger to touch, but not like this, never like this, with his bare hand. And from the way Logan is staring, from the way Logan’s lips have parted, just slightly, he knows it too.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, as fierce, as vehement as he can manage. “And call me selfish, but I am infinitely glad that I didn’t have to lose you.”

He meets Logan’s eyes. As difficult as this level of honesty, this level of vulnerability is for him, it needs to be said. He needs Logan to know, needs him to understand, needs him to realize that he cannot possibly regret this, if the alternative was watching Logan choke on his own blood.

Logan makes a sound, soft and wounded, and turns his hand so that he’s grasping at Janus’ just as tightly as Janus is grasping him. And then, he leans in close, bumping their foreheads together and then staying there, and Janus doesn’t dare to move. He can feel Logan’s breath on his skin, ghosting across his lips; an inch or two closer, and they would be kissing.

With one hand, Logan continues to hold his. The other curls around the back of his neck, keeping him in place.

“Never,” Logan says, “do that to me again.”

“I assure you,” he replies, “I don’t plan on it.”

For a moment they stay like that, foreheads touching, breathing together, and Janus’ eyes slip closed. Like this, he can almost forget that anything happened, can forget the pain, can forget how weak he feels. He’s here, and Logan’s here, and nothing else matters.

And then, the door slams open. He jerks back, startled, and Logan’s hand slips away from his neck.

Remus is standing there, gaping.

“Holy shit,” he says. “You’re awake.” He turns to call to someone down the hall— “He’s awake!—” and then, he’s rushing into the room, and Janus doesn’t have any time to prepare before he’s jumped onto the bed, wrapping his arms around him like a particularly clingy octopus, and he’s chanting a litany of words under his breath, things like, “You’re okay you’re okay you’re okay holy shit,” and other words that he can’t quite make out, and the hug is a bit too tight to be comfortable, but he accepts it anyway. He’s still holding one of Logan’s hands, and he is loathe to let go, but he wraps his free arm around Remus’ back.

“Everyone’s been very worried about you,” Logan says quietly. “Patton returned from the coast in the middle of it all, and he was quite distraught. And that’s not to mention how… irate Roman has been, and Virgil—”

“Speak for yourself,” Virgil says, leaning in the doorway. He crosses his arms, but the relief on his face is poorly disguised, and he must have truly been in a bad way if Virgil was that concerned. “Roman and Patton are on their way up, I think. They were talking to the asshole. The ambassador,” he adds when Janus tilts his head in a silent question. “Piece of shit admitted to everything. He’s not even the real ambassador; he killed the real one and took his clothes, tried to go after Logan to spark war between us and Halledrin.”

“I’m gonna kill him,” Remus says. “Roman said I could, if I wanted to. He was real mad so I dunno if he meant it, but he said it, so it counts. I’m gonna stick a knife in his guts and pull out his intestines and feed them to him and—”

“That’s more than enough, I think,” Logan interjects, and Janus is glad of it. He’s used to Remus’ gory tangents, can deal with them well, normally, but he’s exhausted, and he thinks that consciousness will slip away from him any moment now. He can feel his eyelids beginning to droop, his body leaning against Remus’ more and more, and he highly doubts that he will make it to see Roman and Patton.

But that’s alright. He’ll wake up again and see them then. For now, he has Virgil here, and Remus, and he is still holding Logan’s hand, and he is tired and he aches, but he’s alright.

He meets Logan’s eyes, squeezes his hand, and smiles. And Logan smiles back.

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alicemitch09writes · 3 years

Text

skinny love

pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x reader

summary: 6 months later. Was he too late?

author’s notes: This is a direct sequel to first love and part of a trilogy also aptly named ‘first love’ ugh, i am so unoriginal. Please go read that first before this, otherwise you’ll be confused.

also available on ao3.

disclaimer: i own NOTHING but the plot.

His feet feel like lead as he trudged to the vending machine, adamant on getting coffee. It was only Monday. The smallest sounds of coin drops and beeps were making his head hurt.

Taking his first sip of his coffee, he walked around the quiet halls.

He hated hospitals.

Actually, they weren't that bad, having everything it needed to cater to the patient's needs. But it was a façade to their impending doom. And he hated it. Hated the way doctors and nurses would say with practiced ease that everything will be alright – when it won't.

They mean well, they really do, but they were a painful reminder of how fragile life was – how easy it can be taken away.

Reaching Room #423, he turned the knob, finding (Name) in the same state she's been the past six months. The door shuts quietly behind him, back resting against it.

"Tetsu, have you been eating?"

He could almost hear her voice, filled with worry of how thin he is. She always did that, nagging him like a mom to eat if he wanted to win. Funny she thought that, thinking more of his (and the team's) welfare's than her own. (Name) was always that kind.

Instead, the image of that beautiful girl was replaced with one lying on the hospital bed – limp and lifeless.

(Name) didn't belong here, not in this hospital nor in that bed she was lying in. No.

She deserved to be home, in her room surrounded by her instruments, fussing herself with her studies, that new song she wanted to learn, or managing a pack of rowdy boys.

He didn’t know how long he just stood there before he heard a knock at the door. Lazily turning his body, he opened the door; his actions seemed robotic, staring at two familiar faces.

"Hey man," Bokuto greeted, balloons in different colors and shapes (there was one in the shape of an owl) in hand, worry in his eyes. "Wow, you look like shit."

"Thanks." He said, taking a sip of his coffee.

"That wasn't very nice, Bokuto-san." Akaashi scolded, appearing behind the salt-and-pepper-haired teen with flowers in his hands.

Too tired to argue, he stepped aside, letting them in. Closing the door behind him, he watched the two eyeing the unconscious girl, hearing Bokuto sighing while Akaashi dutifully went straight for the vase, intending to replace the flowers.

He plopped down on his seat, canned coffee still in hand.

"But seriously man," Bokuto called, tying the balloons next to the side table. "you look terrible."

Kuroo closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose.

"When was the last time you went out?"

"Bokuto-san." Akaashi called in warning, appearing from the toilet with a vase filled with clean water.

"I'm serious!" Kuroo draped an arm over his eyes as if to hide the bags underneath. "Dude, you barely left since. Day in, day out, you're here but never at home. Nowhere else but here. You even ditched your first year of college!"

"I won't want to leave her," Kuroo said, still not moving from his spot.

Bokuto frowned at his friend, arms crossed. "I'm not saying that you should, I'm saying (Name)-chan wouldn't like to see you this way."

(Name).

Sighing, Kuroo slumped forward, arms propped on his knees, staring at the sterile ground.

"We're just worried about you, Kuroo."

That must be the umpteenth time someone's told him that – his mom, his dad, his older sister, Kenma, Coach Nekomata, the team. But still, his resolve won't change.

Taking a long sip, he met both stares from Bokuto and Akaashi, who had just finished with the flowers.

"I'm not leaving her." he said in finality, turning to the sleeping girl. There were a lot of things he wanted to tell her, a lot. And he wanted to be the first person she sees when she wakes up, the first person to see her wake.

Sighing exasperatedly, hands on his hips, Bokuto resigned. His friend was stubborn, but he had an iron resolve. "I know you won't. Figured as much."

"Then why do you still bother?"

Smirking at the raven-haired teen, he says with a shrug. "Because bro, you matter to me."

Kuroo put a hand to his heart, touched. "Bro."

"Bokuto-san just wanted to act cool every once in a while," Akaashi coolly said, opening the drapes. That earned a loud, familiar call from his former captain. Kuroo smiled, some things never change.

"But seriously dude, you could use a bath because you smell like shit."

Akaashi didn't need to scold him then as Bokuto received a (friendly) punch to the gut from Kuroo.

Six months.

That's how long he was suffering, how long he had been tortured by the mere thought of never seeing her smile again, of never hearing her laugh again, of never having her around again – of never seeing her again.

The word cancer stuck to his head was like a punch to the gut, pummeling him inside out with every step he took. Never mind the burning pain of his muscles from a day's worth of match, never mind finally giving their coach the chance to witness the 'Battle at the Dumps' match even though they lost, never mind that his high school life had officially come to an end – they didn't matter at this point. He just wanted to see her.

And the first time he saw her – dressed in a hospital gown, with tubes sticking to her body connected to machines that kept her alive, he was crushed. As if he were a porcelain doll smashed into a million pieces, each fragment breaking into smaller pieces.

He nearly broke down at the sight of her. She was beautiful as ever, yet to see her in that situation broke his heart.

(Name) had been operated; the chances of her survival were slim. But the only thing Kuroo could think was how small (Name) looked in that big, white bed.

Picking her hands, he noted how small they were – how he could practically see and feel her bones. Threading his finger through hers, he brought them to his cheek, relishing in her warmth. These were the same fingers that cared for him each time he'd earn a bruise or a scratch, the same hands that brushed his hair when he was sleepy – gentle touches that made him think that she was an angel. Slim fingers that did magic with every instrument she held.

He always knew she was small – fragile, even – but it only clicked to him now as to why that was the case. Ironic that he was the perceptive guy, inside and outside the court, yet he failed to notice his best friend's wellbeing. How did he miss to notice how little she would eat, how easily tired she was, or how low her stamina was? He was supposed to be the smart guy, for crying out loud!

He wanted to hit himself, to numb himself of the pain.

The moment he found out, he wouldn't stop crying, hating himself every minute of every day.

(Name) wouldn't wake up.

(Name). Wouldn't. Wake. Up.

"Kuroo," a voice called, quiet and low, one he knew all too well. Weakly raising his head, he looked over his shoulder, meeting a familiar blonde teen.

Kenma looked at his best friend worriedly, a frown in his face. "You should go home." The raven-haired lad shook his head, Kenma sighed. "(Name) wouldn't like that."

"I'm not leaving her." he says, voice raspy.

Kenma stared, eyes narrowing. "Have you been eating at least?"

"I've been snacking on what Auntie gives me," he rubs his eyes tiredly, stretching his arms over his head. "I'll be fine."

His dark hair was greasy, sticking out to different directions – messier than usual; there were bags under his eyes. The clothes he's been wearing were days old now, but it's not like he leaves the hospital. How long has he had proper sleep or shower?

"You're not." Kenma pointed out, walking towards the bed, opposite to where his friend was. He arranges the plushies from various game characters beside her bed, dusting a few. When he was done, he stood next to the unconscious girl, eyes dancing with sorrow.

Kuroo watched his friend carefully, a question burning his head. "How long have you known?"

Kenma blinked. Deciding to sit down, he met Kuroo's gaze. "A while now." He answers as if anticipating the question. "(Name) was the most secretive amongst us three; I thought you'd have known first." Shrugging, he adjusted her blanket. "But you didn't." Kuroo wanted to laugh at that because it was half-true. They both knew he was far more observant than he let on.

Sighing, the blonde props his arm on a nearby desk, resting his head on his palm. "Knowing her secret was like carrying a heavy burden because it's her secret and your knowledge of her sickness."

Frowning, he asked. "She didn't know that you knew?"

The blonde shook his head without looking at him. "Like I said, it was a burden on my part as well. Plus, that'd be disrespecting (Name). And I can't do that to her."

Something likened to rage burned within him, he was standing before his best friend before he knew it. "And you didn't bother to tell me?"

"It's not my secret to tell." Kenma says easily, carefully setting her clamped hand aside.

"But we're best friends!" Kuroo's voice rose, earning a scoff from the blonde as he turned to meet his gaze, eyes almost challenging.

"Don't you think that'd be disrespecting (Name)'s decision?" Kuroo was practically shaking now, hands balled into a fist. "Besides, it's not like you cared to begin with-"

Kuroo had grabbed him by the collar, raising him to his level. "I dare you to say that again." He seethed hotly, eyes burning.

Kenma didn't falter, eyes glowering. "What's the matter, Kuroo? Upset that for once, you failed to gain information before me to break someone, to use it to your advantage? Or are you just mad that (Name) couldn't trust you enough?"

"Shut up!" his voice rose, grip tightening.

Steely gold hues met his, challenging and mocking. "Then are you guilty because it's practically your fault she's in this situation?"

That was the final straw.

Taking his hand back, Kuroo was just about to smack Kenma in the face when blaring sound rang through the room. The two automatically turned to her, panicked, Kuroo dropped Kenma, ran for the intercom while Kenma stared at (Name)'s body, not knowing what to do.

A little while later, a nurse came rushing in.

Kuro and Kenma stepped aside, watching the nurse attend to their best friend each holding their breath. Kuroo was wondering if he should've called for her doctor, but after a while, the nurse sedated her, (Name)'s body relaxed.

The gentle beep of the heart monitor demonstrated her calmness.

"She'll be alright, just a little stressed is all." The nurse says kindly, much to their relief.

They sighed in unison, rooted on the spot even as the nurse left the room.

(Name)'s breathing slowly through the calming silence that came, followed by the purring of the machines and quite chattering outside.

The two best friends stood there, watching the unconscious girl. Kuroo and Kenma slumped against the wall, the raven-haired teen slipping to the ground. The tension between the two was still there, something that was rare even for them. In the many years they knew each other, not once have they got into a fight this extreme. And even if a fight did ensue, there was only one person who could bring it to a stop, one person they'd bow to other than Yaku.

"She'd kill us by now," Kenma sighs, breaking the silence.

Kuroo snorted at that, hiding the smile on his face.

Eventually, he broke into fits of laughter. Kenma joined in.

"She'd give us a litany," Kuroo added, voice thick. "then she'd take us by the ear."

Kenma shuddered, rubbing at his ear. Kuroo did the same.

"You started it though," Kenma told him, bluntly.

Kuroo narrowed his eyes at him. "But you fanned the flames."

They burst into chuckles, tension dying down.

A little while later, the room was filled with members of the Nekoma team – bringing flowers, fruits, and toys. Each member, especially Yamamoto, Inuoka, and Lev, fawned over their unconscious manager while Fukunaga fussed over the snacks. Yaku had to keep everyone in line.

The best friends exchanged a look, knowing that if (Name) were awake, she couldn't be any happier.

Someone was waking him, gently shaking his shoulders. Raising his head from his folded arms, he was met with warm (eye color) eyes. "Tetsuroo-kun." The woman greeted kindly.

"Auntie," He stood up in greeting, pulling his wrinkled clothes down. "Good evening."

Her smile, it reminded him of hers, how he missed her smile. "Good evening." Walking across the room, she dropped her bag and sat on the chair next to her daughter, patting a hand over her cheek. "Any news?" she asked, looking up at him.

He shook his head, hands tightening. "Just the same."

The smile remained, eyes never losing its light. "Then she's still alright."

Just staring at the woman made him wonder how she could still be so optimistic about the situation. It must be hard on her, her only daughter was under coma after her operation, yet she never loses hope. She was just like (Name). And duh, she was her mom!

"Have you eaten?"

He nodded. "Yeah." He lied, tucking his hands on his pockets.

She stared, her smile waning a bit, worry in her eyes, then nods.

"Where is Uncle?" he asked, staring at freshly cut flowers next to her bed – carnations, care of the Fukorodani team.

"Oh, just parking the car. He'll be here in a while."

Kuroo nods, not knowing what else to say. So he sits by the couch, watching Auntie talked to her daughter, telling her how her classmates missed her (evidenced by the balloons and cards surrounding her bed), how their neighbors have as well, how quiet the house has been lately without her playing, the little things. But to her, they were all that mattered.

He hung his head, not wanting to watch any longer. He could hear the sadness in her voice, the longing, and yet, she still hopes. How could she?

"I'll be right back, Auntie." He announces, making his way out before she could reply, missing the worried look on her face.

Six months.

Six excruciating months.

He's endured and suffered that long.

But still, she wouldn't wake up.

Splashing water to his face, he then looked up, finding a miserable guy staring back at him.

Then are you guilty because it's practically your fault she's in this situation?

No matter what they say, it was his fault she was in this situation. It was his fault she's lying in that hospital bed, unconscious. It was his fault.

He wanted to punch his reflection so bad, but he was tired (physically and emotionally).

He didn't like hospitals, hated how clinically clean it was and how dreadful it was. Life came and go here.

Reaching for the door to her room, he paused.

What good would it be for him to be here?

He didn't deserve to be here keeping guard and watching her.

What was he even doing here?

"Aren't you going to go in?" a voice called behind him.

Turning, he was met with a kind gaze from a bespectacled (hair color) man. Their kind disposition ran in the family, he didn't deserve it.

At a loss for words, Kuroo mumbled unintelligent words, the man laughed heartily.

"Looks like you need a bite," although shorter than the teen, he wrapped his arm around his shoulders, steering them away. "come, you need to eat."

Kuroo gulped, staring down at the meal before him, then at the smiling man. There were a few people at the cafeteria – a few nurses and doctors on break, a kid with his mother, some teens, and them.

A comfortable silence forms between them despite having fidgeting in his presence.

The smell of strong spice was making his mouth water, aptly reminding him of the lie he told Auntie. Truth was, he snacked on some fruits given by his family earlier that day, that and coffee. A little while later, his stomach growled. The old man chuckled heartily. "Go on," he encourages.

Timidly, he nodded, saying his grace before digging in.

His eyes widened at the burst of flavors in his mouth, almost forgetting what an amazing cook the man was. He chewed carefully, distracting himself with the texture and taste.

He hadn't noticed the old man leaving until he came back with a can of orange juice for both of them. Kuroo muttered a 'thanks', chugging down the beverage.

"It's so good to see you eat," he tells him, eyes crinkling. "and no, you can't lie to me. I know you, Tetsuroo-kun." He laughed.

It was like he was eight again. It was always like that with this man, this amazing man, who held instruments like magic, the same man who was the father of the girl lying in this very hospital bed, comatose, because of him.

He chewed slowly, eyes dropping. Eventually, he swallowed but didn't reach for more even though the bento box was still full.

"Oh, are you done eating?" asked the confused man.

He almost wanted to laugh.

These past months weren't easy on all of them, especially for them. They could have blamed him for why their daughter was here, but they didn't. Instead, they pulled themselves together for her and for him.

"Thank you, uncle." He says instead, meaning it. Kuroo grinned at the confused man before digging in again.

He shook his head at the teen before him, chuckling heartily. He studies the young boy before him, remembering the look on his face when he saw her comatose state – it was the look of absolute heartbreak.

When he was done eating, they packed slowly, making slow talk (although it was more of him doing the talking). They were standing outside her room, but before they entered, he called him.

"She wouldn't like it you know," he tells him, sincerely. "seeing you like this, filled with guilt and hate. She would've wanted you to be happy, even if she's not the one causing it."

There was a sharp tug in his heart at the last line. "But she makes me happy." It was barely a whisper, tears starting anew. "But I didn't let her know that."

His eyes were stinging with tears, body trembling.

The older man patted his shoulder, squeezing in assurance.

While waiting for her to wake up, he often talked to her about their childhood, some dumb memories, and some good ones. He even told her of the events that transpired during nationals, not knowing that she was watching via live television.

"You should've been there," he said quietly, letting his fingers play with her growing (hair color) hair. "the team wouldn't be anything without our manager."

Some days, he'd read to her, having scavenged through her room from her yet to-read pile. He had to endure going through books that were not of his genre (especially romance), but in the end, found himself enjoying them.

With each passing day, the hope of her waking up was waning. He feared she might never wake up. The waiting was killing him, unnerving and destroying him. But he didn't give up hope, could never. He could wait years if he has to, just to see her (eyes color) eyes again, hear her laugh again, and be with her.

"Oh my, it's that boy again! He's become a familiar face around here."

"How long has he been visiting her?"

"About six months now, since that girl was brought in. He practically lives here."

"Poor thing, looks like he hasn't eaten or slept for days!"

"And he barely leaves her room. And when he does, it's only for a few hours or a day, and then he's back."

"Seriously?"

"The poor boy, the pain he's been through."

"And she might never wake up."

"I don't care what they say," he says against their intertwined fingers. "you are perfect to me. And I'm not leaving you."

It was barely midnight, but he couldn't help it. The conversation he heard earlier was getting to him. They didn't know anything about him or her. It was none of their business.

But to say that she was never going to wake up?

No.

He didn't like to think about it.

She was going to wake up.

He knew it.

But honestly? He wasn't so sure anymore.

Shifting in his seat, he threw his head back, massaging at his throbbing temples. When he opened his eyes, he noted something from the corner of his eye. Her ukulele was lying beside her; he stared at it long and hard before deciding to pick it up. Upon closer inspection, he noticed scratches and a Band-Aid on the crack of the soundboard. Something tugged inside him; he knew exactly where that crack came from.

His grip tightened.

Kenma was right, he was selfish.

He was so selfish.

Absentmindedly, he played with the strings, filling the silence. And then, he began adjusting the chords. It used to drive (Name) nuts, especially when she found how out of tune her ukulele was because of him. He smiled, he always loved seeing her cute face pinched into a frown – she was so cute like that.

Satisfied with the pitch, his calloused fingers began to play a few strings. The song was slow, gentle.

I wanna make you smile, whenever you're sad

Carry you around when your arthritis is bad

All I wanna do, is grow old with you

I'll get your medicine when your tummy aches

Build you a fire if the furnace breaks

Oh it could be so nice, growing old with you

He loved her.

Cliché as it is, he did.

Truth of the matter is, he's always been in love with her.

From the first moment they met, the first time he saw her smile, the first time she scolded him and Kenma, the first time she fussed over them, the first time he saw her play an instrument, to the first time she made him realize how many years have passed that he was so, so, in love with her.

So hopelessly in love with (Name).

Except, he was scared to risk their friendship – scared that she might not feel the same way he did.

I'll miss you

Kiss you

Give you my coat when you are cold

Need you

Feed you

Even let ya hold the remote control

Six months without her was absolute torture.

She was part of every significant event in his life; he couldn't remember spending a day without her in it

Because life without her? He couldn't even imagine.

It was meaningless.

If he could, he'd turn back time and make it right.

So let me do the dishes in our kitchen sink

Put you to bed if you've had too much to drink

I could be the man who grows old with you

I wanna grow old with you

The last lines of the song came out barely a whisper.

Releasing a shaky breath, he hung his head, tears streamed freely. "I've waited so long to play that."

It was the cheesiest song from a lousy movie. But the song, he had to admit, was one of his low-key favorites. The lyrics to the song were so sincere and heartfelt. He finally understood why love songs were made – to say the words everyone failed to say or supplement their feelings.

If only she was awake, then she'd hear his feelings.

Putting her ukulele away, he takes her hand in his, holding it close as he cried. "Please, wake up."

He buried his face into her hand, kissing it as he repeatedly begs for her to wake up, tears still streaming. "There's so much I want to tell you, so much I want you to know."

Taking her hand, he places a quick kiss to her palm, pressing it against his chest. "Feel that? That's my heart and it's beating for you."

His heart was beating fast, as it always did when (Name) was around.

Every single thing she does wonders is magic to him, especially with the way he captivated her the moment their eyes met. He missed it all – her smile, her touch, her eyes, her laugh, in general, he missed her.

So much it hurt.

Because the possibility of her never waking up was a factor that scared him every single day for the past six months. He didn't want their last meeting to be of him being an ass to her.

His heart skipped a beat.

He looked up at her, then at the hand on his chest, he swore he felt her hand twitch.

#kuroo tetsurou x reader #reader insert #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsurou angst #kuroo x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! x reader #hq #hq x reader #hq fanfic #haikyuu!! fanfic #haikyuu!! angst #hq angst #nekoma #kozume kenma

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caramelcal · 3 years

Text

someone you loved

Request: Hi, could you write some Luke Patterson x Reader based on Someone you loved from Lewis Capaldi, please? But I also would like a happy end if it is possible, although the song is sad one. Thanks in advance :)

Word Count: 2k

a/n: hellooo! its currently 1:15 am and i have school tomorrow lol...im so tired but i needed to finish this so enjoyyy!

Masterlist

I'm going under and this time I fear there's no one to save me This all or nothing really got a way of driving me crazy I need somebody to heal Somebody to know Somebody to have Somebody to hold It's easy to say But it's never the same I guess I kinda liked the way you numbed all the pain

Remembering that day was something that you found yourself doing constantly, which was incredibly unfortunate. As you sat up in your room, curled up in a ball your mind drifted to him, the way the other girl had her arms around him, something you and only you were supposed to you.

You remembered the way she leaned against him, her body against his, her short tank top doing nothing to stop her skin from coming in contact with Luke. Anger had bubbled in your chest as well as your throat tightening up, fists clenching at your sides. You saw the way her lips were pressed against his. Against your boyfriend’s. He pulled back away from her, and the way she went up to his ear, whispering seductively before her eyes caught onto you. Then she smirked.

Luke’s bandmates surrounded him, Bobby with two girls, both with the same minimal clothing that the one that was all over your boyfriend was wearing, Reggie was pawning over one that walked slightly in front of him and Alex looked dreadfully uncomfortable. Yet, you didn’t care about them, all you cared about was the way that girl was all over Luke. And if things couldn’t get any worse, whilst she maintained eye contact with you, she whispered in his ear again, why the hell was he not pulling away from her? Suddenly, after the girl said something, pointing a manicured finger in your direction, and his head snapped over to where you were, your eyes flickering between him and the girl, who was now walking backward away from him like her job was done.

“You know what, Patterson?” You shouted angrily at the boy, getting the entire group’s attention, “Fuck you, we’re over.”

And with that, you stormed off. Yet, it was weeks later and you were still crying about it, you missed the way put his arms around your stomach, pulling your back against his chest, the way he laughed with you, the way he cried with you, how he would have one hand on the wheel and one on your thigh when he was driving, you missed the way you blasted songs and just sang together. You missed everything and even though he hurt you, you still love him.

Now the day bleeds Into nightfall And you're not here To get me through it all I let my guard down And then you pulled the rug I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved

Trying to convince yourself to get ready and go out after so many days of staying in your dark room, in pajamas, and wallowing in self-pity was hard but you did it. You got out of bed, got ready, and went on your way to get a drink at the local cafe; a hangout place that a lot of the students at your school used. You planned on meeting a friend here, but as you walked in and you saw him in there you knew it was a bad idea.

It wasn’t only him either, his bandmates were there too, talking, conversing and he had his arm around another girl. You shouldn’t have been surprised if he was willing to get with a girl when you guys were together, why would it be any different in the weeks after your break up? You’re staring at them for a while before one of them notices you, Reggie, smiling at you and waving you over.

“Y/n! Come over and join us for a milkshake!” Innocent Reggie. You don’t miss the semi-discrete nudge that Alex gives Reggie. He always did seem like the one person in the band with half a brain cell, and he was nice too. He looks up at you, casting you a sympathetic smile as Bobby, who again has another girl with him informs Luke that you’ve arrived. Yet, as your eyes catch onto him, you can’t help walking out.

He frowns at your retrieving figure, his body itching to run out and ditch everyone here to get you but he doesn’t as Bobby nudges him again, “Dude forget about her.”

Luke doesn’t say anything as he hesitantly nods, looking down and meeting eyes with Alex, who is sitting across from him. Luke had known Alex long enough to know what look he was giving him: almost begging him to chase after you, knowing that both you and Luke would benefit from it. But he didn’t. Luke stayed exactly where he was, arm slung over the girl’s shoulder.

He didn’t even remember the girl’s name, she wasn’t a bad looking girl but she wasn’t you. She was nice, but she didn’t know Luke as you did, she didn’t have a laugh that she hated but Luke found so adorable like you. Bobby said that these girls were distractions, to get Luke’s mind off of you but even as he sat there at that moment, not a single one of his thoughts strayed from you.

I'm going under and this time I fear there's no one to turn to This all or nothing way of loving got me sleeping without you Now, I need somebody to know Somebody to heal Somebody to have Just to know how it feels It's easy to say but it's never the same I guess I kinda liked the way you helped me escape

Sleep did not come easy to you that night, it never did without Luke there but after seeing him today at the cafe, you couldn’t even take a sip of water without being reminded of Luke. You knew it wasn’t a great idea, but you needed to clear your head, and if this was the only way to do it then so be it.

With your coat clung tightly around your body, you venture down the street, the window blowing softly against your face. It’s creepy, not something you saw in the peppy little town but as you walked down dimly lit streets, the streetlights buzzing slightly overhead you couldn’t help but feel a little jumpy.

“You shouldn’t be out here at this time,” You hear a voice call from the shadows, making you jump around with eyes wide. You walk backward slightly as your head whips around, trying to catch where the voice came from as you catch onto his figure.

Clad in a plaid red flannel, Luke leans against the wall, arms crossed over his chest with eyes trained on you. You clear your throat, feeling a blush rise to your throat at the thought of Luke seeing you so on edge as you speak, “Luke.”

He’s rather far away from you, still lazily leaning against the building wall with his hair in its usual messy way. You liked it like that. The chain on his jeans rattles slightly as he shifts to face you, but still stays leaning against the wall, “y/n.”

It’s quiet for a few moments and for the first time in forever you feel incredibly uncomfortable around Luke. Even before you two got together you had always felt comfortable with Luke; at home. He can feel how much you don’t want to be there, he’s always been able to read you and you aren’t hiding your awkwardness well.

“Well if that’s all,” You say, clearing your throat as you eagerly swivel on your feet to go in the direction you came in, suddenly feeling like going home.

Yet, as you start to walk, you can’t help but stop when you hear Luke chuckle. Did he find this funny? When you peer back at him, seeing him shake his head as he continued to chuckle quietly, “What?”

“Nothing,” Luke dismisses but yet continues to laugh. His hands are in his jean pockets now, a smirk evident on his face.

“Clearly it’s something, what are you finding so funny?” You ask, not hiding how defensive you are you speak. You’ve completely turned towards him again, eyes watching the guitarist’s figure as he calms his laughing down.

Kicking his feet off of the wall, Luke stands up, walking closer to where you stand in the middle of the sidewalk. He pretty much closes the gap between the two of you, until he’s about a foot away from you, peering at you with hazel eyes.

“I just think it’s funny how because we broke up you think we can’t even speak to each other anymore.”

You almost stutter as you break eye contact with the boy. You knew that whatever you said was probably going to lead to an argument and honestly, that was the last thing you wanted right now, “I have to get going.”

“No you don’t,” Luke swiftly responds, shaking his head at you as your eyes snap back up to him, leaving him to rock on his heels.

Your eyes close into slits as you feel annoyance bubble in your stomach. Even if Luke did know when you lied, he should know to let it go, to avoid confrontation but maybe he wanted this, “I left without letting my parents know. If I’m just missing from my bedroom they’ll probably be worried.”

“Your parents aren’t even home, y/n, they’re away on a trip,” You can’t hide the surprise on your face when Luke says that. How he knew that was beyond you because no one else knew but you and your parents. Yet, he elaborates, eyes never leaving you, “even if I couldn’t tell when you’re lying, y/n, I would still know. Your parents stopped me on the way out of town saying they were leaving town for a bit and wanted me to keep an eye on you. They’re worried y/n, ‘said you haven’t been yourself lately. You didn’t tell them we broke up, did you?”

Lips apart, you stare up at Luke, shaking your head, voice quiet and low, “I couldn’t. They really liked you. I couldn’t tell them you cheated.”

“You wouldn’t have to because I didn’t.”

“I saw you, Luke! I saw you with that other girl!” You yelled, your voice no longer low as you felt the rage start to bubble at the bottom of your chest again. The fact that you caught him in the act and he still denies it angered you, why couldn’t he just own up to it? “Are you going to say I imagined it? That I didn’t see anything?”

“I’m not, no,” Luke replied, keeping his voice calm as he shook his head, “What I am going to say is that you don’t know what you saw.”

And I tend to close my eyes when it hurts sometimes I fall into your arms I'll be safe in your sound 'til I come back around

For now the day bleeds Into nightfall And you're not here To get me through it all I let my guard down And then you pulled the rug I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved

Suddenly, everything made sense. It wasn’t his fault and you felt so dumb. You were almost speechless after he finished talking, leaving both of you in silence for several moments.

“I-I’m sorry,”

“Why are you sorry?” Luke asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked down at you.

“I should have let you explain and we wouldn’t be in this mess, we both wouldn’t have been-”

Luke doesn’t let you finish, almost feeling how guilty you felt for immediately assuming the worst of him. He knew it wasn’t your fault, he would have been just as angry if he was in the situation you were, “Hey it’s alright. I should’ve run after you and explained everything then.”

You don’t say anything as he pulls you into a hug, a warmth that you had yearned for over the past few weeks. He has a hand on your back, holding you close, and a hand on the back of your head, softly running his fingers through your hair.

“I missed you so much,” He whispered to you, leaving you to hug him closer to you, to enjoy the warmth before it disappeared again. You never wanted to let go, you felt safe in his hold, you felt at home.

He placed a soft kiss against the top of your head, still holding you close before you looked up at him, “I missed you too, Lu.”

He flashes you a soft smile, one that had always melted your heart, “How about we go home, huh?”

#luke jatp #jatp #luke julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms #charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie x y/n #charlie gillespie x reader #luke patterson #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson x y/n #julie and the phantoms x reader #julie and the phantoms luke

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rosyfingereddawnn · 3 years

Text

That’s The Way (Chapter 3)

Pairing: Jimmy Page x Reader

Word count: 3.7k

Warning(s): smut/nsfw, cheating, cursing, angst, Y/N being a badass :)

Author’s notes: We’ll be honest...this chapter is a lot to handle 😂 which is amazing since it’s only Chapter 3 of many! We suggest taking a break throughout, because you’re gonna need it 😂 So much happens that your mind may actually explode from the drama. By the way, Jimmy is introduced in the next chapter so yay! As usual, please enjoy, happy reading, and send us messages if you have theories, comments, music recommendations for the playlist, or if you want to be added to the tag list :)

Chapters: 1 | 2

————

Paul took Y/N out to dinner that week, and they had a wonderful time together. It seemed that every conversation they had together brought them closer and closer, and Y/N was in pure bliss. From that point forward, the two became inseparable.

Y/N’s parents, however, were not super pleased that Y/N was seeing Paul, especially because they had warned her about the romantically-unattached musician’s mannerisms and habits not that long ago. They just decided to act like they liked Paul, so he wouldn’t get suspicious or feel bad.

Two members of The Yardbirds in particular (and I’m sure, dear reader, that you know who they are by now) were hit with pangs of jealousy whenever they saw Y/N constantly attached to Paul’s arm. And, to make matters worse, it was under any circumstance imaginable: parties, interviews, photoshoots, meetings, airports, train stations, hotels...the list goes on. Yes, they did spend plenty of time apart, but attraction can make a man think irrationally. Even though they were specifically and strictly told to keep their mouths shut, it was very tempting to just say the truth and end their misery. A part of Chris and Jim felt happy to see her happy, but another, traitorous side of them felt exponentially bad for her. They knew that she was being used by Paul as arm-candy, and they knew that she, of all people, did not deserve that.

But that’s the name of the game, unfortunately.

~~~~~~~~

18 February 1966

The Yardbirds were scheduled to perform on an episode of Ready, Steady, Go! that night, and Y/N decided to go and be a part of the live audience. She felt an obligation to support Paul and the band, since they were all friends (and a boyfriend, of course) now.

Before the show, Jim, Jeff, and Keith were all sitting on the stage, discussing the logistics of the rehearsals that would start soon. Y/N stood in front of the already-prepared stage and chatted with them.

“So what are you guys going to do on our days off next week?” Jeff asked.

“Spend time with my family,” Keith replied, adjusting his sunglasses.

“Not sure yet, haven’t figured it out,” Jim added.

“How ‘bout you, Miss Y/N?” Jeff nodded towards her with a smile. She answered with a soft giggle.

“I’m probably going golfing with my brother and a couple mates.”

“You golf?” Jim asked. She seemed to be getting more and more perfect by the day.

“Mmhmm,” Y/N nodded enthusiastically, “I’m bloody awful at it, but it’s fun, and I can hang out with my brother, so it’s a win-win.”

“You never told us you had siblings,” Keith smirked, tilting to the side and crossing his arms.

“Oh yeah, I have three. There’s Tommy, my older brother; Charlie, my younger brother; and Lillian, my little sister,” Y/N said.

“Wow, full house,” Jeff remarked, “I have a sister, Annetta, who I think you’d get along with quite well. I’ll have to introduce you to her soon.”

“Oh, that’d be great! I’d love to meet another Beck,” Y/N replied playfully. Jeff just laughed and shook his head.

“It’s a shame that I can’t spend time with Paul this week. He said he was busy, but he didn’t explain why,” Y/N sighed, “whatever. It’s probably legitimate, so I don’t mind. We’ve been hanging out too much anyway.” She laughed at the last part.

“He’s probably just going home to his wife,” Jim replied, thoughtlessly.

At that instant, everyone’s eyes widened, eyebrows raised, and lips downturned into a shocked, panicked frown.

“He’s...what?” Y/N asked quietly, sounding like she was about to shatter into a thousand tiny pieces.

Y/N noticed that Keith and Jeff were glaring at Jim, who was clearly embarrassed at what he had revealed. He hid his eyes with his hand.

When Jeff finally found it in him to turn away from Jim, he deeply exhaled. He then reached out his hands to touch Y/N’s shoulders in an attempt to comfort her.

“Look, Y/N, you weren’t supposed to find out this way, and I’m so sorry we didn’t tell you sooner,” Jeff began, “but he is indeed married. I honestly don’t know why he wanted to pursue you, and I warned him against it because of how much we care about you, but he did it anyway.”

Tears streamed down Y/N’s face and her bottom lip started to quiver. “I can’t believe this,” she whispered, “he made it seem like I was the only one…that he was really in love with me...”

Jeff hated seeing his friend cry because of something he could have prevented. But, Y/N was somehow still beautiful when she cried.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Jeff consoled gently, getting off the stage to hug her, “here, let’s take you backstage to calm you down a little.”

Y/N refused Jeff’s kind offer with a shake of the head. Through her blurry, teary-eyed vision, she just plastered on a smile, and wiped the wetness from her eyes.

“Ew,” her voice cracked, “why am I crying? That’s so gross of me, I’m so sorry. I’m definitely making you guys uncomfortable.”

The three musicians’ eyes widened at Y/N’s sudden burst of emotional strength.

“Y/N, you just found out you were Sam’s side chick, and you don’t care?” Jeff inquired, genuinely confused as to what was going on with Y/N’s emotions.

“It’s okay to be sad, love. And utterly fuming with anger. I must admit, this situation wouldn’t be as dire if it were someone else, but it’s you,” Keith added. Jim just sat in silence. He didn’t know what to say. His message destroyed Y/N’s heart and her innocence.

“I am sad, but if this ‘thing’ went on any longer, I’d probably be even more devastated. You saved me from a lot more unnecessary heartbreak, so thank you, Jim,” Y/N said. Her tone sounded completely numb.

“How are you gonna tell Sam?” Keith asked Y/N.

She exhaled deeply. “I don’t know. It wouldn’t be fair of me to lash out on him before being on national television.”

“How can you care about fairness? Don’t you realize what this man has done to you?” Jeff asked, anger interlaced in his voice.

“Yes, Jeff. I do,” Y/N replied stoically, “And I’ll be fine, really. Let’s just forget about it, okay? I’m just lucky to be here, watching you perform. What song are you playing again?” Y/N tried to change the subject, but on the inside she was in deep agony and pain. She poured all of this time and emotion and her body into this cute musician boy, just to realize she didn’t matter.

“‘Shapes of Thi—’” Keith began quietly.

Jeff cut him off. “Y/N, I seriously refuse to believe you’re okay. Please, just let me help y—” he started.

“Jeff! I’m fine! Seriously,” Y/N raised her voice a little, annoyed at the nagging.

“But you seem—” Jim began, barely perceptible.

“Oh my God, Jim, I’m fine!” Y/N shouted. “I don’t care. It’s done, it’s over.”

The three men sat in silence after Y/N’s sudden outburst of anger, which was very out of character for her. She quickly realized what she had done.

“I’m so sorry for lashing out on you guys. That was uncalled for, it’s not your fault. I’m gonna go to the loo, excuse me,” she said quickly, walking out of the scene before anyone could call after her.

~~~~~~~~

Y/N stayed in the bathroom for all of rehearsals, and she finally reemerged right before the broadcast was about to start, looking as fresh as she did when she got there. It was as if the news was never even brought to her attention.

She refused to make eye contact with Paul through the entire performance, even though it was apparent that he tried to get her attention with his eyes. Chris was just confused that she wouldn’t even dare to glance at Paul. Just a little trouble in paradise that he didn’t know about maybe?

After the show and when the band went offstage, Jeff went back into the crowd to check on Y/N and brought her backstage.

“You have to confront him,” Jeff pleaded.

“I don’t want to,” Y/N whined.

“You have to, or else he’ll bloody win! You don’t want that, and I sure as hell don’t want that for you either! He is the one at fault. You have every right to fuck him up for it.”

Jeff’s little speech gave her an impulsive boost of confidence.

“Fine. I’ll do it. Get everyone out of the room, though,” Y/N stated firmly, beginning to march down the hallway behind Jeff.

Momentarily, Jeff went into the room and rounded up Keith, Jim, and Chris, and filed them down the hallway into another room orderly.

As Y/N was about to enter the room, Jeff whispered in her ear, “Good luck, kid. Knock ‘em dead.” Y/N smiled at Jeff before entering the room and closing the door behind her.

~~~~~~~~

Paul warmly smiled at Y/N as she entered the room.

“Hello, love,” he said gently, “how did you enjoy the show?”

Y/N painted on the most genuine smile she could force. “It was...almost perfect.”

Paul’s eyebrow quirked as he smiled in a confused way. “Why almost?”

“I don’t think rehearsals went as well as I had planned,” Y/N replied smoothly.

“Why? Did something bad happen to you? You’re speaking in riddles, dear.”

“Oh, I apologize,” Y/N snickered, “it’s actually so funny that you bring up riddles, because that seemed to be the exact problem at hand.”

“What does that mean? Did someone tell you something you couldn’t figure out?” Paul chuckled, “You’re confusing me.”

“I figured out that you would be going home to your wife next week.”

All the colour from Paul’s face was drained in a millisecond, and his originally jovial expression was gone. It was as if someone punched him in the gut.

“Who...who told you?” he asked, panicked.

Y/N was taken aback. “I find out I’m your side-chick and you have the audacity to ask who told me? Not an ‘I’m so sorry that I lied to you and broke your heart, Y/N’?”

Paul huffed. “And you expect me to just keep my composure when someone of your gravity walks into the room for the first time? I really am sorry, Y/N, I truly, truly am, but—”

Y/N’s calm and quiet demeanor had left the building at that point. She was mad. Really mad.

“But what? You tell me how in love you are with me, and how I’m your one and only forever, just to realize that I didn’t matter? I’m going to be eighteen years old in March. Eighteen. What do I know about love? Nothing, absolutely nothing. And you chose to take full advantage of my emotional vulnerability.”

“But you did matter. You’re so special to me, Y/N. Don’t you understand that?”

“Don’t you understand that you have a wife? You never loved me. I was never special to you. I was just another fling. But you won’t admit it to yourself.”

“The life of a travelling musician is extremely difficult, Y/N, and you don’t get that,” Paul said severely.

“And that shouldn’t be used as an excuse. You know what? We’re done. Whatever this ‘thing’ is, is over. I wish you the best,” Y/N concluded as she walked out the door and sternly shut it.

The nightmare was over and Y/N was a free agent.

Before she could debrief about her experience with any of the other Yardbirds, Y/N left the venue, caught the first taxi home, ran up into her room, and cried herself to sleep.

~~~~~~~~

22 April 1966

Y/N found recovery time and solace in those two months without Paul. She didn’t go to any Yardbirds gigs, but she sporadically met up with Jeff, Keith, Jim, and Chris at a pub or restaurant to catch up over a meal and drinks. Chris had recently mentioned to her that they were playing in London on the 22nd, and if she felt comfortable, she could attend for free and get backstage to hang out.

Y/N said she’d have to think about it, but she’d definitely consider it.

She had realized over the course of two months that she was not truly in love with Paul. Yes, she fancied him, but she must’ve mistaken the feeling of being genuinely in love with the person for being in love with the situation. Y/N concluded that this relationship was the equivalent of living out one’s childhood dreams of a romance with their schoolgirl crush.

She decided that she was retired from dating for a long time, especially because of how this shitshow ended, but a miniscule piece of her wondered when and how she’d meet her other half.

In the afternoon on the day of the show, which was to be played at the Wimbledon Palais, Y/N made the reckless decision to take a trip down to the Yardbirds’ hotel, but not for the reason you might expect.

Y/N never got the chance to thank Jim McCarty for coming clean about Paul’s infidelity to his wife by “dating” her, and to formally apologize for ripping him at the Ready, Steady, Go! rehearsals. She felt bad for being so dismissive of him, because he was always so nice to her and apparently seemed to care more about her wellbeing than Paul ever did.

Y/N stood on the platform of the train station anxiously, meticulously scheming in her mind about what she would say to Jim to truly and genuinely express her gratitude. She thought about how the encounter would go all the way to London, and all the way on her walk to the hotel.

When she arrived at the hotel, she greeted the concierge, and took the elevator to what she believed to be the Yardbirds’ floor. She took an educated guess as to which room Jim’s would be, just by what she had seen in past times. Y/N took a deep breath before knocking on the door.

When the door opened, she realized that in her best interest, her guess was correct.

“Hi,” she greeted breathily, her fingers interlaced together in front of her timidly.

“Hi,” Jim smiled. After a short moment of awkward silence, he continued, “Um, what are you doing here? Not that it’s a bad thing, which it’s not, but…” he trailed off.

“I just wanted to tell you something that I think needed to be said in-person,” Y/N said quickly.

Jim raised his eyebrows in surprised delight. “Oh, okay.” He moved out of the way of the doorframe so Y/N could enter the room, then shut the door gently behind her. “Welcome to my humble abode,” he chuckled, “make yourself at home.”

Y/N smiled and thanked him graciously, but shyly, as she sat down at a small couch at the edge of the bed. Jim was quick to follow her actions.

Y/N took a deep breath before beginning, “I just wanted to thank you for informing me about Paul in February. I know, it’s been a really long time since then… but I’ve needed some time to myself to think and refocus and recuperate, y’know?”

Jim just laughed. “You came all the way here to thank me? That’s so nice of you. You didn’t need to do that.”

Y/N grinned. “I don’t know, I felt this obligation for some reason. And in addition, I wanted to apologize for lashing out at you as well. I was just shell-shocked, I guess, and I unfairly took it out on you and Jeff.”

“If I forgave you then, I’ll still forgive you now,” Jim smiled, “don’t sweat it. In all honesty, I was surprised at how well you took the news.”

“I just wanted to be as calm and composed as possible,” Y/N blushed, “but obviously I didn’t get very far, did I?” Jim laughed at Y/N’s little jab at herself.

“Well, you’re so quiet, at least you showed a piece of your inner self that night,” Jim teased. Y/N just beamed at him.

“You know, since I owe you, now… I guess I just need to live a little, y’know? I have this introverted shell I need to break out of someday, and I might as well start now,” Y/N offered with a chuckle. “So, with that being said, let me do something for you. Anything you want.”

“Oh no, that’s too much. You didn’t even cause me any grief,” Jim retaliated playfully, “thank you, Y/N, but I think you’re overthinking this whole situation.”

“Please,” she continued with a pleading voice, “I feel awful, and plus, if it makes you feel better, you’ll be helping me clear my conscience. Jim, I’ll do anything you want, no matter how crazy… I’ll take you jet-skiing, I’ll ride on a bike in a bikini when the temperature is below freezing, I’ll clean your kitchen… anything you want me to do, I will do.”

Jim grinned at the bizarre options Y/N gave him before contemplating her invocation for a moment. Anything, huh?

“Kiss me.”

“You said you'd do anything, no matter how crazy, yes?” Y/N didn't get a chance to finish, as Jim interrupted her with a hand at her wrist, and a flinty look in his eyes, that gazed right into hers.

“I did.”

“Well,” Jim continued, stepping ever-closer to the young woman in front of him. She looked just as beautiful as she always had, if not more. Jim was convinced she was perfect, and wanted to protect her. To treat her right, the way she deserved. “You could get on your knees, in front of me.”

Kneeling down on the carpeted floor, Y/N looked up at him through her eyelashes, and the glint in her eyes made his knees weak. She looked almost shy, and he couldn't help but send a comforting smile her way.

“Have you done this before, Y/N?”

She shook her head at this, and looked down, almost embarrassed. Jim, heart pounding in his chest in anticipation, reached out a hand to lift her head. Her eyes held trust, and a hint of nervousness, but her lips quirk up in a smile, her cheeks flushing.

“I’ll walk you through it, love.” The sound of a belt clinking to the floor reached Y/N’s ears, zipper following suit, and she couldn’t help the way she almost thrummed with anticipation. Her parents had warned her against exactly this type of thing. Musicians were, according to her parents, a fickle breed, who only wanted her for her looks and body. It hurt to think of it now, when Jim was being nothing but a gentleman to her. She wanted to break out of her shell, and maybe this was the way to do it.

Y/N looks to Jim and sees him exposed, fully hard now, and her cheeks erupt into shades of rosy pink. He was big, much bigger than she would have expected, and she smiled up at him.

“Okay, love. Open your mouth.” Y/N opened her mouth, sinking it over his tip, which elicits a strained moan, full of pleasure. His hand landed in Y/N’s hair, fingers clenching gently around the tresses. The light tug Y/N felt only spurred her on.

“That’s incredible, princess. Now, try and circle your tongue. You’re doing so well.”

Y/N did as she’s told, and it’s like a spell was put over the man. He craned his head back, neck bared, as soft whimpers fell past his lips. Growing more confident, knowing now what he liked, she let her teeth rake over him lightly, which worked more moans from him, almost breathless in his euphoria.

With a murmured “fuck,” he comes, Y/N’s name the only thing on his lips. She slowly released him from her mouth, wiping her lips with the back of her hand as she stood. Jim, leaning up against the wall, was in bliss, heaving breaths and ruffling Y/N’s hair as she approached.

“That was… you're perfect, princess. Absolutely perfect.”

Y/N laughs, smile nearly splitting her cheeks, and she pressed even closer, pressing her lips to his in a soft, content embrace. She could taste the sweat on his lips, and she couldn't help but think that she could definitely get used to this feeling.

Jim revelled in the feel of her soft lips against his, and he was struck by the thought that this is exactly where he’s supposed to be. He’s where he wants to be, beside Y/N.

————

Taglist: @blood-on-blood @reincarnated70sbaby

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evanstanwrites · 4 years

Text

Hot dentist - Steve Rogers AU

Sum: What did I bring myself into? Flirting with my dentist, none the less hot dentist, and then let him drive me home? Wasn’t this doomed to fail?

pairing: Dentist Steve Rogers x reader

warnings: my bad writing xD, +18 only, SMUT, public sex, unprotected sex, sexual acts while driving

I was so nervous as I stood in front of the dentist’s office in my local hospital. Today was the day I’d get my wisdom tooth removed, I had been in so much pain that I couldn’t delay it any longer. A few weeks ago I had noticed that there was a piece that had broken off my tooth and it had been the cause of a lot of pain, seeing as the nerves in the tooth got uncovered. So I found the little bit of courage I had left and made an appointment with my local dentist, an old but friendly man who was only a few weeks from retirement.

He had taken one look at my broken tooth and knew that it wasn’t a job he could handle. It turned out to be a wisdom tooth that I didn’t even know I had. It was the surprise of my life and when he said that I had to go to the hospital’s dentist to have it removed under anesthesia I panicked completely. I was already scared shitless of a regular dentist and needles now they were gonna stick needles into my mouth? What more do you need to shit your pants out of fear. But I got my shit together because I didn’t want to live with this kind of pain forever so I made the appointment with doctor S.Rogers at my local hospital.

“Hey, I’m Y/n and I have an appointment with doctor Rogers,” I say once I got my shit together and got to the front desk of doctor Rogers’s office.

“Welcome, Y/n, please fill in this form while you wait. You can hand the filled in form to the doctor” The lady behind the desk says as she starts to hand me all different kinds of papers and documents.

“The waiting area for doctor Rogers is at the end of the hallway, you can take a seat there.” she smiles and points in the direction of the waiting area.

After a short thank you and a nervous smile I follow the given directions through the long hallway filled with other waiting patients at all different doctors’ offices but none of them are the one I need to be at. After what seems like a long walk I finally reach the waiting area I need to be at seeing a large nameplate on one of the doors stating the doctor’s name.

I take my place on one of the chairs and start to fill in the form I was given by the lady at the front desk. Just as I was done the door of the office opens and a tall blond model like man with one of the brightest smiles stands in the door opening.

God this man was drop dead gorgeous, who was he? Was he the nurse, Maybe doctors Rogers’s assistant, or what if this was doctor Rogers? Omg kill me now, I’m not going to survive this if that species of a man is gonna do the procedure.

What if I say something stupid during the anesthesia?

“Miss Y/l/n?”

God even the sound of his voice is to melt for. I quickly get a hold of myself and stand up.

“That’s me.” I smile at the man.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Doctor Rogers. please come in,” he says as he steps out of the way and signs for me to walk in first.

Oh god, he is the doctor, I’ll have to do my best to act normal. I think to myself as I walk into the office and sit on one of the chairs before handing over the filled in forms as he walks past me to his seat.

“So I got all the information from your dentist, seems like you need to have your wisdom tooth removed.” He explains as he sits down behind his desk, looks over the papers before smiling at me.

“I do see here that you requested the use of the anesthetic gas but I fear that it’s not possible today due to some technical problems.”

“Oh, so what’s going to happen then?” I ask suddenly not that concerned about the fact that I didn’t know how to act around a drop dead gorgeous doctor but more scared about the procedure itself.

“Well seeing as you’re the last patient of the day our only option for the procedure is a local anesthetic. But I promise you, you have nothing to worry about. I know it sounds more terrifying than it actually is. I promise you I won’t hurt you, it’ll be a bit uncomfortable but it won’t hurt.” he reassures me which to I can only nod shortly, still nervous.

“You’ll be alright, miss, you’re in good hands”

One of his warm hands covered mine that laid on top of the desk as he says it with a smile.

Wow, this man is really all smiles but knows how to put someone at ease. I think as I smile back at him.

“Okay, Thank you, doctor Rogers”

“You’re welcome and please call me Steve. What ya say we get started and get it over with?”

Steve’s not even finished speaking when he stands up from his chair and holds a hand out to help me to my feet and leads me to the room next to the office where the procedure would take place.

And before I know it I’m in the chair leaning back, watching Steve move around the room as he washes his hands before gloving up.

In the end, he was right, I barely felt it when he injected the local anesthetic into my gums. In comparison to any dentist I had ever met Steve was very soft in his handling and very talkative, it seems like he forgot that he was working in my mouth and that I couldn’t talk back. Which lead to a couple of funny moments but it did put my mind at ease, I wasn’t scared at all anymore and it started to feel more like Steve and I knew each other for a long time. He even flirted with me a few times, at least I think he did.

Every time he’d had to do something that would cause me even the slightest bit of discomfort he warned me and checked if all was alright after.

Overall the procedure only took around half an hour and soon enough Steve was putting his work in finishing with stitching up the wound.

“Here you go sweetheart, we’re all done,” he says leaning back on his chair before cleaning up the little worktable so I could sit up.

“You got someone to take you home? Because it’s not wise to drive while the anesthetic is still working,”

Shit, I didn’t think about that. He’s right I can’t drive like this.

“No, I don’t but I’ll call for a cab to drive me home,” I say which comes out a bit more like a mumble due to my still numb mouth as I stand up from the chair, ready to collect my stuff so I can leave even if I don’t really want to. I wanted to be in his presence for as long as I could, that was the kind of effect he had on me.

“No need to call a cab, I can drive you home seeing as I’m off in a few minutes.” he smiles as we walk back into his office “Only if you want that is?” he quickly adds.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose after all I’m just your patient,” I say a bit unsure, I want to say yes but was it wise to, it isn’t professional at least.

“Well as soon as we walk out of this office you’re not my patient anymore and we can do what we choose to do,” he chuckles as he sits back down behind his office ready to finish up his paperwork for the day.

“Okay, you can drive me home if you really want to,” I respond trying not to smile that big so I wouldn’t drool too much caused by the numb lips. Steve seemed to notice and chuckled a bit louder.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, the anesthetic will wear off. The numb feeling should be over in about half an hour,” he says before pointing at his computer.

“Give me 5 minutes and I’ll meet you downstairs in front of the main entrance. I quickly need to fill in this form and then chance and I’ll be down to pick you up.”

What did I bring myself into? Flirting with my dentist, none the less hot dentist, and then let him drive me home? Wasn’t this doomed to fail? But then again I was already in too deep to stop now, there was no option to go back now. There was no harm in having a bit of fun right? Who knows what I get out of it: a friend, a one night stand, or maybe a boyfriend? Who knows? Was this really so bad? No not at all, there was nothing wrong with this.

That’s how I found myself in the passenger seat of Steve’s car flirting with him, a lot. The atmosphere turned hot and sexual very quickly just as our conversation and it seemed like it affected both of us. Steve obviously had a ‘little not so little’ problem in his pants and he didn’t even try to hide it. Even his hand has found its place on top of my thigh, slowly rubbing small circles onto my warm skin making me squeeze my thighs together to get some relief. The smirk on his lips showed me that he knew that it affected me too, I bet he could almost smell how wet I was.

“Really I can’t say thank you enough for driving me home. I don’t know how I can ever repay you Steve,” I say with a small smile.

“I could think of something,” Steve smirked seductively

“Oh, what are you thinking about then?” I ask faking innocence, I had a good guess what it would be and I was totally down for it but I wanted to see how he would respond.

But Steve didn’t say anything, he just softly took my hand, gave it a soft reassuring squeeze and placed my hand on top of the bulge in his pants.

I sucked in a deep breath of surprise, he felt huge for what I could feel through his pants.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to sweetheart” he quickly says taking my action as a rejection.

“No, It’s okay, I want to. I just wasn’t prepared to feel,... you feel so big Steve” I giggle which makes him chuckle in response.

“Well that’s because I am big sweetheart” he winks just as I start to unzip and unbutton his pants.

“Can I?”

“Yes, go for it”

More he doesn’t has to say before I slip my hand through his now open pants and wrap my hand around his rock hard cock. His skin felt warm and soft in my hand, god he is really big.

I tried to feel as much as I could, discovering every inch, every vein, every unique part of his cock.

“you’re teasing sweetheart,” Steve says softly as he holds back a moan.

“But I like teasing,” I pout which makes him laugh

“You little minx,”

I finally decide to stop teasing and now wramp my hand firmly around his now leaking hard cock and slowly start stroking it.

“Yeah that’s it sweetheart, just like that” Steve moans as he tries his best to keep his focus on the road but that proved to be a hard task.

I loved the feeling of his cock in my hand and started to imagine how he would feel if it wasn’t my hand wrapped around his cock but my pussy. I bet it would feel great, hit all the right spots and make me fall over the edge quickly. Damn, I almost came just by thinking of it.

“Oooh fuck it” I hear Steve bread hard as he suddenly makes a sharp turn into what seemed an empty backroad surrounded by trees.

“Euh Steve, this isn’t the way to my place,” I say surprised as I pull my hand out of his pants and look around me. There was nobody or nothing but trees to be seen.

“I know but I can’t keep my focus on the road anymore, and I need a turn too sweetheart” he smirked as he parks his.

Before I even know it he gets out of the car, and I follow his lead, meeting him at the hood of his car. It doesn’t take long before he’s all over me, kissing me along the curve of my throat, his hands moving all over my body like he’s making a road map to some treasure.

“You’re driving me crazy sweetheart” he pants

“Maybe you should do something about it” I smirk as I hop onto the hood of his car

“I so want to kiss you right now but I fear that will have to wait. But can I fuck you instead?” he asks as he steps into the open space between my legs while his hands move up my legs.

“I thought you’d never ask,” I chuckle as I lift my skirt a bit as an invitation for him to slide his hands under, which he eagerly does and starts to rub over the soaked crotch of my panties making me move my hips up to his hand and moan at the touch. It really had been a long time since the last time someone even touched me down there, I felt like I was a virgin again.

“Please, Steve, just fuck me already” I moan

“Look who’s impatient now,” he says as he shoves his still unzipped pants a bit lower so he could free cock, giving it a few strokes before moving the crotch of my panties to the side and slowly rubs the tip of his cock between my folds coating himself in my fluids.

I don’t care that we’re in public, I don’t care that someone could hear or see us, in this moment there was only Steve and me and how good he made me feel. I was already flying high on pleasure and he wasn’t even inside me yet. So the moment he actually started to push his cock inside me I couldn’t stop myself and moaned loudly at the feeling, feeling every inch of him as he filled me.

“Fuck you’re so tight sweetheart” he moans, seemingly just as much lost in pleasure as I am.

Once he was fully inside of me he didn’t give me much time to adjust to his huge cock and just started to pull back out slowly and thrust back in with a hard and fast snap of his hips making me almost scream out in pleasure. I can only hold on for the ride he takes me on as he set a strong and fast pace. Proving my imagination from earlier in that to be true, his cock does hit all the right spots every time he slams back in.

One of his strong hands grips onto my hip keeping me in place while with the thumb of his other hand he rubs my clit edging me closer and closer to an orgasm.

“Steve,...., so close,..., please,” I didn’t even know what I was begging for but Steve seemed to understand as he started to speed up the movements of his thumb on my clit.

“It’s alright sweetheart, I got you. Cum for me, I’m right behind you.” he moans out of breath. It seems like that was all it took before he guided me over the edge and I came harder than I’ve ever done before with a loud scream. It didn’t take long before Steve followed me and spilled his seed deep inside me.

“I should have made that appointment much sooner with you doctor Steve.”

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bastardtetsu · 4 years

Text

critical thinking | ch②

pairing: kuroo tetsuro x gn!reader

genre: college au, enemies to lovers, tsundere!reader, slow burn

wc: 1.7k

warning: swearing, being a theatre major

※ mlist | ① ● ③ ④

after several weeks of douchebag exposure therapy, you’re practically numb to kuroo’s bullshit - for the most part. you still get a bit flustered when you get things wrong, but his teasing barely phases you since you’ve abandoned the concept of speaking to him with respect.

“STILL struggling with balancing equations, y/n??” he chides as you work on your homework, “jeez, maybe i need to start giving you extra assignments.”

“on god kuroo, if you try to make me do any more chemistry than is absolutely necessary i will make sure you never know a day of peace in your life.”

“but y/n,” he teases, “you know if you don’t practice you’ll never get any better.”

“i’m not trying to ‘get better,’ i’m trying to pass the class.”

“ahh, no ambition. you hate to see it.”

“wanna shut the fuck up and let me do my homework?” you snap.

“see, there’s that passion!”

he really is insufferable. you roll your eyes and groan, turning your attention away from the mocking rooster & back to your homework while he gets up to stretch his legs.

what he said wasn’t wrong, you are struggling with the whole balancing equations thing. your brain feels like it’s working on overdrive as you scribble away - numbers are definitely not your strong suit.

you can hear him start to snicker behind you as you work. you pause your writing and turn around to see him peeking over your shoulder with a sadistic smile on his face.

“is something funny?” you ask, unimpressed. his smile softens a bit as you stare him down.

“you’re doing it wrong,” he says, and leans down to correct your work. his face is much closer to yours now, you can almost feel the warmth of his breath as his arm reaches around your right side to write in your notebook while his left hand rests on the back of your chair, practically enveloping you.

resisting the urge to turn and stare at the annoying, criminally sculpted face that’s now inches away from yours, you fix your eyes on his hand as he writes and try to ignore how warm you suddenly feel.

his hands are big, you think, noticing how much smaller your pencil looks when he holds it. you can smell his cologne again, too. sandalwood or whatever.

“there, see?” he says, turning his head to look at you.

your faces are still so close.

what is it about his eyes that makes his stare feel so intense every time?

you quickly avert your gaze back to the page of notes, focusing extra hard on the numbers so you can ignore the beat your heart skipped just now. somehow, the equation in front of you looks even more indecipherable than it did before. and why does your face feel so hot?

“i… still don’t get it,” you admit tentatively. he just lets out a soft chuckle, letting his gaze drop for a second before locking eyes with you, lips curled into a smirk.

“you really are bad at this.”

another electric shock of embarrassment mixed with rage jolts through you.

“yeah, and what?” you challenge, “that makes me dumber than you? ok, well if you’re so smart why don’t you try telling me about willy loman’s superobjective in death of a salesman? or identifying the difference between verse and prose in classical text?? i bet you don’t even know who anton chekhov is, but sure, i’m the idiot because i don’t know how to balance a damn equation. how about learn your shit, and then you can teach me mine.”

kuroo just stands there for a moment, taken aback by your outburst. then the bitch starts laughing.

“what’s funny?!!” you interrogate, your voice getting louder. his laugh sounds like a goddamn hyena.

“y/n oh my god,” he chokes out between cackles, “you’re such a nerd!”

“ME??!!?!” you just about scream, furious, “you’re calling me a nerd?? have you met yourself??!”

“well at least i’m not in danger of failing a class,” he giggles.

“that has nothing to do with this,” you snap.

“so who’s anton chek-whatever?” he prods, still amused.

“see, you’re laughing but you’re the one sounding stupid this time,” you grumble. you can tell he’s just searching for something else to tease you about, but you can’t resist the opportunity to turn the tables & be the one schooling him for once. “chekhov. he’s a famous playwright. from russia. one of the early pioneers of modernism in the late 19th/early 20th century - not that you’d even know what that means.”

“you’re right, i don’t,” he relents, “but you seem like you do. nerd.” his eyes have an extra glint in them as they narrow with another taunting smirk.

“leave me alone, you’re the one who asked,” you groan, finally fed up with his antics. “look, i need to finish this homework before i get out of here. otherwise it’s never getting done.”

“i’ll check your answers when you’re finished,” he offers.

“only if you’re not a dick about it.”

“you only think I’m being a dick when you get the answer wrong.”

“SHUT UP.”

—

as midterms approach, the stress is starting to get to you as your workload gets heavier and heavier. maybe that’s why you seem extra snarky towards your annoying, hot, annoyingly hot chemistry tutor today.

“y/n, did you review chemical bonds like i told you to last week?” he chides after you get another homework question wrong. sometimes he really does sound like a teacher, or someone’s dad. but thankfully, he is neither of those things, which means you can comfortably trash him.

“sorry i have things to worry about besides memorizing how electrons work,” you snark, “what about you? this isn’t even your major, do you not have other shit to do besides come here & make fun of me?”

“hey, i do this because i love it!” he protests dramatically. you can see the smirk in his eyes.

“sure” you sneer back, “look, i don’t know about you, but some of us actually have to work for our degrees. we don’t have time to waste bullying people who don’t know science for fun.”

“who says I can’t do both?”

now you’re starting to get annoyed.

“dude for real. do you know how busy i am?? like, ALL the time??? why else do you think i’m here? i wouldn’t be in this shitty class if i had room for anything else. i can’t even go to my professor’s office hours!”

“ah, well, that explains a lot.”

“shut up,” you jab, “the only reason i keep coming back to your dumb ass tutoring hours is because my schedule is so goddamn packed i can’t meet up with anyone else.”

“sure, whatever you say y/n,” he croons, tone dripping in sarcasm.

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“oh you know,” he teases, eyes full of mischief. you really don’t though?

“you’re full of shit,” you mutter dismissively. he’s trying to egg you on to say something stupid so he can ridicule you for it, but you can see right through him.

“i’m not the one dodging the subject,” he grins, his eyes unmoving from you as you turn back to your paper. even facing away from him, you can feel his laser beam of a stare on you as if he were breathing right down your neck. ha, i wish. wait— “you know, you’re not gonna get very far on that worksheet if you didn’t do any review.”

“would you be quiet?” you snap at him, fed up with his condescension, “or better yet, maybe do your job and help me figure it out?”

“well,” he purrs with a sickly sweet smirk, “only since you asked so nicely.”

you make sure to roll your eyes extra hard at him to make up for the way your heartbeat quickened at his flirtatious tone.

thankfully, he actually obeys your request this time and tones down the teasing as he explains chemical bonds, doing his best to help you through each homework problem step-by-step. usually he can tell when you’re actually getting irritated and makes up for it like this. you’re silently grateful for this form of kindness from him, even if it’s only because you’re a nightmare to work with otherwise.

as you wrap up your session with him - late once again, but he never minds staying past the end of his tutoring hours since he has the rest of the day off anyway - you hurriedly pack your things, grumbling a complaint about how now you don’t have time to get something to eat before you meet with your scene partner to rehearse your acting midterm. while it’s pretty normal for you to miss meals because of your schedule, it’s frustrating nonetheless, especially after your brain has just been fried by molecular bonds.

“oi, y/n,” kuroo says as you turn to leave. you pause, bracing yourself for whatever stupid comment he’s about to make.

“take care of yourself,” he says, a tinge of concern just barely distinguishable in his tone, before adding, “and remember to review covalent and ionic bonds!” you sigh. he sounds like a dad again.

“see, those are contradictory statements,” you gripe, “chemical bonds could not be further from self care.” he chuckles softly at that.

“at least make sure you eat, ok? maybe you’d get better at chemistry if you had more nutrients.”

“BYE, kuroo,” you call out, already headed for the door.

as you hurry towards your next destination, you can’t get your mind off of how weird it was to see kuroo acting… worried about you? normally his reaction to your struggling is just to tease you about it, but this was new for him. you’re not sure how to feel about it, and it’s hard to tell when the adrenaline of being in a rush is making your heartbeat do all sorts of things that might be confused with something else.

either way, there’s no way you’re reviewing a goddamn thing before next week.

a/n: yeah ok my theatre major jumped out in this one.. i can’t believe i’m posting a fic where i talk about superobjectives & chekhov unironically dsfdddfs hope that doesn’t ruin the experience for u, i really tried to do some research so y/n and kuroo could have an actual discussion about chemistry but turns out i’m dumb in real life so u get this instead

#haikyuu!!#kuroo tetsuro #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsurou x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu #.txt #e writes

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poormeowmeowcollector · 3 years

Text

Let me give you my life

Pairing: Loki x Tesseract

Warnings: Major Character Death, Mourning, delusions, mental illness, alcohol, Original Character Death, Odin, fantastic racism

Summary: After Frigga's funeral, Loki starts hearing a voice. It changes their life completely.

Chapter 2: Verse 2

Chapter warnings: alcohol, depressive symptoms, fantastic racism, stuttering written by someone who doesn't stutter

Chapter summary: in which the Stone starts to influence

Previous chapter, AO3, next chapter

My church offers no absolutes / she tells me "worship in the bedroom" / the only heaven I'll be sent to / is when I'm alone with you

"How was the dining with the good masters?" the Tesseract asks. Loki swears it's sarcastic.

"Terrible. The ones that didn't demand for me to leave were whispering and staring, and some even pitied me… I should have never told Odin that you showed me," they sigh as they lay down, seiðr creating a glass of wine in their hand. Usually, his magic has a tickling sensation, playful and livid. But since Frigga's death, it's numb.

"You're right, I don't belong here… I don't belong anywhere…" they sigh, staring into the goblet with the red liquid. Perhaps, if he could find the strength to end it all…

"No, this is not the solution to your problems. You won't find your family there," it cuts off the train of thoughts before Loki can even process it.

"The only person I ever knew as family is there, Tesseract. Why can't I join?" they don't cry from the mention of Frigga, they haven't done it for weeks. He's just as numb as his magic now, the talks with the Tesseract and goblets of wine being the only things that can make him feel something, but they start weakening too.

"She lied to you, like Odin did. They taught you your magic, yes, but also how to hide what you feel and who you are. She is to blame for the nothingness you feel now, just like Odin is. Tell me, is that what family does?" it argues.

Loki opens their mouth, but closes it again. "No… then, what do I do?" he asks, staring at nothing.

"You live, until you find something worth dying for," it responds, voice softer than ever. He just scoffs and brings the golden goblet closer to his lips.

A blue light makes the goblet vanish before Loki can take a sip, filling them with the dark red liquid. "Hey! That's my favourite tunic, you needn't stain it!" He glares at the top right corner of his chamber.

"You have not taken it off for a week,"

"Because it's my favourite tunic,"

The stone lets a sigh. "Go take a bath, change to your second favourite tunic, try eating something that's not wine and act like you're the heir of two thrones for once or I'll teleport you to Muspelheim and let you burn,"

Loki sighs and gets up, following the shower order (especially because they've started to feel their hair going oily and gross). He had almost missed the feeling of scorching hot water on his skin, even though it started to hurt since his Jötunn form came to the surface.

When they walk back into their chamber, damp hair dripping on their second favourite tunic, they spot a tray of fruits and tea on their bed. "Thank you, Tessie," he smiles and sits beside it, his stomach begging for him to raid it.

I was born sick, but I love it

"I am not negotiating. Not until this monster is out of your house!" Gæirasson spits, small vacant eyes glaring at Loki. They don't shift their face or posture, but the room still freezes.

"Please, reconsider your words. One should not offend a prince like this," an elf notes, as if Loki cannot speak for himself.

"You're to ask for permission before you speak, Gæirasson will only get angrier with you." Odin had told them before the council.

"Please, learn how to manage your fury. You'll start a war without realising it if you keep going like that," Frigga had said countless times.

"A prince of monsters, yes. Isn't worth any more than the Giants I've sent to Hel," the outrageous man growls.

"Do not let him speak to you like this, you're worth much more than these words," the Tesseract says. Loki breaks his posture to take a deep breath, and then turns to Odin with a calm face.

"Father, may I answer to those words the way they deserve to?" they ask, never breaking the collected face. It fools Odin enough to nod a yes.

And Loki lets a grin appear, showing his fangs.

The water inside the goblets turns into ice as Loki rises from their seat, pale skin fading to reveal a blue and marked one. With his new height and black horns, he barely fits in the room, bloodshot eyes glaring at the old man enough to make him think that the thin irises would turn into daggers and stab him.

The man shivers, but not from the cold

"We are not afraid of your riches or your army and your bravado is fooling no one, G-Gærasson," they state, not breaking eye contact as their tongue strammers.

"You think you can scare me when you can barely speak, Giant?"

The negotiation table breaks in half as Loki slams his hand on it. "You have spoken enough!" they yell, summoning a new wave of shivers down the lord's body.

"You will leave this room unharmed only because of my mercy, and you know well that your words have given me every right to kill you right here and right now. You want to bring war to my house, I don't give a fuck. You know why? Because we both know very well that I can chop your soldiers to pieces without using neither my Frostbite nor seiðr and with ease. Go ahead and start a war, I have no problem to end it. The only demand the palace has is for you to pay us with the gold you owe and get lost. Or else, your house will cease to exist and will stay in history only as an example of what happens to those who anger me!" he growls, never breaking eye contact with the lord and not mouthing a single lie. Gæirasson loses his colour, stands up and leaves, panting like a dog.

"Loki, enough. You have your war, are you satisfied?" Odin asks after the door closes.

Loki's fiery eyes turn to the king.

"Satisfied? You should be the one to do this! This man offended our house and the throne greatly, they canonically deserve execution! And you made me sit there like a coward and listen to those insults!" they yell, this time out of frustration. The old Loki would never raise his tone at Odin, good thing he's gone.

Odin takes a deep breath, trying to keep themselves under control. "My son, I understand that you're going through a bad time, but there's no need to lash out like this. Would your mother like seeing you growling and yelling and cursing like a sailor?"

"You have no right to bring her up, she has nothing to do with it!" Loki's fury only gets wilder after this. But Odin does not coward away.

"I said enough! Shut your mouth and leave right now! And you'll be in charge of the war, since you can end it with such ease," he yells back, ten times louder and more intense. Loki lets the Æsir glamour return but doesn't lower themselves more as they walk away.

"You started a war, do you regret it?" the Tesseract asks as long as they're alone in a corridor. Loki grins.

"Not a bit."

Command me to be well / Amen, Amen, Amen

Loki walks around in his room, his fingers picking up each other once again. They tried to quit this habit after Frigga's death, but to no avail.

"Te-te-tesseract," he calls out, biting his tongue at the stutter. Since they've started the war, this annoying stutter has come back at full force, probably from the stress.

"You summoned me, Entropy?" it asks, more like states. Usually, Loki would find comfort only with the stone. But now, it only makes him move nervous.

"Y-y-yes. I did-I did call you to-to…" they puff out some air, closing their eyes with shame.

A hand grabs his hands, making them calm down. Loki raises their head to face an illusion of the Tesseract, trying to mimic contact.

It's a form of a body, tall and lean and glowing blue. Its eyes are looking at him with sympathy, face soft. It's the most breathtaking person Loki has ever seen.

"You can speak freely with me, don't fear," it smiles, tilting its head. Loki lets out a sigh.

"You said that, w-wh-when I'm r-ready, I-I'll agree to your-to your commands. I-I am ready," they speak, not even trying to mask up some confidence.

"I'm glad to hear. But, you'll have to acknowledge that there'll be a cost-"

"I don't care. I-I've lost ev-ev-everything already. You're th-th-the only one left," he lowers his head.

The hand moves to their face, cupping their cheek and brushing its thumb against their cheekbone, huge blue eyes staring into them. He can't help but tilt towards the hand, closing his eyes and breathing slowly.

"Perhaps you shouldn't… I've caused you enough pain, why seek out for more?" it doubts. It's almost funny, listening to doubt in a voice Loki knew to be so determined.

"I-I-I'm sure. Ple-please," they whisper, opening their eyes again. The form nods.

"Very well, Entropy," the serious and awe striking voice Loki knows returns, moments before the blue form vanishes in a light.

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shoujolover-666 · 4 years

Text

A fae’s love

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27197677

Characters: Yandere!Lilia, Reader

Summary: Lilia could feel that they were being watched.

A frustrated sound filled the oh so silent room as they threw their phone against their bed, a look of anger was on their face as they ran a hand through soft strands of hair. It was the Halloween Event in Twisted Wonderland, and they saved up quite a lot of summons just for that. They didn’t manage to get any of the cards they wanted though.

Not a single Jade, Vil or even Azul was in sight. No, the only one they got was Lilia.

Over and over again.

Even when they maxed him out, the gacha didn’t stop throwing the young looking ancient being at them.

Really, at first they didn’t mind it at all. Lilia was one of their favourite characters because of how fun, interesting and mysterious he was, but that didn’t mean that he wanted to get him. All. The. Time.

They lied down next to the phone he just threw a few seconds ago, grabbing it before rolling around in a lazy manner. For now… he would probably level him up and put him in his team. His attack stats weren’t bad after all, and the element combination was decent enough.

Still, they had no intention of keeping him there permanently.

While they were trying to calm themself down, they didn’t notice the pair of red eyes following him through the screen.

~ 🦇

Lilia was watching them from the homescreen. It was the only time he had the chance to watch them, for usually, he was busy doing other things usually.

Being with his dorm mates, watching some of the other students or doing whatever task he had been given by the teachers who were like little children in comparison to himself.

But when he was summoned by that strange entity, he was able to take a glimpse at a person who seemed to be the one who was watching over all of them, influencing the child of man in the way they wanted him to act to a certain extent. Something that was quite fascinating to him.

A person who was watching over them from time to time, almost as if they were some kind of god… he wished to know more about them. He wanted to see what they would think of all of them, and he wanted to know in what way they would tick.

That was how he started to watch them from the background, hidden in places in which he guessed that the entity was not able to see him. Lilia was able to feel when he was being watched, which he used to his advantage. The ancient fae started to be around the other students more as he observed Yuu. In a way, he acted way too passive for it to be natural. Almost as if he was simply a vessel for the being who was watching all of the things at the school unfold.

There were times when he was stuck at a strange place, in which he couldn’t do much, he had the opportunity to take a close look at them.

It was fascinating. They were neither unbelievable beautiful nor ugly, but there was something so fascinating, that he couldn’t help but be in slight awe.

A pair of eyes that were shining with excitement. Locks of soft looking hair that he wanted to touch and maybe do something with. Rosy cheeks and a bright smile on cute lips.

“Isn’t it interesting how mysterious I am?”

“Hehe, did you notice? Today I was able to tie my necktie into a prettier butterfly knot than usual.”

He loved talking to them, and sometimes, they even answered with an adorable laugh of theirs. It always made his heart beat in excitement, and he couldn’t help but look forward to those meetings more and more, no matter how sudden they were. With time though, he noticed that they spent less and less time with him, until at one point he wasn’t being summoned anymore. At that, he became annoyed, which he hid behind his usual smile. Certainly they will summon him again, won’t they?

He was wrong. They did not summon him, and he got angrier and angrier each time. They paid more and more attention to the other students than him, and he could feel his blood boil.

How were they worthy when they did not even notice their presence? How were they more deserving of their love than him. At one point, he snapped and decided to take matters in his own hands.

Each time he could feel the pull, he would get in the other students way, so they would only have him in their mind. When it was time for Halloween, he made sure that they won’t get anyone but him.

Like that, they would have to notice him again. To love him again and to pay attention to him.

Lilia could feel the anger, even see it sometimes, but he didn’t care and kept on smiling. As long as they looked at them, he was happy.

That was what he thought at first at least. The longer that went on, the longer he desired to be able to interact with that deity, with that god.

With that goal in mind, he started to research. Day and night, he spent his time in libraries while using his connections to all kinds of people that he built up over the years he has lived to get more magical texts and scrolls.

There had to be something that would let him do the thing he wanted, right?

Time passed, and he got more and more frustrated. His obsession only grew with each day.

Until it finally happened.

A magic spell that required a few living sacrifices to summon a being into his world, into his arms. It was not guaranteed that it would work, or that it would bring him the person he wanted to meet so badly, but he didn’t care.

Sacrificing a few was worth it, as long as he could get to touch them, to talk to them, to take them.

Maybe there were a few people who wouldn’t be missed? The headmaster might be willing to part from a few of his students if he offered him a few favours.

Lilia was numb to killing and death because of the things he did in the past.

War was taxing on the mind, even if it had been such a long time ago. Now though, it helped him with having an easier time to get the things he wanted.

To his surprise, Crowley was not willing to offer students, but he was willing to use contacts of his own.

Well, as long as he got what he needed, he didn’t care.

Like that, he started to prepare the ritual. He was careful, everything had to be perfect. When he had the time, he was preparing the room he would keep them in.

Soft, pillows. Silken sheets. Comfortable beds. A wardrobe with the finest clothes.

Anything less could not be accepted. A chuckle crawled up his throat, which he hid behind his hand before he continued to prepare everything.

Soon.

~ 🦇

They were playing the main story of Twisted Wonderland. Chapter five to be more exact. Their fingers were resting over the screen as they read the text, chuckling over the funny moments while getting angry over moments that they saw as unfair. Every time they played this game, they couldn’t help but feel with the characters and get invested in what they are doing and how they felt.

Still, in the end, they were just fictional characters. And soon, they were sure of it, they would find another fandom to get into and start obsessing over that. It was simply a cycle, and they didn’t mind as long as it brought them joy.

“Finally.”

A surprised look was on their face and they looked around, searching for the source of the voice. It was Lilias voice, they knew it all too well by now, having heard it almost every time they visited the game.

But how? He was nowhere to be seen on the screen, the only characters visible were Vil and Epel!

Screeching was echoing from the walls as their hand suddenly went through the phone, a force seemed to suck them in. They tried to fight against it, but to no avail. Laughing was the last thing they heard, before they lost consciousness.

~ 🦇

Lilia looked at the summoning circle that appeared on the ceiling he was in and grinned from ear to ear, holding out his arms so he would be able to catch them. They landed safely in his arms, and he could feel their sweet scent enveloping him.

It was difficult to describe because of how intoxicating it was to him. The body he held close to himself was warm, and full of life.

They were perfect. So much more than he expected.

With the person still in his arms, he turned around and left the place that was prepared for him. He didn’t care about the mess that he left behind. Crowley would surely clean it himself anyway. Even if he didn’t, there was no time to worry about trivial matters like these, for he had to take care of someone way more important than that little bit of dirt.

The ancient fae walked with them through the halls of Diasomnia to bring them to the room he especially prepared for them, a place where no one else but him and Malleus were allowed to go. Maybe even Silver and Sebek if he was in an especially good mood. None of the fellow students dared to look at them or even dared to ask him who the person in his arms was, for they were way too afraid of him.

Not without reason.

When they finally arrived, he gently placed them on the bed before he traced their lips with his pale, thin fingers, feeling the body heat that radiated from them. Without a second thought, he placed his own lips against the others, one hand was placed on a cheek. Lilia tugged on their bottom lip with his teeth before he bit down, letting the metallic but also sweet taste of their warm blood fill his mouth.

A moan escaped him, it was better than any wine he had tasted, better than even the freshest bottle of tomato juice.

It was addicting, and he never wanted to live without it again.

And he wouldn’t. He would make sure that this being, this entity would stay here in that safe, comfortable place forever. There will definitely be resistance at first, but it was nothing a little curse or spell couldn’t salvage.

He lied down next to them now, pulling them into his arms and caressing their hair. This… finally he had what he wanted. In the past, he felt that something was missing, but he could never tell what it was.

Now that he had them with him, he knew. Finally he was complete.

Anyone who would try to take this happiness away from him would not be spared.

#twisted wonderland #lilia vanrouge #yandere!lilia vanrouge #male yandere #reader insert #self-insert #fanfic #yandere

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badger-writes · 3 years

Text

Star Wars OC Ship Week 2021 - for light and love

uhhhh Hello! 😄

This fic and all its chapters was written for Star Wars OC Ship Week's inaugural year 2021, an event spotlighting OCxEC romances & platonic friendships helmed by @findswoman! It's also the first time I've personally ever taken part in an event week so I hope I do a good job! 😅

Whether you're a High Republic fan or you just want to see the big lizard get smooches, hope you enjoy! Leave comments and kudos if you do! Looking forward to sharing all I've written over the course of the week w/ y'all!

1 - How They Met

It all started, as these things do, in a medical bay.

Kelto Lem, a Jedi healer, had been busying himself with organizing the implements and instruments of the first aid wing in the Halls of Healing. This was light work, and peaceful, which suited him fine. Rarely, if ever, were there emergencies in the Jedi Temple of such scope and scale as to totally overwhelm the medical ward, and to the best of his recollection they had never occurred in the early morning, when dew was still settled on the trees and grasses of Monument Park. This made it an optimal time for preparing the ward for most of the day’s eventualities well ahead of schedule; this making good sense to him, he settled into this habit as a padawan and had never quite given it up. In time, it became almost a meditative practice for him - refilling stores of fresh bandages, taking stock of available pharmaceuticals and herbal remedies, refilling the kolto canisters…

And so it was in the middle of this daily routine that he was interrupted by the door sliding open. He turned to look and nearly dropped the medical scanner he was holding - for two reasons.

The first: his guest was built like a permacrete E-Web bunker. Broad and tall, with an implied physicality that not even Jedi robes concealed, the visitor - a Trandoshan - strode into the ward with an aura of stern command, stolid orange eyes locking upon Kelto almost immediately. His emerald scales shone with a slight luster as he walked, the claws of his toes clicking against the tile floor, until he came to the edge of the biobed in the center of the room less than a foot away from the resident healer. The sheer weight of his presence made Kelto feel small by comparison - he, a shorter pale-scaled Rodian with stripes of deep blue running along his jaw and neck, who wore a satchel of first aid essentials on his hip everywhere he went and tied back his spines in a long, narrow topknot ending in a spiky pom where they escaped the hold of the strip of linen which restrained them.

The second: he was covered in scorchmarks.

“Star’s End,” Kelto said, when he could finally get his (dry, dry) mouth to work correctly. “What in the world happened to you?”

The Trandoshan rumbled, mouth pulling to one side in chagrin. It was a deep, bassy sound, and it landed straight in the pit of Kelto’s stomach.

“A… mishap with the duelling droid,” he grunted, in the sibilant speech of his species. “I was not focused. Lost sight of my present. It seized the opportunity, as you can see,” he added, gesturing to his scorched robes.

“You were training? This early? Chee,” Kelto said, shaking his head. “And I thought my morning habits were odd - jump up on the bench, here, I’ll patch you up.”

He turned away to fetch some burn relief supplies, piling them on a tray. When he turned back, the Trandoshan had sat upon the biobed - and his tunic was resting carefully folded on the bench beside him.

“Ahghg,” he said, and everything on his tray rattled as he short-circuited.

The Trandoshan gave him an odd look. “Yes?”

“Oh, nothing. Nothing. I’m fine,” Kelto stammered. “Let me just, uhhh… set this down here.”

He let the tray’s repulsorlifts catch it in midair, so that it would hover at his side. Then he took a ball of fluff and daubed it in a squat open vial of kolto, letting the excess drip off and trying not to think too much about the barrel-chested masterpiece of physicality sitting just within arm’s reach to his right.

“So, how did this happen, Master …?”

“Knight, actually,” the patient replied. “Not master - not yet, anyway. And as I said, I was training.”

“Only a Knight? ...Well, I guess if you were a Master, you wouldn’t have ended up - err, you know what, forget I said that.”

With kolto-ball and medigauze dressings in hand, Kelto turned to his patient and gave him a quick once-over. There were injuries in areas roughly corresponding to the placement of scorch marks on the surface of his clothes, but fortunately, most of them didn’t seem too severe - the robes acting as a layer of insulation against the worst of it. Quite intentionally, he started on the outside limbs, an attempt to spare himself another hot flush provoked by looking straight on at his patient’s torso. Sskeer didn’t even flinch when he touched the wet medical fluff against an abrasion on the side of his arm.

“I train on one or two levels above the normal training setting,” the Trandoshan offered, by way of explanation. “Thus, my injuries.”

“Ah,” Kelto murmured, mostly to himself. “A masochist.”

Sskeer grunted reproachfully. “The training settings are designed to hold back. There will be no such reprieve in the field. Therefore, I train the body to anticipate the presence of harm - to become numb to its threat, and then, to surpass it.”

“So you’re fine with the pain?”

“Pain can be ignored. And my people have thick hides. I endure.”

“Well, I’m no duelist, but in my estimation you could probably stand to bump back down a few levels,” Kelto observed, winding a bandage around his forearm. “At least until you can defeat one of those saber-happy droids.”

Sskeer hrrred. The sound landed in Kelto’s gut again. “Bold words from a nurse.”

“Bold enough to be a Knight, like you.” The Rodian retorted, flashing him a smirk - and turning away immediately when the sensation of being perceived became too much. (His cheeks were so warm - was it supposed to be so hot in here?) Falling silent, he took one of Sskeer’s wide, thick-fingered hands in his own, turning it to inspect the green welt on its back.

“I did not realize you had risen to Knighthood as well,” the Trandoshan offered as Kelto dressed his injury. “If I offended, it was not by intent.”

“It’s fine. I’d rather people forget, honestly. Most people, they see a Jedi and think, ‘wow! Laser swords! Magic powers!’ - but that’s… never really where I felt comfortable.”

“You feel your place is here.”

“It’s where my talents lie, I think. I’ve sort of been drawn to the healing halls ever since I left the creche. And… well, to be honest, I like being able to help people doing this. So… I guess it’s true what they say, about the Force having a path for us all, and all that.”

Sskeer hummed. “That is good.”

“Yeah, and I remember when I was little, Master Rancisis came by the ward and said a-- I’m sorry, am I rambling? I’m rambling, aren’t I? I’ll just shut up and tend you--”

“It’s fine.”

“Are you sure? I mean, I just dropped basically my whole backstory on you--”

“It’s fine,” Sskeer said - firmly, but patiently. “Really.”

And Kelto believed him.

It’s funny, he thought suddenly, how quickly you can get comfortable with someone else. A moment ago he could barely stand to meet Sskeer’s gaze - now, though, he could look him straight in the eye without feeling like wilting. Sskeer had surprisingly deep eyes, he noticed, for how small they were. Deep and dark. Like he could dip into his pupils and fall forever --

Oh gosh, there’s a huge green mark right on his temple. How did he miss that??

Kelto dunked a fresh puffball in the healing fluid and held it up to the Trandoshan’s brow, cradling it in his long, sucker-tipped fingers. This time, when it touched his skin, Sskeer flinched and barely suppressed a hiss. On instinct, Kelto shushed him - a habit picked up from soothing much younger patients, when he got his start tending the younglings’ skinned knees and broken bones.

“This one’s not so bad, I think,” he murmurs. “Just needs a little kolto to help keep it clean. Just put some ice on it every few hours for the swelling and it’ll go away soon.”

“And this?”

“Hm?”

Sskeer gestured again to a long line of angry green flesh across his trunk.

“OH Force,” the Rodian cried, slapping a hand against his forehead. “I completely missed that somehow, thank you so much, I’m so sorry. Gods, I’ll get right on that--”

The Trandoshan surprises him with a chuckle. “Rather absentminded for a healer, aren’t you?”

“D-don’t judge!” Kelto sputters. “I’ve been distracted.”

“By what, exactly?” Sskeer asked, with a smirk.

“... J-just lie all the way down, please?”

Sskeer leaned back onto the biobed, hands resting behind his back. Now the whole of his broad, stocky abdomen lies prone under the glowlights, throwing the long diagonal burn across his trunk into stark, unmistakable relief.

“Why is this one so much worse,” Kelto wonders aloud.

“I wouldn’t call it ‘worse’. As I said, I endure.”

“I’m sorry, this doesn’t look like a giant, stinging saber-welt to you?” Kelto peered closer at the mark, hesitantly plying the flesh of the Trandoshan’s belly under his fingers. “...Actually, wait. This is almost a first degree burn. What kind of training saber makes marks like these?”

Now it was Sskeer’s turn to fall quiet and avoid eye contact.

“...You… did something pretty dumb, didn’t you.”

“...When my performance against the droids began to suffer, I… disabled some of the limiters on the droids,” Sskeer growled, at length.

“Y-you did WHAT?”

“I thought it would motivate me to improve,” he shrugged.

“So when I called you a masochist earlier and you didn’t really deny it--”

This time, Sskeer almost snarled. “It’s no crime to seek out a proper challenge.”

“Oh, and if every adrenaline junkie Padawan jumped off the High Council Tower, you would too?”

“Will you just stop arguing and fix this?”

“I--” Kelto groaned. “Okay, whatever, big guy. Just - just hang on.”

He arranged his hands on either side of Sskeer’s wound - one above on his chest, one below on his stomach. Then he sucked in a deep breath through his snout and released it slowly, letting his eyes fall shut as he exhaled.

He was panicking, he knew. Overcorrecting. There was no reason to take things this far when he was literally standing in a room filled with other, more practical solutions - and certainly not over something so silly as a shouting match with a Knight he barely knew. But by now, good sense and training had momentarily fled him.

Here, in this moment, Kelto sank into the Force and let himself be guided by the simple instinct to help.

He took another slow breath in, and out, and began to concentrate.

And then…

Sskeer sensed it before he saw it. He craned his neck over his chest to see - and rose up on his elbows, watching intensely.

With preternatural speed, the hideous burn across his torso lightened, shrank - and then vanished. In its place only unblemished scales remained.

Like he’d never even been touched.

Kelto let out one final, explosive breath - and almost collapsed. Sskeer jolted to his feet and grabbed his arms, cradled his back in one arm, steadying him on his feet until he could recover.

“Nice catch,” Kelto panted, when he’d finally recovered.

Sskeer was looking at him differently, the Rodian noticed through the blur of lightheadedness. Looking with him with something like awe.

“That was… quite a feat,” the Trandoshan noted. “It seems you were correct to follow the path of the healers.”

“Y-yes, well,” Kelto murmured sleepily, “we all have our own special talents.”

His eyes trailed back to Sskeer’s chest, fingertips idly following their gaze down his trunk. They tickled, just slightly; Sskeer registered an unexpected, but not wholly unpleasant shiver down his spine.

“Think we’re all done now,” the Rodian mumbled. Then his big, sea-blue eyes blinked - slowly, then rapidly, like a Wookiee propeller-engine starting up - and he realized his hand was just shy of cupping one of Sskeer’s pecs.

“UM,” he said loudly, jumping away. “YEAH, so, all done. Clean bill of health. You should be completely fine within the next day or so, and then you can go get your butt handed to you by the training droids again, right? Yup, glad to help, have a nice day, May the Force Be With You and all that jizz, ahaha~”

The Rodian became a flurry of hyperactivity around the ward, re-stocking and re-checking shelves and cabinets for reasons Sskeer could not divine. To appear busy, he supposed - and discourage his continued presence.

It was, he decided, reather endearing.

Sskeer let the flustered healer flail a moment more before saying, “I don’t think you ever shared your name.”

When he looked over his shoulder, Kelto’s face looked as bright as a Life Day orb - only much, much greener. “Huh?”

“Force healing is no small feat,” the Trandoshan observed, slipping his tunic and tabard back over his shoulders. “To have seen it performed is a privilege; for something as small as my own self-inflicted injury, and after my own stubbornness - an honor.

“I’d prefer to thank you for it properly, and to apologize. But for that, I must ask your name.”

The Rodian stared. Then coughed, turning to lean back against the counter before him. “Uh, well… That’s … kind of you, but I - you know, we’re Jedi and all. W-we don’t really serve for gratitude’s sake.”

“For the sake of a fellow Jedi, then, and a friend?”

“…Friend?”

A bemused head tilt. “Are we not?”

“W-well, that’s moving a bit quickly, isn’t it? I mean - we don’t even know each other’s names.”

Sskeer stared.

“Sorry. Sorry. I’m not dumb, I swear, I’m just -- panicking.”

The Trandoshan gave him a funny look. (It was kinda cute, Kelto noticed, when his nose scrunched up like that.)

Just spit it out. Spit it out. Spit it out. You’re blowing it. Just spit it out spititout spititout---

“My name’s Kolto,” he said -- and groaned.

“Your name,” Sskeer echoed, “is...‘Kolto’?”

“Noooo, no, not ‘Kolto’ - Kelto! Kelto! My name is Kelto. Kelto Lem. I just - I’m just called ‘Kolto’. By - certain people.”

“Because… you work with kolto?” he ventured. “Or because it happens to sound similar?”

Kelto sulked, crossing his arms. “Because Torban Buck thinks he’s funny.”

Understanding dawned. “Ah. Yes, he certainly does.”

“Mmmmgh. Well, now that I’ve botched my own introduction, I guess you know me. So you can leave me to my shame, now, I guess.” Kelto returned to the business of managing the ward - opening and closing cabinet doors slightly harder, this time.

A wide, three-fingered hand landed on his narrow shoulder, making him jump.

“Thank you, Kelto Lem,” Sskeer said. “Truly, you’re a credit to the Order.”

His voice was deep and warm. Kelto swore he could feel his breath tickling his ear.

“A-anytime,” he replied, spine locking ramrod straight.

He senses Sskeer’s presence pass by behind him, and imagines it’s what little Rodian swamp-fish feel like when big surface trawlers pass by, and catch them in their wake. “And perhaps when I continue my training,” Sskeer added, “I will remember to return here, for my wounds to be dressed.”

“Orrr you could crush those droids and never need to come back here again!” Kelto shakily returned.

“I’m sure I could, at that,” Sskeer chuckled. And the door slides shut behind him.

The moment Kelto was certain he was alone, he took a little paper cup and pours himself a drink of cool sinkwater. It takes gulping down two full cupfuls before he cools down, sinking heavily on his elbows against the counter.

“‘Kolto’,” he muttered, scoffing. “God damn it.”

#StarWarsOCShipWeek2021 #star wars #the high republic #sskeer #original character #oc x canon #how they met #fanfic

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whumpingcrow · 3 years

Text

Pt.5 "Pool Party!!!"

CW: alcohol use, injury description, broken hand mention, explicit noncon, panic attack, hyperventilation, August duh, emotional abuse (let me know if I missed anything!)

Elias enjoyed being drunk more than he thought he would. The tequila tasted horrendous, sure, but once he got past that he felt much better. Everything seemed a lot less dreadful, not quite as frightening. He knew, logically, that the situation really should be feared, he was trapped here with no obvious way out, he would probably be hurt again, probably very soon, probably much worse than what had already happened, if it could get much worse than a broken hand. But the alcohol was numbing enough, maybe this is the way he had to live now. Maybe this is why people often chose this over sobriety, because everyone was secretly terrified all the time and this made it so much easier to stomach.

They had found themselves back out by the pool, and Elias watched August swim from the edge of the pool where he was dipping his feet in and eating the strawberries August bought him. He had turned on some music, and it reminded Elias of a movie he'd seen, where there was a party with loud music and booze and people crowding into a pool. Except it was only him and August, and August was terrifying, and Elias was battered and bruised and too drunk to feel his fear.

He forced a strained smile as August came over to him, swimming right in between his legs, hands grabbing his torso possessively. It took everything in him to not squirm at the unwanted touch, ticcing from the effort. "You enjoying your strawberries, love?"

Elias nodded eagerly, humming in agreement. "I am." He reached out timidly and ran a hand through August's wet hair, then down his face. "Anyone ever told you how handsome you are?"

August grinned at him, leaning into his hand. "You're wasted, huh?"

Elias giggled, shrugging his shoulders. "Maybe a little."

August pulled himself out of the pool, sitting next to Elias on the edge of the pool. The sun was beating down on their skin, and Elias found himself staring at August, how the water glistened on his torso and how the sun looked shining into his blue eyes. Why did he have to be so mean, so cruel? Maybe if he wasn't Elias would be a little less confused about why he found himself wanting to lean against him, to fall into his praising touch even a little bit, something to comfort him in the sickest way he could imagine. But desperate times, or whatever. Before he acted on the thought, August stood up and walked over to the table to grab the bottle of tequila.

"Come here, Eli." He said. Elias stood up without question, making his way to August. The ground seemed wobbly underneath him, his footsteps felt heavy and misplaced. August poured the alcohol into two shot glasses, handing one to him.

"Oh, I don't think I want any more," Elias said with a tiny shake of his head, trying hard to be convincing despite his drunken state, something deep in his chest telling him to just take the shot. What was one more shot, right? "I'm good right now."

"Yes you do," August smiled at him, stepping forward. His voice was firm despite the smile, and Elias huffed. "Go on."

Elias threw it back, gagging on the taste. What was one more shot? He handed August back the glass with a sour look on his face, grimacing at the burning in his throat. August smiled at him, then took his own shot.

Elias was already drunk, what was one more shot?

One more shot meant August had somehow persuaded him to take the gauze off of his injured hand and skinny dip with him, and the water felt cool and pleasant on his skin. If he wasn't feeling good before, he was feeling really good now. Everything was funny and beautiful and August wasn't scary anymore. If anything, he was much more attractive and he kept smiling at Elias in a way that made him melt. Elias made his way over to him, looping his arms around his shoulders. His movements were timid and sloppy, August smiled at the obvious turmoil that came with touching him, the confusion, the way he was probably arguing with himself about it.

"Well, hello," August laughed, his hands finding their way to his waist. "You having fun?"

"Mhm," Elias hummed, his good hand tangling into August's hair. "You look so hot in the sunshine." As he spoke, he leaned closer to him, his smile lopsided. "Just...wow..." He felt his chest brush against August's, and he blushed just a little.

August was surprised as Elias pressed himself against him, kissing him hard. He quickly took control of the situation, slipping his tongue into his mouth and wrapping his arms around him tightly. Elias was weak and so small in his arms, and he absolutely adored the way he just tipped his head back and allowed himself to be kissed like this. He was so innocent and vulnerable that he was already submissive and aching for affection, and August hadn't even had most of his fun yet. When he pulled away, Elias was breathless and had his eyes closed.

"I should get you drunk more often." August’s voice was teasing, like Elias had done this himself and deserved to be made fun of for making himself so plastered. Elias smiled softly anyways, then leaned his head against August's shoulder. He left small kisses against his neck and jaw, playing with his hair.

"You're a good kisser," Elias hummed, "I didn't know someone could kiss so good."

"Not too bad yourself, pretty boy."

Elias pulled away now, smiling at him again. The waves in the pool, even though they were small, swayed him a bit. He giggled when August stepped close to him and grabbed him again, kissing on him affectionately. He didn't realize how tight he was grabbing arms, or how one of his hands slid down his stomach until he was stroking against him, and then his giggles turned into soft moans. August pushed him into the wall, holding him still. Elias felt his stomach twist with the same discomfort he felt the first time August touched him like this, but what could he do? It had become painfully obvious August was going to do what he wanted, maybe it was easier to just go along with it.

"Ah, fuck..." Elias gasped, grabbing onto August's shoulder hard to get closer. "Oh god, August."

August pulled away then, smiling at him. "Let's go inside, yeah?"

Elias nodded, closing his eyes soon after to stave off the dizziness, or at least try. Then he was following August inside. He only made it past August and into the hallway before he was being grabbed and pressed against the wall, a gasp of pain passing his lips. His ribs still hurt, when would they stop hurting? Would August allow them to stop hurting? Something about the way he looked at him with such twisted hunger, almost the look of an animal who had cunningly trapped its prey and was just toying with it for his own sick amusement, told him he wouldn't ever stop hurting, this pain would be permanent, as long as August was around. He looked up at August with wide eyes, his heart skipping.

"I'm gonna fuck you until you can't walk," he growled. Elias went weak, his knees wobbling. "Until you're crying and can't say anything except my name."

"Well then...then do it." He whispered, even though it halfway didn't even sound like a good time, being used until he was crying and couldn't walk. But he ached for August to touch him, to call him beautiful. Someone had to, he felt like he would fall apart if they didn’t.

August pulled him into the bedroom, shoving him onto the bed as soon as they were in there. Elias looked up at him as he got on top of him. He pressed his shoulder down as he shoved his tongue in his mouth. Elias couldn't help but rock his hips against him, whining desperately.

"Desperate, aren't you?" August teased. He smiled when Elias squirmed under him.

"Please, please touch me," he panted, arching his back. "Please August."

August smiled, barely rocking against him, adoring the agitated hum he let out. He wrapped his fingers around his throat, kissing him again. Elias grew even more desperate, squirming under him to try and gain some sort of friction. He needed to feel something good, after all the pain and fear. When August finally pushed into him, Elias let out the most beautiful moan, nails digging into his shoulder.

"You’re so pretty, Eli.” Even with the compliment his voice was a low growl, like he had some sort of hidden meaning behind it, as if “pretty” meant something entirely different to him.

Elias was breathless and bothered already, shaking underneath August as he pushed into him. "Ha....ah, August," he sighed, looking up at August with a blush on his face.

It was only about 15 more minutes of this until Elias was reduced to a heap of moans and gasps. Soon, he hid his face in the pillows as he finished so that he wouldn't have to look at August, because if his eyes were closed and he didn't think about who was making him feel this way, it didn't matter. So he let the feeling wash over him, allowed himself to enjoy only the physical pleasure and tried as hard as he could to not hear August teasing him from above. He was trembling, waiting for August to finish. He didn't fight when he was choked harder. Elias was so drunk that it felt good, even when he couldn't breathe anymore. Even when August pulled his hair hard, even when he slapped him. When he finished and pulled off of him, Elias was gasping air in quickly, his eyes closed. August collapsed onto the bed next to him, sighing.

"That was...ha..." Elias couldn't get the words out, and August laughed at him. They were both breathless, Elias more so, and as the residual pleasure wore off, a dull aching was creeping back onto him. He almost asked August if they could drink more, but before he had the chance, he was turning toward him and speaking.

"We aren't done yet, pet."

"Wh...what?" Elias looked up at him fearfully as he climbed back on top of him. "No, August I wanna be done."

"You asked me to fuck you 'till you cried," August replied, "don't you remember?"

Elias gasped as August pressed into him again, trying to push at his shoulders to get him off. In his drunken, confused state, he must've forgotten his hand was hurt, and he cried out when he pressed it against August. The mere sound of Elias's pain made August light up, and he grabbed Elias's injured hand, intertwining their fingers and squeezing it a little.

"Ah fucking shit! August stop, ow!" Elias was writhing in pain, his struggle only making August tighten his hand, hurting him worse. "Stop! Stop it!"

August laughed at him, and Elias was having a lot less fun now. August was scary and distorted and the pain made his vision red and it was hurting so bad he couldn't breathe and he could hardly hear the sounds of his own screams anymore.

"Help me!" He wailed, and he knew it was illogical because no one was around for miles, but it was something he screamed out in sheer panic. "God, help me! Please, someone!"

"No one's gonna save you, angel," August laughed, "you're all alone. Just you and I."

Elias was sobbing now, his chest felt tight and he couldn't breathe, couldn't suck in air past his own horrified, pained wails. August gave his hand one last prolonged squeeze, way too tight, so tight that Elias’s brain could even comprehend the pain. He pulled off of him after with a satisfied sigh. Elias shot out from under him, stumbling across the room and against the wall.

He was hyperventilating, clutching his hand to his chest and staring at August in terror, tears streaming down his face. He only grew more panicked when August stood up and stepped toward him.

"Don't touch me!" Elias screamed, pressing himself as close as he could to the wall. "Please, no more! Please!"

"I'm done, bunny," August soothed. "It's over." He grabbed Elias by the shoulders, frowning when he tried to jerk himself out of his grasp, like an injured animal would if someone tried to help it. August was half expecting him to bite him in his panic.

"No! No no no please stop it hurts it hurts!" He struggled harder when August pulled him into his chest, bear hugging him to get him to stop moving. This didn't stop him from thrashing in his grip, horrified whines and sobs tearing out of him every few seconds, when he realized he was still stuck in August's arms.

"It's ok, Elias. You're ok." He rubbed his arms, placing soft kisses into his hair. "Calm down, baby."

"Get off! Let me go!" He was screaming again, desperation coating his every word.

"Hey, hey," August loosened his grip a fraction, beginning to rock him side to side. "Shh, Eli. You're just freaking yourself out. It's gonna be ok."

Elias's cries turned to broken, uneven sobs, his breathing finally slowing. "Please," he whispered, "please August. Please."

"I know, love. You're ok now." He led him to the bed and sat him down, gently wrapping the heavy blanket over his shoulders after. When he was sure he wouldn't move, he stepped back and pulled his boxers on, then got Elias a pair of dark sweatpants. He made a mental note to try and find him some clothes his own size, he always looked like he was drowning in all of August's stuff. He helped him get them on, suddenly tender and gentle. Elias was trembling still, but he wasn't sobbing anymore, just a few sniffles and whines here and there.

August sat next to him, arm slung around him and his hand rubbing his shoulder over the blanket. "You're such a good boy, Elias," he whispered, pressing his forehead against Elias's temple. "You did so amazing, angel."

Elias whimpered in response, his eyes still closed. His throat was too raw to try to speak, but he had nothing to say anyway. What was there to say to someone who had caused him that amount of pain? "I want another drink." He heard himself choke out. What he really meant was 'I want to drink until the pain stops and I pass out so I don't have to look at you or hear your voice. You make me feel physically sick and I would rather get blackout drunk and pass out than sit here with you. You make me understand why my parents spent all their time getting high. You are evil. You are the closest thing to evil I have ever experienced and being around you sober is nauseating', but of course he wouldn't say that.

August nodded and stood up, leaving the room. Elias opened his eyes and looked at his hand, which was bruised horribly, an ugly red and purple, everywhere from his wrist to his knuckles swollen slightly. The worst of the bruise was where the hammer had connected, but now that he looked closer, he could see another, smaller one near his thumb, where August hit it the first time. And on top of that, he now had a few red streaks that looked like the outline of fingers, fingers that had squeezed tightly into his already bruised skin and made everything worse. When August came back in, Elias tucked his hand back into the blanket, looking at a patch of carpet across the room.

"Here you go, little one." He handed Elias the bottle, frowning when Elias didn't look up at him as he took it. He pressed it to his lips, wincing at the taste. After he took a few big drinks, he handed the bottle back to August. "Better?"

Elias nodded slowly, wrinkling his nose at the taste. He tensed when August sat back down next to him and flinched as he leaned against him. "I didn't know you could scream so loud," he teased, "you've got a good pair of lungs."

Now, Elias looked at him, sighing shakily. He wanted to hate him so badly, wanted to punch him right in his stupid, arrogantly attractive face, wanted to hurt him just as much as he was hurting. But when he looked at him, at his teasing smile and his softened eyes, he just ached to be held. He hated himself for that, felt himself get nauseous at the idea, but after all of that hateful pain, he needed some sort of solace and comfort that wasn't alcohol. And August looked like a completely different person than the one from minutes ago, almost human, not quite a monster but by no means the person Elias needed. And it wasn’t like he had another choice. So, with a tiny huff, he collapsed against him, nestling his head against August's chest. He felt arms around him, adding to the warmth the blanket was already providing.

"You are so precious," he cooed, "fit so nicely in my arms." Elias closed his eyes, trying his best to pretend it was Tyson he was leaning against, Tyson telling him all these nice things. He sat up just a little to drink some more booze, then promptly pushed himself back against August’s chest, defeated, surrendering.

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trashno0dle · 3 years

Text

For You || A Linny Oneshot

AO3

Summary: Ginny and Luna practically grew up together. Luna was the only girl her age who she could talk to. When they went to Hogwarts together they were separated but they didn't let that stop them. Luna was devastated when Ginny started to distance herself from everyone and acted odd, slightly angry too, because they were supposed to do everything together. They'd promised that. But all that vanished when she saw Ginny lying in the hospital wing, and she listened when Ginny told her what happened. She comforted Ginny when she still had nightmares about it because that's what good friends do. A few years later they're closer than ever. And a little older and wiser. And Ginny can't help this feeling in her chest anytime she's close to her…

Because she loves Luna Lovegood. And she'll stick up for her no matter what.

~~~

The first day someone called Luna, ‘Loony Lovegood’ in front of her was the day Ginny snapped. She'd been friends with Luna for so long and she knew at times the other girl could be rather eccentric, but that didn't make her weird. She was kind, loving and creative. And that's what Ginny loved about her. And when some 5th year Slytherin spat out an insult Ginny's blood boiled. Luna didn't look too phased by this, instead she simply turned her head away.

She then proceeded to tug on Ginny's robes, “we should probably get to class.” She said in her high, melodic voice that made Ginny's heart beat faster. Ginny clenched her fists, trying to calm herself down.

“That's right freak, walk away with your blood traitor girlfriend!” One of them sneered from behind. Ginny's hands started to tremble.

“Aw Loony, Loony Lovegood. Got herself a girlfriend? I knew you were a freak but this is just revolting!” Said another.

Ginny couldn't take it anymore. Blatant homophobia? Harassment? She couldn't turn a blind eye to this. She had to step up for Luna, for herself. It's not like she was able to walk away without doing anything either, she needed to teach these Slytherin's a lesson.

She spun round on her heel, eyes blazing, “oh shut it and fucking grow up will you, even if we were dating there'd be nothing wrong with that. And if you call her Loony one more time I'll hex you into oblivion!” Ginny snarled.

The Slytherin boy looked rather taken aback, not expecting to have a reaction. Then he smiled at her.

“You're just as a freak as she is.”

“I said shut the fuck up.” Ginny warned. Ignoring Luna's frequent tugs on her robes to leave it alone.

“Loony, Loony Love—”

There was no wands, no hexing - instead Ginny found herself flying towards the boy, pulling back her first and pummeling it straight into his face. The boy stumbled backwards in surprise, Ginny - blinded by her anger - dug her fists into any exposed flesh she could find. Everything around her went numb, there was only her and the insufferable Slytherin boy. She had to defend Luna. Luna.

Luna-

She dropped her fists, her eyes widening as she saw the blood on her hands. The boy wasn't seriously harmed. Really nothing but a black eye and a bloody nose which now that Ginny looked closer, seemed possibly broken. She staggered backwards and glanced at Luna who was behind her, hand outstretched to stop her, her eyes slightly wide.

Ginny opened her mouth to speak but as she did Professor McGonagall hurried out from around the corner. Disappointment written across her face as she saw Ginny.

“Professor! She attacked me without warning! I didn't even do anything!”

McGonagall sighed quietly, “Mr. Veritas please go to the hospital wing to have Madam Pomfrey fix that nose of yours. Miss Weasley, if you would please follow me to my office.”

Ginny swallowed hard. She didn't dare look at Luna, so afraid that the latter would be looking at her as McGonagall had, with disappointment or even fear in her eyes. She didn't mean to lash out like she had. But people had a certain limit, and not only was she protective of her friend - she also had no patience when it came to hurtful remarks. And homophobia? That was the last straw.

She had been a little judgemental herself when she finally started to come to terms with her sexuality. It had happened when she started to develop feelings for Luna. Though she'd slowly grew more comfortable with that fact that she was a lesbian. After all, she'd only ever dated Michael and Dean to feel normal. But then she realized she didn't have to be held back by society and decided to just be herself. It was all well, her relationship with Dean had been rekindled after he came out as gay and started dating Seamus too. No hard feelings, luckily.

As she followed McGonagall into her office she was momentarily filled with dread. She'd been in multiple fights this year, only with her frequent corridor hexing as nasty Slytherin's or just nasty people in general. Apparently Hogwarts was full of them. But… What if she was expelled?

“Sit down Miss. Weasley.”

Ginny sat down quietly, her gaze locked onto the floor.

“Now if you would please tell me exactly what provoked you to attack that boy.”

Ginny took a deep breath, “he deserved it,” she muttered, “I'm sick of everyone calling Luna ‘Loony’ like it's funny.” She added through gritted teeth.

“Bullying is inevitable, and while I disagree with the nickname, it's nothing that will stop anytime soon unfortunately. But, he must've said something else Miss. Weasley. I know you were defending a friend but to the extent of attacking another student?” McGonagall said with - was that sympathy in her eyes?

Ginny hesitated. Should she really tell McGonagall what else that boy had said? What if she was just as bad?

“He…” she broke off.

“I'm not here to judge Miss. Weasley. Besides, this would help explain why. You've acted out a lot as of recent weeks, and I wouldn't like to have to send you home for the rest of the school year.”

Panic flared through Ginny. She looked up to meet McGonagall's gaze and sighed.

“He- he called Luna and I girlfriends and- called us freaks and revolting.” She said with a slight tremble in her voice, “I- I just… I couldn't let him say things like that…”

McGonagall just sighed, “some students can be insufferably judgemental. But it's best not to let their comments get to you.”

“Am I going to be expelled?”

“I'll write to Dumbledore about it and explain. I'll have to deduct some house points off Gryffindor to be fair, as well as Slytherin too,” McGonagall paused then added quietly, “though just between us Miss. Weasley, he deserved to have some sense knocked into him, I don't think Mr. Veritas will be bothering you again.”

A smile tugged at Ginny's lips as she let out a quiet laugh.

“You best head off to the common room now, I'll expect to see you here tomorrow evening for detention.”

“Thanks Professor.” Ginny said, she hopped off the stool and made her way out the classroom. She kept her head down as she walked along the corridor, she'd have to find Luna and apologize to her. She wondered how Luna had felt about seeing her completely lose her shit like that. Not good probably, Luna wasn't one for unnecessary violence.

“Ginny?” Came a soft, lyrical voice from behind her. Anxiety churned in Ginny's stomach as she turned slowly to face her best friend.

“Luna- I'm sorry about earlier I didn't- he was being a jerk-” Ginny blurted out.

“Don't apologize Ginny, I understand you were just trying to defend me. But really, it doesn't bother me, the teasing I mean.” Luna said softly. Ginny flushed at her voice. Oh why did she have to be so useless? She hoped Luna wouldn't notice the sudden change in her demeanour.

“I don't like the way they tease you though, and it just… I want to help you out Luna, like you did for me.” She remembered the nights when Ginny had been too afraid to close her eyes let alone sleep, and she and Luna had spent the evening together. And when Ginny was close to having panic attacks, when she swore she could almost hear his whispering in her ears - Luna was always there to guide her away from the crowds and comfort her until she was better.

“I know,” Luna smiled, it was a dazzling thing, “but I really don't mind.”

“I'm just sorry you had to see me lose my temper like that. I didn't really know what I was doing.” Ginny admitted sheepishly.

“It's okay, at least it's out of your system now.” Luna chimed.

“Guess my head was full of Wrackspurts huh?” Ginny said with a timid laugh.

Luna's eyes widened, “possibly, oh you could write an interview for the Quibbler, it would be an amazing column!”

Ginny smiled. She continued to walk down the corridor with Luna. Her heart fluttering in her chest as she felt Luna's hand brush gently against her own. The two eventually came to a stop near the courtyard, they sat in their usual spot and stared out into the forest.

After a couple of minutes, Luna spoke up, “Ginny…”

“Hmm?”

“When you said earlier… About if we were dating that there'd be nothing wrong with that…” she paused momentarily, as if she were trying to find the right words.

Ginny's heart continued to beat faster.

“Y-yeah?”

“Did you mean it?”

“Of course,” Ginny breathed, slightly panicked, “I'm sorry uh- did you not want me to say that?”

“No, I was just wondering.” Luna hummed quietly.

There was an excruciating silence.

“D-did I ever mention I like girls?” Ginny spluttered out. Shit - why did she say that?

Luna turned to look at her, “is that why you got so defensive?”

Ginny nodded, “I- I came to the conclusion I was a lesbian not long ago and when he said that I just…”

“Did I ever mention I like girls too?”

Now it was Ginny's turn to face her, shocked, “I don't- I don't think so.” She said dumbly.

“I think I like everyone,” Luna mused, “I don't see the reason why love should be confined to one gender. The opposite sex.”

“Yeah…”

This was the perfect time. She could tell Luna how she felt! But why… Why was she so anxious about it all? Luna openly admitted she was at least attracted to girls. But that doesn't mean she wants me, not like I want her…

As the sun started to set, Ginny realized it was getting late, she started to get up. Luna followed suit, getting to her feet after her. She was about to turn away when Luna put a trembling hand on her shoulder, she was clearly nervous. And before Ginny could ask why Luna pulled her closer, her lips pressing against her own.

Surprised at first, Ginny's whole body froze, then she relaxed and leaned in closer. Wrapping her hands around Luna's waist. She stumbled back, still surprised when Luna pulled away shyly.

“I'm sorry,” she squeaked, Ginny had never seen her so nervous before, “I should've asked. I'm sorry Ginny. I don't know what came over me I-”

“That was amazing.” Ginny breathed, awestruck. This was a feeling unlike any other. She'd never felt this way when Dean or Michael had kissed her. No Luna was different, the way her lips moved against hers, the soft tender feeling in her own lips… It was the best feeling she'd ever felt in her entire life. Luna stared at her with adoration.

“I love you Ginny Weasley, I think I always have.” Luna whispered.

Ginny tried to calm her internal screaming. Because holy shit was this not only was this a complete shock this was the best moment of her life. She never thought Luna would ever feel the same way about her.

“I- I love you too,” Ginny said, “I was too afraid to tell you because- I didn't think you'd feel the same way.”

“How could I not? You're absolutely perfect.”

Ginny realized she was beaming. Her smile widened as she moved closer to Luna, and took her hands in her own.

“You're the most beautiful person I've ever met, and forgive me for being so cheesy but - you really are.”

Luna blushed at that. Ginny's heart fluttered again. She was as beautiful as ever.

”Does this make us official then?” Ginny inquired.

“Only if you want to.” Luna told her.

“I didn't just confess I liked you too for no reason, of course I do dummy.” Ginny said, planting a delicate kiss on her cheek that made Luna blush even more, “guess we're girlfriends now.” She added with a smirk.

“I like that.”

#harry potter #harry potter fandom #ginny weasley #luna lovegood #lesbian ginny weasley #pansexual luna lovegood #harry potter fanfiction #fanfiction #wlw ship #wlw couple #linny #linny fanfic

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willowbleedsonpaper · 4 years

Text

Ghost Of You (Part 5)

Draco Malfoy x Muggle!Reader

W.C. : 3200

Summary: The war with Voldemort was over. Draco Malfoy was forced to flee for his life ending up in Muggle London where he met you, the muggle whose house he broke in looking for a place to hide. You agreed to let him hide in your house if he promised to let you live your life normally. How will your relationship work as time passes and you both realize you’re no longer just partners in crime?

A/N: Can someone expalin to me the sorcery behind feeling like I wrote an entire book and realizing is shorter than previous parts? Because I don’t get it and I’m confused. Doesn’t matter, I’m back and ready to keep posting.

Again, thank you for the 100 followers. Love you all my Skittles (Yes, I am calling you skittles).

Please, let me know what you think. I love reading your comments! Shoot me an ask or somthing if you would like to be tagged. Enjoy and happy reading!

*Not my GIF. Credits to the creator*

You were frozen staring at the man just outside your door. Visibly shaken, your grip on the doorknob turned your knuckles white. Both, Jack and Draco’s eyes landed on you after a minute of silence. both in worry and confusion.

Jack cleared his throat, looking at you “Can I come in?” he asked in a serious tone.

“We were actually in the middle of something.” said Draco before you could answer yourself, stepping forward his chest bumping with your back. You gave him a hard stare, wondering if he actually remembered the turn your little chat had taken. You noticed then his clenched fists at his sides, he didn’t want Jack there.

You moved your body aside, using it to push Draco back with your steps. The door opened completely, letting Jack inside with a soft Come in from you. Waiting until Jack had made it all the way to the living room, you turned to Draco behind you “Don’t think you will get out of this so easily, Malfoy.” you hissed, poking his chest.

You were already turning to go to Jack when a cold hand grabbed your wrist, pulling you dangerously close to him “Don’t call me Malfoy” he said lowly, marking every word. His last name practically growled with a deep burning hate.

“Or what?” you looked straight into his eyes, his grip on your wrist tightening “You’re going to force me?” you dared, his entire face turning red.

“I promised I wouldn’t but you are being really tempting at the moment.” he mumbled letting go of your hand and storming to the kitchen without a word.

You watched him, wanting to feel bad but you were really worked up because of everything he said before Jack’s interruption, he clearly was holding back from using his secrets to make him leave and to make you behave, as he had called it, so you let him go turning to the living room where Jack was.

He was sitting at the couch, reading over the few papers you had left there from your work. He had always loved to go over your work, saying he had so much to learn from you. You were tempted to let him be a little longer, unfortunately you and the man in your kitchen didn’t have the time or patience to be nice.

“What are you doing here Jack?” you asked sharply making him jump in his seat. He quickly placed the papers back from where he took them, jumping to his feet.

“I came to see how you were,” he said simply, giving you a nervous smile “ I saw Sally and she told me you were sick.” he explained.

Jack, was a sweet caring guy, there was no denying it. But you felt his behavior out of place. If you still were together you would have never minded him dropping by your place unannounced claiming to be worried about you, but you weren’t and the fact that it wasn’t the first time he had done it was even more infuriating.

“Jack, you can’t keep doing this.” you sighed in defeat, rubbing your temples with tired look in your face “You ended things, remember? Not me, you.”

“I know but…”

“No, you can’t keep coming here just because you heard I’m sick, or because you heard I had bad day at work or because you miss me, you just can’t.” your words came out so fast you doubted he even understood what you said but his hurt look said otherwise.

He let a breath out turning in his place, he ran a hand through his hair “I’m sorry, okay.” he spat turning his face to you, two steps and he was in front of you holding your hands in his.

“What?” you said loudly, shaking your hands out of his “What do you mean you’re sorry?”

“I made a mistake,” he told you with a determined look in his face “I know I did, but I felt like you didn’t love anymore and then you said you didn’t want to get married or have a family and I got scared!”

“And then broke up with me.” you added with a fire in your eyes “I know, I was there.”

“But then I didn’t see you for months, you wouldn’t even look at me at the halls at work, never talk to me and I realized how important you are in my life” he said, desesperacion taking over his features.

But you had stopped listening at some point, your body felt like a statue at the tension gathered in every single one of your muscles and you were surprised that you weren’t visible shaking. “Y/N…” he whispered, seeing you had a dead look in your eyes, remaining completely silent.

“And all it took for you to realize that was breaking my heart.” you mumbled so low he frowned, taking a hesitant step towards you “My. Heart.” you repeated, making him stop dead in the spot.

“I’m sorry.” he whispered shakily with glossy eyes.

“Being sorry is not enough Jack!” you snapped, pointing at him with sharp movement of your hand “I loved you, I cried every night because it wasn’t enough for you just being with me and you are sorry?” you yelled in disbelief, a stray tear rolling down your cheek.

He had a dead look in his face, and you thought maybe you had gone too far before he scoffed, taking you by surprise.

“Didn’t took you too long find someone else, though” he grunted, his eyes shifting to the kitchen before returning to you.

“What is that even supposed to mean?” you asked, cleaning your cheek with the back of your hand.

“C’mon Y/N” he said, his arms flying in the air when he began to pace back and forth “You are the most popular teacher at school, you were at everyone’s mouth.”

You stared at him wide-eyed, the tears falling now freely down your cheeks “What?” you stuttered, covering your mouth with your hand.

“Please, don’t act like you don’t know. Everyone at school saw you with the mysterious blond man. ” he mocked and you turned to the kitchen, remembering the day that Draco forced himself into your work, entertaining the entire class with the made up stories of your time together at college.

You would have smiled at the memory, being more funny now that Draco had assured you he would never do something against them, but you felt numb as you face Jack once more “You’re jealous.”

“What?” he spat, stopping his pacing.

“You didn’t came here because you were worried,” you said meeting his eyes “You came here because you’re jealous of Draco.” you muttered, watching his face contort into one of confusion.

“Who the hell is Draco?” he asked, and you quickly realized your mistake stumbling back.

The sounds of the kitchen made you look back, a couple of crashing sounds catching your attention. You were about to walk in there when Draco emerged, positively on high alert when his eyes landed on you “We need to go,” he said grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the door not even waiting for your answer.

You let him pull you with him leaving Jack behind, you tried to talk to Draco, asking him all kind of questions that he wouldn’t answer. His face moved wearily over your car and the fence separating your house from your neighbors.

“Hey!” Jack shouted, following you out the door “You can’t just run from this, you…”

Draco cursed under his breath, turning momentarily back to Jack “Would you just shut up?!” he hissed, pulling you to your car.

He place his hands on your shoulders and looked you straight in the eyes “I need you to get in your car, drive as far away as you can. I will look for you, okay?” he ordered, seeing the tears in your cheeks “Do you understand?” he asked softly, looking wildly for your eyes bringing his thumb up to your cheek, cleaning the tears there.

You shook your head, eyes wide as you glanced from your home to him “No.” you told him, trying to sound more confident and failing getting a small smile from him.

“Y/N,” he called you when you started to rant, making you stop “They found me.”

You felt the knot in your stomach tighten, shaking your head furiously at him “No, I’m not leaving you.” you cried, stepping away from him and the car “Let's’ go to the police, they can do something.” But you didn’t hear whatever he answered you, your eyes focusing over his shoulder on the cloaked figures emerging from down the street.

Everything around you slowed down, the masks in their faces sending chills down your spine as one of them raised their arm towards you, holding in their hand an object like the one Draco carried with him at all times. You didn’t have time to shout anything, your body acting on its own as the words coming out from the person right in front of you were muffled by the pain of your body landing over Draco’s.

Your scream was cut short when Draco and Jack both reacted, kneeling beside your car taking cover from the sudden flashes of light being thrown in your direction. You were in a complete state of shock as you slowly turned to Draco, his back at you when he rose to his feet, shooting the same flashes of light from his wand, yelling words you couldn’t fully understand.

Jack was yelling beside you, but you were unable to move your eyes from Draco. Everything you didn’t want to believe when you connected the ideas of him carrying a wand with the inexplicable reason as to why he could make you do his will with a whisper in your ear was becoming true right before your eyes.

“Merlin!” he yelled, snapping you out of your trance “Silencio” he casted, pointing his wand right at Jack, who shoot his hands around his throat with a distraught look.

The heavy breathing coming from Draco made you realize it was the only sound you could hear. You turned to him, his head poking over your car before he took your hand again “C’mon” he breathed out.

He started running, never letting go of you. You managed to grasp your hand around Jack´s jacket, pulling him with you enough for him to follow. Draco took you out of the streets, entering the forest behind your house.

You had ran for minutes, the lights tiny dots in the distance. Looking around you, you saw nothing but trees that looked the same, everywhere you turned looked the same. You wanted nothing but to stop. And you did.

Draco turned to you, searching your eyes with a questioning look before he saw your shaking form “We can’t stop now, love.” he told you with a pleading look, reaching his hand for you to take again.

Just when you were about to take it, something pulled you back, your fingers barely brushing his “No” said Jack with a hoarse voice “I don’t care who you are or who is after you, you’re not taking her with you.” he placed an arm around you, pulling you behind his body.

Draco made a sound from deep in his throat, fighting his own body to not launch himself at Jack “You’re lucky I let you follow, if it was up to me I would’ve left you with them.” he mumbled, walking forward and you followed breaking out of Jack’s hold.

“Draco.” you called, quickening your pace to keep up with him “Draco!” you yelled, seeing as he kept on ignoring you.

He snapped his head at you, clenching his jaw he moved his eyes anywhere but you “What?” he muttered coldly.

“What...How did they found you?” you stuttered, glancing back to make sure Jack followed. You jogged, taking his arm with your small hand, only managing to make him turn towards you.

But the sounds of laughter reached your ears and you turned back, the echo making you snap your head in every direction you heard it coming from. Draco took your shaky hand in his again walking further into the woods, not really knowing how to return home, or if you ever would.

“Draco!” someone sang, voice echoing in the air “You can’t hide forever!”

“No.” he muttered, looking wildly in every direction he could.

The woods were dark, no light that came from the moon or the stars helping you as he cursed under his breath “Lumos.” he whispered, a soft light shining from the tip of his wand, making you stumble back and not falling for his tight hold in your hand.

He gave you an apologetic look, mouthing something you couldn’t understand before a whisper behind you brought you back “There you are.”

You both turned with a jump, a woman standing behind you with a grin in her face, her wand moving a stray piece of hair from her face. She tilted her head, eyeing your entire body before she dedicated a dark smile to Draco.

“You’re supposed to be dead.” he said sharply, pulling you behind him.

She laughed, walking around so she could keep an eye in both you and him “Don’t sound so sad to see me.” she said, her voice raspy “After all, we are family.”

Your eyes looked for any reaction in Draco but he kept a stoic look at all times “I don’t know you.” he muttered, glancing swiftly at you.

You didn’t know what to do, not understanding anything of what was being said or was happening made you even more frustrated, your eyes burning with the unshed tears you were fighting to keep at bay. You couldn’t breakdown there. The three of you had to make it alive first.

Your heart stopped inside of you, eyes looking everywhere around you for Jack.

“Oh, Draco” she pouted, her eyes shining with amusement “You hurt my feelings” she placed a hand over her heart before her eyes fell on you, your stomach turning inside you “Who is the mudblood, Drakey?”

“Stay away from her,” he growled raising his wand towards her, using his body as a shield “It’s me who you want, leave her out of this.”

She chuckled darkly, taking the same stance as Draco “Doesn’t mean I can’t make you watch as I play a little with her, your death can wait.” she said and you fisted his suit jacket in your hands.

“Touch a single hair in her and you’ll regret the moment you came looking for me.” he threatened flicking his wrist, a red light shooting from the tip of his wand.

She gasped, her eyes wild as the blue shield she had created dissipated from the air “You were always weak minded, just like my traitor of a sister.” she hissed and Draco didn’t need to take two look into her eyes to know what was coming.

He ordered you to run, giving your hand a quick squeeze before he started dueling the woman again. He shouted spell after spell, moving expertly he draw his wand across his body and pushing with force towards her.

You would have been in awe of him, but the image of the woman on the opposite side make you want to run and never return. She was enjoying herself, she had went out of her way to hurt Draco and now she had him right there at the end of her wand to her disposal. You had to do something.

Draco was purposefully walking back, trying to get a grasp of you and where you were hiding. He knew there were more death eaters around, but he would have never imagined that his aunt herself would be leading the hunt for his head. She knew she had been loyal, but never to want to kill him after all was lost. He should’ve have known.

She struck one right blow at Draco, immobilizing him just enough for her to walk to where he stood still “Did you know your own mother helped find you?” she said, bringing a hand up to his face. “Not even your own mother can stand the idea of you, you blood traitor.” she spat, wrinkling her nose.

“Go to hell.” he said through gritted teeth, staring deep into her eyes.

She gave him a look of disgust, making a puking sound before patted his cheek “That’s no way to treat Auntie Bella. But first,” she said, clapping her hands together and looking around “Where’s that mudblood friend or yours?” she asked.

“She has nothing to do with this!” he shouted, watching Bellatrix walk back with a grin “Leave her and I’ll go with. No fight.”

She opened her mouth, the words getting stuck in her throat as she fell to the ground with a thud sound. Draco stared at the unconscious body of her aunt on the ground before he snapped his head at the squeaking sound coming from you.

You let the piece of log fall from your arms, bringing your hands to cover your mouth. You glanced at her, taking the wand from her hand “Did I kill her?” you asked Draco shakily, your eyes were puffy but you had stopped crying and were more in shock. Numb.

“No.” he told you, following your eyes “She’s still breathing, see?” he pointed to her chest, the air flowing in and out of her lungs. He clumsily took a step towards you taking your arms and pulling you to his chest in a hug. “We need to move, love.” he said, the words muffled by your hair in his face.

You nodded, pulling away from him “I found Jack” you told him, starting to walk “He’s unconscious too” you showed him to where he lay on the dirt. Draco kneeled beside him, examining his body before he gave you a satisfactory nod.

“There are more of them in the woods,” he told you, looking straight into your eyes “I need to get us out of here, including your git of an ex.” he mumbled pointing at him on the ground, grabbing your hand “I can do that, but I need to know you would be fine.”

“Why?” you whispered, wrapping your arms around yourself. He took off his jacket, placing it on your shoulders carefully.

“I need to know you won’t get scared and run.” you took a hesitant look to Jack before turning to Draco.

“Okay.” you whispered, hearing the sigh of relief from his lips.

He stretched his hand at you, taking yours and lacing your fingers with his “Take Jack’s hand, please.” you did as he told you, looking at him again “Are you ready?” he asked you and you were sure you would never be ready, but you had no choice, so you gave him a weak nod. He took his wand out, giving you one last glance before the world around you spiraled away.

Then everything turned black.

*******************************************************************************************

SURPRISE! For the purpouse of this fic Auntie Bella is alive :)

TAGS: @fanficflaneuse @accio-rogers @gloriousrebelrunaway @slytherinprincess03 @coldlilheart @aasthapiplani @nebulablakemurphy @strawberriesonsummer @l1teralegend @infinity1o1 @nevermore9292 @artist-bby

#Draco Malfoy #draco x reader #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy x reader #draco x muggle!reader #muggle!reader #draco malfoy x muggle!reader #hp fanfic #hp fanfiction #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #bellatrix #bellatrix lestrange #ghost of you

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