#i will be back soon i just have to set a stable routine
eremiie · 4 months ago
thinking ab rereading aot
3 notes · View notes
writingwhenimbored · 19 days ago
Puppy Dog
Summary: You’ve been in love with Druig since you came to Earth but he wants nothing to do with you. Maybe you can still be friends or maybe not.
Content Warning: Near death experiences, arguing, unrequited love, (Druig is an asshole in this)
Word Count: 6.5 K
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When you first saw Druig you knew you’d want to know everything about him. He was gorgeous and before he even had the chance to speak you knew he’d be your reckoning. It wasn't long before you all had a routine on the charming little planet of Earth. The people, the food, the music, all of it was beautiful and filled you with such a sense of wonder and joy. If the stoic telepath had any love for the ball of rock he didn't show it; he merely watched from behind pillars and listened to chatter from the outskirts of gatherings.
Of course he wasn't too serious. On some occasions you would catch him joking with the stable boys or mingling with the women washing their clothes by the river; something that made you more jealous than you would like to admit. But it was refreshing to see him smile.
Your power is the ability to manipulate thermal energy, to put it simply it means that you could freeze a person to death while they were standing in a bonfire or keep an entire family warm during snowstorm (something you had to do couple times). You thought that everyone had incredible gifts but it had always been Druig that amazed you. Even though his power wasn’t flashy or grand, it was captivating nonetheless. The ability to control minds is impressive if not intimidating, there are moments where you wondered what he’d do if he could use them on you. That’s not to say that you’re scared of him, but you couldn’t deny that the hairs on the back of your neck stood whenever you watched him in battle. He was dangerous and scary and occasionally rude, yet here you letting him take up most of your daydreams.
You’d destroy the Sun just to have Druig look at you the same way he did at Makkari. The two of them have been on and off for forever but you never felt animosity towards her. In fact, you were almost happy that she was able to make him smile; for whenever you’d try to strike up conversation with him it was the complete opposite. There was something that he just didn’t like about you and even though you’d do anything for him to just be content with your presence, you didn’t see that happening anytime soon.
And you would have to be okay with that.
607 B.C.
The Sun had just begun setting over the desert horizon when Phastos had sent you over to the local blacksmiths with some molds as well as some prints that they could use for farming. He was always sending you into town with new ideas that would help the community progress and you didn’t mind it; meeting with the people of Earth and learning along with them was one of your favorite things about being an Eternal. A warm and comforting breeze swept through the small Southwest Asian village and you could hear the faint noise of men laughing. As you neared the house you began to sense the people within the building. You could feel three heat signatures: a large man that was probably in his mid-thirties, a younger man in his twenties, and...Druig.
Your palms grew sweaty at the thought of talking to him. Of course the two of you had conversed before but it seemed like he wanted nothing to do with you. When the Eternals first began their mission on Earth you had tried befriending him (perhaps a little too hard); and maybe it was the fact that you we’re always surprising him. Whether it be with small gifts or even just your presence, you remember him being less than happy to see you. But the question remained: what did you do? For the longest time you had lead yourself to believe that it was because you weren’t gorgeous or that you were gross or some other superficial thing that someone like Druig would think up.
Two hours earlier (Flashback)
"I just don't get it. I've literally tried everything just to get somewhat of a bond with him and he hates my guts!" You and Sprite were both laying on her bed in the Domo after fighting off Deviants in North America. You were positioned near the top and she was spread along the bottom, both looking at the intricate details that decorated the ceiling.  "I bring him gifts, he gives them back. I compliment him after a battle, he ignores me. What do I have to do to get him to not completely detest me?" You groaned.
Sprite turned her head to glance up at you , clearly not thinking too hard with a slight smile on her face. "It sounds like you like him"
You sprung up at the accusation. "What! I can't like someone who looks at me like a bug under their show, Sprite. And news flash: Druig's an asshole. Plus if I did like him, I would never do that to Makkari even if they’re not “technically” dating; she’s too good a friend and far too kind for anything along that nature to happen. But doesn’t mean that I want Druig to absolutely hate me!”
She giggled at your antics before laying back down, looking at the ceiling. "Well if you want an honest answer why don’t you just ask him?"
You rolled your eyes at the thought of talking to Druig. “I can’t just go up to him and ask. He’ll say something snarky or just flat out ignore me like he always does.”
Sprite raised an eyebrow at you. “Y/N if you want an answer I don’t know who better to go to. Get some balls and ask the guy!”
“What if it’s something terrible?...”
“...Or something that I can’t fix...”
“...what if he absolutely hates my guts and want nothing to do with me for all of eternity!” You flopped back onto your back with a sigh of frustration
“Y/N,” She said sitting up. “you can ask and finally know or you could wait another thousand years. But in the end it’s up to you. I’m not going to tell you what to do but I hate seeing you this way”.
Pushing open the blacksmith's door you removed your hood and made your way over to the workbench.
"Ah, Y/N! What does Phastos gift us with this time?" The head blacksmith, Andreas, asked. His face had pink hue due to the heat inside the shop and his long curly black beard was peppered with white ash. He was wearing a while linen cloth with a blood red robe thrown on top. The sleeves and edges of the robe were frayed, worn from the years of wear. His working apron was sitting on the chair across the room where Druig and Omar (Andreas’s apprentice) were sitting.
"Farming tools! From what I understood — and you know how Phastos is — there should be some things here for land managing and some other stuff for better irrigation, but it's hard to tell since I’m not to familiar on how to read prints all that well; if you have trouble with these molds I'll just pry Phastos from his workstation and bring him down here."
You set down the molds and blueprints then took off your cloak. Underneath you wore a fine emerald green garment that cuffed around your ankles and wrists. It was decorated with beautiful gold beads. The one-piece was a gift from a noble family in the last village you visited.
"We were just about to eat." Omar said as he uncovered a large bowl on the back table. "Eleni brought us stew a few minutes ago. You’re invited to join us if you'd lik —."
“I’m sure she’s busy enough as it is," Druig interrupted, a false sense of innocence in his voice. "No sense in wasting time here with us when she could be doing much more productive things. Isn’t that right Y/N?"
“Well what are you up to, eh? I’m sure I could help.” You spoke back with a weak attempt of staying cheerful. Even if he hated your guts you were going to try your best to be pleasant even though you felt your heart squeeze every time he glared at you.
“I’m not sure you could, I doubt you’d be any good at it” He quipped.
“I bet I can manage. Plus I don’t see you digging a well or saving a village,” You spoke with a bit of edge. “You know, productive things?”
He motioned to the various sketches and designs on the table in front of him.“Actually I’ve been helping these two with some new armor improvements. You’re more than welcome to stay,” He sneered. “but as you said you’re not too familiar on how to read prints”.
You felt your face heat up as embarrassment swept over you. "You know what? It’s fine. I just ate anyways," You said turning to Omar. "so thank you for the offer, but perhaps we can meet up another time, hm?”
Before Omar could even reply you started making your way back to the workbench to retrieve your cloak and headed out the door.
As you laid in bed you thought of how much it stung to have the one person you had heart-eyes for hate you with such a passion. He had no right to be so rude and crass with you, especially when all you’ve wanted since you’ve known him was companionship.
“Come in!” You beckoned to the visitor.
The door to your room opened as Makkari made her way into your space. She was in her lounge clothes and greeted you with a soft smile.
“Hey what’s up?” You questioned. It wasn’t like you and Makkari didn’t get along, you just didn’t hangout often.
“I was just wondering how you were feeling. I saw you kind of stomp in and figured you might want a friend”.
You weren’t exactly sure what to sign. Of course you didn’t wanna lie to her, but how do you tell your friend that you’ve been in love with her on-again-off-again boyfriend for over a millennium?
“I got into a little argument with someone down in the village, nothing major.” You felt a little guilty for not telling her the whole story, but it was still technically true, right?
“Let me guess it was Druig, again?” She rolled her eyes at the thought of him.
You eyes widened when she signed his name. “How’d you know?”
“He’s the only person who makes you this upset; it makes sense since he’s also the only person who seems to fight with you.” She put her hand on your shoulder before sitting down next to you on your bed.
“Um yeah he kind of told me to buzz off earli— why does he hate me?” You asked exasperated.
Stunned by the switch of conversation Makkari took a deep breath. “I don’t know if he hates you. Maybe you should ask him” She shrugged .
“Yeah that’s what Sprite said.” You signed.
“Two against one. Just get it over with Y/N! It might make you feel better once you receive, I don’t know... closure? Maybe if you both just air out what needs to be said, you can get along”
“I know, I just thought putting it off would be okay,” You cringed at the thought of earlier as confrontation. “but it’s creating more of an issue.” You pouted.
She gave a shoulder a squeeze before leaving your room and shutting the door.
“Thanks, Makkari”
You sat in the kitchen. You had eaten hours ago and only the evidence of the curry that you made earlier was a dirty bowl in the sink. Just as you were about to call it a night you heard the faint noise of footsteps. As you looked up from the table you saw exactly who you were dreading, Druig.
He looked as glorious as the first time you saw him. He was glossy from the sweat and grime of working with the blacksmiths. He wore a beige cloth draped across his waist with a loose robe sitting low on his shoulders. There was something about how he walked and a sort of glare that danced along his eyes that conveyed he was irritated and if you hadn’t been sitting there for hours on end maybe you would’ve waited to have this conversation, but you couldn’t back down now.
“You’re still up I see” Your voice was rough from not talking for awhile. Looking up you waited for his response.
“So how did the rest of the night go with Andreas and Omar? Any progress with the new armor?” You asked as he grabbed a clay mug from the cabinet. You we’re pressing and you knew it. Whenever he’d ignore you, you’d usually just drop it. But not tonight. Tonight you were going to get him to open up whatever thoughts he was having about you whether he liked it or not.
“Druig...” Nothing, again. He reached into the pantry and fetched a jar of tea, but you weren’t going to let him get away. “Hey! I’m talking to you.” You huffed. At this point you were getting impatient.
As he turned to take the mug and tea back to his room you decided to do something you’ve never intentionally done before: touch him.
Placing a firm grip on his shoulder, you stopped him in his tracks. “I don’t know why you think you can treat me like shit but I’m stopping it,” You paused, unsure of how he was feeling. “now.”
He turned his head back towards the hand on his shoulder. Glancing from the shoulder to your eyes, you felt yourself recoil at the connection. Never in your life had he been this close, this...intimate. You could see his thoughts turning behind his eyes but you couldn’t tell what exactly he was feeling. His glare was now hardest on you, his mouth controlling into a disgusted snarl.
Shifting his stance he placed both the mug and jar in the crook of his left arm and used his right to remove you from his shoulder. “You want to know why, Y/N?” He tilted his head as he questioned you, irritation evident on his face. “It’s because you” He dug his finger into your chest. “follow me around like a puppy dog, giving me gifts and compliments just hoping— wishing— for a lick of attention. You don’t think I notice it? Well I do. I’m obviously not into you Y/N and you’re going to have to get over it. Just cause Makkari and I aren’t a thing right now doesn’t mean I wanna settle for someone like you. So leave. Me. Alone”.
He brought himself back up from his looming stance over you before taking a deep breath and turning back towards his room.
You stood there frozen for awhile. The feeling of utter dread and rejection flooded through you and before you knew it tears started to prick out of the corners of your eyes. Fearing that someone would see you at your weakest you ran to your room where you would undoubtedly cry yourself to sleep.
You had thought long and hard about what Druig had said last night. Currently, you were in your room. You we’re wearing a soft loose tank top (or the equivalent of this time) with an earthy floor length cotton skirt. The sunlight of the early morning trickled it’s way through your windows and onto the bed where you were laying.
‘Just cause Makkari and I aren’t a thing right now doesn’t mean I wanna settle for someone like you’. You winced at the fresh memory. Even though you were indisputably in love with Druig, you valued your friendship with Makkari too much to move in on her ex right after a break up. Even though they would routinely break up and get back together just about every other year, you’d wait until they were both sure on how they felt before even thinking of pursuing the telepath. Of course you would love to not have to go after anyone’s ex, but as everyone in the group knows by now: it comes with the price of being an immortal being in a mortal world.
The sound of your stomach growling took you from your thoughts as you made your way to the kitchen (otherwise known the crime scene where your heart was massacred last night). As you entered the kitchen you were met with a bed-headed Kingo. He was eating a piece of toasted bread glazed with butter made from some of the bakers of the last village we were in.
“Morning,” You said softly. “looks like you slept pretty well”.
“Not even close.” He said with a groan. Stretching his arms over his head he tried to shake himself awake. “Our royal couple had another fight last night”
“Oh really? Usually Sersi stops by my place after her and Ikaris have their little arguments” You said as you tore a piece of bread from the loaf.
“No, no. I’m talking about Makkari and Druig. She came by my room last night talking about how ‘she’s tired of this whole back and forth thing’ and ‘he thinks that she’s just going to wait and eternity for him’ . Just a whole bunch of angsty couple stuff, you know the deal” He said as he took another bite.
“Not really” You half-chuckled. Maybe that was the reason why Druig was such in a poor mood you thought. You internally cringed and actually felt guilty for cornering him last night.
“But I don’t blame her. How long have they been dating? And how many times have they broken up?” He asked.
“Too many for me to count”
“I care about her too, Y/N. And...I don’t know...it just frustrates me when all she’s telling about is how terrible their relationship is.”
“Well we don’t know how they act all the time” You said. “Of course she’s only going to tell you the bad things about their relationship when she’s venting to you. I don’t think it’s good for you — for us— to get involved in whatever’s going on between them. If they don’t work out then they don’t work out, but we should leave that decision for them, it’s not our place.”
It was almost comedic how you, Kingo, and Sprite worked. You watched him pine over Makkari, Sprite after Ikaris, and in turn they watched you. It was like you all bonded over the fact they you’d never be with the one person in the world that you wanted. It was almost comforting. Almost.
He ran his hand down his face. “You’re right”
“I always am” You joked.
Leaving the people who had touched your heart in such a special way was always something that was bittersweet; knowing that you’d never see them again was depressing, but you took refuge in the thought that you were going to help new people \who you’d learn to love.
It had been a pretty easy week despite the interaction with Druig. Most of your downtime was spent helping the locals or learning about their cultural traditions. It’s times like these that made you love your mission. The people of Earth were so special to you and you were happy to watch them grow. Unfortunately, the peace couldn’t last for forever.
Today you were woken up by the sound of screams coming from the town. Quickly dressing yourself and running to the commotion, you were met with your fellow Etrernals who we’re doing the same. “What’s the plan, Ajak?” Gilgamesh asked.
Ajak joined up to your left.“Sprite, Kingo, Druig, and Phastos are working defense. Get as many people to the top that hill.” Looking out to where she had pointed, you noticed that it was just a bit south of the town. “It’ll be easier to fight off Deviants if they’re the ones who have to come up to us.”
Once given their commands, the four split off to round up civilians. You tried to fight the urge to watch as Druig left and even though he couldn’t read your mind, you hope that he knew you were rooting for him. One fight couldn’t erase the unfathomable love you carried in your heart for him.
“Thea, Ikaris, and I are on offense. We’ll clear them out the best we can. There’s going to be some stragglers that we won’t be able to get in time, so Y/N, Makkari, and Sersi clear-out all the deviants on and around the hill; we don’t need them slowing down the other group”
With your commands given, you and your group started running.
Atop the hill you and your group had managed to kill a small amount of the deviants present, this was a larger number of them than anticipated but it was nothing that you couldn’t handle. Sweat was dripping down your forehead and your fingers were covered in grime. This was just one of the key principles that you and your fellow Eternals knew: war was dirty.
It was probably twenty minutes since you had last seen the others when you had noticed a small blob coming from the village. Shielding your eyes from the sun you were able to see that it was the defense group with a sizable amount of people among them. Judging the distance, you could guess they were probably a little less than half a mile away. As they continued their pilgrimage to the hill you could make out a 5-9 deviants coming from the village towards the group. You were dowsed in the feeling of fear as you looked from the group to the deviants and back to the group. They weren’t going to be able to defend themselves and the humans without casualties.
Glancing back to Makkari and Sersi, you decided to take it upon yourself to attempt to meet the group halfway in order to alleviate the pressure of deviants on them.
“Sersi I’m going to need you to cover for me, okay?” You said as you dodged a deviants attack.
“I’m on it!” Was all you needed for you to dart across the field to where the group was, and with the downhill slope on your side you were able to get to them in a relatively short time.
“Y/N we need more cover, take the backend of the group with Kingo and Druig while we keep pushing forward”
Using your powers to create a pathway of ice, you skated to the back of the pack where the two Eternals were fighting. Slowly but surely the group progressed further up the hill. “Well what do we owe your presence?” Kingo joked over the commotion.
“To the fact that you’re getting your ass kicked” You yelled with a cocky grin.
You, Kingo, and Druig had fought side-by-side countless time before — just as you had with all the other Eternals — and you found yourselves getting into a familiar groove. First Kingo would blast the deviants in order to distract them while you froze their limbs to the ground. Once frozen in place Druig would be able to cut of their heads with his long sword. Even though you were getting the job done, you felt like there was something different about your dynamic.
Usually there was a sense of fluidity to your fighting pattern. The three of you would almost move in a waltz: blast, freeze, chop, blast, freeze, chop. But Druig (of course it was Druig) was somewhat stiffer than before. You noticed there was hesitation in his movements and it ended up slowing you and Kingo down in the process.
“Hey could you two speed it up? Not really feeling the drag happening right now” Kingo shouted as he blasted another deviant.
“Talk to Y/N! Maybe if she had her head out of the clouds her shots wouldn’t be such shit” Druig snapped.
You were taken aback by the utter disrespect happening, especially on the battlefield. Druig was always rude to you but never in serious moments like these. Fighting together meant that you had to fully trust your teammates and you began to feel yourself sinking further into your insecurities (something you probably shouldn’t be doing in the middle of a fight).
“My shots are just fine, just do your job” You bit back as you froze a deviant to the field.
“Don’t worry Kingo,” Druig continued. “you’ll probably just have to pick up her slack as usual since Ms. Puppy-dog is having another off day” .
Your heart twisted at the reference to your earlier confrontation. Looking out at Kingo you noticed his face had turned sour. “What’s your issue, dude?”
“Nothing” Druig huffed as he swung his sword once more.
“Clearing it’s something since you can’t shut your mouth for a mission” Kingo pressed. You knew he was angry on your behalf, especially since you two were fairly close. You found comfort in the sentiment but it seemed to be taking your collective attention away from the fight.
“It’s fine Kingo, let’s just focus.” You were grasping at straws to keep the peace. As they continued to bicker you felt them grow slower and slower against the attacking deviants.
“No, Y/N. It’s not fine.” Said Kingo. “I’m so tired of him running his mouth and nobody says anything.”
Druig scoffed. “Oh really? You don’t think I know what this is really about? You don’t give a shit how I treat Y/N. No, this is about Makkari.”
“Druig that’s enough” You warned.
Kingo was gradually getting closer to Druig, his eyes filled with more rage than you had ever seen the jokester have.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Druig. I don’t need an ulterior motive to say you’re an asshole.” Kingo said. His figure standing a few inches taller than the telepath.
Turning your attention from them, you noticed that as the argument progressed, your small trio had fallen behind the main group. Looking up ahead you looked to Phastos that was witnessing the bicker. “What’s going on? We have people to save up here!”
Deciding to take matters into your own hands you placed yourself between the two men and gave commands. “Kingo make up our lost ground and blast any deviant coming up behind the main group. Druig, I still need you and that sword so we’re going to continue down here.”
Kingo’s eyes shifted between you and the man in front of him.
“Please” You begged.
With a sigh he turned away from the two of you and started running up the hill.
Getting your mindset back into the fight you started attacking any deviant you could get your hands on with Druig in tow. It was harder now without Kingo but you were making do.
“You and Kingo are perfect for each other” You heard behind you. Druigs voice was serious and was full of resentment.
“I’m not doing this now” You said as you continued the fight.
“I bet you two just sit up all night waiting for Makkari and I to break up, eh? Make it a little club or something? You got Sprite in there too? ‘Cause we all know she’s ready to pounce on Ikar—”
His sentence was cut off by your fist hitting his cheek. “I don’t know what the fuck you think you are, but you are not going to speak about anyone that way” You said. Your blood was pumping more than it had been during the whole fight.
Stunned by your strike, Druig brought his hand to his lip that had split on contact. “You know what,” He shoved you back a few steps “I’m so tired of your shit. I’m tired of you sitting here acting like an innocent lamb. But that’s not true is it? No. Not with you constantly throwing yourself at me. And now you’re telling Kingo to talk shit about me to Makkari?”
“Me?” You said getting incredulously. “I didn’t tell Kingo to do anything. And just cause your girlfriend is starting to realize how much of an asshole you are, doesn’t mean you can treat me like trash”.
Druig let out a laugh before meeting his fist with your left cheek —ultimately knocking the wind out of you. You looked up to see Druig towering over you, his shadow blocking out the sun.
“Don’t you ever talk abo—” Druig’s sentence stopped abruptly. A look of utter horror and shock struck his face as he looked down to his chest.
Lodged just above his stomach was a claw. A deviants to be exact.
He had been impaled.
Suddenly the world had come to a halt. The indescribable sense of rage had left your body and had been replaced with the purest feeling of panic and terror. It had happened almost instantaneously: you’re body ignited and you were no longer a mere instrument of heat — you were on fire. Within a split second you had discovered your newfound power and burned the towering deviant to the ground; reducing it’s body to ash. Everything happened so fast that you still had time to reach out and catch Druig before he fell to the dirt.
“Druig? Druig.” You said as you slapped the side of his face.
His eyes were searching around as if he couldn’t make out exactly what was happening.
“Wh...what’s going on? Y/N, my chest...” His words were drowsy and he motioned to his ribs. “my chest...i-it hurts...”
You looked down to where the deviants claw was still embedded. You wanted to wait until Ajax could heal him before you even thought about removing it, but there was so much blood escaping around it.
Tears began to run down your face as you began to think of the worst. “Druig this is going to hurt but you’re going to be okay.” You used the tip of your finger like a welding gun to seal the gaps around the claw where the blood was escaping. You tried to ignore his grunts and screams but seeing him in pain like this only made you cry harder.
Unbeknownst to you, the defense group was having trouble of its own.
The other Eternals were having trouble with the increasing number of deviants trying to get to the humans. Even with the addition of Kingo, Makkari, and Sersi it wasn’t enough to hold back the blood-thirsty predators, and if they didn’t do something quick people were going to die.
“Where’s Druig and Y/N?” Yelled Sersi.
“They’re further down the hill” Kingo replied bitterly, recalling the argument from earlier.
Sprite huffed. “Well we need their help. Call them up here!
Looking down to where you two were located Phastos couldn’t quite make out what was going on, “Y/N we need you two up here!”
You were too preoccupied to care about what was happening uphill. The only thing on your mind was saving Druigs life and you were going to do that.
“Druig!” Sprite shouted in an attempt to get your collective attention.
As the fighting progressed more and more deviants pounced on the group, now outnumbering the Eternals greatly.
“Y/N!” Sersi begged.
“I can’t!” You cried glancing back down to the telepath, your mind frantic and overwhelmed.
You didn’t know what to do. Do you leave him here to die or go up to help your teammates? There was too much going on and you were frozen in place. You placed your hands over your ears to concentrate on your options. How could you get him up the hill? Was he too injured for you to move him? Where would you put him while you finished the battle? With all of these questions running through your head you didn’t notice how the world began to gradually quiet.
Your attention was taken by the sound of flesh tearing.
Looking up you saw that Thea, Gilgamesh, and Ajak had made it to the scene and were helping the rest of the group kill of the remaining deviants. They all worked like a fine oiled machine and finished off what was left of the predators.
As amazing as they were, you turned back towards the man on the ground.
“Druig” You said sternly. “Druig I need you to stay awake, okay? Can you do that for me?” You pleaded.
You looked for any sign that he understood what you but were met with none.
“Druig. Please please please, stay awake.” You said as you grasped his hand. “I’m sorry for all of that earlier, okay? When you wake up we’ll sort this out — and you’ll wake up — but please. We need you to stay awake, Ajak is going to be here soon. Just stay awake.” You sobbed.
You heard the sound of footsteps approach and saw your teammates had made it down the hill; each and everyone of them were converted in blood and dirt from the battle. If you hadn’t seen what had just happened you would’ve assumed they took a bath in blood.
Once in sight Ajak rushed to Druig’s side. Her face was full of worry and she was careful not to move him as she assessed his injury. The entire group was quiet as you all feared for the worst.
“He’s going to be okay”
You stood naked in front of the shower. You mind blank as your processed what had happened not even an hour earlier. Looking at your shaking hands you felt sick at the crimson red that stained them. You were covered in his blood and it shook you to the core just how close you were to having him die in your arms. Is this how you were going to live? On the edge of life and death?
You didn’t want that for yourself. You knew that much.
After getting cleaned up you made your way back to the main room to fetch your armor that hadn’t made it to the wash yet. Turning the last corner you were met with a surprise: your team waiting for you.
“I think we need to talk, Y/N” Ajak said firmly as she motioned for you to join the rest of them.
The feeling of anxiety once again was present in your mind as you made your way to the circle.
“You are an Eternal, correct?” She asked.
“Y...yes?” You weren’t sure exactly where this was going.
“Then why aren’t you acting like it?”
“Your job is to protect life on this planet no matter the cost. I know that. Druig knows that. Everybody in this circle knows that. So why don’t you?”
You were growing frustrated at her accusations. “What was I supposed to do? Let him die? What would happen if that was you, Ajak? Or anyone else here?” You questioned.
“Then I would expect you to do what’s best for the mission. You can’t let personal feelings get in the way of that. I love you all as if we were family but I will not compromise the job for anyone. We needed you out there. I heard that Sersi, Sprite, and Phastos called for help and you weren’t there! I know it’s hard but that is our reality. This is no time to be selfish; our mission comes before the individual and you need to figure that out.” Disappointment was evident in her voice as she looked you down. “Am I clear?”
“Yes.” You spat.
As the sun set over the desert horizon you were almost finished packing.
A couple pairs of clothes along with enough jewelry to pay lodgings and food was all you really needed for your journey. The thought of bringing more sentimental items flashed in your mind but you feared that it would make you turn back. Make you come back home to the war, and the loss, and the bullshit you just couldn’t deal with.
You sighed. Maybe running away is the cowardly thing to do but you knew Ajak was right; you had lost sight of the mission and you couldn’t go through the agony of watching your friends die one by one. It was just easier to cut them off; severing the relationships you had with them sounded a lot better than submitting yourself to the heartbreak of death. Now the important question was: did you even want to say goodbye? If you did you weren’t sure if you could actually leave. If Ikaris even got word of you trying to leave he’d report back to Ajak and that wasn’t something that you really wanted to face.
But you remembered that there was one person who couldn’t tell a soul.
Druig was lain out on a cot with a wool blanket draped over him. His chocolate hair was messy and his lips were cracked but to you he looked ethereal. He wasn’t awake of course — his condition would probably last a few days as Ajak had stated — but that didn’t stop you from saying goodbye.
You took a deep breath as you approached his sleeping figure. “I’m leaving. For good.”
You seated yourself on the side of his bed. “I know you probably don’t want me here but...I don’t have anyone else to talk to that won’t tell the others.”
You felt tears start pooling around your eyes as you continued. “You were right. Everyone was picking up my slack today and I just figured it’d be better if I took off, you know? Avoid facing a situation like this again. The whole thing today and last night...it just made me think. I can’t watch my friend die, Druig. How is everyone just okay with that? How am I wrong for valuing your life in such a way? I tried doing what’s best for the mission, it’s hard — so —hard to accept that because...”
Biting your tongue you debated your next words. “...because I’m in love with you. I’m in love with you and I couldn’t just let you go. Not even after how you treated me. And I’ve fought so fucking hard to keep myself together as I’ve watched you love someone else all-the-while you act disgusted by my existence. But despite all the signs telling me not to, I’ve loved you since we arrived on Earth. And I should have told you, and maybe —just maybe — that would’ve saved us all this shit,” You said motioning towards his injury.
“but you know what? Now I know.” You face grew into a scowl as you thought back through the thousands of years of insults and rejection. “I know that I didn’t deserve how you treated me. You actually made me believe that I was wicked for wanting you to like me — to treat me like a person — how crazy is that?” You half-joked.
“I’m not evil, or selfish, or any other name you’ve slapped on me because...because I deserve love. I want someone to love me just as passionately as I did you, and I want to make connections with people who I won’t have to leave after a week, and I want a life filled with friends that won’t abandon me for some stupid fucking mission!” You cried.
“And guess what, Druig?” You stood up, and wiped the tears from your eyes with your sleeve.
“I’m going to find it”
A/N: Thank you for reading! Ive never really written fan-fiction before but I really wanted more Druig content so here you go. Lmk what y’all think and I’ll try to figure out how to open my requests lmao
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seiyasabi · 10 months ago
A Farmer Boy’s Crush
(This is a Yandere Ushijima x Female Reader story! I’m sorry in advance, because I think this man is scary ;(( Also, there will be no part two of this, and I’m sorry if it sucks lol.
TW: !Noncon!, Stalker Ushi!, Size kink!, Cumflation!, Spanking!, Dacryphilia?, Choking!, Breeding Kink!, Cockwarming, Threatening behaviour!, etc.. 
Please proceed with caution!)
“I’m sorry, Ushijima-san, but I’m not interested in you. I’m focusing on my career, so I don’t have time for a relationship.”
It started when you were in highschool. 
The volleyball player confessed to you on Valentines Day, equipped with handmade chocolates and roses from his Mother’s garden. At the time, you had no interest in boys. You were way too focused on your future career, viewing a significant other as a distraction. Ushijima, to his credit, didn’t lose his temper when you turned him down. He nodded, silently stalking off to the gym, his posture perfectly straight. 
You’d brushed the entire event off, feeling guilty for turning him down so nonchalantly, but also standing your ground. The large man has a harem of girls, and you were sure he’d find a girlfriend that would treat him right. 
But, what you didn’t know, was that all he wanted was you. He could never go for another girl, because you’re one of a kind. 
He loves how you pick weeds out of the pavement, loves how you help old people bring their groceries to their car, loves how you’re YOU. 
So, in his spare time (aka, when he’s not playing volleyball), he watches you. He’d followed you home one day, and he spotted you through your curtainless window. 
That’s how it started; watching. 
But watching wasn’t enough.
Soon, he’d break into your home, snagging a worn t-shirt or panties, a chapstick on your desk, a polaroid you recently took, etc.. Once in his possession, he’d stalk off home at a leisure pace. Ushijima would then place the item in the shrine in his closet, relishing the new item in his collection. 
This went on for years, up until today. Today, he’d had enough. He’d heard from your friends on campus that you’d scored a date with a boy named ‘Kane,’ causing the large man to drive like a mad man in the direction of your home. 
Seeing you from your room’s curtainless window, his nose flares in anger. You’re in a cute cherry patterned dress, (applying makeup/doing your skincare routine) in your vanity table’s mirror. 
Stomping up your concrete front stairs, he grabs the hidden key in your potted plant outside, and slips inside. Wakatoshi makes his way up your house’s steps, creeping towards your closed door. He can hear music playing, most likely from your phone, and can see your shadow moving from underneath your door. 
Grasping your metal door handle, he steps inside your air freshener infused room. His presence startles you, and he can’t help but feel pleasure at the look of shock on your face. 
“Ushijima-san? What the hell are you doing-?” His large hand grips your throat, dragging you to your lilac coloured sheets. The olive haired man forces you onto your mattress, large body stradling your smaller form. Your weak attempt at freeing yourself is heartwarming, your spluttering and hits seem kitten-like. 
“Why would you go to someone else?” You try to respond, but are unable to, his ministrations not allowing you to breathe. Noticing this, he releases his vice-like grip, merely hovering his calloused hand over your throat. 
“What-” Your voice cracks, causing you to clear your throat, as tears drip down your pretty face, “What are you talking about? Why are you in my house?” 
He ignores your questions, steely gaze glaring down at you, “Kane cannot provide for you. I have a stable income, he does not. I have my own home, he does not. He has no redeemable qualities. I cannot understand why you would wish to date him, when I am already in the picture.”
You start to sob pathetically, not understanding why your scary ex-classmate is assaulting you verbally and physically, “Ushijima, I don’t understand what you’re talking about! I haven’t spoken to you for years-”
His grip around your throat tightens once more, as he speaks through gritted teeth, “We may not have spoken, but I’ve kept a close eye on you. What happened to you ‘focusing on your career?’ You were such a good, hardworking girl until this point, but now you’re suddenly whoring yourself out to an unimpressive boy. Let me show you who you belong to, (Your Name), because it seems that you’ve forgotten.”
 Smacking at his muscular arms, you try to struggle out of his grip. Wakatoshi’s thick fingers tug at the zipper on the side of your dress, slipping it open with ease. He slides the thin straps off of your shoulders, forcing the straps up over your hands, and sliding the entire garment off of you. You’re left in your unmatching strapless bra and panties. He hums in delight at the sight; this must mean that you weren’t going to open your legs for that boy. 
“You look beautiful,” He releases his grip just enough for you to breathe with ease, before ragdolling you over his muscular thigh. Your cute ass is on display to the olive haired man, his warm palm ghosting over the fat, “It’s a shame that I must put you in your place.”
Without warning, he slams his hand down, all whilst his free one covers your mouth. A scream rips from your throat, only to be muffled by your ex-classmate. Raising his previously used hand, he spanks you once more, the skin on your ass feeling like it’s on fire. 
“I’m going to spank you twenty-five times, don’t try to struggle. If you do, I’ll increase it to fifty,” All you can do is sob in response, causing the large man to continue his assault. The ex-volleyball player doesn’t hold back in the slightest, bruising your ass down to the muscle. By the time he’s finished, your entire body is shaking, face slick with snot and tears. Ushijima can’t help but grow hard at your pain fueled expression. You’re just too cute, “Good. Now, let me reward you for your behaviour.”
You shake your head no, muffled pleas of ‘stop’ just barely heard. Your ex-classmate refuses to acknowledge your words, instead pulling your bruising ass against his hard cock. He unbuttons his trousers, pulling out his long, thick cock. It slaps against your bare stomach, as Ushijima shucks your panties and bra off of your body, exposing you fully to him. Removing his hand from your mouth, you’re finally able to speak as he gropes the fat of your tits, “Please stop! Don’t do this! I’m sorry that I refused you in highschool! Why don’t we go on a date right now? I-if we do that, then we can wait-” 
“Shh, there’s no need to panic. We can go to dinner after this; I’ve waited too long for this,” Long fingers reach down to play with your clit, rubbing and squeezing the bundle of nerves with two fingers. His ring finger dips into your opening, forcing your dry walls open. 
“Ushijima, please-”
“Call me Wakatoshi. We’re dating, afterall,” forcing his finger in and out whilst rubbing your clit, making your walls slick without your consent. 
“Wakatoshi-” He removes his finger from inside of you, before quickly replacing it with the tip of his red, precum slicked cock. Without warning, he slips inside, spearing you open painfully. A loud yelp leaves your lips, as more tears drip down your face, “Take it out! Take it out! It hurts so bad!” 
He relishes the way your slightly moistened walls knead him, practically sucking him in. He rubs your clit with quick, small circles, trying to help you accommodate his size. This, in turn, allows his wrist to lay against your tummy, feeling the way your tummy distends with his cock. 
“You’re so tight. I always knew you were perfect for me,” He starts to bounce you on his prick, making it feel like your pussy was being ripped from your body. A small scream leaves your lips at the feeling, only for you to be silenced by a heated kiss. Waka’s body curls into your own, forcing you further onto his cock, and making it even harder for you to get off of him. 
He bucks up into you like a mad man, fucking you on his length at top speed. The pain you previously felt slowly turns into pleasure, as the pressure on your clit increases. A few small moans escape your mouth into his, as he swallows them whole. 
Wakatoshi lightly smacks your clit, making your eyes roll to the back of your head in pleasure. He releases you from the kiss, choosing instead to suck hickies onto your lolling neck. He grunts at the feeling of you tightening with an oncoming orgasm, as he rubs your clit as hard and fast as he can. 
“Cum for me, cum right now. Let your womb swallow my seed, (Your Name), it’s clear that you need my baby to set you straight,” More tears drip down your face as you try to stop yourself from cumming. 
“No! I don’t want a baby!” Waka doesn’t respond, only slapping your clit one last time. A strangled scream erupts from your throat, as you squirt all over him and your light coloured sheets. The force almost knocks him out of you, but he presses you down completely on his cock, allowing him to cum directly against your unprotected cervix. 
Your body shakes with your sobs as you wrap yourself with your arms, and you try to get off of him. Wakatoshi wraps you in a constricting hug, keeping you completely enveloped by his large frame. 
“You’re such a good girl for me, (Your Name). Now, let’s get you home, you clearly can’t be independent. Just rely on me, and I’ll keep you well fed and happy.”
You shake your head no, trying to escape his arms, but it’s no use. He’s so much bigger and stronger than you, making it virtually impossible for you to escape. 
Grabbing your blanket, he wraps you with it, before standing to his feet. His cock is still inside of you, as he walks out of your house, and towards his parked Kei truck. He opens the door, and slips inside, you still cockwarming him. He sets a hand on your distended, cumfilled belly, and sighs in content. 
“Everything will be alright. Let’s get back to the farm, and I’ll make you a nutritious meal. After all, you need to be strong for our growing baby.” 
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edna-skiffens · 9 months ago
The Best Medicine
Summary: You are in the hospital, but you can never sleep in hospitals. Good thing you have a very attractive night shift nurse who is willing to help out.
Word Count: 4.5K
Warnings: hospitals, light med talk, bad medical writing, fluff
A/N: Please ignore the plot holes or the fact that this isn’t the most realistic and also I know this isn’t how discharge works at the hospital.. It’s called fiction for a reason, darling. Also, I left the reason the reader is in the hospital open ended bc some of us may have medical conditions/reasons that we can attach to this, but if not I tried to keep it vague enough on purpose so that you can imagine whatever. Also if you like Nurse!Tom and have requests for him lmk bc i’m happy to write for him.
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Toss and turn. Toss and turn. The routine was getting old. This was your third night in the hospital and sleep just wasn’t coming to you.
Maybe it was the medicine they had you on. Maybe it was the constant symphony of sounds and people passing in the hallway. Maybe it was because you weren’t at home in your own bed.
Maybe it was just because you were in the hospital.
You couldn’t be sure. What you were sure of is that you weren’t falling asleep anytime soon.
Feeling another presence in the room, you looked from the ceiling to the doorway where you saw Tom, one of the night shift nurses, standing cautiously.
“I didn’t wake you did I?” He asked as he eased his way inside.
“So no sleep again, huh?”
“Sorry darling. Let’s go ahead and get these vitals over with.” He took your blood pressure, oxygen levels, temperature and wrote it down in your chart. Putting the clipboard back on its hook at the end of the bed, he looked up at your tired face. “Okay. So now about that sleep. What do you think will help?”
“Not being in the hospital.”
He chuckled lightly while walking back towards your bedside.
“I know. You hate it here. You’ve made that very clear and I try not to take too much offense to it.” You let out a slight laugh and held back the fact that he was the best part of this whole experience. He almost made it worth it. “I’m sorry we can’t give you any sleeping medication. Do you think it’ll help if I talk to you?”
“You mean tell me bedtime stories?” You couldn’t help but tease him at the adorable suggestion, though it sent a swarm of butterflies off in your stomach.
“I was thinking more like bore you ‘till you fell asleep. But whatever works.”
“You’re the nurse. If you think it’ll help.” You both sat there smirking at each other for a moment. Something unspoken floating in the air between you two.
“Well, I need to finish my round of vitals first. I’ll come check on you when I’m done and if you’re still up we’ll see about those stories.”
“I’ll be here.”
About fifteen or twenty minutes later you heard a light tap on your door followed by “Still awake?”
“You up for a chat?” Tom asked as he made his way to the stool then rolled slightly closer to your bed.
“Got nothing better to do.” You teased again.
“Okay. Well you should probably lay down.”
“Oh. It’s going to be that kind of story, huh?” His laugh was so beautiful and you were happy you were the cause of it.
“No.” He corrected in between laughs “The goal is to get you to sleep. So sitting up won’t help.”
“Right. Right.”
“Well.. anything in particular you’d like to talk about?”
“Why did you choose to become a nurse?”
“Ahhh. Good question. So I actually went to an art school.” You couldn’t help the brief expression of surprise that crossed your face. “I know. Shocking. I did training specifically in dance and gymnastics and I loved it.”
“Wait, so what happened?” You asked, turning on your side to face him more comfortably.
“Well one day we were rehearsing for a show and I fell. Ruined my knee. Had to do physical therapy for months. I tried to get back into it, but it just wasn’t the same. However, through that process I learned a lot about medicine and the health side of things. It really turned me on to it. And when my Plan A got a bit messed up I thought ‘hey, this could work’. So far it’s treated me pretty well.”
You smiled at Tom, admiring his passion for his career and the determination he had to keep pushing after his accident. You enjoyed hearing him talk about it too. If you didn’t know any better you would say it was helping you relax.
“My story that boring?”
“Your sarcasm has no end.”
“Oh… goodness.. you thought that was sarcasm?”
Tom only laughed and shook his head the way he often did with you.
You may just have been his patient and he may have just been your nurse, but you both bonded. He kept you company and gave you comfort. In return, you kept him entertained during the quiet night shifts.
“I’m not going to sleep. I'm just resting my eyes. But still listening.” You told him as you nestled further into the hospital bed, trying to find a position that would make it comfortable.
“Okay, darling.” He grinned at you.
“Tell me more. What kind of-” You had to stop to yawn, “What kind of art stuff did you do?”
“Oh. Well, I was in a few musicals. I really enjoyed dancing. I did ballet ever since I was young and I love the control I have over my body. The tricks I can do with gymnastics or the turns and leaps. I mean I can’t do them to that level anymore, but I try to stay active.” He glanced up and noticed you hadn’t moved, “Are you still with me?”
“Mhm.” You barely respond.
“Okay. Well it was a performing arts school so we really were trained in many areas. We had classes in acting, singing, dancing, all of it. It was a lot of fun and I met my best friends there.”
Tom began telling stories about his time at school. Before he knew it, he lost himself and track of time. He looked back at you, quiet and still.
“Y/N?” You were finally asleep. “Goodnight, darling.” He whispered as he gently made his exit.
Because Tom worked the night shift, you never saw him when you woke in the morning. Instead, Tanya, a sweet nurse that felt like a big sister, or Linda, Nurse Ratched in the flesh, came in for morning vitals and meds.
You counted down the days until your release. Life in the hospital was pretty uneventful with the limit on visitors and limited activity. There’s only so many sitcoms one can take in a given timespan. The only thing that you really looked forward to each night was when Tom clocked in.
“Hi Y/N.”
“Hi Tom.” You would smile at each other.
“How are we feeling today?”
“Better. Ready to get out of here.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear you are feeling better and still ready to jailbreak.” He smiled while writing something down on your chart. “They should be bringing up your dinner tray soon and then I’ll bring by your evening meds after that.”
“If you need me you know what to do.” He called to you before walking out the door.
You were disappointed when Shelley brought your evening meds by later. She was a nice enough nurse. She just wasn’t Tom.
You’d grown accustomed to mainly having him as your nurse during the evening shift. At first you weren’t sure if it was coincidence or on purpose, but after a few nights of staying up and talking, you grew closer to him. You saw less of the other nursing staff and more of Tom.
You tried not to build anything up in your head. You were sure everything he was doing was in his job description and a part of being a good nurse.
He would sneak you extra pudding cups from the cafeteria and bring you an extra heated blanket because you could never stay warm. If you needed a new IV, he held your hand to ease the anxiety. He kept you company and made you feel less alone in such a sterile and intimidating place. And when he noticed you had trouble sleeping he chose to sit with you to help you fall asleep. You couldn’t help the butterflies that built in your stomach.
It became a sort of routine. He checked on you during evening vitals, even if someone else was doing them, and you were always still awake. He would then come and sit with you and chat for a bit, telling you different stories until you eventually fell asleep.
Some nights when you were extra restless he would help you walk the halls.
“The doctors have to see you’re stable enough before you can be discharged. Plus, maybe it’ll tire you out.” He suggested.
He would help get your IV pole ready so you could walk with it. He helped you into your slippers and eased you out of bed after passing you your robe.
Walking the hall slowly, Tom knew he had to remain professional, yet he found a few excuses to graze his hand across your back to ‘steady you’ when you turned corners or he thought you were looking tired.
“It might take me a while to get back to my usual jogs in the park, huh?” You laughed in spite of yourself.
“You’ll get there. Baby steps.” He encouraged, as you turned around the Nurse’s Station. You missed the faces the other night shift nurses were giving you both, but Tom was sure to subtly flick them off. “So, do you like running?” He asked as you headed back towards your room.
Throughout your late nights together, he told you of his three younger brothers and his dog named Tessa. You spoke about what you would do when you were out of hospital. He talked about his friends and flatmates and the adventures they had. He told you many stories, but each morning when you woke up he was clocked out and the day shift nurses were there.
Tonight was your last night. You’re set to be discharged tomorrow and while you are ecstatic to go home, you’re going to miss one thing about this place.
“I bet you’re too excited to sleep tonight. I don’t know if my stories will even help.” Tom said as he sat down next to you.
You smiled up to him sweetly.
“What are you looking forward to the most once you get out of here?”
“Sleeping in my own bed.”
“Well that’s no surprise.” Tom laughed, a contagious sound making you giggle as well. “Isn’t there anything you’ll miss about this place?”
“Yeah.” He smiled “There’s one thing.”
“What’s that?” He asks.
“The pudding cups.”
“Ahh the pudding cups of course.” You giggled while fiddling with the IV line.
“They just don’t taste the same in the outside world.”
His smile grew wider as you giggled.
“No, but really. As much as I give this place grief and say I’m ready to get out of here - which I am,” You gave him a pointed look to which he held his hands up in mock surrender, fully believing you, “it hasn’t been too terribly awful I guess.”
“Oh, well, I’m glad we could make your stay not too terribly awful.. I guess.” He teased. “Do you have anything exciting to look forward to once you’re a free woman?”
“Nothing huge planned, really. The doctors did say to take it easy.”
“That’d be wise.”
“Yeah. I’ll just lay low for a while. My sister said she may try to come visit me though so that would be nice.”
“Oh that would be nice. She’s your older sister right?”
“Right. She moved away last year to be closer to her boyfriend.”
“Ah. Do you like him?”
“This boyfriend. Do you like him?”
“He’s alright, I suppose. He makes her happy.” Tom nodded along.
“And do you have a boyfriend that makes you happy?”
“N-No. No I don’t. Not at the moment.” You began fiddling with the IV cord again.
“No boyfriend or not a boyfriend that makes you happy?” He asked.
“Well that’s a shame.” If the heart monitor was connected you would’ve been screwed. “I just mean someone needs to look after you once you get home. I hope this sister comes through for a visit. You’ve got to take it easy.”
“Oh I’ll be fine.”
“I’m sure you will be.” He smiled.
“How has your shift been tonight? Busy?” You asked, fighting back a yawn.
“A bit busier than usual. There was a slight emergency earlier which is why Shelley handed out meds tonight. Sorry I didn’t come around.”
“It’s alright. I know you have other patients.”
“Yeah, but none like you.” You were sure he said that to all of his patients. After all, you’ve heard similar lines ever since you went to the pediatrician as a child. But it still gave you butterflies.
“Are you getting sleepy?”
“A little. But it’s okay.” He gave you a pointed look but continued to talk anyway. “It’s the last night. One final request for storytime. Make it a good one.”
You thought for a moment before asking your question.
“Do you ever wish that life turned out differently? That you never had your accident and you could’ve followed your dreams to be a dancer?” You asked while turning on your side and getting more comfortable.
“Sometimes. At least, I used to. But I think I’ve accepted it now. And I really can’t see myself doing anything but this.” You nodded taking in his answer “I look at it this way. If it wasn’t for my injury then I never would’ve changed my career path and found my love for medicine. I never would have made so many of the friends I’ve made or the memories I’ve made. I never would have met you.” He finishes with a sweet smile.
“That’s a very positive way of looking at it.” You told him. “Be honest, are you a therapist during the day?” He laughed out loud.
“No. I’m not. I guess I’m a big believer in ‘everything happens for a reason’.” You nodded while covering a yawn.
“So I’ve been curious to ask you,” He began, “Do you usually have this much trouble sleeping? Because you can get help for that you know?” You smiled at him.
“What? I thought a night nurse talking to you was the cure?” Tom smirked and shook his head. “I’m kidding. No, I normally don’t. It’s just the stiff sheets and hospital sounds I think.”
“Darn hospital.” He rolled his eyes and joked. “So this time tomorrow you’ll be sound asleep in your own bed then?”
You knew it was meant to be a happy statement, but you were a little sad at the thought of not having any more late night chats with Tom.
“Yes. Thank God.” You forced a smile.
You felt another yawn coming and tried to hold it back. It was already past the usual time that you fell asleep.
Tom could tell you were exhausted so he launched into a story from nursing school, hoping to lull you to sleep.
You yawned your way through listening, trying to soak up every last moment with Tom. In the morning he wouldn’t be here. You’d leave and likely never see him again.
When he finished, your eyes were half open and he wondered how you were still awake. Or maybe why.
“Why are you fighting it? The point is to sleep. Give in.” He told you gently after another yawn.
You looked up at him, half asleep and rubbing your eyes, not finding the confidence to tell him the true reason you were trying to stay awake.
“I’m happy right now.”
He smiled down at you.
“I am too. But you need your sleep, darling.” You weren’t sure what to say and you didn’t have much energy left in you anyway. “How about this. I’ve probably been in here too long as it is. Let me go check in at the Nurse’s Station and then I’ll come back and check on you soon and see if you’re still awake okay?”
The thought that he was leaving gave you a sad feeling in your stomach. You tried to remind yourself that he was just your nurse. Nothing more.
“Okay.” You smiled at him, sleepily, while settling further into the bed.
He stood up and instead of walking towards the door he walked closer to you. He grabbed the thin, white hospital blanket and pulled it closer around your shoulders.
“Goodnight, Y/N.” He whispered before he walked to the door.
“Tom?” You called out just before he opened it. He turned around with an expectant look, “Thanks for everything.”
Even though the room was dim you could see his smile.
“You’re welcome, Y/N. Get some sleep.”
You don’t remember much after that. You don’t know if Tom came back to check on you. You just remember falling asleep with a smile on your face.
When you woke up the following morning it felt like any other morning in the hospital.
The hallways were much louder. Beeps, chatter, and phones were constant. The lights were brighter.
But you were quickly reminded that it wasn’t any other morning. You were going home today.
The door creaked open and Tanya, one of your regular daytime nurses, poked her head in.
“Oh good you’re up.” She made her way inside and over to the gloves. “How’d you sleep?”
“Pretty good. Thanks.” She gave you a smile, something hidden behind it.
“I’m sure.” She said quietly to herself. You gave her a questioning look. “Oh I just mean I’m sure you’re excited to get out of here.”
You nodded as she took your vitals one last time.
“Everything looks good. What do you say about getting this IV out?”
“I say that sounds amazing.”
She took it out and bandaged up your arm while informing you of how the morning would go.
“Dr. McCoy is making rounds now then he’ll be by soon to go over your discharge. You can get dressed whenever you’re ready. If you need help, buzz me. You’ll still have a breakfast tray come, but you don’t have to eat it.” She gave you a wink while taking off her gloves.
“Thanks Tanya.”
“Of course, sweetie. And in case I don’t see you before you go, you’ve been a wonderful patient. Take care of yourself.” You smiled at her as she left you to change into some leggings and a sweatshirt.
You were packing your remaining things into your bag when your doctor walked in.
“Y/N! How are we doing today?”
“We’re doing great because we’re going home.” You smiled while taking a seat to rest for a few minutes.
“I know you’re excited.” He laughed before explaining the conditions of your discharge. You had medicines to take, a follow up appointment, and strict instructions to rest for the next few weeks. After signing some forms he left you with a stack of papers. “Is someone coming to pick you up?”
“Yeah my neighbor should be here within an hour.”
“Sounds good. Don’t hesitate to call us or come back in if you have any trouble or questions.”
“Will do. Thanks.”
A few minutes after he left a nurse brought in your breakfast tray. There wasn’t much of a point for it but since your discharge wasn’t technically until 10:30 am you were still a patient during breakfast.
You took the pudding cup that you requested with every meal off the tray before sliding it away. Smiling to yourself, you tucked it away in your bag. All you had left to do was wait for 10:30.
Tanya came in to check on you again and told you to buzz the Nurse’s Station when you knew your ride was here. At 10:27 you had a text from your neighbor that they were out front in the pickup zone. So you hit the call button.
“Yes?” Linda, the scariest dayshift nurse, answered.
“Um hi. Tanya told me to buzz in when my ride was here so I could go down.”
“Okay we’ll be right in.”
Not even a minute later you heard your door open. Expecting to see Tanya or maybe even Linda you looked up.
An audible gasp left your lips when Tom stood in your doorway with a wheelchair.
“I hear someone needs a ride?” He smiled as he made his way closer to the bed.
“Tom. What are you still doing here?”
“I pulled a double.” You wanted to ask why, but decided against it. You were still in a little bit of shock from seeing him again. “If you’d rather I can go get Linda to walk you down?” He pointed back towards your door.
“No! No.. I’m just surprised s’all.”
“Well come on. I thought you’d be running out of this place once the clock hit 10:30.” Glancing up you saw it was now 10:34. Your neighbor is probably tired of waiting already.
You grabbed your discharge papers and reached for your bag when you heard, “I got it.” Smiling at him, you sat down in the wheelchair. Tom placed the bag around his shoulder and kicked the brakes off the chair. “Ready?” You nodded up at him.
He rolled you out of the room that felt so small for a final time. You passed the Nurse’s Station and waved bye to the staff. He turned by the elevators and when you looked up at him in question, he read your mind. Looked down at you he said, “We’re taking the staff elevators.”
When you made it there he hit the button, turning you around and backing you in once the doors opened. He hit the button for the Lobby and leaned up against the wall of the elevator, briefly glancing at you, as you rode down together.
“Well you made it. You’re a free woman.” He smiled shyly.
“Yippee.” He met your eyes for a moment before looking back to the floor. The dynamics felt different. It wasn’t like your late night talks together.
“Listen, Y/N.” Tom began as he stood up from the wall and faced you. He was about to continue when the elevator ding cut him off, signaling you had reached your destination.
Maybe that was what was different. You had reached your destination.
You had a fun time talking with Tom and entertaining each other when you were both up late at night. He was fun to get to know and you enjoyed having someone care for you. He was easy to banter with and certainly easy on the eyes. But your time at the hospital was up. You knew it would be eventually. You wanted it to be.
Tom was a nurse. He was just doing his job. He was helping take care of you. He was being nice. He was trying to make your stay more comfortable. There was nothing to read into.
Your time being his patient was up and your time with him was up.
You tried to remain realistic, but the sadness still crept up as he rolled you closer to the door.
Once outside, you saw your neighbor exit the car and wave you over. Tom steered in the direction and slowed before rolling to a stop and hitting the brake locks on the wheels.
“Hi, I’m Taylor.”
“Tom.” They shook hands as Tom passed off your bag for Taylor to put in the backseat.
“I’m sorry for the circumstances, but it really has been a pleasure having you as a patient and getting to know you, Y/N.” Tom admitted as he walked around to face you. He grabbed the papers from your lap. “Take care of yourself, okay?” You had shared many smiles with Tom, but this one felt sadder.
“I will. Thank you for everything, Tom. I mean it.” You reached up and squeezed his hand. He gave you a light squeeze back while smiling down at you. Taylor returned from the backseat of the car and Tom turned to them.
“These are her important papers about follow up appointments, medications, what to do at home, all of that so please make sure she doesn’t lose any of them.” He emphasized the point.
“Got it. Thanks.” Taylor held onto the stack while Tom turned back to you.
“If I can’t handle a few papers on my own, then maybe I shouldn’t be going home yet, Tom.” You laughed.
“I know, I just wanted to make sure they made it home with you.” He walked closer. “You ready to get in?”
“Yeah.” You nodded. He helped you up, supporting you just as a precaution. Once seated, you took a moment to catch your breath as you pulled the seatbelt down. He met your hand, taking it from you to buckle you in.
“You good?”
You nodded with a smile, “Just a little tired. No biggie.”
He looked you over before returning your smile, though his didn’t quite reach his eyes, “If you need us, call us. Otherwise go home and rest.”
This was it. This was goodbye.
“Thanks, Tom.”
“Goodbye, Y/N.”
He shut the door. He walked back to the wheelchair, released the brake locks and headed inside. He looked back only when your car was driving away.
“Here’s those papers that are so important.” Taylor handed you the stack after they got in.
“So how are you feeling?”
“Better. Thanks.” You felt them looking at you as they joined traffic.
“You sure? You sound like you feel awful.”
You try to remind yourself to forget the sweet and attractive nurse and start moving forward.
“Yeah. Yeah I’m okay.” You decide to distract yourself by reading through your discharge paperwork, when something caught your eye. On top was a sticky note with the hospital’s letterhead. You were sure it wasn’t there before. Looking closer it read,
In case you need someone to talk to when you can’t sleep.
P. S. I have a connection to some pretty good pudding cups too.
The smile that grew on your face was undeniable. All the feelings you suppressed came flooding in. He wasn’t just being nice. He actually liked you.
One thing you knew for sure was that even though you would be in your own bed tonight, you still would be up, talking to a very special nurse.
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helaintoloki · 8 months ago
Everybody Loves Somebody
pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader
warnings: slight language, themes of insecurity, angst, pining, slow burn (kinda?), eventual fluff, over 5k words in length
notes: it’s finally finished! this took forever but I swear I put my entire soul into making this as perfect as it could be. I’ve never used this format before in my writing and it was challenging but also super fun so hopefully you guys like it :) (also yes the title and the fic somewhat is inspired by the Dean Martin song)
summary: Thrown into a blind date against his will, Bucky does his best to prepare in the days leading up to Saturday night, a feat that proves to be much more difficult than expected thanks to his neighbor across the hall.
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Three quick raps on the apartment door force Bucky to kick back the covers and sluggishly rise from his spot on the floor. He’s exhausted, but his recognition of the evenly spaced knocks on the wooden frame has him feeling compelled to answer, and so he does. Too tired to notice the television is still droning on in the background, Bucky idly wraps his discarded blanket around his form to shield his vibranium arm before opening the door to greet the old man standing on the other side.
“Rough night, huh?” Yori greets with a knowing smile.
“Something like that,” he replies with a tired, lopsided grin. “What are you doing here so early?”
“I set you up on a date,” the man says casually, as if setting Bucky up on dates without his knowledge and against his will is a common every day occurrence, and it is. “Saturday evening at six.”
“What— A date? Yori—“
“She’s a nice girl, very pretty. I think you’ll like her.”
“Now hang on a minute,” Bucky tries to interject, but Yori is already halfway down the hall before the super soldier can get another word in.
“You’re meeting her at the Italian place down the street!” Yori calls behind him. “She likes sunflowers!”
The old man’s shouts are sure to have woken up the entire fourth floor by now, but Bucky is too busy trying to process the jumble of information that has been thrust upon him so suddenly and so early in the morning to care. The last date Yori had sent him on had ended in disaster; Bucky wasn’t ready to get back out on the field, a stable relationship wasn’t in the cards for him. Surely no one in their right mind would stick around once they found out the truth about the man, and if they did it would only be a matter of time before the constant nightmares and extra baggage that came with dating the ex-Hydra assassin sent them running for the hills. But Yori meant well, Bucky knew that, and he also knew he owed the man more than he could ever give him in return, so if sitting through another painfully uncomfortable date would make him happy, then Bucky would just have to suck it up, put on the nicest shirt he owned, and charm his way through another awkward dinner.
“Sunflowers,” he grumbles to himself, quietly shutting the door before returning to his spot on the cold hardwood floor.
Monday mornings are gym mornings, early workouts that start at five and end at seven. He promptly returns to the apartment building at seven thirty, eight if he stops for breakfast, then goes to check the mail before heading back to the comfort of his sheltered apartment. He doesn’t receive much other than grocery coupons and an odd letter from the government every now and then, but he’s been told that a routine is good, it’s healthy, so on Monday mornings at seven thirty—or eight— Bucky pulls out his keys and opens his assigned metal box with a sense of indifference.
It’s eight o’clock on this particular morning, and with a half finished cup of coffee in hand the soldier opens the little metal compartment to find nothing other than stray specks of dust and the tiniest of spiderwebs in the top right corner of the box. It’s a familiar sight, but Bucky has learned not to let it bother him by now. Remember James, it has nothing to do with you, his therapist always said. You have to learn not to take things personally.
“It has nothing to do with me,” Bucky murmurs quietly before finally shutting his mailbox with a sigh. Coffee cup discarded in the nearby trash can, Bucky turns to make his trek towards the elevator only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight of a beautifully familiar face.
Your name is y/n, you live on the fourth floor, and for someone reason you’re always covered in glitter. You’re on your way out the door, art supplies held clumsily in your grasp just begging to jump free from your hold, and despite the rush you seem to be in you still greet the man with a polite smile.
“Good morning,” you chime, honey coated voice filled with warmth and kindness for the stranger. Bucky simply gives you a halfhearted smile in return, watching you walk out the door and wishing he could just muster up the courage to speak to you.
You won the soldier’s heart the day you knocked on his door to drop off a “welcome to the neighborhood” casserole. It had only been his second day in his new apartment, and while he knew some of the other tenants were weary of the mysterious man with the thousand yard stare who had decided to call the building a home, you never once seemed to bat an eye at Bucky or his closed off nature. He had been a little short with you upon your first meeting, his anxiety coming off as annoyance, but still you wore that same kind smile of yours and assured him that if he ever needed anything you’d be happy to help. You were a kind person with a big heart, and Bucky didn’t want to chance snuffing out one of the few lights left in the world, so he let you be. Admiring you from afar was all he let himself have of you, and that was it.
Though, Bucky would be lying if he said you didn’t come across his mind every once in a while. He wondered what you were like, what music you listened to, how you liked your eggs in the morning, if you were an old soul or young at heart, if you’d ever let yourself fall into in the arms of a broken man and help pick up the pieces. It was a pipe dream, but sometimes a friendly smile from you in the morning was enough to get Bucky through an entire day. He hadn’t been with anyone in years, and while he didn’t think he was ready to get back out on the dating scene just yet he knew that if you asked him to he’d take the plunge in a heartbeat. You were an angel, and Bucky would never be able to bring himself to taint you with his touch.
Monday mornings are workout mornings, but they’re also mornings with you.
On Tuesday afternoons Bucky often finds himself in the company of Yori, ensuring the old man stays out of trouble and going out of his way to make sure his newest friend has a nice day out on the town. It isn’t much, and it never will be, but it’s enough for now, at least until Bucky can find the courage to tell the father just what exactly happened to his son on that fateful night. But until then, sushi for lunch will have to do.
He makes his usual trek to the man’s apartment, stomach already beginning to rumble at the prospect of a nice crunch roll, but Bucky’s hunger is soon replaced with nerves at the sight of the woman standing in Yori’s doorway.
You look pretty today, hair haphazardly styled in your rush out the door this morning, colorful stains of dry paint adoring your hands that clutch a bundle of books close to your chest, and a dangly pair of earrings that glint underneath the sunlight pouring through the hallway windows. There’s a smile on your face as you nod along to something Yori says that doesn’t quite register in the soldier’s jumbled thoughts, and the two of you are both too engrossed to notice his lingering presence standing just a few feet away.
“Thank you so much for lending me these. The kids keep me on my toes and I haven’t had any time to settle down with a good book so these were perfect,” you utter gratefully, handing off the pile of poetry books to Yori’s awaiting hands. Names of authors that Bucky doesn’t recognize catch his eye, just as his friend finally catches his presence.
“Of course. I have more if you’re ever interested,” he says before finally addressing the elephant in the hallway. “James, there you are. I was starting to think you wouldn’t make it.”
Bucky stiffens at the sound of his name, heat immediately crawling up his neck as you turn to him with a friendly smile. Clearing his throat, he steps forward and musters up a meager grin in return.
“Like I’d ever miss Tuesday lunch,” he jokes, a nervous chuckle falling past his lips.
“I guess I better get going. Thank you again, Yori,” you chime with a grateful smile. Then, with your attention turned to Bucky, “Have a nice lunch, James.”
“Thank you...” he trails quietly, mentally kicking himself for his stiff demeanor and wishing he could be less pathetic in your presence just once. Just once and he’d die a happy man.
You leave with a polite smile, turning down the hallway and out of Bucky’s grasp once again. Yori elbows his side.
“She’s single, you know.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Bucky replies with a wry chuckle. “You have me set up with one girl already.”
“Right,” Yori notes thoughtfully with a knowing smile and a mischievous glint in his eyes that Bucky can’t quite decipher. “I think you’re going to have a nice time on your date.”
“We’ll see,” is all he says in reply, your smile the only thing on his mind as the two men head out for the day.
Bucky has grown to love rainy days, days in which he can remain tucked away in the warmth and comfort of his own home with a relaxing mug of hot chocolate in one hand and some piece of pop culture media he has yet to catch up with in the other. Today’s pick is a book titled The Outsiders, and Bucky chooses to sit upon the windowsill to read the novel.
Gentle drops of rain trail down the glass window, pattering soothingly in a way that makes Bucky fear he may fall asleep. He sets the book aside with a tired sigh and glances out the window with his warm cheek pressed against the cool surface; the city is quiet and the streets nearly empty, and this makes it easier to spot you.
It’s almost as if you’ve been popping up out of nowhere lately, but Bucky never seems to mind. Watch from afar, that was the deal he made with himself, so who was he to complain if you made the task easier for him? He could never have you the way he wanted to because he doubted you’d ever want an unstable old man like him, and even if you did he’d be no good for you. He knew girls like you back in his day, girls with stars in their eyes and hearts on their sleeves, girls who’d melt in his arms whenever he so much as smiled at them. And yet you weren’t like any girl he’d ever seen; you were an enigma and he wanted nothing more than to spend all of eternity deciphering the mystery of you. But he couldn’t, because he shouldn’t, so he didn’t.
Despite the gloomy gray skies hanging above you there’s a serene smile on your face as you stop to admire the pots of sunflowers outside the building, reminding Bucky he has to buy some for his date on Saturday. God, he was dreading it. Bucky was sure whatever girl Yori picked for him would be nice enough, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t sometimes wish it were you he’d be taking out for a night on the town. A guy can dream, right?
You retreat into a nearby coffee shop when the rain begins to fall harder, and as Bucky turns to his own warm drink he finds that the mug is now cold. Book discarded, he rises from his spot on the windowsill and drowsily drags himself into the kitchen for another cup.
For a moment he thinks sunflowers might surely bring about his demise, and the passing thought brings the smallest of smiles to his face. Only time will tell.
“How are you feeling about your date on Saturday?”
The woman stares at him expectantly, pristine notepad resting casually in her lap, pen in hand as a warning, eyebrows raised at the man as he stares down contemplatively at the stitching of his leather gloves. What should be a comforting environment instead only seems to put him on edge, and as the seconds tick by on the clock hung crookedly above the doorway her pen only seems to get closer to the blank page below her. Shoulders sagging, Bucky can only offer a small sigh in response.
“I can’t say I feel too great about it,” he finally says, the tension in his shoulders alleviating slightly as she finally puts the pen down.
“And why’s that?” Doctor Raynor prods curiously.
“I just don’t really think I’m all that ready for a relationship. What person wants to be with someone as screwed up as me?”
“The right person will,” Christina comforts. Your smiling face flashes briefly in his mind in response and he shifts in discomfort— the doctor notices. “But I don’t think you’re telling me the full story here, James. I suspect there’s something else that’s holding you back. Or maybe someone.”
“That obvious, huh?” Bucky retorts with a wry smile.
“Who’s the lucky person?”
“Her name’s y/n,” he says, your name falling past his lips in the softest tone Dr. Raynor has ever heard from him before. “I don’t know her all that well, but she lives in my apartment building so I see her around a lot. She’s... she’s really pretty.”
“Well, what is it about y/n that you like?”
Geez, where do I even begin?
“I don’t know,” Bucky shrugs, picking absently at a loose seam on the end of his shirt, “I guess I like how friendly she is. Every time I see her she’s always smiling, she always says good morning to everyone and lends a hand wherever she can. It’s like she goes out of her way to be nice to me, and I’m not really used to that but it’s a nice feeling. The first time I met her she never even flinched, she wasn’t scared like other people usually are, and even when I blew her off she still made it clear that I was welcome and if I needed a friend she’d be there. That’s the kind of person she is.”
“Did you take her up on that offer?” The woman asks, but by the look on her face Bucky is sure she already knows the answer.
“James, we’ve talked about this,” Christina says firmly, “you have to stop closing yourself off from the people around you. Making a friend could really help you, especially if this girl is truly as nice as you say she is.”
“She is,” he reiterates firmly, “and that’s why I can’t be her friend.”
The doctor’s brows furrow with piqued interest at his admission, legs shifting underneath her as she gets comfortable in preparation for what will most likely be a heavy confession. “Can you elaborate for me?” She says. Bucky sighs.
“After everything that’s happened, and everything the world has been through, it just gets harder and harder to find some sort of light in the dark. So when you finally do find it, it’s like you have to do everything in your power to make sure it never goes out.”
“So y/n is a light?” Raynor reaffirms.
“For so many people,” Bucky nods, “and if I try to put myself in the picture I’ll only bring her down. There’s no future with me, and she deserves better than that.”
“How do you know that if you never put yourself out there?” The doctor asks softly, silently stunned by the heavy confession Bucky has entrusted her with; it’s the most he’s ever opened up before.
Pieces of the past dart through his mind, and in the midst of all the heartache and the chaos he sees Yori, the one friendship he’s been able to successfully maintain since his period of healing. The memory of the man is pleasant for a moment, until Bucky is reminded of the basis of their friendship and how one single confession will tear down everything they’ve built together. It doesn’t matter what kind of man he is now or how much control he has over his own life, the Winter Soldier will always have the final say, and nothing will ever change that. Finally, he speaks.
“I just do.”
The softly uttered curse sounds from across the hallway and alerts Bucky of his struggling neighbor’s presence. Purse slipping off your shoulder and heavy groceries spilling from your arms, you struggle to maneuver your key into the lock of your front door all while the heat of embarrassment engulfs your body in a suffocating hold. You’re not as put together as you usually are, your belongings in disarray and eyes full of exhaustion rivaling that of his own, your usually meticulously picked clothing replaced by joggers and an old college sweatshirt that’s three sizes too big on you, and yet Bucky still finds himself frozen in your presence.
Don’t just stand there, help her you idiot, his mind screams at him, the soldier harshly swallowing down his nerves before taking shaky steps towards you. An orange slips out of the brown paper bag and rolls towards his feet, and Bucky takes it as his in into a conversation.
“Need some help?” He asks with a crooked smile, one that softens at the look of distress clear in your eyes as you meet his gaze.
“That’s the understatement of the year,” you breathe out before offering a meager smile of your own. “Some help would be great, thank you.”
Bucky takes the heavier bags of groceries from your aching arms and returns the orange to its rightful place, allowing you the chance to take your keys and unlock the door. You don’t spare him another glance as you walk in, leaving it open as a silent invitation for him to let himself in. Bucky swallows nervously but wordlessly follows behind; he’s never been in a woman’s apartment before, and the fact that it’s yours makes the experience all the more nerve wracking.
Your apartment is small but personalized, decorated with little knickknacks and houseplants and old family portraits that Bucky does his best not to stare at in fear of being rude, and the vanilla scented candle that burns on the coffee table makes him feel all the more welcome. You drop your purse by the couch with a tired sigh before directing your attention to the man who stands awkwardly in your living room. His hulking figure makes your apartment seem tiny, oddly comforting in a way, but you hold back your giggles and merely guide him to your kitchen.
“You can set them on the counter,” you say with a passive wave before reaching into one of the cabinets for a glass cup. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
“No, thank you,” the man says politely as he settles the heavy bags down on the marble surface; as much as he’d like to sit and spend the evening with you, he can’t stay long, or more like he won’t allow himself to stay long. Your movements are clumsy as you down your glass of water, and Bucky looks away flustered as little droplets begin to escape the corners of your lips and dribble down your neck. “I hope I’m not overstepping by asking this, but are you alright? You seem a bit... flustered.”
“Is it that obvious?” You joke quietly, your smile barely reaching your eyes as you fidget with the sleeves of your sweater.
“I’m sorry,” Bucky begins to say in fear of overstepping, but you merely shake your head in response.
“I’m just a little stressed out. The kids always keep me on my toes, especially now that there’s more of them, and it’s been hard trying to get some of them to readjust.”
“Kids?” He repeats with furrowed brows. He can’t recall ever seeing you with any children, and there’s no sign of any living with you in your apartment. A genuine laugh leaves your lips this time at his response and Bucky tenses uncomfortably. Did he say something wrong?
“I’m a kindergarten teacher,” you explain with a smile, and everything clicks in Bucky’s mind then. That would explain the constant paint stains and trails of glitter left in your wake, the arts and crafts supplies and stacks of drawings you seem to carry with you everywhere. And here he thought your heart couldn’t get any bigger than it already was— were you even real?
“The effects of the blip have been really difficult for them. It’s hard having to come back to school and see that all your old friends are now five grades ahead of you. I know everyone has been impacted in some way by what happened, but it’s harder for the younger ones to understand. I’m doing my best to make the transition back to normalcy easier for them, but some days are harder than others, you know?”
“Sounds rough,” is all Bucky can manage to say, swallowing his emotions back harshly.
“Yeah,” you sigh quietly, rubbing away the clear exhaustion in your eyes, “but I’m trying my best.”
“Sometimes that’s all you can do.”
You smile then, a genuine smile, one that makes Bucky weak in the knees, and suddenly it’s as if all the weight has been lifted off of your shoulders.
“I really needed to hear that,” you utter softly, “thank you.”
“What are neighbors for?” Bucky jokes lamely, but you must like his sense of humor for you let out the quietest of giggles.
“You’re sweet. I like talking with you, but I won’t keep you any longer. I’m sure you’re a busy guy.”
“Not really,” he shrugs with a crooked smile, “I just had some errands to run before tomorrow.”
“What’s tomorrow?” You ask curiously, brows raising with interest as Bucky awkwardly looks down at your hardwood floor.
“I’ve got a date.”
“Huh, no kidding. Me too,” you smile, and in response Bucky’s heart slowly begins to sink to his stomach. Yori had said you were single, but only an idiot would believe that someone like you could stay that way for long. Maybe if he had taken the doctor’s advice sooner he could be the one you’re seeing instead of the lucky guy that beat him to it.
“I should get going... I’ll see you around.”
“Thank you again for the help, and good luck on your date,” you say with an encouraging smile. Bucky swallows harshly in response, a look of longing in his eyes that he hides well with a meager quirk of his lips.
“You too,” he murmurs in response, casting you once last glance before showing himself out. The lock clicks behind him, and Bucky trudges back to his own empty apartment.
The dining patio of the Italian restaurant is pleasantly empty, but the quiet stillness does little to help soothe Bucky’s nerves as he waits for the arrival of his date. He probably should have asked Yori what she looked like, what her name was and what she’d be wearing so he’d know what to expect, but the old man had been adamant on keeping the identity of his date a surprise.
“It’ll be better that way,” he had said, “trust me.”
The bouquet of sunflowers sits before him on the table almost tauntingly, their bright colors and sweet scent sending his senses into overdrive. He almost resented them, but then he thought of your smiling face through the window and the tension from his shoulders began to dissipate— if you could be strong and put on a brave face despite all the bad things that had happened in the world, then so could he.
“James?” A meek voice calls quietly, pulling the man from his thoughts. His blue eyes widen in surprise at the sight of the woman standing before him and he swallows anxiously.
“Y/n?” Bucky replies, quickly rising from his seat and cringing at the way in which the legs of the chair scrape harshly across the floor with his sudden movements. Here he thought you couldn’t get any more beautiful, and here you were proving him wrong with your cute little outfit and styled hair and charming smile. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here for my date,” you explain with a sheepish smile. Bucky deflates— not only would he have to suffer through his own painfully awkward date, but he’d also have to sit and watch you get swept off your feet by someone else all in the same night.
“Oh... well, who’s the lucky guy?”
“That’s the thing,” you say with a nervous laugh, “I think you are.”
“Me?” Bucky repeats flabbergasted. “What do you mean?”
“Well, Yori was the one who said I should try dating again. He thought it would be good for me to spend some time with other adults since I’m always with my students, and when I said I didn’t really know anyone he told me he’d take care of it for me. All he told me was to come to this restaurant Saturday at six and look for the man with sunflowers,” you summarize before gesturing to the bouquet on the table, “and you’re the only one here with sunflowers so...”
A disbelieving laugh leaves Bucky then at the realization, and he isn’t sure whether he should jump for joy or wait for the ground below to swallow him whole. Finally he had a chance to spend time with the girl who had taken over his thoughts and occupied every available space in his heart, and yet he couldn’t help but feel terrified. A date was a big step up from neighborly conversation in your apartment, and all of Bucky’s hopes of developing something more with you were riding on this one date. Yori knew exactly what he was doing by setting the two of you up, and Bucky had no choice but to be grateful for the man who had bestowed upon him the chance to finally win you over.
“If this is too awkward for you we can just skip this whole date—“
“No, it’s not awkward at all,” Bucky is quick to interject. “I mean, this whole thing is certainly a surprise but it’s a good one. It’s an honor to be your blind date.”
He flashes a charming smile that makes you weak in the knees, and he knows then that he’s back in the game— who would have guessed he’d be able to dust off his old moves with such ease? He had to if he wanted any kind of chance at winning you over.
“In that case, why don’t we get out of here? This restaurant is a little stuffy,” you note with a small chuckle, your nerves slowly beginning to dwindle.
“Alright, what do you have in mind?”
The nightlife atmosphere of the plaza square is surprisingly much more comfortable compared to the dining patio, and Bucky considers himself the luckiest man alive to be able to witness firsthand the way your eyes seem to sparkle with the light of the starry sky. A nighttime stroll is right up Bucky’s alley, and you both fall into a comfortable step as you talk about whatever topic seems to come to mind. You speak of your students, about how much their smiling little faces have helped you get through the toughest times, how there’s a stray cat who calls the dumpsters behind your apartment building a home and waits for your arrival on trash days because you always bring the feline a special treat. Alpine, you had named it, and Bucky adored that greatly.
The details are vague but you enjoy the stories he tells you of his childhood and the way his whole face seems to light up at the mere mention of his mother and sister; that look dwindles slightly when he speaks of his old best friend, but you pretend not to notice. As a younger man Bucky worked at the docks before serving time in the army, though he fails to mention where he’d been stationed, and now he works for the government. You feel almost giddy to be learning so much about the man you once believed would rather prefer solitude over your company, and as the night drags on and the conversation begins to dwindle you almost wish you could reverse the clock and do it all over again.
“Thank you,” Bucky says after a moment of silence, prompting you to halt your steps and raise a brow curiously at your counterpart.
"What for?"
“Taking a chance on a guy like me,” he smiles faintly while offering you a sheepish shrug of his shoulders. “I haven’t really done anything like this in a while, and the idea of putting myself back out there scared me shitless, but you just make things so much easier. I guess what I’m trying to say is when I’m with you everything comes naturally, and I really appreciate that.”
“Oh,” you utter softly, a sheepish smile of your own gracing your lips as you turn away to admire the scenery around you. It isn’t until now that you notice you’ve stopped before the fountain, the arches of water flowing overhead illuminated by the fluorescent lights below them. A nervous fluttering occupies your stomach and when you finally meet Bucky’s gaze you feel as if nothing else in the entire world mattress other than the two of you in this moment. “Well, if it makes you feel any better I’m kind of in the same boat, so that just means we can figure this out as we go. Together.”
“I like that,” Bucky affirms with a nod, a look that can only be described as lovestruck taking over his features. Nerves overcome you then as you clutch your bouquet of flowers to your chest, heart thrumming rapidly in your rib cage as Bucky steps closer. The glove that had once shielded his right hand from the cold is now missing as he gently cups your cheek and encompasses you with his warmth. His palm is calloused and rough but comforting all the same, and it takes everything in your power not to melt like putty in his grasp.
“Is this okay?” He murmurs quietly as if raising his voice any higher will ruin the moment.
“Yeah,” you breathe shakily, swallowing back your nerves, “it’s okay.”
Your softly uttered words of confirmation are all Bucky needs to hear before dipping down and gently brushing his lips against your own. His movements are hesitant for only a moment, and it is only once he’s sure you are comfortable and secure that he moves in for more. Your lips are soft against his own, plush and warm and so sweet, and as your eyes begin to flutter shut and the forgotten sunflowers slip out of your grasp you drape your arms securely across his shoulders at the same moment in which his left hand joins his right in cupping your face as if you were a precious jewel in need of the upmost care.
Nothing exists when you are in each other’s arms, you are safe and sound in your own little world, and as you part to take a breath Bucky realizes then that one kiss is all he needs to know that you are the one he’s been waiting for all his life.
And by god, if you aren’t more than worth the wait.
433 notes · View notes
rintarouss · 8 months ago
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Osamu always followed a routine. Waking earlier than the sun, running a mile before eight in the morning, eating three meals a day, and getting eight hours of sleep every night are just some things he always did without fail. You, on the other hand, seem to always change things up. Just maybe, he enjoys your unpredictability.
𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀: husband!osamu x f!housewife reader
𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: fluff, domestic life, mild suggestive themes at the end, trying to start a family, food/eating, im pretty sure i used no pronouns bc it was in third person
𝘄𝗰: 1.7K+
𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: uhh yeah this was kinda indulgent and sorta inspired by that one scene in twd when rick wants to make babies w michonne
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Alarm clocks were something that was never in use in your household, except in the kitchen. Osamu figured by his third year of high school that he had no use for them, as he always woke up a bit earlier than his scheduled alarm. His regimens were unwavering, so much so that his internal alarm clock was practically set in stone and would wake him everyday at 6:30AM with no chance of error. The fact his sleeping schedule was incredibly stable helped, too. The usual infuriating sound you were used to in high school was unheard of after graduating and moving in with Osamu. Even when you studied in university, you were never jolted awake by the blaring sound resonating from your phone’s speakers since your now-husband was always the one to gently wake you up. Nowadays, you usually woke up when your body decides it’s ready to start the day.
Sunlight seeped into your bedroom through your white flowy curtains that were pulled apart, letting the rays of light travel in freely. The intrusion woke you gently from your slumber, causing you to flutter your eyes open and stretch your limbs instantaneously without another thought. The familiar smell of sweet pancake batter and coffee caught your attention, the sounds of pans and dishes clinking following soon after. It was undoubtedly Osamu that was responsible for all the stimuli that was attacking your senses. Standing up from the bed, your feet hit the hardwood floors that felt ice cold each morning. Your body moved on its own, following the smell of the sweet caramel coffee you know your husband had made, fingers cascading down the smooth handrail of the staircase. Once you reached the kitchen, the sight of Osamu's shirtless and muscular back — barely covered by his black apron — was turned to you as he was tending to the eggs on the stove. 
“Damn, now this is a nice view”
Samu’s lips stretched out into a grin once he heard the saccharine sound of your voice, a small laugh bubbling from his throat and escaping quietly. He turned off the stove, seeing as the eggs have already cooked to your liking, sunny side up with a slightly runny yolk. He turned to face you with his pan in hand, ready to plate the eggs alongside the pancakes. He took in your beauty for a moment, giving a real good look at you. He took in everything about you; your messy hair that practically resembled a knot, your face free of makeup, your skimpy house clothes you only wore during hot summer nights, and your manicured hands fidgeting with your wedding band. 
“Yer’ awake early today, thought ya would be sleepin’ till noon,” he stated with a light chuckle. He gently placed the eggs onto the plates, careful with his movements as to not accidentally pop the yellow bulb of yolk. He then disposed of the non-stick pan by putting it in the sink before turning to you. His calloused hands held onto your waist and pulled you close, leaving not a single centimetre of air between your bodies.
“Thank you for the breakfast, honey,” You said quietly before burrowing your face into his chest, the muscle of his pecs caressing the apples of your right cheek and your arms wrapped around his neck. He let out a soft hum, letting you know that he was aware of your gratitude. After a moment of just standing there, holding each other, you felt his plush lips places a feather-light kiss on your face. Despite being married for a while, and dating for even longer, his small actions never failed to have your cheeks heat up.
Silently, you two separated and sat in your respective seats and began eating the food your doting husband had made but not before you two softly whispered “itadakimasu”. Mornings like these were always calm and serene. Perhaps for some, it would be too quiet for comfort. However, you two enjoyed starting your day this way; with gentle affection and basking in each other’s presences. Words didn’t need to fill the silence as it wasn’t uncomfortable or awkward, you two simply just liked being around each other. Your nearly telepathic bond was indescribable, but Osamu always found himself lucky to have found someone he was so compatible with.
It didn’t take long for you two to finish your meals, as the cook always made delicious food despite how simple or basic it may be. After you two were done, you gathered up the plates and placed them in the sink. You began to wash the dishes, including the utensils that Samu had used to cook breakfast. With your back turned to him, he took the opportunity to sneak up behind you and snake his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.
“What’s yer plans for today, my love?” he asked you, genuinely curious since you never had concrete routines. As a housewife of sorts, you were pretty much free to do whatever you wanted.
“Well actually, I was thinking of joining you at our store. I don’t have anything to do except laundry and clean which I could always do in the evening since it doesn’t take me too long,” You responded, resisting your urge to shrug since you didn’t want to accidentally brush off his chin that rested on you. 
“Are ya sure? I thought you’d want to-“
“Yes, I’m sure honey. Actually…” You began softly. Trailing off as you finished washing the last thing in the sink, which was the pan, and placing it on the drying rack. You dried off your hands on a tea towel before turning to face Samu and holding his face softly with both hands.
“I’m thinking since we are technically the store managers, what if we promote one of our employees to a manager? We’d get more free time to maybe work on opening another branch or free time in general. I know we’ve been talking about travelling too so… what do you think?” You asked sheepishly. While Onigiri Miya was the business you two started together, you always saw it as Samu’s business. For any business decision, you believed Osamu should have the final say as it was his pride and joy.
A smile spread wide on his face, trying his best not to squeal like a child due to his excitement. He peppered your face with kisses, his plump lips leaving a slight residue. You burst out laughing at his antics, only making his grin impossibly bigger. You let out a whine of annoyance, crying out that “You’re makin’ my face all sloppy ’n gross, Samu!”. He noticed a while back that you tend to speak in a way that mimicked his Kansai accent whenever you were overjoyed, and he loved every bit of it. 
“Well, I was just thinking more about our future… y’know? At some point we’ll need to expand which means we can’t be the only ones running the shops, we’ll need to promote employees to manager. And in the long run, it’ll give us more free time to pursue other goals apart from the shop,” You spoke, your dulcet voice captivating him while you spoke about your future with him.
He took your left hand that resided on his cheek into his own, before bringing the velvety smooth skin closer to his face. He pressed a kiss onto the wedding band you wore, the grey diamond shining due to the rays of sun that entered through the multitude of windows in your home. He remembered you saying you wanted to have grey diamonds for your wedding bands, as it reminded you so much of his hair that caught your eye back in high school. He initially hated the idea, finding it embarrassing that it was his hair of all things that caught your attention. Now, he finds the odd request endearing, as it was a reminder of him. He remembered that you made a joke about it that he was now wrapped around your finger, literally and figuratively, and he couldn’t have agreed more.
“Thinkin’ ‘bout our future, hm sweetheart?” He asked with his tone indicating he was trying to tease of fluster you. You rolled your eyes at his childish behaviour, hitting his bare pec lightly with your palm to feign annoyance. He chuckled at your reaction before pressing a sickeningly sweet kiss onto your lips, his left hand gripping your waist securely while the other held your face gently. God, he just loved kissing you. If he could, he would never pull away from you, but alas you had to. 
“I’m always thinking about our future, asshole. Before I would think about our future in terms of marrying you. Now that we’re married, I gotta think ahead. Like how we’re gonna grow old and we’ll be giving each other heart medicine,” You laughed, imagining what Samu would be like if he was old and bed ridden. He probably wouldn’t be grumpy, he never was. 
“Yeah? Well I’m thinkin’ of our future too, y’know? Like near future… like startin’ a family,” He mentioned calmly, his eyes locking with your gorgeous irises to search for any sort of reaction. Your eyes gleamed, and his heart softened.
“Yeah?” You asked for confirmation, leaning in closer, your breath tickling his face.
“Yeah,” He confirmed, closing the gap between you two and kissing you delicately.
You pressed your hands against his chest, pushing him away slightly to break apart the kiss. His eyebrows were furrowed, confused at your actions.
“You need to be at the shop soon,” You replied, slight disappointment weighing heavy on your heart as you just wanted to relish in the moment.
“Ya said we should promote a manager, right? Mori is the first employee to come and I’ll tell him to open the shop using the spare hidden key. Consider this his first day as manager, he knows what to do. Right now, I’m busy gettin’ busy,”
“Oh my god, I hate you,” 
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𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @dancingazaleas @izukine @txzierbaby @mitsuluv @xenihime @conniesspringersgf @fiaficsxo @s4ijohs @oblxvion @inumakizone​ @megumisbimbo
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mygsii · 12 months ago
— Lifeline (m)
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☾ word count: 12.5k
☾ paring: jungkook x f!reader 
☾ genre: angst, fluff, smut 18+ | shifter au, witch au, supernatural
☾ summary: you are a ticking time bomb, a hazard to everyone around you - including yourself. he is wild and free, and in a way, you were each other’s lifeline.
☾ warnings: talks/mention of discrimination (between species), mention of death and murder, injuries, feral jungkook, reader has a meltdown, there's also possessiveness but it's brief. smut tags: breast play, oral: female receiving, grinding, fingering, unprotected sex, jungkook lowkey has oral fixation, marks/biting, creampie, cum play, rough sex, but also soft sex at the same time?, hair pulling
☾ a/n: special thanks to @kimtaehyunq​ for the pretty banner!! also thank you to @kigurumu​ for reading this over and giving me some tips 💖I feel like there’s a lot going on read: it’s bad but I’ve wanted to write this for some time so 🤷‍♀️
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It’s dark and cold. 
The chill has settled down in your bones, the rain seeping through your clothes no matter how close you pull them to you. The clouds above are a dark grey, depriving the earth of light and warmth. It’s like a layer of gloom, submerging the land in darkness as it pours down. 
All the creatures have taken shelter, the gnarled branches of the trees surrounding you only doing so much to shelter you from the onslaught of water against your frail body. The wind howls, easily permeating your skin and leaving your teeth clattering together as you curl up tighter in the hollow tree trunk you’d stumbled across a few hours ago. 
The storm doesn’t seem to be letting up any time soon, leaving your stomach to grumble almost as loudly as the thunder that rolls through the clouds. You watch as the droplets of rain plummet down, arms wrapped around your knees - which are pressed close to your chest to conserve the little body heat you have left.
This is what they wanted. 
A flash of light momentarily blinds you, eyes squeezing shut as you try to shrink further into yourself. The resulting crash leaves your ears ringing for a moment, hands locked tightly into thin fabric. Your hair sticks to your face in thick strands, the smell of wet wood and soil invading your nose.
You shudder quietly, eyes unfocused as you blink slowly. When your eyes slip shut for a beat too long you can’t find it in you to open them again, instead resting your cheek on your cold forearm.
It’s ironic really, laughable that you had played right into their hands.
Nobody wanted a runt like you; a defect, volatile and unstable. You were a ticking time bomb, a hazard to everyone around you - including yourself.
If you listen hard enough, through the pouring rain you can hear the sneers, see the disdain on their faces. You were the anomaly, looked down upon by everyone around you. It’s only due to your mothers name that you had been allowed to stay in the coven.
However, it was clear that you were not wanted. 
You were isolated from the other children, not allowed to step foot outside the four walls you spent almost all your day in. You ate alone, passing time by studying the books in the room until you’d read every single one. 
The same cold walls of your room greeted you every time you opened your eyes. You had attempted to sneak out when you could at first only to witness the cruelty of those that were supposed to teach you, to nurture you. The harsh shoves as they moved you back to your room, the glares they sent when you showed your face. You learnt to stay put from that point on.
You were shunned by the entire community.
They feared what would happen if you failed to keep yourself stable, feared the immense power that built up, that tingled beneath your skin until it became too condensed and uncontrollable. If left unchecked, your magic was vicious. It fought against your body as if it had a conscience of its own, often leading to episodes of feverishness and pain that left you bedridden. 
Yet your mother had tried her hardest to help you when your magic acted out, spiking and unstable. She’d tried everything; stones that sapped your magic, projecting the energy into innate objects, giving you medicine that did nothing. Nothing you tried was able to violent nature of your powers, often leading to outburst that destroyed everything around you.
You are a danger to others, a danger to yourself and they couldn’t have something like that in the coven.
Ihaia - the coven leader - was a man not to be crossed. He was tall and intimidating, with ink that crawled up his neck and scars that littered his tan skin. He was easily the most powerful witch in the land, and a tricky bastard. He had planned to get rid of you himself, however your mother had gotten in his way.
You can vividly remember the life leaving her eyes, a large hand easily crushing her windpipe before your eyes. She had done it for your sake, but all you could do was watch. It had ended in an instant, a simple squeeze and a crack that had her stilling.
The sound echoes, the world around you coming to a halt. Those ominous eyes had turned for the limp body in his grasp to yours. From that moment, you knew you had to get out of there. 
So you did the only thing you could do; run. 
You’ve been on the move for a long time - how long, you’re not sure - unable to stop in fear of not being able to continue. 
They wanted you out, and they got their wish. The question now is if you’d make it past the age of twenty.
Your thoughts begin to fade out, body shutting down. You let the world turn to black, the sound of the rain fading away until it’s quiet.
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The storm passes, leaving behind the scent of rain and soil.
Your bones pop and creak as you move, sore after you had spent at least a few hours curled up. The clothing you’re wearing is still damp, the air chilly but the sunlight that peeks through the canopy of foliage is warm against your skin.
Thankfully it seemed like your magic is cooperating today, settling into your body as you navigate your way. 
The plants around you sway idly, the creatures of the forest going about their routines. It’s peaceful here, the birds humming a pleasant tune as you carefully duck under tree branches and step over gnarled roots. 
You glance up, watching as the sun begins to descend from its peak in the sky. Going through the forest was the quickest way to travel, avoiding the main roads and cities knowing you’d be an easy target. However, it requires energy that you’re slowly running out of. There are few items on you, a satchel that you stored your food and other knick knacks in - which is currently empty of food. 
Amongst the green, you look around, eyeing the shrubs and bushes that you pass by. One in particular catches your attention, what looks like a cluster of berries hidden behind part of a tree that must’ve snapped off. Stepping over the fallen branch you crouch down in front of the plants, plucking a berry from its place and popping it in your mouth. 
the first taste is sweet but it quickly turns sour as you chew, your face screwing up. It’ll have to do for now so you continue to pluck them from the stems. It soothes the hunger for now, but you fill a small pouch of them for later.
With a sigh you stand up, stretching your arms before scanning your surroundings. You need to leave before nightfall, lest you run into unwelcomed creatures. 
You’re heading North, to a place you had once read about in a book. Not many live out that far, so it would be a safe place for the moment. With a yawn, you pause when you do a quick scan of the area.  
There’s something tucked away under what looks like a haphazard attempt at shelter. It stands out against the light bark and greenery of the forest. Curious but cautious, you move closer eyes widening as you begin to make out what it is tucked beneath the twigs and branches. The creature is curled up beneath it, immobile and small. It appears that it had been seeking shelter from the harsh storm just as you had been. 
It doesn’t so much as stir when you get close enough to see that it seems to be a canine some sort. The weak magic power radiating off it indicates that it’s not a normal animal, the beautiful brown pelt damp and clumped together. 
You purse your lips, unsure of what to do as you watch its chest rise and fall slowly. Almost too slowly.
With a sigh, you reach out to pet the soft looking fur - against your better judgement - your fingers running along its body gently. It’s so soft, and barely twitches at the action. The fur shifts with your touch to reveal a few cuts on the skin underneath. There’s a set, three slashes down its side that are crusted over with dried blood. 
Before you can comprehend what’s going on the creature's eyes snap open, a low growl leaving it’s mouth as it scrambles away from you, knocking the twigs down into a pile. It glares back at you with sharp teeth on display, ready to pounce. It’s intimidating and beast like, the fur on its body is puffed out to make it look bigger though you remain frozen in your spot for a moment.
It’s beautiful. 
“I’m not gonna hurt you.”
You wince at how weak and broken your voice sounds but it has been a while since you’ve spoken to anyone. The beast doesn’t stop growling so you lower yourself down to the ground ever so slowly and move your hands to where it can see them. 
“I saw you here... just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Calmly, you turn your palms towards it hoping that it understands you mean no harm and won’t bite you. There’s a glint in its eyes, wild and frantic so you make sure not to make any sudden moves. It stays poised, tense as it watches you carefully. 
It must be confused, unsure of you and your intentions but it lets out snarl, lowering itself slightly. Its pointed ears are pulled back, claws out and a low rumble echoing in the air but it’s all to distract you from the drops of red that stain the ground beneath it. From where you’re seated, it looks like the quick movements earlier had torn the fresh scab on its side, reopening the wound. 
“I can help you.” You murmur, understanding the confusion and fear that you can see in flicker in those amber eyes. It tilts its head slightly, licking its chops before staring you down. It doesn't move, still ready to lunge at you if need be. 
“I can sense your magic, though faint, and know you can understand me.”
You could be wrong, but you recall one of the many books you had read mentioning shifters. Wild shifters were a rarity, as most tended to blend in with humans. The presence of magic also further peaks your interest. The animal seems hesitant, eyes narrowing at you but there is a hint of recognition in them.
“I just want to help.”
Something in you urges you to help it, despite the chance you might end up being mauled. There’s something, you can’t quite pinpoint exactly what it is, but it pushes you to appease and calm the creature. It’s still baring its teeth, not fully trusting you. It’s clear the wound is affecting it though, and you have no idea how long it has been injured. 
“Can I come closer? I just want to stop the bleeding.”
It considers, letting out a huff that you take as permission. It watches your every move as you inch closer, until you’re close enough to see the wound. 
It was risky to use your magic when it’s so volatile but it was worth a shot. There was nothing else on you that could help. You glance at the creature, waiting for some sort of signal, but it simply stares. With a quiet exhale you press your fingertips to the lacerations and close your eyes. Taking a deep breath, you get a feel for the buzz under your skin, channeling it into the tips of your fingers and reciting the words you knew in your head. 
Moving your hand out of the way, the skin has scarred over, and you smile to yourself. The creature watches you as you scoot back to give it space. You get a good look at furry beast - which resembles a wolf now that you think about it. It looks majestic, thought fatigue and unease are clear in its eyes. 
“Your eyes are beautiful.” You blurt out, unable to stop yourself. It blinks, ears slowly perking up as it relaxes enough to settle down. 
“Sorry, I haven’t had anyone to talk to in a long time.”
You’re not sure why you felt the need to talk, maybe to calm you down or maybe as an excuse to stay a little longer. It doesn’t seem to mind your presence though it keeps an eye on you as you settle into an odd silence. You observe it, eyes trailing over the darker patches of fur around it’s muzzle and down its back.
There’s a strange gurgling sound and it reminds you of something, telling it what you’re doing as you move to reach into the bag you kept with you. 
You present the pouch of sour berries you’d plucked off the bushes some time ago to the animal, meeting inquisitive eyes. You pour a good amount out onto your hand, hold it out. 
“Eat, you must be hungry.”
Another huff, but it leans forward to gently collect a few of the green fruit from your palm, crushing it between sharp teeth. You crack a smile at the way the creature's eyes squeeze shut, expression twisting up though you look away when it narrows its eyes at you. 
It pauses but then continues to devour the small amount of food, careful not to bite your hand as it does so. It’s oddly gentle and the care makes your heart swell. You get the feeling this creature is like you, lost and alone and it makes you sigh softly. Perhaps that is why you feel such an attachment to it already. 
The creature looks up at you with a pleading look, as if to ask for more but you only offer a faint smile and a quick shake of your head. 
There’s a distinct snap somewhere off in the distance, and you tense. Glancing around you you note it’s become oddly quiet. Not even the wind stirs.
It’s eerie, and with the sun amidst its descent to the horizon, it’s clear you need to get moving. It will be night soon and you don’t want to linger here any longer then you have to. This forest is only safe when the sun is up. Glancing down at the creature, you debate with yourself for a moment. 
“Can you walk? We can’t stay here, this forest is a whole different place at night.”
You’ve been lucky this far to have avoided the beings that are said to lurk in this forest, but you know your luck is bound to run out. The creature in front of you seems alert but hesitant. It picks itself up from the ground as you do the same, though there is a quiet wince as those amber eyes scan the area.
“We're going North, the border shouldn’t be much further.” You quietly announce, beginning to walk.
The wolf huffs but lets you take the lead, following behind you but still close enough that you can sense it. The sky quickly grows darker and darker urging you and the wolf to move as quickly as possible. 
Unfortunately you couldn’t use your magic to protect you, not with the way you’re pushing your body. It’d only catalyze an episode, which though you’ve managed to get a good handle on, are especially bad when you push yourself. If anything, you could only muster a weak spell.
“Just have to break through the trees.” You mutter, not sure you can make it out. 
There’s a loud sound that echoes behind you and you tense, eyes scanning the area as you hear a whimper besides you. Turning to eye the creature beside you it looks like it might drop any second but it keeps moving, managing to keep pace with you as you focus on trying not to trip. 
Eyes bore into your back, raising the hair on the back of your neck. You know you’re being watched by something but you didn’t plan on sticking around long enough to find out what it is. Instead you let your senses guide you, squinting in the dark to try and see better. 
The canine struggles, and you curse in your head. You might not make it. Though the creature reaches your thigh in height you lean down to pick it up, trying to be as swift as you can despite. It growls but quickly shuts up when you glare at it. It’s this or nothing. 
It’s hard to see where your feet are causing you to stumble but you push on, noticing a small light up ahead. It’s a beacon in the dark, hovering in the air idly. Your body aches, breaths loud in the silence but you can’t give up, heart hammering in your chest. 
Despite feeling like you could collapse any second now you need to make it out. For you and the creature you’re holding, which is heavier then you expected. It looks like there’s some sort of house in the distance, and if you could just make it there you’d be safe. 
Your skin crawls as you finally break through the line of trees, passing through the barrier. You can see the source of the light; a lantern hung on the porch of a small house. The ground you’re on is elevated, the night sky finally visible without the canopy of leaves. You’re greeted with a dark sky, a sliver of moon present. 
You make it another meter before your knees buckle and you’re sent plummeting to the ground with a groan. 
The creature in your arms lets out a weak sound as you both collide with the grass. You’re safe now that you’re beyond the forest, the eyes watching you slowly fading into the darkness, the barrier keeping them for advancing further. 
Your chest heaves, the world spinning. Your fingers are wrapped in the fur of the animal half your weight keeping it pinned to the ground. It could easily wiggle away if it wanted to, but it seems to be in the same boat as you; exhausted. 
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The memory fades as you come to, the dull ache in your body pulling you from your sleep.
There’s a pressure in your chest, constricting. It feels like you can't breathe, the heaviness spreading out into your body like wildfire leaving behind pain in its wake. It hurts to move, to inhale and somewhere in your mind you knew it was coming. It’s a familiar feeling; one that you’ve experienced countless times. It starts out as something small, insignificant, an ache, before it escalates, trying to break through.
Your eyes squeeze shut, hands gripping the fabric around you so hard the threads struggle to stay together.
Sweat beads along your hairline, trying your best to breathe. Your bones ache, body curling in on itself with the awful pain that touches every nerve in your body. This episode is not as bad as others you’ve had, still able to form coherent thoughts and push the magic down just a little. Your hands reach out in search of something - someone - but only empty sheets greet you.
You can’t sense him, knowing his body heat has long since left where he had been lying beside you only hours ago. It’s some time in the morning, the early rays peeking through the parted curtains and warming your skin. You let out a groan, the sound getting caught in your throat. 
You’re burning up even though you shiver like you’re cold. The blankets are a crumpled mess around you, clothes sticking to your skin uncomfortably but you don’t dare move from your spot. It would only make things worse. 
His name sits on the tip of your tongue, wanting to call out for him. You were sure he could sense you no matter how far away he was. You bite your lip hard enough to puncture the soft flesh, deciding to just lay there, attempting to get a hold of your magic.
Your hand moves to the sapphire necklace on instinct, the stone large enough to sit in the palm of your hand. You try your best to direct the energy there, at least until he gets back. It’s the only thing you can do to ease the tension in your muscles, to stop yourself from losing it. 
It’s in that moment that the front door slams open, rattling on its hinges as loud footsteps ring through the air. They’re hurried, the bedroom door meeting the same fate before a familiar presence is quickly making its way towards you. 
Strong arms wrap around you, the mattress dipping under the added weight. 
“Fuck, I’m so sorry y/n.”
A gentle voice utters, a hand gently caressing your hair as you lean into the warmth. The pain slowly ebbs away, the heaviness leaving your chest. Air is finally able to get past the ball lodged in your throat as you breathe in against a bare chest.
“Shhh it’s alright, just relax. I’m here, you’re okay.” 
His voice is deep and breathless, the scent of soil and something spicy enveloping you. Your body melts in the embrace, the magic spiking for a moment before it settles beneath your skin. A simple touch is all you need, his prescience alone enough to sooth the frayed .
You stay like that for some time, letting your magic return to normal as you focus on keeping it down. After a moment you open your eyes, letting them adjust the lighting as you look up. Fluffy brown hair is pushed back, obsidian eyes regarding you with worry. Thick brows are drawn in, pink lips pulled into a thin line. 
“I’m fine.” Is the first thing you croak out, swallowing dryly. 
“This is the second one in a week...” He sighs, clearly not convinced.
Raising his hand to you cup your jaw gently, he rubs his thumb across your cheek. You take a moment to appreciate his features, the slim nose, sharp jaw and glistening eyes, the silver hoops that line his ears. He’s always been ethereal, so strong and pretty. 
“It’s not your fault Jungkook. I’m just... having a hard time.” 
He's well aware you have your ups and downs. When you’re going through a tough time mentally or physically, he knows chances of your episodes are higher then usual. Most times you are able to keep it under control, but you can’t pretend to be strong all the time. 
He pulls you closer. You already know what he’s going to say, can read it on his face but you won’t have it. He looks at you for a beat, surveying you just in case before he settles into the bed, letting out a quiet breath. His heartbeat is strong and steady against you, the warmth of his skin lulling you into a light sleep.
Jungkook has always run warmer than most people and although sometimes it makes you overheat and wake up in a sweat, you wouldn’t have it any other way. 
He lets you doze for a bit, knowing you tend to be lethargic after an episode before he slips away to let you sleep more. You don’t so much as even stir until the creak of the door wakes you. It takes a moment for your brain to register where you are, the room significantly brighter than before. The curtains are still closed, but the light bleeds through the dark fabric, illuminating the wooden floors and chestnut colored walls. 
Sitting up in the large bed you catch Jungkook toweling off his hair, freshly showered and shirtless. 
“Sorry, did I wake you?”
He asks, shaking his head to help dry his hair. The action makes you smile as you shake your head, stretching out your sore muscles with a groan. He walks over to where you’re sitting, leaning down to place a kiss on your lips. You let out a quiet sound and he can’t help but deepen it before pulling back with a satisfied smirk. 
He runs a hand through his damp hair, forgoing a shirt because the material makes his skin itch. It doesn’t stop him from picking out something for you, leaving the pile where you can reach them on the dresser. He pads out of the room, leaving you to your business knowing you’ll find him when you’re ready. 
You naturally gravitate towards Jungkook, finding him in the kitchen. 
It’s past noon now, your eyes finding the clock on the wall for confirmation. The large window on the left gives you a grand view of the forest around you. You sometimes like to leave it open, the scent of soil and the wild mint that grows just below the window filling the cabin. 
You walk to the fridge, opening it to grab a drink. You make a mental note to go grocery shopping in the next two weeks before closing the door. Jungkook is humming as he goes about making something, your eyes flicking to the stove. 
With a practiced motion a spark starts on the stove, the element being consumed by orange flames as you place a pan on top of it. Jungkook layers some meat onto it as you move to the kitchen table. You shuffle around behind him, feeling his eyes on you. 
“I’m fine Kook, you can stop worrying.” 
He always tended to cling to you after your episodes, to keep a watchful eye on you in the event something happens. You preferred to be alone after them, especially after a bad one but he can’t help wanting to make sure you’re okay. He pauses, turning away from the stove to look at you. 
“I can’t help it, you smell weird.”
You raise a brow at him. Sentences like these aren’t uncommon. His nose is always sharp, but that was just another “wolf thing” as he calls it. He could tell when you were sick or something was wrong, the bond you share strengthening his ties to you. 
His animal counterpart was very much a part of him. He is still just a wolf as he was when you met him, still dislikes clothes because they feel constricting, still sneezes when he gets a whiff of strong scents. He prefers his meat rare, though will eat any kind, enjoys hunting and running to get rid of the excess energy he always tends to have. 
He is the complete opposite of you. 
But somehow you were a perfect pair.
Jungkook turns the heat down, making his way over to you. The meat continues to sizzle, but your eyes are locked on the man in front of you. He cages you against the counter easily. If you even tried to resist he wouldn’t let you out of his sight for the rest of the day so you the let him do his thing. He leans in close, nose trailing up the side of your neck where the scarred over indents of his mark sit, breathing in deeply.
“You smell off, sick almost, but it’s faint.” He says, pulling back.
Obsidian eyes watch you closely, as you look away from him. A finger turns your jaw so you’re facing him, his forehead meeting yours gently. 
“I feel fine though? You know it takes a bit of time for my body to return to normal.” You mutter the last part. He knew how you tended to withdraw after them, how lethargic and sore they left you. You’ve grown accustomed to them, but it doesn’t make you any less insecure and frustrated with yourself so he tries his best to keep your mind away from that. 
“Hmm.” He leans down, rubbing his cheek against your neck. His hair brushes against your jaw, long and unkept but still soft and ticklish. It draws a quiet laugh from your lips, the wolf in front of you satisfied when his scent lingers on your skin. 
“Better?” He nods, a smile spreading across his lips as he leaves a lingering kiss to your forehead and another to the tip of your nose. He backs up letting you return to your task of pouring a cup of the tea you’d been steeping when he moves over to the table.
You work in quiet harmony, going about your tasks quietly. It’s peaceful, the chirping of birds heard through the window which is propped open. You watch fondly as the wolf scoffs down the food, practically licking the plate clean as you sit next to him, nursing a warm cup of tea to sooth your nerves. 
Today is Saturday, and you don’t have anything to tend to. You’re frequently working, visiting people and doing chores - since they’re usually in the city and Jungkook hates going there - most of the day until you could come home and relax with your boyfriend.
He helps you clean up once you’re done, demanding your attention when the last dish is put away. You have no choice when you’re being pulled by the tall man into the living room and down onto the couch, practically squeezed into his arms.
“Kook,” you wheeze, a giggle leaving your lips when he pulls back to make sure you’re okay.
“What?” He has the audacity to smile at you, eyebrows raised. It’s almost as if he’s saying ‘you’re not getting out of this until I let you’.
A huff leaves your lips as you settle back onto the couch. 
You end up underneath the muscled (and still shirtless) shifter some time later, unable to escape - not that you wanted to or had the energy for that. He lets out a satisfied hum, flopped on top of you and acting as your personal heater. 
It’s nice and calming, the two of you spending time together enough to recharge your energy. 
Some hours later, when your bladder is screaming at you, you’re finally freed from his embrace. 
He leaves a kiss on your temple and lets you go, muttering something about going for a run. You hum and ruffle his hair before dashing to the bathroom. He never strays too far from you or the cabin, always coming back after his runs breathless and happy after making sure there were no intruders on his territory. 
You’ve been living in this small cabin for a little under half a century, after moving from place to place with Jungkook. The world had slowly changed; evolved from dirt roads to asphalt, cities popping up all over the place and new technology coming through. 
Time was but a concept for you. Neither you nor Jungkook have aged a day since fully maturing, the very magic that thrums through your veins keeping you alive. Your bond with the shifter was strong, the exchange of blood during your mating ritual gifting him the a taste of the magic you posses. You’ve been together since that fateful day in that enchanted forest, though that feels like a lifetime ago. 
Sitting down at the desk in the spare room you pick up a grimoire, flipping through the old and brittle pages carefully.
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You’re three seconds away from throwing something against the wall. 
Nothing is working, you can’t seem to focus past the incessant pounding of your head. The candle lit up on the desk flickers wildly, as if sensing your irritation. The normal lights had hurt your eyes, so you turned them off in hopes of getting more progress done.
However, it seems you’ve made no progress in the hours you’ve spent holed up in your study. Jars of substances and dried herbs litter the top of your desk, several different books open to pages that contain the information you need.  
The words all seemed to blur together, heightening your irritation. 
Usually you managed to keep your temper in check but you’re so close to losing it, feeling sore and weak. You’re frustrated; frustrated you can’t do something as simple as read, frustrated you’d let yourself go this morning, that you’d worried Jungkook, frustrated that nothing is going the way you want it to. 
Your eyes catch on a piece of paper, the inked words sending your mind reeling. You still hadn’t told Jungkook about it. 
After all, the invite was from the council. The glaring red seal is proof of that, the emblem stamped into it. You knew exactly what they wanted, knew it was inevitable.
You swipe a jar off your desk in a fit of rage, listening to it shatter against the floor. The storm of emotion builds up, sending your magic into a frenzy that it gladly takes advantage of, bubbling up under your skin like it was just waiting to be released. Threating to break free and destroy.
Why couldn’t you just be normal?
Why couldn’t you just control it?
Nobody could figure out why you were like this, why your magic was unstable and volatile. Not even the oldest creatures would understand, studying you like it was the most intriguing thing because how is it that you had all this power?
The only one who could do anything was Jungkook. Although different species, he somehow was able to tame your magic and settle your mind. He was the only one that could stop your episodes.
You let out a sob, feeling the familiar ache spread through your body quickly. After the one this morning, this one is quickly taking over. Not even a second later there’s a knock at your door, Jungkook’s voice floating through the air.
“Y/n? Are you okay?”
He knew you weren’t, but was still conscious enough to not enter your study. It was your space, and he could sense you were spiraling. 
Instead of answering you simply sat there, head in your hands. He waits a beat, before twisting the knob and stepping inside quietly. He walks straight to you, careful of the shattered glass and dried herbs that lay on the floor. 
Your magic has spiked, the smell of anxiety and anger rolling off your crumpled form. His arms wrap around you, strong and secure as he lifts you from the chair. Bypassing the mess he moves towards the couch that’s pushed up against the wall. You’d put it in there just for him, whenever he wanted to keep you company. 
He gently sets you down in his lap, worried eyes meeting yours. It’s been a long time since he’s seen you in such a state. Occasionally you would spiral but most days you’re in control. To see you so disheveled has him worried, makes his chest constrict and he can already tell you’re losing control. 
“What’s wrong? What can I do to help.”
His voice is firm and cuts through the thoughts that cloud your mind. You lean into him wrapping your arms around his neck, seeking the warmth of his body and physical contact. He lets you, pulling you to him so that there’s barely any space between you two.
His presence helps, but it seems like you’d let yourself get too far this time, get too stuck in your head. Jungkook holds you to his bare chest until he feels you shake, pulling back to get a good look at your face. 
Your brows are furrowed, eye red from the meltdown you’d just had. He can see you struggling, already knowing there is only one way to curb the oncoming episode.
“Can I?”
You give him a nod, his plush lips finding yours easily. Your breath hitches in your chest before you’re melting into him. He holds you securely against him, your lips meeting in a passionate kiss. You can feel the emotion through it; the worry, the love, the determination. He pours his feelings into the simple action, hands settled on your hips. 
Sometimes, the only way to prevent an especially bad episode is to fuck it out of you. 
His hands slip beneath the fabric of your shirt, feeling your warm skin beneath his palms. He occupies your mouth, relishing in the feel of your lips on his. You have been intimate countless times, and every time it sends a shiver down his spine. It never fails to please his inner beast, though he knows that right here right now, it’s all about you.
He’s gentle as he removes your shirt and bra, momentarily detaching his lips from yours. You’re desperate to not break the link between you, his touch grounding. Jungkook doesn’t let you move so much as an inch away from him, understanding the feeling all too well. 
Every moon cycle he becomes feral, unable to contain the urges to hunt; to sink his fangs into his prey. The wild side of him, which lurks somewhere in the back of his mind, breaks free. It’s hard to control him when he gets like that, and the only way to get back some semblance of humanity is through you. 
In a way, you balanced each other. 
Understanding your needs, his hands easily moving to cup your breasts, tweaking your nipples between slender fingers. You shudder at the touch, eyes shut and your brain ceasing any thoughts. Your attention is solely on Jungkook, on his warm touch, on the smell of bark that lingers on his skin. 
Goosebumps flare up under his fingers as they work at drawing the sweet sounds from your lips. He swallows all the moans that leave your lips, trailing rough fingertips down your soft skin until they reach the hem of your pants. 
With a quick movement, your back is against the couch, the wolf’s strong body hovering over you. His eyes are the same dark chocolate, only you can see the emotion swirling within their depths.  
“I’ll take care of you baby, just relax for me hm?”
You nod, knowing he will keep his word. A small smile spreads across his lips before he’s ducking down for another kiss. His hands run down your body, lips following suit as they travel down to your collar bones. Fingers hook into the fabric of your pants, tugging them down enough for you to kick them off. 
Jungkook is still in his sweats, his preferred bottoms simply because they’re loose. He chooses to nip at the mark on your neck, a sign that his wolf had chosen you to be his mate. It sends a shudder down your spine, the meaning of it causing your heart to constrict. 
Your skin is hot to the touch, rivaling his own hotter then average temperature. He can sense there’s an influx of your magic, attempting to sooth what he can as he mumbles words of praise. He litters your skin with soft kisses, shuffling down your body until he’s rested between your knees. 
There’s a glimmer of gold in his eyes when he looks up, something that makes your stomach flip. 
“You’re so pretty, so good for me.” His voice is low, touch grounding as he fiddles with the fabric of your panties. He’s tempted to tear it off you and dive right in but he knows that right now you’re struggling. The furrow of your brow, the flushed state of your skin says it all. 
So instead he rids you of the last piece of cloth covering your body from his hungry eyes. He adores how soft you are, your taste, the little sounds that he can pull from your throat. You shiver, folds glistening in the dim room and it makes him groan. Teasing will only rile you up further so he glances up once more to make sure, and then leans down to lick a stripe up your folds. 
He’s diligent, pulling small whimpers from your throat as your hands push his long hair away from his forehead. He hums against you, sending light shockwaves of pleasure through you. Jungkook has always been a bit of a messy lover, maybe in part due to the animalistic side of him but he’s always careful. 
It doesn’t take long before you’re moving your hips against his face, seeking out that delicious friction. He has no qualms, letting his tongue swirl around your hole before dipping it in. 
“Fuck,” you curse softly, fingers flexing in his hair. Your mind is blissfully blank, focused only on the way his mouth feels against your pussy, on the way his attention is solely on you. His efforts double, eager licks and sucks now being joined by a finger which he eases into you. 
It slips in with ease, a second joining it once he feels you loosen around his digit. 
“Please kook,” you moan, nerve endings alight with an abundance of magic and pleasure. Jungkook keeps a grounding hand on your knee, occupied with making you feel good. He lets the pleasure build, condense into a ball that threatens to snap at any moment. He can sense you’re close, notices in the way your muscles twitch. 
Your head is thrown back, eyes closed as your body moves towards the pleasure; seeking it out. 
And with a well timed twist of his wrist you let go, unable to stop the pressure from building up in your stomach. It overflows, making your muscles tense as Jungkook happily licks up what he can. It makes something in his chest swell, seeing you relax into the cushions as the last of the shockwaves fade out. 
“Feeling any better?”
He asks, wiping his mouth with the back of his hands. Your eyes follow the movement idly, before you blink. You can feel your magic, understand that it’s just below the surface of your subconscious. As volatile and uncontrolled as it is, you’re not sure how long you can keep yourself in check. 
As if sensing your unease, Jungkook moves back up so he’s hovering over you. 
“It’s alright. I’m always here to help you. Whatever you need.”
His words make your heart stutter, his eyes displaying his emotions clearly. You lean up to press a kiss to his lips, one he reciprocates before you pull away. You lean your forehead against his, noses almost touching. His eyes are the prettiest shade of brown, little flecks of gold still lingering in his orbs. 
“Help me then, please.”
Jungkook surges forward to kiss you again, kicking his sweats off. You’re not surprised to find he’s not wearing any underwear instead just relishing in his touch. Even after all these years, he’s still the same pup you found in the forest. Still wild and free but equally caring and energetic. 
“As you wish,” He mutters, nuzzling against your cheek. It makes you crack a smile, heart overflowing with love for the shifter. Hovering over you, you still marvel at how well built he is. With sun kissed skin and a slim waist, he has the perfect amount of muscle. 
He easily maneuvers you into a comfortable position, the hard head of his cock poking at your thigh. You know he’s bigger than most men, know that it’s easy to excite him. There’s been more than one occasion in which you’ve been woken up by the wolf boy rutting against you. 
His lips find yours sealing your thoughts away for the moment. When he shifts, the bulbous head of his cock slips between your pussy lips. He slides into you with ease, the two of you moaning when he bottoms out. Your walls hug him, the warm heat of your cunt making Jungkook groan. 
"You're good baby, you can move." You mumble, the stretch around his girthy cock morphing into a pleasant burn. He nods, pulling out half way only to thrust forward with a smooth movement. Your arms link around his neck, fingers curling into the long locks at the base of his neck. His thick shaft brushes against your walls in all the right places. He sets a slow pace at first, dragging out moans from your lips. You clench around him, sucking him deeper before he picks up the pace.
A particularly hard thrust has your eyes rolling back, legs raising to wrap around his hips. You cant your hips up, a shiver zapping down your spine when the head of his cock brushes against that one spot.
"Fuck—" You moan, body alight with a pleasant hum. His hands grip your hips, nails leaving crescent shaped indents as he fucks into you at a rough pace. Being so close to him, feeling his touch and his body heat against your skin has your mind blanking. The magic in you simmers, any and all feelings melting away to leave behind pleasure. 
Jungkook tucks his face into your neck, laving his tongue over your mark and nibbling gently as his hips slam into you. It’s enough to have your lips parted, moans and sounds slipping free. You can feel the familiar gathering of tension in your stomach, each stroke of his cock adding to it. 
“I’m— gonna c-cum hng.”
Your words spur Jungkook on, his hips picking up the pace as he leans down so your breasts rub against his chest. 
“Yeah? Gonna cum for me ____?”
His eyes are a sea of golden brown, the amber trying to shine through. It’s obvious he’s close as well, his groans morphing into growl-like sounds.
“Mhmm, so good, feels so good,” you babble, solely focused on the budding pressure in your stomach, threatening to burst with each brush of his cockhead against your trembling walls. It doesn’t take long with Jungkook’s quick thrusts for you to come undone, a squeak leaving your lips when he latches onto the scarred mark on your neck. 
The sudden surge of feelings is so overwhelming, it almost seems to reset your body into a natural balance. You can feel his love for you through the bond you share; the worry, the hurt, the desire to cherish you. 
You twitch under your lover, lost in a euphoria that Jungkook soon joins you in. He pants into your neck, few frantic thrusts all it takes before he comes. You slowly come down from your high, your wolf boy resting half of his weight against you. There’s a pleasant feeling that settles over you, the comforting feeling of his skin against your nice.
It takes a moment for the two of you to come down, Jungkook’s eyes settling back into the warm chocolate they usually are. He pulls out of you with a groan, rolling off you onto the couch. 
“Are you okay?” He asks, hands smoothing down your hair. You give him a sleepy nod, watching as he moves to slide his arm beneath your thighs to pick you up gently. He can tell you’re tired, navigating around the dim house and easily locating your shared room. 
Jungkook goes about cleaning you up in the bathroom, attentive and caring. He draws a warm bath, washes you between the kisses he steals until you shiver from the cold. You quickly get out and change, moving towards the bed. He follows right behind you, his arm resting over your hip as he climbs in behind you. 
“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks after some time, knowing that sometimes it helps to get things off your chest. You tended to keep to yourself about certain matters, especially when they involve Jungkook and he’s well aware of that. 
With a heavy sigh you turn so that you’re facing him. By now it’s night time, and only thin slivers of moonlight bleed in from outside. It makes him look ethereal and you take a moment to soak up all the small details. The small scar on his cheek, the mole on the end of his nose and below his bottom lip, thick brows. 
“I received a letter,” You start, figuring there’s no point in hiding it when it’s bound to come up again. Jungkook listens quietly as you continue, drawing soothing circles over your skin. 
“It’s from the council.”
You notice Jungkook tense, and you can tell that his mind is already working a mile a minute. 
Despite being together for many years, your relationship with Jungkook is looked down upon. Most high witches had demon familiars, strong and powerful. You however had a wolf shifter, who are seen as lower tier supernaturals. Not only that but you were mated to him.
The looks and mistreatment Jungkook was subjected to whenever you were summoned is unbearable, and though you’ve made it clear that he isn’t going anywhere, others make no effort in hiding their disapproval. Additionally, the location selected for this meeting is an industrialized city, which usually has him on edge to begin with. So the thought of taking him with you is out of the question. 
“I have no choice, to disobey the council would only cause more problems.”
Jungkook nods, understanding. It doesn’t stop you from wanting to throw the summons right back at them and staying home. However you don’t want to deal with the headache that would bring so you relent. You glance up at him, meeting those enchanting eyes of his. He already knows what you’re going to say, beating you to the punch before you can even get out the words. 
“I’m going with you.”
“But Jungkook—”
“No. I’m not letting you go there alone.”
He rolls on top of you, keeping you pinned to the bed with strong arms. His body easily hovers over you, narrowed eyes looking down at you. 
“I can’t subject you to that, not to those people or the city.” It makes your stomach churn. He never goes with you whenever you have to go to the city, but knowing why you’re going is enough of a reason for him to stand firm. 
You have been together for a long time, and the love shared between you is still as raw as it was when you had first fallen in love. It still doesn’t make it any less painful and angering when they demean him, treat him like he’s a filthy animal.
“I don’t care about them Y/n, I’d go mad with worry if you forced me to stay here. The city is dangerous, I can’t let my mate go by herself, not this time.”
The way he says the word mate sends shivers down your spine. The words are growled, the mere thought of you being hurt in some way causing him to quietly snarl. He knew you could defend yourself, knew you were strong but that didn’t stop his protective instincts from kicking in. 
There was no arguing with his wolf, with his instincts. His fingers press into your shoulders, frown etched into his features and brows furrowed. He’s not letting you go, even if he has to hold you down himself. Going alone was not an option. 
“Please don’t make me stay.” He changes approaches, ducking his head down to brush his nose against your cheek. 
“You know how you get in the city; I don’t want to overwhelm you.” You whisper quietly. His heart melts at your concern, nose trailing down your jaw to your neck but he’s not going to give up.
“It’ll be fine,” he hums, “I have you. You’ll be there with me. Just like I'm always here for you.” There’s a pause. “I’ll even wear the collar if I have to.”
The mention of that item makes your breath hitch. It’s a special collar infused with magic, used to tame rabid animals. Jungkook is not wild nor will you ever put that wretched device on him. That would only mean that he is exactly what people see him as; a wild, untamed beast.
“Absolutely fucking not. I won’t collar you like some animal.” You spit the words like venom, hating the mere thought. His brows are furrowed, eyes fierce and you know he won’t take no for an answer. 
“I don’t care what it takes. I won’t let you go alone.” He is equally as stubborn. Inhaling quietly, you can see his nostrils flare when he pulls back. This is getting nowhere, and although it pains you to even consider putting him in that situation there’s no other way. You exhale the air in a slow breath.
“I won’t make you do that.” You’d rather have him by your side, and with the slouch in your shoulders it’s clear that you’ve conceded. Jungkook nuzzles into your hair, keeping you close.
“Just want you to be safe.”
It’d be fine, as long as you had each other, everything would be fine. 
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It’s calm and peaceful.
Your magic seems to have settled down, and though you’re still unsure Jungkook has assured you that he’ll be fine. You go about your days as you do, enjoying the freedom you have out in the middle of nowhere.
Jungkook spends a good amount of time with you, stretched out on the couch in your study. When you’re not indoors, you’re out on the swing that sits on your back porch. The sun that streams in through the tops of the trees is warm as you relax, his presence behind you comforting as you drift in and out of a light slumber. 
The shifter tends to follow you around, and when he can’t there’s a good chance he’s running through the forest, the wind rustling his fur. You’ve had to scold him on more than one occasion for trekking in mud and dirt whenever he shifted into his animal form.
You trust the shifter to know what he can handle. 
Still, you can’t avoid this summon. 
Jungkook is fully dressed when you come out from your room though it’s obvious he’s uncomfortable. He doesn’t say anything about it, instead offering a smile when he sees you. He reaches for your hand, firm and comforting as you open the door, reality warping and swirling until there’s an abyss on the other side.
Your magic only allows you to teleport to places you’ve been before so you end up in a part of the city that looks vaguely familiar. The council never meets in the same spot twice which forces the two of you to travel through the city on foot. 
Jungkook fidgets beside you, pulling at the hem of his hoodie like he wants to tear it off. Clothes have always been a struggle for him, the rough fabric against his skin uncomfortable. He seems to be doing alright other than that, your hands interlocked at your side. 
You give a comforting squeeze, before continuing. It’s only when you get to the heart of the city that things begin to go downhill. The onslaught of stimulation has his hand twitching. The city is bustling with life, setting Jungkook on edge. He sticks close to you, pressed to your side as the swarm of people around you flood the sidewalks.
The high frequency of electricity from billboards, the chatter of people and the chatter he hears as you pass through a sea of pedestrians, the bright LED light that burns his retinas; every little noise sends him on high alert. 
You squeeze his hand, picking up the pace.
The strong scent of hot trash and mortar stings his sensitive nose so he turns his head to your hair, breathing in quietly. Your scent calms him briefly, your thumb running over his knuckles in a soothing manner. 
You navigate through the maze of roads and people. Each honk of a car horn and screech of tires startles Jungkook, breaking through the concentration he tries so hard to maintain. Amber begins to bleed into his eyes, moving close and looking around frantically, trying to pinpoint each sound.
You can hear his breathing pick up, hand gripped tight around yours as his nails dig into your skin. You hear the start of a growl, steadily building in his chest as you push through the crowd of people. 
You murmur assurances, trying to hurry it up.
He looks at you, eyes fully glowing amber and lips pulled back into a snarl though it’s not directed at you. His senses are going haywire, the loud buzzing in his ears making his head spin. He’s already half shifted; teeth elongated, claws out and digging into your hand hard enough to draw blood but you don’t even notice. It’s a sign that he’s overwhelmed so you push through people, dragging him along with you into a building.
It looks like a commercial building of some kind from outside, the interior grand. High walls and a large open space greet you, once you’re through the doors. There’s a desk off to the left of the large hall, where there are a few different hallways. You look around, noting there's a set of stairs leading up and another around the corner that lead down. 
With quick and quiet steps you quickly make your way down into the basement. You make a turn, slipping into the first room you come across. You murmur a small spell to keep the door shut before turning your attention to the wild looking man. Your unoccupied hand moves up to the shifters' face, cool against his burning skin. 
“Jungkook.” Your voice is soft but firm, forcing him to look up at you. You can see he's having trouble focusing, amber eyes flicking around the room because he can still hear and smell everything. You’re in a storage room, the dusty room small enough to fit the both of you among the boxes. 
"Look at me baby."
There's barely any space between you, your noses almost touching. You can see the way he tensely attempts to reign himself in. He squeezes his eyes shut, hands curled. You pull his head towards you, tucking his head into the crook of your shoulder. The quiet rumble you hear is shaky as he inhales. 
"Breathe. Just focus on me." 
He stays there, and you gently run your hands down his spine in soothing moments. His ridged form slowly begins to relax, his hot breath fanning against your neck as he quietly inhales your scent. It’s comforting, his beast receding from his mind the longer he listens to your gentle whispers, your body engulfed by his bigger frame. 
He can block out all the noises, focusing solely on you. He squeezes his eyes shut, willing himself back into his human form. 
Only when he moves away do you allow some space between you. 
“Sorry.” Is the first thing he says, voice low and quiet. His hands are balled into fists at his side though he leans against the shelves behind him. He refuses to look at you out of embarrassment but you frown. You reach for his hands, and though yours are far smaller you hold them tightly. 
“It’s okay,” Despite your words his eyes land on your hands. He stares at the deep scratches along the back of them, his stomach twisting up. 
“I hurt you.” He half whines, the fact that he hurt you making him feel guilty and angry at himself.
You smile gently, assumingly even if his eyes are focused on the small injuries. Frustration is written all over his face, his eyes troubled at the thought of hurting you. He hadn’t even realized he was squeezing your hand so tightly. It makes him frown because he said he could take it, could handle it no matter how overwhelmed he felt.
“These? They’re only scratches. Besides, they don’t even hurt.” 
You lean up to press a quick kiss to his lips lingering there for a moment. His arms wrap around your waist and pull you in closer. His shoulders are hunched, forehead rested against yours as he breathes in quietly.
“You did so well, proud of you. My good boy,” you whisper against his lips. He preens at the praise still in tune with his wild side. He’s careful when his fingers entwine yours. You pull away with one last kiss before sighing, mourning the loss of touch for a moment. 
“We need to get going.”
The shifter nods, rubbing his cheek against you to make sure you smell like him which draws a chuckle from your lips. The sound brings the faintest of smiles to his lips as he looks at you. The barrier you created disappears, the two of you slipping from the room and out into the hall. 
There’s nobody in sight, but you know you’re close to the location.
Abstract paintings line the cream coloured walls, your lover to your right as you follow the tiled path. The hallways are otherwise vacant and bland, your steps muted. You turn a few times, passing by a few rooms and doors and turn before coming to a stop at the end of a hall. A large set of double doors stand in your way, sealed shut. 
The air is oddly still here.
The doors themselves look normal; black handles stick out horizontally. There’s a plaque on the wall to the left, a dying plant tucked into the corner. There’s an enchantment on the door, one that you pass through as you tug on the handle. No doubt the caster is aware of your presence.
It cracks open to allow the two of you to pass through. 
Much like what you’ve seen of this building, the room is rather large. The wooden floor is covered with a maroon rug, a few pieces of furniture dotted around the space. It’s dim compared to the bright halls, but you can see there’s a horseshoe shaped table that sits in the middle of the room. All but a few seats are occupied.
Behind that, a marble frame surrounds a collage of images. A group of wealthy looking people gather for a feast; stained glass with striking imagery painted on the wall. The table is stocked full of food, a lamb on a rotisserie sat in the center. It looks rather intricate, but your eyes only linger for a moment. 
You can feel their eyes on you. 
Their stares are like bullets, piercing through you and it takes everything in Jungkook not to snap his teeth at them. 
“How nice of you to join us Y/n.”
You only nod in acknowledgement to the man, barely glancing at the high demon. Seojun’s expression remains indifferent, though his eyes flick over to the shifter at your side. Quietly, you slip into a free seat before he goes back to whatever it was that he was saying before you arrived. 
You quietly listen even though your attention is on Jungkook more than the varying voices that speak up. He sits tense next to you, your hand rested on his thigh. He fiddles with your fingers anxiously, leg bouncing next to you as 
Soon enough the council is dismissed. As expected, you’re pulled aside by Seojun, eyes disapproving as Jungkook practically glues himself to your side. 
“I see you still have your pet around, hm?” The off-handed comment makes your blood boil but you keep your face neutral despite the quiet growl that leaves the shifters’ lips. The high demon only looks at the man behind you, before turning his attention back to you. 
“I heard that you have something I want.” Ah yes, there it is. You knew there was an ulterior motive, they would never go through all the trouble of summoning you for such a meeting. You pretend to think for a moment, tilting your head up to look him dead in the eyes. 
“You mean this?” The item materializes in your hand, a vial with an olive coloured liquid in it. His eyes land on it, a smirk playing on his lips. He reaches out to take it from you but you stop him. You won’t let him have it so easily.
“Ah ah ah, I don’t think so.” You taunt, his eyes glimmering with a spark of rage.
“What do you want?” He grumbles, not keen on this game you’re playing. 
“You know what I want, Seojun. A deal is a deal.” Seojun laughs, lips turning up into a grin. He produces the book from his coat, holding it up for you to see. How he got a hold of that grimoire is beyond you but it’s something you need. Begrudgingly you hand him the vial in exchange for it, the weight heavy in your hand.
“Always a pleasure doing business with you Y/n.” He grips your chin with clawed hands, smirking when Jungkook growls at him. You remain unbothered, squeezing your lovers hand behind your back to settle him. He’s ramrod straight beside you, livid that some lowlife demon is touching his mate.
“I look forward to the next one.” He shoots the shifter a look before letting you go. “Oh and, make sure to keep that mutt on a tight leash.” He’s gone before Jungkook can lunge for him, already out of reach.
“Bastard,” The word is snarled, and you turn your attention to the wolf behind you. He’s angry, the vein in his neck bulging as he glares at the place where the demon had been only seconds ago. 
Wanting to avoid further encounters, Jungkook grabs your hand and tugs you down the hall. You know he doesn’t want to spend another second here, so you oblige, linking your fingers into his hand and stepping up beside him. 
Jungkook has been tense since you’ve stepped foot into the city, angered now after that interaction with Seojun. The agitation rolls off him and you can see it in the way he struggles to keep himself in check. His eyes flick around almost trembling as he practically drags to the end of the hall when your shoulder brushes against someone.
In that brief moment that another touches you, Jungkook loses it. Whatever control he had is gone like the wind, the tell tale sound of bones adjusting meeting your ears.
Understanding he needs to get out of here now, you grip his hand and tug him back. He resists, a loud snarl leaving his lips as he glares, struggling against your firm hold on him. This time you’re pulling him towards the gateway that you open.
You pull your lover with you, stepping out of the large building and into another room. The familiar wood and furniture have you heaving a sigh, before you spin on your heel.
“We’re home.” you whisper, getting his attention. 
His eyes flick around observing that he’s no longer where he was moments ago. The blind rage he’d been thrown into blinds him for a moment, eyes locked on you. He’s physically shaking, hands balled into fists. He grips the fabric covering his upper half and rips it at the seams. You can see he’s worked up, unable to suppress the wolf that has been on edge all day. 
There’s little space between you and he quickly erases the distance to back you up against the closest thing, which just so happens to be the table. 
Amber eyes pierce through you as he looks down at you. 
“You did so well for me,” You hum, running your fingers through his hair even if he’s not the most human right now.
He picks you up easily, nails digging into your thighs through your jeans as he leads you to the bedroom, throwing you down on the bed before he’s clambering on top of you. He hastily shoves your jack off, pulling at your shirt until your upper half is exposed. 
His nose is buried in the crook of your neck, tongue poking out to lick along the sensitive skin. You tilt your head, submitting and giving him more access to kiss and suck. The only thing on his mind is making you smell like him again, hands resting on your hips as he moves across your throat and to the other side of your neck.
He growls, body moving on instinct. 
You let him do as he pleases, arms wrapped about his thick shoulders. He nuzzles and sucks on the skin, keeping you pinned beneath him.
His skin is warm against yours, a groan leaving his lips as he pulls back. There's a furrow in his brows, before he's pulling off your remaining clothing until there's not a single thread on either of you.
Bright eyes meet yours, swimming with all the thoughts he struggles to speak. So you simply open your arms and pull him in closer. 
"Do whatever you need baby, it's okay."
You feel him nod into your skin, too far gone to form syllables as he kisses down your chest. You know he’d never hurt you, never do something weren’t okay with. He shifts so he's between your legs, the blunt head of his hard cock pressed between your lower lips. 
It's clear that he's letting his body run on instincts, which happens when he's overwhelmed, so you only encourage him. Your voice is quiet, words whispered while your fingers tangle in his hair. He doesn't seem to care much, mouth occupied with your breast as he rolls his hips.
Your body naturally responds to his, an airy sound leaving your lips as he leans into you. He ruts against your pussy, nudging your clit as he does so. His mouth continues to suck marks into your skin, soothing the sting with his tongue before repeating the action.
His hips build up a steady pace, rubbing your slick between your thighs as he works himself up. With each grind a pleasant sensation travels up your stomach, fingers tugging on the strands of his hair to guide him up to your mouth. He goes easily, kissing you hungrily. Even though he’s focused on his own needs he’s still careful not to hurt you, keeping his claws retracted and being mindful of his sharp teeth. 
He groans and grunts reverberate through his chest, hips gridding down hard before he pulls back. A pair of thick fingers find their way into your warmth, sliding in with ease. They work diligently to stretch you open as you let out a noise that Jungkook swallows. 
He manages to squeeze in another, curling the digits up until you’re squirming, eyes locked on where his fingers disappear into your pussy. He can tell you’re close, can see the way your eyes roll when his fingers brush against the one spot. He’s already drawn this out, and not wanting to wait a second longer, he letting his fingers slip from your hole, instead wrapping them around the thick girth of his cock. 
He gives it a few pumps before settling back into position, glancing back up. 
While you had whined at the loss of pleasure, the conflicting emotions written across his face makes your heart clench. 
“It’s okay,” your words are the confirmation he was looking for, rolling his hips forward smoothly. You moan at the feeling, the static running through your muscles leaving you pleasantly relaxed. Jungkook’s mouth is back at your neck, a hand on your hip as he pulls back after a moment. 
“You’re doing so well Kook. Let it all out.” You whisper, his hips snapping back into you. 
Your mind blanks, the two of you quickly getting lost in the feeling. Thick muscle tenses beneath your hands, long hair falling over his eyes, brows furrowed. He’s a sight, eyes peeking open to reveal a glowing amber that sets your insides alight. 
There’s something that blooms between you two, a warmth that makes your heart skip a beat and eyes roll. He’s determined to take you with him, over the edge that is rapidly approaching. His hips snap into yours almost urgently, and when he feels you tighten and flutter around him, his teeth find the mark - his mark - on your neck.
His teeth fit perfectly into the indents, scraping against the soft flesh. It makes you shudder, body tensing before you moan, the sound catching in your throat as sharp teeth sink into your neck. Jungkook growls - a low sound that you feel in your chest before he stills. His canines are still in your skin, grinding down until he comes. 
After a minute, he gently pulls his teeth from your neck, laving his tongue along the fresh indents to clear them of the beads of blood that have gathered and rolled down your chest. He pulls away when you wince, before slowly easing out of you and cuddling into your side. 
His hair brushes against your jaw, arms wrapped around your waist. It’s quiet for a bit as you both come down before you hear it; a quiet sob that makes your heart shatter. Something wet stains your neck, where the wolf shifter has his face tucked away.
There’s a muffled sound and you turn your head to the side. Your hand finds his jaw, tilting his head up so you can see his face. His eyes are a familiar brown, though they’re red and you can see faint tear stains. 
He refuses to meet your eyes, scrunching his nose as he sniffles. 
“What’s wrong?”
He huffs, frowning. His hair falls over his eyes but he shakes his head to move the strands. 
“I’m sorry, I let myself get overwhelmed. Lost it because I can’t handle the city. ” 
His voice is low and quiet, but his words make your brows furrow. 
“No no, don’t you dare.” Your words are firm, eyes locked with his. You won’t let him fall down that rabbit hole, not when you’re the reason he doesn’t like cities. Pressing a finger to his lips you quiet him before he can say anymore. 
For a moment, your eyes lock with his. 
You understand his frustration, understand that he’s blaming himself. It’s clear he’s a little shaken, having let himself go in that split second and only just now regaining his control. You cup his jaw, smoothing your thumb over his cheek to wipe away the drying tears. 
“It’s okay. It’s over now so we can just cuddle all day and do nothing if that’s what you want.”
He cracks a smile, pink lips curling up as he nods, snuggling closer to you.
“I’d love that.” It makes you chuckle, sinking into the mattress and letting the tension seep out of your body. The warmth against your skin is welcomed, the two of you curling up together. Soft puffs of air leave Jungkook’s parted lips, and it makes you smile. He must have been tired and you don’t blame him. 
Instead you reach up to brush the hair away from his face, pressing a small kiss to his lips before settling down. 
He was your lifeline, the very thing that kept you afloat all these years; as you were his. No matter how imperfect you were, you relied on each other, inexplicably tied together by an unseen thread. It was just you and him, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
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♡ | feedback/thoughts are always appreciated!
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oioinanami · 9 months ago
routines. (ushijima wakatoshi x f. reader)
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word count: 1.9k
synopsis: ushijima had never considered himself to be a „relationship person“ - until he met you.
contains: fluff, acquaintances to lovers, very slight sexual suggestiveness if you squint
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Ushijima Wakatoshi had always considered himself a stoic and reserved man. He lived and breathed for volleyball. He went running every morning, ate three meals a day, showered twice. He had his routines and he liked it like that.
But then came you - and everything suddenly changed. It was his best friend Tendou - charming, loud and fun Tendou - who introduced you to one another, probably not even thinking about Ushijima ever falling for you, or anyone really, it just seemed too ridiculous, too far fetched. Of course Ushijima had his fair share of sexual encounters, but never anything serious, and all of those were mostly just for him to blow off some steam. He had never felt the need for a real and stable relationship before. But you - you felt different to him; like a breath of fresh air on a stuffy day, like rays of sunlight gently warming his cold face, like a soft and sweet scented breeze on the first day of early spring.
The first time he ever had the pleasure of meeting you and seeing you smile up at him, eyes bright and honest, he was absolutely helpless against the blush spreading over his cheeks and entire face until even the tips of his ears had turned red. As soon as his best friend Tendou saw the crimson color on his captain’s face, he suddenly sported the biggest smirk Ushijima had ever seen. The stoic volleyball player immediately knew that he was in trouble, in big big trouble. But it was too late - Tendou’s brain was already beginning to come up with a plan to set you two up.
So to Ushijima, it wasn’t the biggest surprise when Tendou began to invite you to all their volleyball matches, and being the sweet and supportive friend that you simply were, you actually tried to attend as often as possible. You cheered for the entire team, even though you were mostly acquainted with Tendou, knowing the others' faces and names, but none of them personally. Ushijima always tried his best during any game, no matter who was watching or not, but Tendou still noticed the way his best friend and team captain was trying maybe just a tad harder whenever you were present during a match. Should the team win while you were there, which was more often than not these days, Tendou literally dragged you with him to join the team for their celebratory dinners afterwards. Somehow you always ended up sitting beside Ushijima, slowly getting used to his stoic and calm presence, and beginning to try and make him smile by cracking an almost ridiculous amount of jokes around him. More often than not, your sarcasm went straight over his head, and once he even inquired if you were going to therapy after you jokingly said you were ready to kill for another of the extremely tasty Onigiri being served that evening. You only realized he himself was joking when you saw the tiny, private smile tugging at his lips. Maybe that was the moment you began falling for him, and you never stopped tumbling since.
After a few weeks of helpless pining, or as he called it “making sure his feelings were sincere”, Ushijima finally decided to ask you on a date. He just didn’t know how; he knew other people considered him blunt to the point of rudeness, and he never wanted you to see him in that way, he didn’t want to scare you off - even though you had never seemed to mind his directness before. Asking Tendou for help was definitely out of the question, because Ushijima knew his best friend literally didn’t know how to keep his mouth shut in times of need, so he’d probably just instantly tell you everything and Ushijima couldn’t have that.
But as fate would have it, he didn’t even need Tendou’s help - because a situation presented itself, so perfect, at least in his eyes, that Ushijima still smiled about it years afterwards. It was the last and therefore most important match of the season, and Shiratorizawa had not only won the first set, but was also currently in the lead for the second one. Only one point and they’d go to the nationals again. Naturally, you were pretty much at the edge of your seat, one closest to the field, all thanks to Tendou shooing away some younger girls before the match had begun and, unknown to you, making sure Ushijima had the perfect view of you cheering him on. You were currently biting your lips until you tasted blood, knees bouncing nervously while your eyes followed the boys on the field, more often than not landing on Ushijima. By now, you probably should have gotten used to him looking way too handsome in the team’s uniform, but even after months of seeing him wear it, your heart still skipped a beat whenever you attended any game. “Please, please, please, come on, boys, you can do it.”, you were muttering under your breath, the girl beside you giving you the side-eye but you just ignored her, heart beating twice as fast while you watched the game. Both teams were fighting for dominance, no one wanting to back down, the atmosphere thick with anticipation and nervousness. And then, it happened - Tendou’s quick eyes followed the ball, asserting which angle to use to best set it for Ushijima, who was already running towards the net for one of his incredible spikes. Rarely if ever could someone withstand the sheer power of his left hand, so no one was completely surprised when, a second later, the ball hit the ground with a loud smacking noise, resounding around the gym. Time seemed to stand still for a few seconds, before happy yells rose all around you and loud music suddenly started blasting from somewhere behind you. You were out of your seat in a split second, running towards where the team was hugging and high fiving each other on the field. “Ushi, that was amazing-”, you stated proudly, almost breathless with happiness, but were unable to complete your sentence because suddenly, there was a pair of strong arms around you, literally sweeping you off your feet and twirling you around once. You yelped, heart fluttering like crazy while you stared up at Ushijima, who had just set you back down on your feet again, the corners of his lips curling upwards into the tiniest of smiles. “Thank you, Y/N. I really appreciate your support.”, he said, deep voice rumbling in his chest, and you swore your knees were about to give out right there and then. You knew he wasn’t just being polite - he was being honest, his words always truthful, and it made your heart swell to know he liked you coming to his games. You had long learned to love his directness. Other people called him blunt, you called him honest, which was something not a lot of people could say about themselves, not in the modern times of Snapchat filters and Snow Apps. Ushijima cocked his head to one side, looking at you for a few seconds, his greenish-brown eyes almost unreadable, before he took in a deep breath. “I would really like to take you out on a date, if that’s something you’d want too.”, he then stated, and you just blinked a few times, before your face split into a huge smile, which made Ushijima’s heart burst and a deep blush creep onto his cheeks. It was the smile that had made him fall for you in the first place, the one he would never ever get used to - even years from now, when he was nothing more than stardust left behind, every single atom that once belonged to his body would still remember your smile, forever branded into the inner core of his soul, he was sure of it. And then you finally answered him, making his heart soar and his chest puff out: “I would love nothing more.”
For your first day date, Ushijima took you to a farm to pick the first strawberries of the season, shyly asking you to call him “Wakatoshi” by the end of the day and blushing madly once you did. You couldn’t help but stand on your tiptoes to press the softest of kisses against his cheek, feeling his slight stubble and hot skin under your lips, suddenly finding yourself blushing as well. When he took your hand, interlacing his strong calloused fingers with your smaller, softer ones, you knew your heart was long lost, forever his. But the soft, pleased smile he gave you, made you hope that maybe you weren’t the only one feeling like that.
That was just the first date of many, many more to come. Soon, everyone was already used to always seeing you two together; the stoic tall volleyball player and his much louder, much smaller girlfriend, an odd pair that somehow still just fit, like two puzzle pieces finally put back together again.
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Ushijima quickly grew used to your constant presence in his life, and now, it almost feels like you’re part of him. He loves all your little quirks and antics - that you cling to him every morning, jokingly trying to keep him from going on his daily run and leaving you alone in bed; or how you confidently sing along to every song, drawing soft smiles from his lips whenever you mess up the lyrics and laugh at yourself; or that you like to speak to your plants, your green children as you like to call them, convinced it will make them grow quicker and stronger; or the way your eyes light up whenever he enters the room, reaching for him with one hand and making his heart swell twice its size; or your breathy moans and the quiet yells of his name whenever he touches your soft, flushed body in the darkness of your shared bedroom - honestly, there’s just so much to love about you, he sometimes gets a bit overwhelmed by his own feelings.
Ushijima Wakatoshi still considers himself a stoic and reserved man. But you have managed to melt some of his hardness away, your softness settling over all his angles and edges like sunlight reflecting on a still and deep lake. Yes, he still lives and breathes for volleyball - but now also for you, always and forever you. Yes, he still goes running every morning, still eats three meals a day, still showers twice. But now he runs much later in the day, spending the early hours of the morning with you in his arms, soft and warm body pressed flushed against his hard one, nose buried in your sweet smelling hair. His three meals a day are often prepared together nowadays, you singing loudly along to a song playing on the radio while chopping vegetables, smilingly observing him marinating and grilling the meat, sometimes standing on your tiptoes to press a gentle kiss on his cheek like you did on you first date, oh so many years ago. Even his showers are less lonely - all in the name of saving water and the planet of course, or that’s what you always say whenever you join him, happily spiking up his hair with shampoo while he just looks at you, the corners of his lips curling into one of those private smiles he reserves just for you, making you blush at the way his eyes shine with love and adoration for you, even after years of being together.
Yes, Ushijima Wakatoshi still has his routines, but now he always makes sure to incorporate you into them - and he very much likes it like that.
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a/n: this is my first ever haikyuu imagine and also the first scenario on this blog - feedback and reblogs are appreciated, requests are open.
© oioinanami 2021 | masterlist
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whistlingwillows · 9 months ago
the girl in purple (1/8) | r.b.
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summary: In his mind, you’re wearing the white blouse and long purple skirt again, long riding boots covering dark pants, innocent smile on your face as you wait for him in the noon sunlight. Or, four years ago, Bertholdt asked for a favour and you said yes.
WARNINGS: swearing, ass jokes, flashbacks and flashforwards, mostly fluff and banter, pining and angst at the end, bertholdt is our soft best friend <3 pairing: reiner braun x fem!reader word count: 5.0k
a/n: pt 1 of 8 of a birthday present for the legend, the icon, the bad bitch herself, ISABEL!!@!@!@ @luciilferss​ ALSO, song not mine! it’s the sea shanty called wellerman.
crossposted on ao3 x
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You sigh, wiping the back of your hand before grabbing the next hay bale that needed to be lifted to the loft. Your back aching, you grit your teeth as you lug it towards the ladder. It’s the last one and after a sweaty afternoon, you just want to get into bed. Hopefully Annie did end up getting you supper—you had to work through it just so Shadis didn’t get your ass up tomorrow to finish the job.
“Here, let me help.”
“Oh, thank you,” you reply, glancing to see your savior and a warmth shoots through your body when you realize it’s Bertholdt. “You know if Shadis catches you helping me, it’s going to be hell to pay, right?” The boy smiles, shrugging, and you can’t help your own grin as he gestures for you to climb up. Skirting up the ladder, you turn around to take the hay bale and pushing it towards the corner before jumping down and dusting off your hands. Stable clean-up is never fun, but with autumn right around the corner, they all want to get a head start before the chill sets in.
“I wanted to ask you a favour.”
“I knew there had to be a reason you were in here,” you tease. “Shoot.”
“Well, we have visiting privileges next weekend,” Bertholdt continues as you walk around the stables, picking up tools as you make your way towards where the broom is leaning against the wall. The tall boy ambles after you and you shoot him an amused look, curiosity pricking at your fingers. 
Half-way through their training in the corps, and Bertholdt still manages to keep you guessing. You don’t know what it is about him, but your friend’s always been the quiet one. It’s part of why you like being around him, but you just wish his friend liked you. Annie seems more than fine with you.
Reiner, on the other hand, can barely even look at you. It’s a real downer.
“I was just wondering…”
“You should ask Annie,” you cut off before he can finish, picking up the broom to begin sweeping the stray hay into a neat pile. Bertholdt’s spine goes ramrod straight and his cheeks redden so intensely you can’t help but laugh. “I’m pretty sure she would say yes. You guys are friends, right?”
“Yes, but we’re—we’re not—why would I ask Annie, specifically?” he stammers. The horses neigh as you walk past, their necks stretching out for treats but you ignore them, heading for the entrance. “She could go with a bunch of other people.”
“Yeah, but she always goes with me.” Glancing at Bertholdt, your eyes narrow when he smacks his forehead, covering his flustered expression miserably. Poking him in the gut with the handle of your broom, you continue, “And she only likes a few people here. You’re one of them, Bertl.” 
“Well, if you think so. I mean, you’re her dorm mate, not me, so… argh!” he groans as you walk past him, sweeping. “You’re not helping!”
“Helping with what?” you ask innocently, not paying him a second look. You hear him let out a sigh as you brush hay to the back of the stables. “You’re the one who wanted a favour.”
“Yeah, and I still need to tell you.”
“Literally no one’s stopping you, Bertholdt.” Another resigned sigh. “Okay. Okay. Ask me. I promise I won’t tease you for the next ten minutes.” Turning around, you rest your broom against the post between two stalls. A horse nudges at your face and you scratch the stallion’s chin as Bertholdt walks closer. His eyes inspect your own expression, searching for trickery, but you only grin.
Then, he drops his crossed arms and says, “Someone wants to ask you out next weekend for our visit to Trost.”
“Er, okay? Why didn’t they just ask me themselves?” Crossing your own arms, you lean against the post, the lantern hanging above your head and casting everything in a warm glow. It softens Bertholdt’s smile as he shrugs mischievously. “Who was it?”
“Reiner?” His name is punched out of you, sharp with shock, and your broom slides off the post, clattering to the floor between the two cadets as you stare at Bertholdt. 
“Reiner Braun.”
“We know the same one, don’t we?”
“Blond, makes ass jokes, this tall?” he shoots back, raising a hand that comes just near his ear. You nod. “Yeah.”
“But he hates me.”
“What? No, he doesn’t. Why would you think that?” Bertholdt’s eyebrows knit together and you stare at him incredulously, not sure if he’s joking or not. Shaking your head, you let out a scoff and bend down to pick up your broom to continue your sweeping. Mind a swirl, you try to reconcile the Reiner, who has never said more to you than ‘pass the grease’ during ODM maintenance and ‘you have dirt on your chin’ after forest exercises, with the Reiner who had to ask Bertholdt to ask you out for him.
Sounds fake, but you digress.
“Okay,” you drawl, unable to help the disbelief from creeping into your voice. “This was a good attempt at a joke, but you need to try harder next time.”
“You don’t believe me.”
“Why would I ever believe you?”
“Because I would never li—make something up like that,” he says, correcting himself, and you send him a strange look. “Just… when we get to Trost, you know that bakery that sells the stuffed cream buns. The one you mentioned before?”
“Yeah. Annie likes them,” you inform him pointedly, and Bertholdt’s mouth drops open to argue but he seems to think better of it this time.
“Yes, that one.” Fighting a furious blush on his cheeks, he continues, “If you’re there at noon, you’ll see I’m not lying.”
“And if I’m not there?”
“Reiner will be very sad for the rest of his life,” Bertholdt declares and you can’t help your serious expression from sliding off. “Will you please just consider it?”
Staring at your friend, you study his expression. It’s completely genuine, open, eyes wide and you feel a part of you melting at how adorable he is. For such a tall guy, he’s so goddamn gentle it blows your mind he’s a fighter. You can’t see him hurting even so much as a fly.
It’s for that reason you relent. Because Bertholdt’s never gone out of his way to scheme your downfall. He doesn’t have that in him. “Fine,” you say after a moment. “Fine, I’ll consider it.”
When Reiner steps back into the port city, he can’t help but think what he always thinks when he gets off a battlefield. Four years, and every thought is the same. Routine, almost. Or maybe, a habit to keep something alive.
And he almost takes comfort in it. That you would’ve loved it here. In Marley—Liberio, or otherwise. There are so many kinds of sweets, pastries, so many sights to see—the water stretches on for miles and miles, and you could’ve tried seafood. Maybe you would’ve liked it.
You never tried seafood. He promised. He promised—
Fucking hell. 
He steps out of the barracks, insides twisting into a tight knot as the sun blinds him. Lifting a hand, he squints and blinks, trying to get used to the brightness as people pass him by. Galliard’s voice trails after him like a ghost, and he scowls to himself, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He feels like he hasn’t slept a wink, and his body aches in places so deep he can’t rub it out.
“I saw you through her memories. You acted like the tough, reliable type. Not at all like yourself. And you were with that girl. Who was she to you, anyway, Reiner? Because my brother would have never cozied up with the enemy.”
Cozied up with the enemy. It’s as much as implying fraternization as anything and Reiner had barely chained back the words that would’ve torn both him and Galliard to shreds.
Don’t you fucking dare reduce her to just some promise I broke ever again. It stopped meaning something to me years ago.
Shaking his head free of Galliard’s voice, an image of you flashes through his mind to replace it and the urge to send a fist into his own face lances down his arm, but he barely restrains himself from doing so. Instead, he tightens his hand until his nails dig into his palm.
You’re always the one thing he can’t shake, nor does he think he wants to. 
Hollow, his feet drag his battered body towards the harbour. 
As he walks along the water, he hear some of the fishermen whistle and sing their shanties. It takes him a moment to recognize they’re all singing the same song, and he’s thrown back to when he came to the port the first time he was to go off to Paradis, how he committed the shanties to memory so he could take something with him to what was supposed to be an Island of Devils.
It makes his entire body ache, the uplifting tune filling his body up until he can’t possibly breathe. The way the sailors all sing together, smiling at each other—the camaraderie.
“Soon may the Wellerman come, to bring us sugar and tea and rum, one day when the toungin’ is done, we’ll take our leave and go…”
He misses that the most.
The sun is hanging in the centre of the sky as you glance from your plate to your surroundings. The fountain is full of life, people milling around the edges, tossing coins in and making wishes, and you hide a smile behind your hand when you watch a group of kids trying to flick their coins to the top most basin of the structure. The tiny plink-plink is barely heard, but either way, their groans of disappointment are far more amusing.
It helps pass the time at least, while you waste away your afternoon waiting for someone you’re not even sure will come. Dressed in a white blouse tucked into a long dark purple skirt that covers your pants, you cross one leg over the other as you wait.
You don’t even know why you’re here. Bertholdt had all but avoided your questions for the past week, and Annie didn’t budge, although, it’s harder for the blonde to slip. Being bunkmates helps, but not that much.
You keep people-watching, glancing up at the sky occasionally to see if any birds pass over, your bread untouched. Glancing up and down the street, you rest your chin glumly on the palm of your hand, elbow resting on the table. 
No pretty blond head in sight. 
Groaning, you lift your head when one of the waiters approaches, asking if you wanted anything more. You shake your head, a warmth spreading over your face and watching him go when a shadow falls over your table. 
“Oh, you got something to eat already.” 
Head jerking to the voice, you look up in surprise at whoever’s blocking your sunlight. Standing upright, your chair clatters against cobblestone as you clear your throat.
“You’re actually here,” you blurt out to both of their surprise and Reiner rocks back on his heels, running a hand through his short hair. His eyebrows struggle to meet his hairline and he smiles sheepishly.
“Sorry I’m late. Uh, sit down. I just… got lost.” You sink back into your chair and he takes the seat down across from yours nervously. He’s dressed in a pale green button up and darker slacks, but for once, he’s not scowling at you and you offer a slight smile. “How… how are you?”
“I’m okay. Slow morning.” He nods. You glance at your plate and nudge it towards him awkwardly. “I got it for you. It’s my favourite. I dunno what Bertl told you about me, or… why I’m even here, honestly.”
He picks up the bun tentatively, and you look down at your boots as he takes a bite, too nervous to watch his reaction.
What if he hates sweet things? What if he can’t drink cow milk? Don’t you remember? What if it makes him shit his pants—
“Oh, wow. I need to come to this place more often,” Reiner mumbles, taking another huge bite and your gaze flits to his face as he chews. His eyes are focused solely on the bun in a way that reminds you a lot like Sasha, and the corner of your mouth pulls into a pleased hint of a smile. “This is heaven…”
“You like it?” 
A noise escapes the blond and eyes jerk to meets yours as if he just remembered you were there and you tear your eyes away, clasping your hands together on the table. You close your eyes. Can the embarrassment just swallow you up already?
Reiner clears his throat, taking the cup of water left out for him after a quick point and your nod. He drains it to buy them both time, and your thumbs rub together. If you just walk away now, would it be too bad? You could probably find Annie or Jean pretty easily. Bertholdt’s probably just exploring the city with… if you had to hazard a guess, maybe Armin? They both like the architecture—stuff like that.
Honestly, you have no idea.
Porcelain rests against wood as Reiner nods. “I do. I didn’t know you had a sweet tooth.”
“Er, yeah. Since I was a kid. We didn’t have much, uh, variety, so stuff like this was kinda a delicacy. I grew up at this orphanage where we worked the fields.” You shift in your seat as Reiner continues to eat, and you sigh silently to yourself. Why did you give up an afternoon looking at paint supplies with Jean for an awkward date like this?
Wait, this is a date right? That’s what Bertholdt said. Ask you out. Those were his words, right?
“Where are you from?”
“Just inside Wall Maria, so when Shiganshina was breached, we had more time to move inward,” you explain briefly. “But we mostly ate what we grew for crops. I mean, it’s not like we could buy cream buns every day, you know?” Reiner nodded silently, and you give him an uneasy smile, feeling the need to elaborate. “Ever since we joined the corps, they send me money for birthdays and stuff. I don’t know.” You clear your throat. “Anyway, I just thought you might like the bun.”
“Even though you think I hate you?”
“Wha—“ A strangled noise comes out of your mouth. “Who told you that?”
“Why would you think that, anyway?”
“Because all you do is glare at me,” you say pointedly. Crossing your arms over your chest, you shoot him a narrowed look. “And scowl. And you generally avoid being anywhere near me. I mean, do I stink to you or something, Braun, because I have news for you—“
“I don’t hate you. I actually really like you,” he tells you bluntly, cutting your rant in half, and your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Reiner looks down at the empty plate, crossing his own arms and leaning forward on them. 
“Y-you like me?” you stammer and his cheeks redden.
“I mean, if Annie likes someone, I’m inclined to believe that they’re worth my time.”
Frowning, your shoulders slump. Gears turning, your expression scrunches up as you think aloud. “But, you asked Bertholdt to ask me out for you. Unless this is a dumb dare—wait.” You sit upright, twisting around to see if any of the other boys are milling around the plaza. Scanning for brown hair, or grey hair, or even blond hair, your cheeks begin to burn at the idea that someone’s watching you embarrass yourself but a hand on your elbow brings your gaze reeling back to Reiner.
A smile curls his lips impishly, but his eyes are resolute, calmer. Even still, he looks like he’s trying to fight a small panic rising up inside him, just like you are as he tells you to relax.
“This isn’t a dare,” he says. “I’m not that cruel.”
“I’ve seen you do worse to Titan dummies.”
“Exactly. I just wanted to get to know you better. Bertholdt offered to help me out since you guys are already friends, and I thought what the hell.”
You turn that explanation over in your head tentatively and a part of you recognizes it makes sense. Despite your hesitation, you know you only said yes because it was Bertholdt who asked you.
Otherwise, how inclined were you to say yes if it had been Reiner stalking up to you and asking you to hang out in Trost? How likely would it have been that you would be sitting here instead of walking along the stalls with Sasha and Connie?
“I’m kinda ashamed I don’t know you that well,” Reiner continues, fighting off tones you can’t decipher laced in his voice. Your brow furrows. “But I want to fix that, if you’d let me.” 
Dazedly, you repeat, “Fix… that?”
He nods and you simply stare at him, trying to get your mouth to work. It’s like he stole all the words from your mouth and time seems to slow as your lips part.
Absently, you realize his hand is still touching your elbow, fingers firm but not tight, and you swallow, studying his expression. Golden light plays on his face, sharpening the shadows of his nose and cheeks and lips, and yet everything about him seems to soften. Normally, you see him as hard rigid lines, like the shape of armour, and there is always an imposing aura around him that has become more muted now that he’s sitting beside you.
And you believe it. That he doesn’t hate you.
Maybe he really, really doesn’t, and you’d be an idiot if you don’t take up the offer.
So you stand up abruptly, and pull your arm out of his grip before slipping your hand into his.
“Fine,” you annouce, pulling him up. His eyes widen and you lead him away from the café with a small grin to yourself. A new plan begins to formulate in your mind as they step into the welcoming sun. Reiner’s long strides catch up to yours and he falls into step beside you. His stare burns into your cheek and you only tighten your grip on his hand as you lift your chin haughtily at him. “What do you say to a game of twenty questions?”
His eyebrows shoot up, but then a smug smile pulls at his mouth and he squeezes your hand back. “Sounds perfect, creampie. I promise, I’ll be perfectly honest.”
“Creampie?” you repeat dumbly, eyebrows shooting up and a horrible burning licking at your heart. Reiner gives you a vulgar smile and you let go of his hand, shaking your head and smacking his arm before looking down at the ground. Half of you wishes the ground would open up and swallow you whole—the other half thinks you’ll die of embarrassment before that. “How do you even know what that is?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
You straighten up, spine straight as an arrow. Flustered, you stutter, “That’s none of your business.”
He tilts his head back and laughs. “Guess that was your first question, then, huh? Bold start. Surprised me, too, creampie, so that gets you bonus points.”
“What? Wait—no! That doesn’t count!”
Walking past the hospital every day, it feels almost ritual to look past the gates and into the courtyard. Sometimes there are patients milling around, doing their daily physical activity, or nurses and other workers walking through to get a break from all the depressing shit that must be going on in there, and Reiner always, always, wonders if he should be in there with the rest of them.
It’s why he turns his head on reflex now, peering through iron-wrought gates. No one’s inside except for a pair walking through the path and he stops for a moment, watching. 
One of them is most definitely a woman, a hat covering her head and a long coat the shade of plums. A white Eldian armband is stark against the shade of her clothes. Meanwhile the other looks like he’s been dragged through hell. With one leg, he hobbles along with his crutch, black hair streaming past his shoulders, and he’s ragged, white shirt kind of messy from where Reiner stands. The Eldian armband is wrapped tight along his bicep. But he stands straight-back, shoulders set, the gait of a soldier. Pride keeps him up, not strength.
He’s too far away to hear them speak, and they stick to the shadows of the hospital, but after a short moment, the woman wraps an arm around the one not desperately holding onto the crutch, leaning in closer towards the man as if he has the most riveting thing to say.
For a moment, it is not a woman in a purple jacket and a veteran with one leg but two cadets walking the streets of Trost, sunlight shining down on them warmly. The blond boy leans to listen to the girl beside him, smiling until he thought his cheeks would fall off.
“This is your last question, Reiner. Make it count.”
“Hm… alright, if you could do anything in the world, anything at all, what would you do? No Titans, no soldiers. Let’s say there was no war at all and you had unlimited resources, yadda, yadda, yadda…”
“Oh? Hm… I’d want to live where there’s a lot of water. Like a lake or something. I’d get to try all these foods I’ve never thought of before, and I’d, uh… I don’t know what I’d do for money. I guess I’d figure it out somehow.”
“Chopping down wood sounds fun.”
“Yeah, right! I’d rather chop my fingers off. Hm… Maybe I could raise some kids, like I was raised. Give them a home.”
“That’s a lot of responsibility.”
“I dunno. I like being responsible for things. It makes me feel like I’m needed, I guess. I don’t want a kid to grow up lonely like I did.”
“That… that sounds nice.”
“You could visit, you know. As long as you chop the firewood.”
Reiner blinks, and the two are gone. Not a hint of them are in sight, and a soft breath slips out between his lips. He must’ve been seeing things.
Shaking his head to himself, he turns away.
The past year and a half has been turbulent since you became friends with Reiner, but for some reason, you don’t think you would change the thing. 
Not even when Connie would come at ghastly hours in the morning because “CAN YOU PLEASE TELL REINER TO STOP SNORING? We would but we’re too afraid of being crushed by the weight of his entire body. Thank you! You’re the best, seriously.”
Or when they’re studying and Reiner makes one too many jokes about how he could fuck a Titan, despite Bertholdt’s resigned sighs and you throwing a book at him, and it only gets you, “Keep acting like that and I’ll take a bite out of your juicy ass next, creampie,” and a heat that kisses at your face.
Not even after reclaiming Trost and losing yourself in his arms.
You feel something inside you shatter as the smell of ash tickles at your nose. Walking past the combat medics base they set up for the parameter of the recovery effort, you don’t even look up at any of your friends still left as you walk past. Your entire body burns from the aftermath of Trost, and you wonder if you’ll be able to even get up in the morning as you limp over to a secluded alleyway and lean against the stone.
You don’t know if you’ve ever fought for that long or hard in your life, and you can’t feel your legs anymore as you sink to the floor.
Too many bodies. There are too many bodies.
Looking up, you pull your mask down when Reiner stands before you. Tearing the fabric off your neck, you draw your knees up and rest your arms on top of them, the mask hanging off your fingers limply. A strange relieving wave washes over you to know he’s still here, even surrounded by so much death.
“Hi,” you murmur. “It’s a lot.”
“Yeah,” he agrees simply, leaning in beside you and sliding down. Their knees knock into one another as he tugs his own mask down. Sweat glistens along his skin and his sleeves are rolled up as he clears his throat. “I’m glad you made it out.”
You smile faintly at him but it flickers out before it can find a place on your face. Looking at your hands, you imagine the rough skin of calluses forming on your palms still and you wish you could rip your gloves off but every part of you is too exhausted to move now. Softly, you tell him, “I’m glad you made it out, too. There are a few of us I haven’t really caught sight of. I know Eren’s squad is dead. I—“ you stop yourself. No way Reiner is interested in the fact that you had taken their deaths in stride because you had to in the moment and now you don’t think you can feel at all— “but… Marco. I haven’t seen him in days. Jean hasn’t seen him either.”
“M-Marco?” Reiner whispers and your eyes lift to look at him. “You haven’t found him yet?” Gaze widening at the colour draining from Reiner’s face, your stomach flips and a dread fills your entire being as you sit upright, your legs sliding down, your arms falling to the ground to prop yourself up. Lungs tightening, your lips part as if to form his name but no sound comes out.
You know what his silence means. His silence is death spelt out in glaring red letters—the same shade as blood. 
But Marco?
Why Marco? A caustic voice screams inside you and your nails dig into the cobblestone as Reiner turns his face away, jaw clenching. Trying to breathe, the air stalls in your throat and your gut clenches as your gaze drifts to the street full of combat medics and doctors, other soldiers who still walk. What—what do you mean Marco isn’t one of them? You want to grab Reiner by the jacket, shake him until he makes sense, but instead you search for freckles behind every mask, stumbling to your feet. Marco never did anything wrong. He was supposed to join the MPs. He was our… our leader. He never did anything wrong.
He never did anything wrong. Never. Never. Not Marco. It can’t be. The thought tumbles through your head as you push yourself to your feet but your knees nearly give in on the first step and you stumble to the other side of the alleyway with a harsh noise. Shoulder crashing into the stone, your eyes squeeze tight and hot tears pour down your face as you clench your teeth, trying to chain back the sob that’s working through your body. Head hanging, your mouth pries open as an ugly moan comes out of you, so deep inside you that you want to crumble.
Days seem to pile onto your shoulders until you think your bones will break and your fingers curl into tight fists as you try to stop the tears from falling, but they keep coming, tracing your nose, pushing everywhere and everything is so hot. Shit, you can’t even breathe—
Hands take your shoulders and you let out a ferocious scream, thrashing yourself out of your grip but fingers only slide to your biceps, pulling you away from the wall as your boots slip against the cobblestone and then hands are on your wrists, pushing away your blind fists.
“Let me go! He’s dead, isn’t he?” you scream as he lets go of you for just a second to wrap his arms around you and you let out a shuddering breath as he crushes you in his embrace. “Reiner! Tell me! Marco’s dead!”
“Yes! Yes, he is!”
His words spear through your skull, sending electricity down your spine and your entire body goes limp as he collapses to his knees, you with him. Your arms at your side, your eyes blink open and you feel fresh tears fall down your face as he cups the back of your head, holding you to him and as something wet seeps into your shoulder, it’s as if you are set on fire.
“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”
 On their own accord, your arms come up under his and fingers hook onto his shoulders. Chest to chest, you swear your heart beats in a mournful beat with his, and his entire body collapses against yours. Eyes closing, you press yourself closer, hoping that the heat of his body will chase away the cold that’s rapidly spreading through your body.
Reiner’s arm around your waist tightens. You swallow hard against his shoulder.
“Please forgive me,” he whispers against your neck, wet cheek pressing against your jaw, and your chest stutters as you try to remember how to breathe.
You barely breathe his name. It only makes him curl tighter against you.
Liberio is colder at night than he remembers. He has to pull the blankets up to his chin, and still, he shivers.
Rolling onto his side, he can nearly imagine you staring back beside him, smiling, hand reaching to touch his face, and his eyes flutter shut when your fingers seem to pass through his cheek.
In his mind, you’re wearing the white blouse and long purple skirt again, long riding boots covering dark pants, innocent smile on your face as you wait for him in the noon sunlight. 
By then, he had known there weren’t any devils on Paradis, but he’d never seen an angel until he saw you cast in gold.
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witcher-and-his-bard-archive · 10 months ago
also on ao3
written for the Monster March prompt list this is just a little bonus, TECHNICALLY I already wrote an incubus fic but 
Geralt knows about Jaskier, but to anyone and everyone else, it's a well-guarded secret. It's never caused either of them any harm and he can protect Jaskier from other Witchers who might not be so selective in their killing of monsters. He's never seen Jaskier as a monster, barely even thinks of him as being an incubus most of the time - until he gets tired and crabby from being on the road for too long without sex. Geralt never thought it would get them into trouble in town.
But here he is in the mayor's house with the doors barred, being accused of bringing monsters into their town. Geralt fumes at the audacity of calling Jaskier a monster, but it does him no good.
The guards he incapacitates with a sharp hit to the back of the neck and the mayor backs down as soon as Geralt turns his swords on him. Geralt scolds him for his behaviour, assures him he will never be back, and leaves. His mind is racing as he heads back out onto the street. The mayor will surely call for more guards and Geralt left Jaskier back at the inn which means he could be anywhere. Fuck.
He asks around at the inn and is relieved to hear Jaskier's gone off with the innkeeper's daughter, which means he likely hasn't left the inn. Geralt follows his nose, easily catching the scent of lavender and lust, and makes his way to a room at the very back of the inn. He would have thought it was a storeroom if he couldn't hear the creaking of a bedframe from within. Sighing, he resigns himself to walking into the room, to seeing Jaskier in the middle of it. He opens the door and storms in to keep from thinking about it, but the reality is… much worse.
Jaskier's on his knees with his trousers down, his prick in his hand as he buries himself beneath the skirts of the innkeeper's daughter. Geralt's mouth goes dry at the sight and he has to force his feet to move.
"Jaskier," he whispers, harsh. Jaskier emerges from beneath her skirts, turning to look at him and his companion frowns and pulls herself up onto the bed fully. "We have to go."
"Geralt-" Jaskier says pointedly and Geralt knows. He understands. But this could be a matter of life and death for Jaskier and he needs to get him out of here without anyone else finding out.
"Jaskier," he tries again, "we have to go."
"I know, darling. Half an hour." He reaches up for his companion again and Geralt realizes this isn't going to be easy. If he strains his hearing, he can hear the sound of hoofbeats approaching and that means it's time for them to leave. Now.
He crosses the room in three strides, hauling Jaskier up by the back of his shirt. Jaskier squawks and writhes, but Geralt pulls him up over his shoulder, trying to avoid the fact that Jaskier's bare ass is right next to his face. It's hard enough dealing with the pressure of his cock jutting into the front of his shoulder. Geralt forces himself calm, focusing instead, on what they would do to Jaskier if they find him. It helps to quell his erection but only serves to worsen his fear.
Faintly, he's aware of Jaskier muttering at him and asking to be allowed to dress himself, but Geralt tunes him out in favour of getting away. It's not until they reach the stables that he sets Jaskier down and allows him to redress himself as well as possible. Geralt sets himself to readying Roach, then turns back to Jaskier.
"Geralt, that the everloving fuck-"
"Someone found out," he interrupts, lifting Jaskier gracelessly off his feet and onto Roach.
He climbs up in front of him, settling himself so Jaskier can slide up close behind him. He can feel the press of Jaskier's erection against the small of his back, even with the saddle between them and it drives him mad. He can't focus on anything else as he guides Roach onto the main path and spurs her forward.
By the time they make it to the next town, hours later, Geralt is exhausted and in desperate need of a good wank, but he's not willing to let Jaskier out of his sight. Jaskier is a little grouchy as they dismount and take Roach to the stables, but Geralt doesn't think much of it - he was interrupted before he got around to fucking, after all.
Geralt keeps him close as he pays the stablehand and guides Jaskier toward the inn to rent a room. Jaskier doesn't speak and Geralt feels terrible about it, but he knows it's better than Jaskier being killed.
They proceed with their nightly routine as usual, then turn in for the night early. Geralt doesn't want to stay here long and they'll need the rest for an early start. But when Jaskier climbs into bed, he keeps his distance and the guilt eats away at him. He knows he did the right thing, but Jaskier seems unconvinced.
Jaskier shifts again, clenching his fists. His skin burns and itches, his cock thick and aching between his legs. He's been hard for hours, desperate to come but unable to slip away. Up until now he'd been somewhat pacified, running on adrenaline and fear but now the need is hitting him at full force and his whole body aches.
And what is he supposed to do with Geralt lying half-naked next to him? Summers in the west are hot and humid and he can't exactly tell Geralt to put a shirt on, but his being shirtless is only making matters worse. Jaskier can smell him, the worn leather and clean sweat. The faint scent of lingering arousal that drives him insane. He squirms in place, then turns onto his back to try and relax, but it doesn't help. Nothing helps, nothing eases the need or cools his burning skin.
It has to have been an hour at least when Geralt turns to him and places a hand on his hip. Jaskier barely holds back a moan at the brief touch and shudders as Geralt leans in.
"Go to sleep Jaskier, we have to be up early in the morning."
"If I can't sleep, it's your fault."
"Look, I know you're mad, but would you rather be dead?"
"Yes!" Jaskier snaps, "you have no idea what this fucking feels like." That seems to stun him and Geralt pulls back, staring at him with wide eyes. "Geralt I feel like I'm going to burn alive. I need to- Imagine being so turned on you can't stand it and then just being told no."
Geralt's lips part and the faint scent of arousal spikes and that's too fucking much. Jaskier groans, pulling himself right to the edge of the bed and turning away from Geralt. He curls in on himself, squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his fists. Geralt presses up close behind him and he could cry.
"Tell me what's wrong," he breathes, "tell me how I can help."
"You can't," Jaskier whimpers. "You stopped me halfway-" he groans, knowing Geralt's distaste for his exploits. "Earlier, you interrupted me and the innkeeper's daughter and I didn't get to finish. Geralt I'm not supposed to- it's bad for me to stop halfway, it becomes uncomfortable, painful."
"How can I help?"
Jaskier sighs in frustration. "Geralt you don't understand. You can't help, I need to come." There's a long pause and then Geralt shifts behind him.
"I understand if you don't want me to, but I'll help if you need it."
"Geralt-" he chokes, "I don't want you to feel obligated or think this is your fault, it's just the way I am-"
"I don't. I want to help." Jaskier winces. Geralt may be offering sex, but he doesn't know the extent of it, doesn't know Jaskier's feelings or how many nights he's lain awake thinking of exactly this. A firm but gentle hand rests on his hip, slipping forward to brush against his stomach. "Is this okay?" Geralt breathes, "I want to help."
Jaskier whimpers and nods his response, too overwhelmed by the softness in Geralt's voice to formulate a proper answer. Geralt shifts, tugging on Jaskier's hip for him to move closer and he does, shifting backward until Geralt's chest meets his back. He barely holds back a moan, pressed up against all that hot, bare skin and he rolls his head back, shutting his eyes.
Geralt immediately takes advantage of the position, pressing his lips to Jaskier's neck and kissing him softly. His lips drag against his skin, pressing up under his jaw and kissing along the curve of it. Jaskier's lips part, a soft sigh slipping between them and he's so focused on Geralt's mouth that he almost doesn't notice his hand sliding lower, smoothing down the side of his thigh and squeezing.
It sparks something in him, a desire he's kept so well hidden that he'd almost forgotten about it himself. But if anyone would be open to it, it's Geralt.
"Would you-" he starts, but his voice catches and he swallows back another groan as blunt fingernails drag up his skin. "Geralt if I let it down, would you- would you still help?" he asks warily, "if I let down my glamour?"
There's a spike in Geralt's arousal and a soft fuck muttered against his neck and Geralt's grip on him loosens, but he doesn't let go.
"What is it?" he asks and Jaskier shifts to lie on his back, holding up his hand. "The bracelet?" Geralt asks, running his fingers along the smooth surface. Jaskier's heart beats quickly, thudding against his chest and he's too nervous to speak as Geralt's fingers slip to the clasp.
Geralt unclips it, slipping it gently over Jaskier's hand and it's like a weight lifted from him. It's such a relief to have it off that for a moment Jaskier forgets that Geralt has never seen him like that and that he's spread out, fully naked, in front of him. Geralt just looks at him for a moment and Jaskier can feel where his eyes track from his horns all the way down. He squirms, suddenly wanting to hide himself away.
"If you don't want to now, I understand, I'll put it-"
"No," Geralt says, low and husky. "No, you look beautiful like this." He reaches up, running his fingers along the length of one of his horns and Jaskier nearly forgets to breathe.
Geralt's hand slips to his cheek, cupping it gently and brushing his thumb along his cheek. Jaskier's eyes flick up to meet his and Geralt barely holds his gaze for a second before dipping down to kiss him.
Geralt's mouth is hot and wanting and he shifts so the angle is better, deepening the kiss and groaning against him. His hand moves again, sliding down his chest and into the hair covering his hips. Geralt runs his fingers through it, tugging lightly and when his fingers brush the inside of his thigh, Jaskier moans.
"Oh," he breathes, "Geralt please." Geralt pulls back just far enough to speak, pressing light kisses against Jaskier's lips.
"Tell me what you want."
"Touch me, please."
Without hesitation, Geralt wraps the same hand around his cock. Jaskier's already leaking steadily against his hip and Geralt's fingers slide through the pre-come, slipping down his length. Jaskier's hips jerk instinctively and he throws his head back with a moan. It's good, so good, but he's sensitive after being forced to wait for so long and every touch is almost too much.
He bucks into every touch, whining with the intensity of it. It's all rather unfair, he decides, that after so many years, he gets Geralt into bed and he can't even focus on anything but how badly he needs to come.
"Please," he breathes, "please Geralt-"
"Shh," Geralt hums, "I'm here." He presses right against him, hooking one knee over Jaskier's and it's so much.
Geralt's knee bumps under his balls and his cock - fuck, his cock - is hard where it presses into his hips. Jaskier squirms and whines and he knows he must look like a mess, desperate for it and leaking steadily over Geralt's fingers as he strokes him. And just the feeling of Geralt's cock sends shivers up his spine.
Jaskier doesn't settle, he can't settle with the way Geralt hand works over him, not enough and still just this side of too much. His thumb slips up over the head, pressing along the slit and spreading pre-come over him and Jaskier's moan fades into a whine as Geralt's fingers, slick and warm, slip to the base of his shaft and back behind his balls.
The first press of Geralt's fingers has him whimpering and arching off the bed. He needs it, and he wants it more than that, but he can't ask Geralt to go that far for him. A hand is a hand and can be easily passed off as helping a friend; Jaskier knows about Geralt's younger days at Kaer Morhen with the other boys, but this is different. He isn't even human and he wants so much more than this.
Geralt's hand withdraws and Jaskier's eyes snap up to meet his, afraid he's done something wrong.
"Too much?" Geralt asks and Jaskier shakes his head silently. "Then what's wrong, you look sad all of a sudden."
"'M fine," Jaskier huffs, wrapping his hands around the back of Geralt's neck and pulling him down to kiss him. Geralt pulls away and Jaskier shuts his eyes. Fuck. He knew it was too good to be true.
"If you're uncomfortable with this, I could find someone. There's a brothel in town and anyone would be happy to take you to bed-"
Jaskier's fingers slip from his skin and Geralt looks down at him sadly. Jaskier squirms, turning away from him and curling in on himself. His cock throbs where it presses against his hip and he squeezes his eyes shut to force away the feeling. Geralt's fingers graze his skin, but he doesn't settle, doesn't touch him properly.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, "I shouldn't have assumed."
Jaskier chokes out a humourless laugh and tucks his chin a little tighter against his chest. He wants to scream that all he wants is Geralt, that having his hands on him feels better than anyone else possibly could. But Geralt doesn't want him like that and Jaskier can't, and won't push him further than he's willing.
"We'll figure something out," Geralt hums and Jaskier feels when he settles against the mattress, close but not touching him.
"I don't want to," Jaskier blurts. He's tired and desperate and he feels like an idiot and having Geralt so close now just makes him want to scream.
"Jaskier," Geralt sighs softly, "you're suffering."
"It's fine," he insists, "it's not the first time."
"I'll find someone-"
"No," Jaskier says too quickly. "I don't want someone if it's not you." He doesn't think as he says it and it's not until Geralt shifts closer again and looks down at him that he realizes what he's said. He tries to backtrack. "I just- it's not the same with my glamour on and no one else-"
"You seemed so uncomfortable-"
They both stop at once and Jaskier inhales shakily. He casts his eyes down, shifting further onto his side to avoid Geralt's gaze. He curls in on himself and a shiver runs through him. The room feels cold without Geralt's body against him, despite the warmth of the summer night.
"I know what I am Geralt and I don't want you doing something that will make you uncomfortable."
Geralt shifts and then there's a warmth against his back, spreading up through his shoulders and neck. One of Geralt's hands settles on his hip, fingers slipping gently through the thick hair there.
"You could never make me uncomfortable," he says and Jaskier nearly whimpers with how badly he wants him. "Jaskier," he breathes, "if you need me, I'm here."
Jaskier nods but says nothing. He doesn't want this if it makes Geralt uncomfortable but he doesn't want anyone else. Not now that he's had Geralt's hands on him, now that he's had his hands on his body, not the mirage of a human one. He shifts, just slightly, and his cock slips against his stomach. He's so hard, his cock aching for the faintest touch, and there's nothing he can do about it. Perhaps once Geralt's asleep, he'll slip out and try to find someone, though the thought of putting his glamour back up is uncomfortable and disheartening.
He shifts again and a little mewl escapes his lips, low and painful, but this time there's a hand on his hip, settling him. It slips down his thigh, cupping his knee and spreading his legs apart as he's pulled onto his back. Geralt's hand slips to his thigh and Jaskier inhales sharply as his cock bounces against his stomach.
"Tell me to stop if you don't want it, but I hate seeing you like this. I hate seeing you in pain." Geralt's hand slips slowly upward, inching toward his cock and Jaskier tries so hard not to push, not to be too greedy for it, but the second he can feel the heat from Geralt's hand, he needs it.
He needs to come, craves the warmth of and friction of a hand wrapped around his cock and he shudders, arching up slightly as a wave of need rushes over him. He shuts his eyes, clenching his fist at his side and groaning.
"Please," he whispers and it's the softest, most pitiful sound he's ever heard. He winces at it, but Geralt leans over him, brushing his lips against his cheek.
Geralt's fingers brush against him before wrapping around, jerking him slowly. Geralt's mouth finds his, swallowing the desperate moans that spill from Jaskier's lips. He needs this, needs him and he can feel tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, the ache of desperation overwhelming.
When Geralt releases his cock, Jaskier heaves a sob, but then his fingers slip back between his cheeks. He's a little more aggressive than before, pressing more firmly and breaching the ring of muscle. Jaskier's whole body stiffens and then Geralt's slipping a hand under the back of his neck, brushing his fingers soothingly against the side of his neck.
"Shh," he breathes, "I've got you."
He pushes deeper and it burns a little, but the stretch feels like relief, and he relaxes as Geralt pulls out and back in again. He thrusts lightly but wastes no time picking up speed. He teases a second finger where the first breaches him and Jaskier rolls his head back with a groan, turning into Geralt's embrace.
"Please," he whispers, "fuck, Geralt I need it. Please."
"I know," Geralt rumbles, nose pressed to his ear, "do you have any oil? I don't want to hurt you." Jaskier groans loudly and Geralt huffs a soft laugh against him. "I'll only be gone a moment, is it in your pack?" Jaskier hums and nods, reluctantly letting Geralt slip away and off the bed.
He watches after him, eyes roaming over Geralt's ass as he bends to search through the bag. He's quick as he promised and when he returns to the bed, Jaskier groans at the prominent bulge in his trousers. Fuck. Geralt quickly unbuttons his trousers and shoves them to the floor, leaving him only in his shorts. The thin fabric does nothing to hide his erection and Jaskier can't tear his eyes away from him.
If Geralt notices, he doesn't acknowledge it and he crawls up from the foot of the bed. He settles himself next to Jaskier, sliding up against him and pressing his cock into his hip. He slides his arm under Jaskier's leg, slicking his fingers and circling his hole. He's gentle about it, too fucking gentle for how badly Jaskier needs it, but it feels… nice. No one else is so careful with him, no one else cares so much about how he feels.
Geralt rubs against his hole, slicking the ring of muscle with every pass of his fingers. He leans in, catching Jaskier's mouth in a kiss as his fingers dip in just slightly. Jaskier moans against him, whining when the pressure stops and chasing Geralt's hand with his hips. He wants to come so fucking badly, needs any sort of friction on his cock, but when Geralt presses two fingers into him and keeps them there, it's all he can focus on.
He loves the feeling of being filled, the feeling of Geralt moving inside him, working into him. He pushes deep, rubbing against his prostate and Jaskier yelps at the sensation. Warm breath dusts against his neck and Geralt huffs a soft laugh.
"Feels good?" he asks and Jaskier just whines, arching off the bed as he does it again.
Jaskier goes limp as Geralt's free arm presses under his neck again. He slumps against his chest, nosing at his collar bone as he shifts his hips, following the motion of Geralt's hand. He's stupidly close already, but after being pent up all day, he's too relieved to be embarrassed about it. And having Geralt wrapped around him, pressing inside him even in his own form is… there's not even a word to describe, at least not one he can think of at the moment.
He reaches up, wrapping both arms around Geralt's neck and Geralt allows himself to be pulled down over him, never once slipping in his rhythm. He presses his palm against Jaskier's balls and he thrusts into him quickly, his speed increasing as Jaskier's orgasm creeps closer.
Jaskier comes with three fingers pushed deep into him and Geralt's mouth against him, hot and eager. He kisses back as best he can, but pleasure sears through him and it's hard to focus on much more than Geralt's fingers and the press of his cock. Jaskier moans into the space between their lips, shuddering through his orgasm as Geralt holds him.
Geralt continues fucking into him until Jaskier whines with oversensitivity. When he draws out, he slips his hand up along the underside of Jaskier's cock, humming thoughtfully as it jumps under his hand.
"Feel better?" he asks and Jaskier hums.
"Yeah," he breathes.
"Good." Geralt dips down, kissing him soundly and Jaskier lets his hands roam, just a little.
But Geralt groans as he touches him, presses into the touch and Jaskier is encouraged. He wonders briefly how Geralt would react if he jerked him off, if he just slipped a hand beneath the hem of his braies and wrapped around him. Geralt's big and the thought of him hard because of him in any context is intoxicating, but to know Geralt got hard being able to see him fully? That's a special kind of thrill. One that deserves reciprocation.
He snakes a hand between them under the guise of feeling Geralt up and slips beneath the hem of his shorts. He's wet. Wetter than it should be, even if Geralt is usually wet - and that thought had his cock stirring again already.
Jaskier breaks the kiss and slips his hand to Geralt's hip, even as he rocks forward, chasing the touch.
"Did you come?" he asks, quiet and breathless. His cock twitches and Jaskier barely bites back a moan when Geralt's cheeks flush. Fuck, he did. That's… really fucking hot.
Geralt doesn't reply but Jaskier doesn't need him to go know the answer. He spreads his legs wider, pressing a thigh up against Geralt's crotch and Geralt's breath stutters as his hips shift guard.
"You're still hard," Jaskier says, flocking his eyes up to Geralt's.
"Mmm," Geralt agrees, "a side effect of the trials and the enhanced stamina. We can stop if you want, I'll be fine."
"You… want to keep going?"
Geralt laughs softly and noses under his jaw. "You've only come once."
Jaskier whimpers as Geralt kisses him again and then he's moving down the bed, shuffling out of his soiled shorts and settling between Jaskier's thighs. He kisses each thigh, pushing his nose through the thick hair and nipping at his skin and Jaskier shudders with the little jolts of pleasure.
Geralt shifts lower, sucking lightly on his balls before nosing under them. His breath is hot and damp and Jaskier squirms with need. He wants Geralt's mouth on him and he's so close if he just pushed a little further- But Geralt reaches up to hold his hips and Jaskier fists his hands on the sheets in frustration.
"Please," he whines, wiggling in Geralt's hold. Geralt knows he can wait, knows the worst is over and everything from here on is just for fun, but Jaskier's been waiting for this a long time and despite not needing to come anymore, he's feeling particularly desperate for it.
Geralt makes him wait.
He pushes Jaskier's thighs up, hooking his knees over his shoulders and he makes a point of kissing every inch of skin he can reach, including the shaft of his cock, but he refuses to touch his ass. His breath is a torment when he leans down again sync Jaskier is certain he'll be the one coming untouched if Geralt doesn't hurry up and fucking touch him.
Then, abruptly, Geralt pushes between his cheeks, licking a stripe over his hole. Jaskier lets out a little oh and Geralt's arms wrap around his thighs, holding him in place. His fingers dig into the hair on his legs and Jaskier moans softly, surprised to find that when Geralt tugs, it feels good.
He groans and rocks his hips down, encouraging the press of Geralt's tongue, the squeeze of his fingers. Geralt is enthusiastic, pressing wet kisses against him and letting his tongue drag over his hole as he moves up. When he pulls away, Jaskier presses his hips up, but Geralt just hums softly, nipping at the swell of his ass.
Sharp teeth graze against his skin and Jaskier's breath catches. Geralt nips and sucks at his skin, only teasing his hole with the faint brush of his fingers. The press of his teeth only makes his arousal burn hotter and it sits low in his belly, fiery and impatient.
Then, abruptly, Geralt's mouth is back on him again and Jaskier groans, rolling his head to the side and reaching down to Geralt. He presses his fingertips through his hair, slipping the strands through his fingers and he tugs. He wants to kiss him, wants to guide Geralt's mouth back to his own, but Geralt just moans at the pressure. Jaskier's breath catches.
Geralt doubles down after that, licking over him and pressing his tongue against his rim. When he pushes in, Jaskier rocks his hips, wanting more, wanting Geralt inside of him. His tongue, his fingers, his cock. It doesn't matter, he just wants it in him and he doesn't want to wait any longer.
Geralt doesn't make him wait long, pushing his tongue as far as it will reach before slipping a finger in next to it. He slides a second in next to it, stretching him and licking between his fingers, thrusting quickly into him. Jaskier rocks back on him and Geralt's fingers slip just a little, pressing deeper. He presses his nose to the base of Jaskier's spine, breathing heavily against his skin and pressing soft kisses there as his fingers continue working into him.
"I want to fuck you," Geralt hums, soft, into Jaskier's skin.
"Oh Geralt, please."
Geralt's free hand runs up his thigh, squeezing around his hip and as his other fingers withdraw, he shifts so his knees press under his thighs instead and he bends low to kiss him. Geralt's cock slides against his ass and they both groan, but he can feel the way Geralt smiles against him.
"Fuck," he breathes, "you're so good for me."
Jaskier just squirms, desperate for it. They can talk later. Later he'll talk Geralt off if that's what he wants but right now he just wants his cock. He winds his arms around Geralt's neck, holding him close and using him for leverage as he rocks his hips. But he doesn't have to try hard.
Geralt gets one hand around his back and pushes his shorts down with the other, letting his cock spring free. It bumps against Jaskier's thigh and then Geralt's shifting forward, pressing his cockhead against him and Jaskier rolls his head back, eyes squeezed shut as Geralt presses into him.
It burns a little. It always does initially, but Jaskier loves the stretch of him, loves thinking about Geralt sliding into him and the way his body opens to him. Geralt's bigger than any of the men he's been with recently, though this isn't news to him. Jaskier's seen him naked more times than he could count, has daydreamed about riding his cock or sucking him off under the table at a banquet. None of his fantasies ever started out this way, but he wouldn't trade the real thing for any of them.
He twitches at the thought and Geralt bucks forward hard, pressing right up against his prostate. Jaskier tries to keep it together, but he's doing a spectacularly bad job of it and when Geralt rocks forward again, he's overcome.
Jaskier comes with a soft cry, biting down on his lip and reaching for his cock in a belated, half-hearted attempt to stave off his orgasm. He clenches automatically and shoves his hips down, driving himself onto Geralt's cock. He's still coming, still working through it when Geralt lets out a low, "fuck" and then he's lurching forward, hands fisted in the bed on either side of Jaskier's torso.
It's not until he opens his eyes, sees the way Geralt's face is pinched up, that he realizes he's close. And fuck, if it isn't the hottest thing he's ever seen.
Without hesitation, Jaskier reaches for him, grabbing his face with both hands and kissing him hard. It's uncoordinated and rushed, but Geralt kisses back with just as much enthusiasm, already rocking forward lightly. When he finally succumbs to the need to breathe, Jaskier draws away smiling, his hands still on Geralt's face.
"Fuck, Jask," Geralt huffs.
"Mm," he agrees.
He's happy, floating, and so long as Geralt doesn't do anything to get him wound up again, he'll be happy to curl up next to him and sleep. Unlikely considering he won't hear of Geralt going away without coming, but Geralt is already pulling out and slipping away - not that he gets very far.
Before Jaskier can even ask where he's going, Geralt is back between his legs slipping three fingers into him with ease.
"Thought you were gonna fuck me," Jaskier hums, his voice breaking on a whine as Geralt's fingers rub against his prostate. "Oh."
"I will," Geralt promises, pressing his nose into the join of Jaskier's hip and biting. "But you're so tight and wet I'm not gonna last. Think I can make you come again first, hm?" Geralt thrusts forward again, rubbing firmly against him and Jaskier's eyes roll back in his head as he goes limp against the bed.
He wants to tease Geralt about making him wait, but how can he complain when it feels this good?
"Yeah," he mumbles, "yeah okay, I think so."
"Good," Geralt hums.
He presses his lips to Jaskier's stomach, nosing at the soft skin as his fingers work into him. It registers when Geralt nips at him, but only barely. His mind is foggy with lust and he's so focused on the forward thrust of Geralt's fingers that he hardly notices anything else. Already, he feels the swell of arousal building, tight and coiling in his gut, but he isn't annoyed like he might be, because tonight coming again doesn't mean this is over. Geralt has promised to fuck him if he comes again and Jaskier is delighted.
He loves giving everything to his lovers, but there aren't many times he gets to lie back and be ravished. He loves to be fucked after he's already come, to feel that heady need of a partner who (most of the time) has already come themselves but wants to see him come again. There's nothing better. Except, perhaps, the way Geralt looks up at him with dark eyes, lips just slightly parted where they press against Jaskier's skin.
But Geralt is delicious in every sense of the word and Jaskier could fuck him every day for the rest of his life and still come back wanting more. He lets his fingers slip through Geralt's hair, running his fingers down his shoulders, brushing along taught muscles. He inhales deeply as Geralt shifts against him, the twin scents of their arousal combining into something that leaves him delirious.
He groans with it, shifting his hips in time with Geralt's fingers. He's fucked and been fucked more times than he can count, but there's something distinctly different about Geralt, something that's so much more than the others. It's his own feelings, he tells himself, it feels like more because, for him, it is. But when Geralt looks up at him with big, dark eyes, he's breathless.
"Gods," he groans, "just like that-"
Jaskier cuts himself off with a gasp as Geralt's teeth drag along his abdomen, scraping the sensitive skin directly above his cock. Geralt did it again and as Jaskier's fingers slip to the back of his neck, he licks a stripe up the underside of his cock.
"Oh," he gasps and then before he can even think anything else, Geralt's lips wrap around the head of his cock and he slides down the full length of him immediately.
Wet heat engulfs him and Geralt's fangs graze the sides of his cock and Jaskier's mind goes blank. His eyes roll back and he lifts his hips, encouraging. Geralt pauses when he reaches the base, nose pressed into Jaskier's stomach, and when he rises again his teeth press in a little more firmly, experimenting.
Geralt has always said he has an attraction to things that are bad for him and considering he's an incubus travelling with a Witcher, Jaskier supposes he's right. But the thrill of Geralt's fangs against his cock is a whole new level. If it was anyone else, he'd never let them get this close but this is Geralt and fuck, does it get his blood rushing.
He's so preoccupied rocking his cock against Geralt's teeth, that he nearly forgets Geralt's got three fingers inside him until he starts fucking into him again, slowly pulling back and thrusting forward hard. Jaskier gasps and shudders at the first thrust, pushing back into his fingers, but then Geralt's tongue runs along the underside of his cock, pushing it up against his teeth and Jaskier's overwhelmed.
Pinned between the two pleasures, he's not sure he'll survive long enough for Geralt to fuck him, after all. His cock throbs as Geralt finds his prostate again, and then as he sucks at the head, Jaskier's sure he'll come undone right there. He can smell his own pre-come dripping onto Geralt's tongue and he shudders at the thought of it, the thought that it's Geralt wrapped around him and inside him. It's almost too much.
Geralt pulls up to the head, ducking at the very tip of his cock and Jaskier moans, fingers digging into his skin. He's so close, just the barest touch is likely to push him over the edge. Then, as Geralt swallows him down again, the scent of his arousal spikes sharply and that's all it takes to have Jaskier thrusting forward and coming down his throat.
Geralt doesn't even stop to let him relax, just pulls off his cock and shifts lower down the bed. The hand that was inside him slips out to wrap around his cock and as Jaskier is squirming with oversensitivity, Geralt's tongue pushes into him. His entire body goes limp and all he can manage is a weak roll of his hips.
Geralt strokes him slowly, leisurely, and Jaskier loses himself in the sensation. He hums softly, broken by stuttered whines as though fingers slide beneath the head of his cock. But Geralt's tongue is what really has his attention, thrusting lightly in and out and licking over his hole and pushing back on without warning. It's hot and so it feels so ridiculously intimate that Jaskier could cry - though that's probably the overstimulation more than anything.
Geralt keeps a steady pace, refusing to pick up even when Jaskier's hips buck and he whines for more. Jaskier comes again with Geralt's tongue inside him, fingers stroking him slowly through it, and he feels like he's going to die.
His body could shatter into pieces and he wouldn't know the difference and he barely musters the strength to wrap his hand around Geralt's biceps. He can't pull him up, but Geralt seems to understand anyway, crawling up to lay against his stomach, lips quickly seeking his own.
Geralt kisses him slowly, deeply, but he's hard against Jaskier's hip, smearing pre-come over his skin with every little movement. Jaskier has seen Geralt when he's horny before, after a hunt that doesn't allow him to burn through his potions, or occasionally at a brothel, but never like this.
Here, with him, Geralt is unrestrained, rutting mindlessly against his hip as his kisses grow deeper, more feverish. Jaskier reaches down, brushing his fingers around the head of Geralt's cock. Geralt moans desperately against his lips and Jaskier realizes abruptly that he hasn't come yet. Not, at least since the beginning. He's lost track of how many times he's come (four, maybe?) but Geralt hasn't. The realization gives him a little burst of energy and he wraps one hand around his cock, keeping near the base to keep him from coming too soon, and slips the other through his hair, tugging gently as Geralt's mouth moves down to his neck.
"Fuck, you're so sexy," Jaskier mumbles, his voice rough with lust. "You're so hard love, you just wanna come, don't you?" Geralt whines against his neck but doesn't reply. His fangs graze the sensitive skin on Jaskier's throat and Jaskier rolls his head back.
"That's it," he coaxes, "you can bite me, I know you want to-" he stops himself abruptly with the realization that he never bit Geralt, all of his arousal, his desperation is just him. Geralt's teeth press into the skin of his shoulder, not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to pull Jaskier out of his reverie - enough to leave a mark Jaskier will be able to look at for days.
"Fuck, Geralt," Jaskier whines, "gods, I want you. Still want to fuck me, darling?" Geralt growls against his skin and it sends shivers down his spine. "Mmm, I want to hear you say it."
"Fuck, Jask- I want to fuck you," his voice rumbles low, as he presses kisses over the bite mark, dragging his fangs as he pulls away. "Wanna feel you around me as you come again, squeezing around my cock." Jaskier whimpers but quickly guides Geralt's mouth back against his own, kissing him hard and nipping at his bottom lip.
"Fuck me," he breathes, "I know you want it and I want you so badly, darling. Please."
Geralt, evidently, does not need to be asked twice. He shifts so his knees are under Jaskier's thighs and presses the head of his cock against his hole. The head slips in easily, and Jaskier groans as he pushes deeper, stretching him open on his cock. Jaskier wraps his head around Geralt's neck, holding him close, breathing against his mouth as Geralt pushes deeper. He rocks his hips before he's fully settled, slow shallow thrusts that have Jaskier practically begging him for more.
When Geralt is finally fully seated, he pauses, propping himself up on his hands and dropping his chin against his chest. It's barely visible, but Jaskier can feel him shaking, holding on to that last little bit of control. He's aching for it and still, he holds off to let Jaskier adjust.
"How does it feel?" Jaskier asks, eyes shut as he focuses on the thick stretch of Geralt's cock inside him. His own cock fills where it sits against his hip and when Geralt speaks again, it twitches.
"Fuck. Good. Feels good." He rolls his hips back, thrusting forward hard and Jaskier nearly shouts as Geralt's cock bumps against his prostate.
Geralt sets a steady rhythm, quick enough to have him panting, but slow enough that Jaskier can still feel each drag of his cock. Then, abruptly, Geralt stills. His hand clenches in the sheets and his eyes squeeze shut and Jaskier knows he's trying not to come. He slips his hand to the side of Geralt's neck, tipping his chin up so he can look at him.
"Come for me," he breathes and Geralt whines as his hips shift, seemingly on their own, and he groans as he comes, fucking into him hard.
Jaskier holds him close as he drops to his elbows, tugging gently on his hair as Geralt moans into his neck. He winds his legs around Geralt's hips, rutting up against him, expecting Geralt to still against him, but he doesn't. Geralt doesn't even slow down after he comes, pressing his mouth against the side of Jaskier's neck and sucking marks into the skin. He snaps his hips hard and Jaskier moans softly, pulling Geralt's head back up so he can kiss him.
He bumps his nose against Geralt's, humming softly against his lips even as they part. Geralt shifts to one side, wrapping a hand around Jaskier's cock and stroking him in time with his thrusts.
"Think you can come again?" he asks and Jaskier nods instinctively. He knows he can, could probably come twenty times if Geralt's enthusiasm keeps up like this, but he doesn't say so because he doesn't want to push - as much as he would love the chance to spend all night with Geralt between his legs.
"Please," he whispers and Geralt snaps his hips hard.
It doesn't take much before Jaskier is writhing again, his cock sliding against Geralt's stomach with every thrust. The scent of lust and come consumes him and he arches off the bed, desperate to get closer to Geralt. Then, without hesitation, Geralt slides an arm around his waist, pulling him up into his lap.
His grip is strong and it's a damn good thing because Jaskier's limbs are still weak and all he can manage is to wrap his arms around his neck and kiss him, relying entirely on Geralt to hold him up. He works his hips as well as he can, but mostly just succeeds in grinding his cock against Geralt's stomach, smearing through his own come. Geralt fucks into him steadily, running one hand through Jaskier's hair as the other remains flat against his back.
Jaskier drops his head to Geralt's shoulder, shuddering as each thrust brings him closer and closer to the edge. Geralt's thighs shake beneath him, spreading further in the sheets to give him better leverage. He's close. Jaskier can feel it in every thrust, in the way Geralt's hand slips from his neck to hold him open for him, in how he nips at Jaskier's shoulder and groans against his skin.
Then, abruptly, there are fingers pressing against his hole, circling Geralt's cock where it sinks into him and then pressing in. Jaskier bites back a whine at the added stretch, but it's good. Geralt pushes in as far as he can, even as his cock bumps against Jaskier's prostate and stays there. He grinds into him and Jaskier loses himself in the overwhelming pleasure that zips through him.
He's so focused on Geralt's fingers and his cock that when he comes, it catches him off guard. He seizes up, thrusting forward to rut against Geralt's stomach as he spills all over it. His fingers dig into the skin at the back of Geralt's neck and his moans shift to soft cries, so engulfed by pleasure that he can't even think.
He's only vaguely aware of Geralt coming when he feels his come dripping down the backs of his thigh and cooling against his skin. Jaskier slumps in Geralt's arms, still wrapped around his neck and Geralt hums softly as he nuzzles against Jaskier's ear.
"Satisfied?" he asks and Jaskier hums.
"Mmhm. You?"
Geralt carefully lays him down and Jaskier winces at the cold, damp sheets against his back, wishing they had somewhere else to sleep. But Geralt lays down next to him, presses up against his side and the sheets no longer matter. Jaskier shifts to get comfortable, tangling his legs with Geralt, who hums appreciatively and nuzzles close to kiss his neck. There's a beat of silence, in which Jaskier decides he's happy to fall asleep just like this and they can have a bath poured in the morning, but then Geralt stirs and breaks the silence.
"Jaskier," he hums, his voice already heavy with exhaustion, "you know you can come to me if you're suffering." He pauses, swallows hard and adds, "even if you're not."
"You seemed angry before," Jaskier shrugs, "I didn't want to bother you with it. Sometimes I can ride it out if I fall asleep." Geralt scoffs and props himself up, looking down on him.
"I wasn't angry, I was scared. Someone found out, Jask. I don't know how, but they knew what you are and I didn't want them to find you - I didn't know what they'd do. If I'd known what it would do to you, I would have made other arrangements."
"Other arrange- Geralt, don't be ridiculous. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause trouble."
"Don't be sorry. Just… come to me, next time. Tell me if it happens again and I can help. I don't want you to suffer."
"Geralt," Jaskier says softly, leaning in to bump their noses together, "if you're willing, there won't be a next time. I want you, I've always wanted you, but I never thought one person could be enough for me. I thought-" he winces and Geralt brushes soft fingers over his cheek, encouraging him to continue. "I thought if I tried to be with one person I'd kill them. And the thought of losing you-" his chest pulls tight and he shuts his eyes. "Geralt, I love you and I have always wanted you. I don't mean to put pressure on you, but if you'll have me at all I'd rather just… be with you. Not just as a last resort."
"Okay," Geralt breathes and it's not at all what Jaskier is expecting to hear from him.
"Mm. I've wanted you too, for a long time but I thought if you wanted me you would have said something by now. It's not as though incubi are drowning in viable partners."
"Ah," Jaskier says, "I guess we've both been a little stupid."
"I'll make it up to you," Geralt hums, and before Jaskier can ask how, he's slipped out of bed and is dressing again.
All of Jaskier's instincts tell him Geralt is leaving, that after finally seeing him like this, he's had enough. But he forces himself not to think about it, to focus on Geralt's words instead, on his actions.
By the time Geralt returns to the room, Jaskier's cleaned up a little, reclasped the bracelet around his wrist and is sitting on the edge of the bed in only a shirt. Geralt frowns when he sees him and sets down the extra bedding on the chair next to the door before crossing over to him. He lifts Jaskier's wrist, rubbing his thumb over the thick gold band.
"A chambermaid will be up in a minute to fill the bath," he explains, "but when she leaves, would you take it off again?" It takes Jaskier a second to realize Geralt is talking about the bracelet and he looks up at him questioningly. "I'd rather see the real you," he whispers and Jaskier nods slowly.
Geralt dips down to kiss him and Jaskier lets himself get caught up in the moment, tangling his fingers in Geralt's hair and kissing him soundly before a knock on the door interrupts. Geralt pulls away with a smile and Jaskier can't help but return the gesture as Geralt turns toward the door.
He waits patiently while the maids fill the tub and then, once the door is closed and locked behind them, Geralt turns back to him. Jaskier is already fiddling with the clasp on the bracelet, but Geralt approaches and knees between his feet, taking Jaskier's wrist in his hand.
He unclasps it, gently sliding the band over his hand and Jaskier can feel the glamour lift. Geralt's palms smooth up his thighs and he stretches up to kiss him again.
"You don't have to hide from me," he says, "I want to see you." Jaskier's heart thuds heavily against his chest and as Geralt ducks his head, he winds his fingers through his hair, combing gently through it.
"I can't always," he says and Geralt nods.
"I know. I'd kill anyone who tried to touch you, but I know." He reaches up, sliding his fingers over the curve of one horn and he smiles. "You're beautiful," Geralt whispers. "At the inn, I panicked. I didn't know what I would do without you and I just hurt you more."
"You didn't," Jaskier assures him. "You saved me. And you'll do it again. And, come morning, I fully intend to repay you for that, Witcher." He smirks at him and Geralt huffs a laugh. "But first, I believe there's a hot bath and fresh sheets waiting for us." Geralt's arms wind around his waist and he lifts him off the bed, hands slipping under his thighs to hold him up.
"The bath can wait." Geralt tips forward, kissing the column of his neck and nipping lightly at the skin there. "I think those sheets have one more use in them."
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manias-wordcount · a year ago
How You Love Him (Link x Reader)
𝗔/𝗡: 𝗛𝗮𝗽𝗽𝘆 𝟮𝗻𝗱 𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝗳𝗶𝗰𝘁𝗺𝗮𝘀 𝗼𝗿 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘃𝗮
𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩
𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?
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You know that look on his face all too well.
The two of you go through the same routine all time. He’s called to arms. He takes you somewhere nice to break the news. It’s always someplace beautiful. Someplace that you’ve never seen before, and you can’t help but stare in awe at the landscape around you, wishing the moment can last forever. 
That’s when he sits you down. That’s when he takes your hands and squeezes them as if he’ll never let go. That’s when you know he’s going away. That’s when you know the Hero’s Burden is cruel and unforgiving for everyone- him and those he has to leave behind. It’s not fair. Not to you and certainly not to him. 
But you can’t help it. He’s still there in front of you, but your heart already aches for him. It remembers the pain of his absences. So you cry. And when you’re done crying, you cry some more. You cry and you cry, and you cry because you know the reality of his work. There’s no guarantee. Not even when he takes you into his arms and kisses you sweetly, promising to come back to you safely do you let yourself be lulled into a false sense of security. As capable as he is, the world is still cruel. 
And all too soon He’s gone- off to do goddesses know what and save the world time after time. One selfless act after another. Praise him, hate him. Love him, raze him. He fights for the protection and the safety of all things good. It’s a life chosen for him- but a life he proudly navigates. Never resting, not relenting- not until he’s done his duty. Only then can return home where he sweeps you into his arms and kisses you once for every painful day of separation. And then a couple more… for good measure. This is how things have always been.
You’ve never been to this lake before.
“It’s pretty,” You whisper, but you’re not looking at the scenery anymore. You’re staring right at him, meeting his gaze. 
Pretty was such a pale word to describe the sight before you. It’s a beautifully frozen lake with the surface a pale blue. Delicate, fragile, and oh so majestic. It was like you were constantly being tempted- tempted to step forward and onto the ice just to see if it’ll hold your weight. Just to see if you could break the silence of the snow-covered landscape.
Surrounding the lake was a thicket of trees and bushes, each blanketed in white. Even so, the area is still lush and full, and healthy. The greenery of your home has long since faded from your memory, but you know it will return soon enough. For now, snow-covered forestry and frozen grounds are all you’ll experience. Lands too cold for harvest and cuddles by the fire pit every single night. It was a clear indication that the changing in seasons had long since passed. Winter has settled in and has had itself known in the form of frostbitten toes and boundless shivers. 
It’s more than pretty. It’s beyond words. But you stubbornly won’t admit it. Not when the thought of him leaving burns heavy in your heart as a possibility. 
And Link can read that all too well.
“Pretty?” He prompts, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards. He knows that you’re holding out on him. He knows you too well. You’re too distracted to even correct yourself. You’re too focused on his expression instead. The sight makes you frown. It’s not his usual sympathetic frowns when he announces that he’s leaving. Nor it is the same forlorn look in his eyes. There’s a trace of mirth- almost as if he’s amused at your childish antics. But it’s all too confusing. He’s too confusing- especially when he looks at you like that. 
It’s that studying gaze of his. The intensity of his smoldering blue eyes takes in every little detail of you. It’s that fondness for you that reaches out from his spirit. It’s the same fondness that you’ve come to know is most potent when he’s about to leave. It’s like he’s memorizing you. Your heart, your soul, your body, your mind, your voice, and more than you could ever know. Memorizing you so that he always carries you with him in his heart- the safest place he knows. 
Capturing that memory and desperately holding on to it so that even in the darkest of nights- he still can see the light.
Your light.
And that’s what gets you. These moments are never happy. Never.
And you know that because you memorize him too.
So why does he smile as if he’s the happiest man in the world? You wonder. Why does he smile as if he’s not about to leave me?
You turn your head away and sigh dejectedly. You could only imagine how beautiful this area must look in full bloom. All its lush colors and adorable animals. All its new beginnings as young eyes open up to a new and enchanting world. The very thought makes you long for spring. It makes you long for your boyfriend too- even though he’s right in front of you.
Link releases a sigh of his own.
“You know I have to leave, right?” He asks softly, and you can’t help but slowly nod your head. Of course, you do. It’s his duty, and you can never hold it against him. But it had only been days since his last return. It had only been days since you had gotten him back and nursed him back to health. Only mere hours ago did you finally have him- your oh-so brave and glorious hero all to yourself. But you’re selfish. You’ve always been selfish. And that’s because you missed him.
You missed him. A sniffle escapes your throat as you feel your eyes start to water. You missed him more than words could ever know. You missed him during the nights where you were alone. You missed him in the mornings where you were surrounded by crowds. You missed him on the most beautiful of days and the ugliest of them too. You missed him. on the days that were too cold and on the days that were too hot as well- because nothing felt just right without him here. You missed him when you were happy, and you especially missed him when you’re sad. You missed him by the stables, longing to see the day where you could see him care for the local horses with a content smile. You missed him when you saw children, longing for the day where you could have your own. You missed him by the rivers and lakes where he would spend his time fishing, only to fall asleep at the line. You missed like the sun misses the moon- only reuniting for the briefest of moments before facing the cruelty of severance once more and for forever. 
Because goddesses- you missed him. The tears are free-falling down your cheeks now. Trailing down your face in messy, watery blobs that burn against your cold skin. You missed him. And you still miss him. He’s right here in front of you, and you miss every single part of him just because you love him so much it hurts. It hurts and hurts and hurts and hurts because you’ll never stop. You’ll never stop missing him. You’ll never stop loving him, and you’ll never stop missing him even when it hurts. Because you-
“You know you have to come with me, right?”
He’s reaching towards you, bright blonde hair shining as he steps closer and closer until he’s right in front of you. He’s only breaths away from your shaking figure as his hand moves to dry your tears. He’s slow and gentle and moves with absolute precision as fingers swipe away your tears. It’s as if he was taking care of the most important treasure in the world. You appreciate the fragility he sees in you at the moment because it’s what you honestly feel. One wrong move and you feel that your heart could burst into pieces. 
Come… with him? What does that mean? 
You look up at him, a puzzled look set forth on your glasses eyes. His hands cup your cheeks and, you lean in his touch- close your eyes, and you wish for a day that you never have to leave his arms. Never say a word and never have to think of anything but the peace you feel in this moment. But you can’t. Because his next few words disrupt any inkling of peace you could ever hope to have in just a few short sentences:
“Princess Zelda invited us to the royal winter banquet.” He speaks gently, afraid to shake the silence. But his eyes- they hold the same passion and fondness for you that you’ve always known. It’s lovely. He’s so lovely, and- “She wanted to formally meet my fiancé.”
Fiancé …
But before the question can even pass through your lips, his hands leave your cheeks as your eyes shoot open. 
And in the purity that is the freshly snow-covered ground, all you can see is him.
All you can see is your hero…
...down on one knee.
“Now… is a pretty lake good enough for a proposal…? Or should I take you somewhere that can only envy your beauty?”
Goddesses, how you love him.
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penajavier · 8 months ago
though you are no god -  Frankie Morales x f!reader
This idea had been brewing for a while and hanging out in my drafts for a longer while, but I’ve finally found the inspiration to clean it up and share it! I am clearly a beginner at this and feedback/critique is always welcome. 
Title: though you are no god (credit)
Pairing: Francisco Morales x f!reader. One use of the word “girl”.
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 3.3k
Content/warnings: brief mentions of nightmares and trauma recovery, angst, smut, still somehow the sappiest shit I’ve ever written. frankie likes to be praised. strictly 18+
The first time you get to witness Francisco Morales fall to his knees in front of you, you almost don't remember it happening.  
His mouth presses hot and wet and urgent against your skin where he is bunching up your shirt to expose it. You are nearly as drunk as him, blindly pulling it off and throwing it somewhere behind him. The wall behind you is cool but does absolutely fuck-all to clear your head because oh god his hands are big and warm and his tongue is incessant and oh god this is Frankie, your goofy, kind, awkward, hot as fuck friend-of-a-friend. He pulls you forward a fraction just to tug on your pants and underwear, letting them gather around your feet without giving you the leg room to step out of them. He lifts your left leg over his shoulder with ease, and then his hands are bracing him against you and his tongue is working as if it has a mind of its own, circling your clit and sliding up your lips and you don't remember his fingers being that thick but somehow they are and you are close to going insane. 
Maybe tomorrow you'll wonder how you ended up here, in a hallway in his apartment where he barely bothered to turn the lights on before pressing himself into you, effectively shutting off any sane connection you might have still retained to the world after however-many drinks you two had got in you. The night was supposed to be about Santi, you vaguely recall, but right now you honest to god cannot even remember what promotion he got that you were supposed to be celebrating. You might have made a mental note to apologize to him for leaving his party early, but Frankie adds another finger to your wet cunt and moans like it's pleasuring him more than you, and it's a real effort not to kick him in the chest or collapse on him then and there.  
The fucker laughs as if he knows exactly what he's doing to you, and somehow increases his efforts to a degree you hadn't thought possible. It doesn't take much after that for you to feel that knot tightening in your belly, the electricity of it making your limbs shake. Only when he’s satisfied making you cum thoroughly on his tongue and his hand does he stand up, and for the first time since you got here, he speaks. "Hi," he says, the loopiest grin on his face, before leaning forward to kiss you without waiting for you to answer.  
Your last remaining brain cell thinks to itself, this is going to be one hell of a night. 
The second time Frankie Morales falls to his knees in front of you, you can barely bring yourself to look at him. 
It's been weeks (months?) since he practically fell off the grid, following your childhood best friend and designated bad-idea-haver Santiago Garcia into the guts of South America. You had reached the point where a part of you was bracing itself for the worst kind of news, of never getting to see your boys again or hell, not even knowing what the fuck happened to them down there. The rest of you was still holding on to your anger in a misplaced effort to stay hopeful, refusing to let you feel anything other than the need to wring their necks as soon as one of them walked back in the door. And that was it, the majority of your days spent getting on edge every time your phone rang or you felt you saw a familiar set of messy curls pass you by on the street, until you walked home one day to find him standing outside your door, hand poised to knock but hesitant. 
"What the fuck?" the words escape you before you can help it, and he nearly jumps out of his skin. When he turns to look at you coming up behind him, you almost stop in shock at how absolutely shit he looks. "What the fuck?" you say again, seeming to have lost all your vocabulary at the sight of this stupid infuriating beautiful man finally standing in front of you in one piece, messy curls and all.  
An eternity passes with the two of you simply staring at each other, your grocery bags forgotten in your hands and his fingers twitching in an effort to keep them to himself. The smell of fresh bread wafting from your grocery bag does little to alleviate any tension, and the silence is almost painful. You want to do something, say something of all the rage and hurt you've nursed in you at being left alone. How dare you, you want to bark at him, want to hold him by the collar and smack him or kiss his face raw. 
You must take too long in your own head because he carefully extends a hand toward you, but you are so over-stimulated at the mere sight of him that you flinch.  
That's what breaks him, you realize later when the storms have passed and the proverbial rivers have calmed. Not the pain and loss and grief of the mission - things he'll whisper into your chest when you let him - and not the physical battering he must have taken through it all. What breaks him is you flinching away from him, as if you'd forgotten who he was. It’s only me, it's your Frankie, he wants to scream; wants to gather you in his arms and breathe into your ribs. But all he can do is fall to the ground and plead with his eyes.
I'm sorry, mi alma he seems to be saying, and the sight of this glorious man breaking down in front of your doorstep makes you ache in the depths of your bones. You rush forward, all your anger evaporating away from you in the instant it takes to wrap your arms around him and let him rest his head on your stomach. The position is awkward at best. His touch feels almost alien and his hair doesn't smell like you're used to, but you let him cry, let him ruin the clothes you hadn’t given much thought to anyway, and it doesn't occur to either of you that the shirt is one of his that he'd left at your place. 
You choke back the ocean rising in your throat, not knowing how to navigate everything you're feeling at the same time. Will we ever be okay? you wonder, your entire body feeling numb as he holds you just the tiniest bit more tightly.  
You don't know then if you'll ever forgive him, and he doesn't know if he'll ever be the same man again, but right there in that moment none of it matters. What matters is that he is here, and you are holding him like you'd wished and prayed for in all those lonely nights. Maybe you'll never be okay like you used to be, but you have him for now, and you're too exhausted to think beyond that. 
The third time, it's fucking magical. 
You and your Frankie have finally settled into a somewhat stable routine. After he left you with the promise to get his shit together, he made good on his word. It seemed as if the mission that must not be named put things into perspective for him - and for you, for that matter - and the two of you decided to give up on the delicate dance you kept orchestrating around each other. You had realized that you needed him much more than you could ever resent him for leaving, and he had realized he never wanted to feel the paralysing fear of thinking he'd never make it back to you again. You two had decided to sit down like adults and talk about it, and Frankie’s regular visits to his therapist had certainly helped. 
Now, in the early morning light in your shared bedroom, he looks the very picture of calm. The birds chirp softly outside the window, blending in with the music of the traffic that you two have begrudgingly come to love. The nightmares haven't left him completely, but they're less frequent and far less incapacitating for him. You feel a rush of pride for how far he's come, how much effort he put into building himself back up piece by piece after being shattered to his bare bones. You’ve seen him curl into you out of fear and into himself during the moments of self loathing when he feels he doesn't deserve your kindness, but now he sleeps with his head tilted slightly upward, exposing the beautiful planes of his neck to you. He is beautiful, you've known it for as long as you've known him, but something about the soft sunlight turning his curls golden and the way you can tell he's truly at peace in this moment, brings tears to your eyes and makes your throat clench. 
You lean up on your elbow and touch his face. His skin is soft, and he smells faintly of your body wash. Thief, you think fondly, brushing his unruly hair away from his forehead. he had stopped cutting it as frequently as he used to because he noticed you liked running your hands through it, and you realize with a jolt that that had been years ago, long before you two had any conversation about the future, even before he had his world turned upside down in the depths of an unnamed jungle. That is when you realize that Francisco Morales told you he loved you long before you had the sense to understand it, and this time you do cry. 
He stirs in his sleep. You briefly worry that you woke him, but he simply turns his head and nuzzles into the crook of your neck, breathing deeply at your shoulder before falling back asleep. The feeling of his soft breaths against your skin makes you smile, and you feel yourself falling more in love with every one of them. 
He wakes you up hours later with gentle kisses and the promise of pancakes, making you giggle with the way his moustache tickles your chin. When you find him in the kitchen later he seems more chipper than usual, smelling like a bakery and humming softly while setting the table for two. He greets you with a sweet kiss and pulls out your chair for you before sitting down in his own. 
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” you ask playfully, and he smiles wide behind his glasses that you’d finally convinced him he needed. Beautiful man, you can't help but think. 
"Just wanted to do something nice for my girl," he answers with his mouth full and you flick a berry at him, which he expertly catches. "Oh so that's how it's gonna be," he puts down his fork and you start to run away, but he is far too quick. He catches you by your waist and pulls you into his chest, licking your cheek obscenely.  
"Frankie, you dog!" you giggle, still fighting his grip.  
"Dogs are cute," he shrugs, seemingly unfazed against you using all your force. He is gentle as anything with you, but he sure likes to show off his strength every once in a while. He lifts you effortlessly off the floor and sets you on the counter. "You think I'm cute?" he wiggles his eyebrows. 
You almost playfully call him insufferable on autopilot, the way you've always bantered since you've known him. But you're aware now how he relies on verbal affirmations, and you've been making a conscious effort of supplying them whenever you can. So instead you hold his face in your palms and tell him that you think he's the most wonderful man in the world, and that you love him more than anything.  
"Baby," he drops his head to your shoulder and sighs. You do this to him, making his heart swell and threaten to burst out of his ribs. He doesn't have the words, doesn't know how to tell you he feels like the luckiest man in the world every morning when he wakes up next to you, every time he hears your voice or feels your palm in his. He doesn't know how to tell you you've been his anchor and his best friend, or how he can't believe he gets to have this kind of domestic bliss at all. "Baby," he repeats, "I love you." 
You try to deepen the kiss he initiates, but he pulls back and tells you he has plans for the day, telling you to get dressed for something outdoors. You feel a rush of happiness at the thought of him feeling more and more like himself with every day that passes, picking up old habits and finding joy in them. You kiss his cheek and run off to get dressed, beyond excited to see what he had planned. 
The ride to the field is longer than you expected. Frankie has turned the radio on and it plays softly in the background as you two talk occasionally. It’s a calm morning, with the perfect weather that's neither too cold nor too warm. He lifts your hand to his lips and kisses it softly once he's parked, and then he hops out and opens your door for you. 
"Such a gentleman," you tease. 
"Yeah," is all he says before he's kissing you breathless against the truck. It takes you by surprise, but it's far from unwelcome. 
Your hands come to rest on his shoulders, and you can tell it takes a special amount of effort for him to pull away from you, his hands still holding you close as he pulls on yours and leads you deeper into the field. The grass is high enough to tickle your ankles, and the whisper of it against your skin feels wonderful. He slows down, the pace leisurely enough for you to appreciate the wildflowers growing around you. He’s careful not to step on any, and you're struck once again by the multitudes that exist within this one man. The same man who has confessed to sins you could never have thought him capable of, now so careful with a thing as gentle as a dandelion. You think about his hand that is so gentle in yours, and the memory of it firmly wrapping around your throat as he does unspeakable things to you makes you blush, and you will yourself to come back to the present.  
Frankie has led you to a tree, and you notice a tree house resting on the sturdier branches. It’s new, you realize, and look at him quizzically. 
"Remember how I was supposed to pick up new hobbies?" he says sheepishly, gently leading you around to the other side where you see wooden footrests leading up. He urges you to climb up, and you are still so surprised that you can only obey. 
"I thought you'd like this," he's saying. "It can be our secret place, we come here whenever we want. Not that we don't already have a home and privacy but I thought this could be nice to have. Like a little getaway close to home." He's rambling now, as you notice all the fine details he has paid attention to in the construction of it. 
"Honey? Do you like it?" he asks when you've been too quiet. 
"Do I like it?" you ask incredulously. "Francisco Morales, this is amazing!" 
He immediately breaks into a wide grin, and you can see that he is proud of himself. He looks almost like an eager child, and you love the way his eyes shine in that moment. 
"There's one more thing," he leads you to a small opening in the wall that serves as a window. You can see the clear sky and the field stretching out under you, and the cool breeze feels like a gentle caress. It's a beautiful view, and you lose yourself in the sights and smells for a moment. 
"So am I looking at something specific?" you ask, wondering what it was he wanted to show you.  
He doesn't answer, though, and you turn around to repeat the question. The sight that meets you nearly knocks you off your feet, and you cover your gasp with your hand. 
Frankie is on one knee, hat resting by his feet and hand extended, holding the most gorgeous ring you have ever laid eyes on. You might be biased, but you couldn't care less. 
"Darling, I-" he starts, but you don't have the self control that he apparently does, and you throw your arms around him. 
He wraps tightly around you, only letting you have enough room to look up and kiss him. And god do you kiss him. You kiss him like he has never been kissed before, like you could pour every ounce of affection you have for him into that one moment, needing him as close to you as possible. 
You don't realise you're crying until he kisses the tears off your cheeks, and then he lifts your hand and slides the ring on. 
The fourth time comes that night, after you've spent your day in the field, holding on to each other and bursting with mutual joy. 
He sits you down on the bed, and kneels in front of you, kissing your shoulders gently. "Hey, Mrs. Morales," he smiles as he says it, even as he's biting the soft skin at your clavicle. 
You laugh, telling him that’s not how engagement rings work. He only grins against your skin and bites harder. 
You scratch his head and he purrs, lifting his head briefly to give you a sweet kiss before he's pushing you to lie down. Let me take care of you, honey, he whispers. Then his hands are on your waist and his mouth is on your chest, making you writhe in place. He kisses and sucks and bites, making sure to give every part of you equal attention. So beautiful, he's talking almost to himself as he leaves a wet trail of kisses down to your tummy.  
His hands meanwhile touch and grab and smooth over any part they can reach, moving as if of their own volition. He knows your body so well that he can map it with his eyes closed, can recognize it with his last breaths. He reaches your cunt and pulls you closer, closer, inhaling deeply and groaning like he's hardly staying in control. 
With the same patience he had displayed earlier in the day he teases you mercilessly, kissing around where you need him most. You pull on his hair and he tuts and bites your thigh. What did I say, baby - a flick of his tongue against you - let me take care of you. You whine petulantly, and he tells you to be a good girl for him. He even says please, the asshole. 
The first lick against your clit comes at the same time as his finger pushes into you, and it takes everything you have not to lift off the bed. So wet for me, he moans against you, the vibration making your pleasure amplify. You fist the sheets around you, telling him how fucking good he's making you feel, how good he always makes you feel. The praise fuels him on and he pushes two more fingers into you at the same time. 
You are so full and so stimulated with his tongue incessant against your clit, and he has no plans of letting up. You feel your orgasm hit you quick and hard, and you can barely warn him before you're gushing, soaking his face and trying to pull away from the overstimulation. 
He looks up at you, grinning like the Cheshire cat. He licks you clean until you're begging him to stop, and then he patiently kisses his way back up your body. 
"That was... that was amazing," you're out of breath as you say it, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him in to taste yourself. 
"Oh honey," he coos. "I've barely started." 
Tagging some lovely mutuals whom I love and who are amazing writers: @disgruntledspacedad @pedropascaldice @frannyzooey. Please let me know if you don’t want to be tagged in the future (if there is a future) ❤️
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keijiluvr · a year ago
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Pairings: Atsumu x Reader
Warnings: Implication of cheating, angst
NOTE: this is my first time writing about hq boys so i’m sorry if it might be ooc :( also pls be nice about this, i know it sucks but anyway here you go!
Part 2
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Being in a relationship with Atsumu for more than a year now really has been wonderful for you. You felt happy, comfortable and content with him. You make each other happy as giggles and laughter would leave your lips, pulling the other’s body closer to them. Affection wasn’t really an issue as kissing has been normal for the both of you. Subtle hand holding and nuzzling against the other’s neck has been a routine most of the time, eager to just feel the touch of the other. Mornings filled with soft smiles, brushing the other’s hair and leave kisses all over their face.  
Both of you know each other like the back of your hands, being able to know if something’s troubling the other and be able to talk about it and work things out. You were able to support him throughout his struggles especially with volleyball and he’s always there to listen whenever something’s bothering you. It was safe to say that you can imagine yourself staying in this so called fairytale for a very long time. 
But it didn’t last that long. 
It started two weeks ago. That gut feeling that something’s wrong, screaming and begging at you to listen. No matter what you do, it wouldn’t disappear as it clawed its way up to your mind, disturbing your thoughts as it pushed it to the back of your mind and let itself stay inside your head for a while. It’s been bothering you for days. You thought it was just you being paranoid or a common feeling of nervousness but why would you feel like that? 
“Sorry, Coach told me to stay behind to practice more on.” 
You brushed it off, it didn’t really matter to you as long as he got home safely and that he’s okay. This would happen sometimes and you’re always waiting for him in the apartment, ready to reassure and relieve some stress with him. You’ve been his anchor, always keeping everything grounded and steady and he liked it. How come things started changing? 
However, the constant late night practices started happening frequently as excuses kept on piling up. 
“We have an important match coming up. I really have to practice.” 
“Bokuto-san wanted to practice more on his spikes, he needed me.” 
“The team stayed a bit longer to practice some more.” 
That’s when that gut feeling kept nagging at you, resulting in countless negative thoughts running around your mind while you stay in your shared bedroom, alone and awake as the night settled in. Did something go wrong? Did you do something? But then you would feel foolish for having that kind of thoughts. You would reassure yourself, repeating a mantra in your head that everything’s fine, he just needs time to practice. 
It was like a constant play of a broken record inside your head, not letting the fear eat you whole. It was scary, frightening even but you should trust him, you do trust him. 
So you lived as if you have nothing to worry about, understanding that he has to prioritize his career first and that everything will go back to normal soon. He’d start coming home early after the match, you’d feel his skin on yours, the apartment would be filled with laughter and new memories. You hoped it would be like that soon. 
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It felt weird, today feels weird for you. It wasn’t that good kind of weird, it was the opposite. Your hands felt clammy, your heartbeat setting an uneven pace and this gut feeling, the familiar gut feeling but much more intense than before. It felt as if something bad is supposed to happen today, as if your body is sending alarming bells to you, trying to warn you about the possible future events that may occur today, that you need to prepare yourself for something. 
But what could it be? 
Going back to reading the text messages you sent to your boyfriend, you felt anxious. Why would he leave you on read? Did something bad happen during their practice today? That might not be the case since someone from the team would’ve called you right away if something happened. You felt silly, crazy even due to how paranoid you are. Who could blame you though? It’s been hours and he hasn’t even thought of replying to your texts. 
You’ve thought about so many possible scenarios, even reaching the point of something happening to the gym. Hell, enough scenarios just to put your mind on edge that causes your legs to shake due to nervousness.  
Reaching for your phone quickly, you inserted the passcode as soon as you heard the familiar ding coming from your phone. 
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You bit your lower lip, forcing yourself not to let out a sigh, to show your disappointment. What did you expect though? No matter how hard you try, nothing will change. He prioritizes volleyball over anything. If it’s practice, it’s practice. You should know that by now as you were always there for him, supporting him and cheering him on as he does the thing that he loves. But why can’t you ignore this gut feeling? That same gut feeling that’s been desperate to grab your attention, to make you listen that something is obviously wrong. 
Maybe it’s telling you that an accident might happen so without giving it a second thought, you decided to text the person who you’ve been friends with for a while just to check up on Atsumu.
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You were in a state of shock, completely still as you read the message over and over again. Your grip on your phone tightening its hold as your chest felt heavy. Blinking, you haven’t even noticed the tears as they fell, landing on the sheets below you. Your mind whirling with endless amounts of negative scenarios, a bunch of what ifs making your heart ache more. 
But this isn’t the time to mope around and drown in negative scenarios. You need answers, you need to hear the truth and you know the person that can answer every question that you have. 
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Atsumu realized that he came home late once again, letting out a sigh as he shut the front door behind him, trying to be quiet as possible too since he noticed how the lights are turned off indicating that you might have fallen asleep. Biting his lower lip, he was on his way to the kitchen to grab something to eat when he noticed someone sitting on the couch. 
“Y/N? You almost gave me a heart attack.” He let out a chuckle, sauntering over to you but felt himself stiffen. 
There you were, hugging your knees close to your chest. Teary-eyed, you looked up at him, “Where were you, Atsumu?” 
“What? I was at practice like everyday.” 
“Don’t lie to me, please.” The way you begged, desperate to know the truth even if it will hurt, even if it will break you. It would be better to know the truth rather than pretending to be living in a healthy and stable relationship with someone you once knew. 
As he stood there, you couldn’t even recognize him anymore. Nothing changed with his physical appearance but it felt like you were talking to a stranger, to someone you barely even know anymore. Your chest tightening as your eyes welling with tears. “Please.” You sobbed 
Holding out his hand, he tried to wipe your tears away. However, you turned your head to the side, not wanting to feel his touch, knowing you’d crumble more in his grasp. Instead, the hand was left hanging in the air as you avoided his gaze, wiping your own tears. Defeated, he sat beside you, watching you carefully. “Did someone tell you?” His voice small. 
You let out a humorless chuckle, wiping your fingers to your shirt as you faced him. “Someone told me some things. You weren’t staying at the gym to practice more, Atsumu. He told me how you would always be the first one to leave practice, always in a hurry yet you always come home late.” You whispered the last few words, voice cracking before clearing your throat. 
Pathetic, you felt pathetic. As the warning bells continued to ring inside your head, you couldn’t help but cling onto one positive thought that maybe, maybe he’s working on something for days and wouldn’t tell anyone. That maybe he was just busy and didn’t think of telling anyone. 
But why would he lie to you? Why would he pretend to be at practice? 
“I’m sorry.” 
“I was planning on telling you but I guess I’ve been a coward for avoiding it. I met someone, Y/N. She makes me happy. I’m sorry you had to find out like this.” 
That part of you that has been trying to give you hope started diminishing at his response. That small part of you that was believing and trusting him, the one that you held onto so so so tightly disappeared, leaving you falling into the void.  The fact that all of the effort and progress that you’ve been trying to do lately came crashing down onto you, pushing you further into the darkness. 
It triggered you. His words triggered something beneath you. I was planning on telling you. I’m sorry you had to find out like this. 
Is he being serious? You felt as if he wasn’t being sincere for his actions, for what he did to you. It felt like it had no effect on him that you found out. If you didn’t find out today, would he still keep on doing it? But what pierced through your heart, what kept repeating in your head was those words. She makes me happy.
Did you fail? Were you not enough? Did you not make him happy? 
It felt as if your body moved on its own, standing up abruptly and slapped him across his face. For once, you didn’t regret your actions. He deserved it. Looking down at him, you tried so hard to memorize his face. Before he could utter another word, you were out of his sight. 
You clenched your fist, feeling your palm burning as it serves as a reminder that you hit him before running to your room to pack your things.
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“It looks like they’re coming back.” 
Turning around, you eyed the stadium with a soft, little smile. The banner with his team on it proudly shown as people gather to view the details of the upcoming match. Your gaze landed on his picture, content as you saw how happy he looked especially with his teammates. 
That night, it was the last time you saw him. It’s been almost a year now and admittedly, it’s been tough to get back on your feet but you’re almost there. Your heart might still long for him, it might still ache since there are days that the pain becomes unbearable but you’re thankful for the people around you that have been patient enough to guide you back to your feet. 
“Who’s that? It looks like you know him.” Your friend asked, pointing at the guy you’ve been staring at.
“Don’t worry about it, he’s just some boy.” 
It might be a long process, the healing but you’re willing to undergo through the long process until you can finally move on from everything without feeling the pain, the ache and the misery. For now, you’re just happy for him for achieving his dreams. 
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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 8 months ago
Love Cuts Deep
Chapter 8- Bastards From Space
Summary: These past couple years in Wakanda with Bucky have been the best. Who would have thought some aliens would be the thing to ruin it all.
Warning: violence, angst, reader being a bad bitch, things get intense
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Today had started as normal as ever, you woke up with Bucky’s arm slung over your face, his body practically covering you like a human blanket. Then you two got out of bed, did your usual morning routines, and started your day with helping the Wakandians with whatever tough job needed done for the next however many hours.
Which as of now happens to be chopping wood; you sit comfortably on a spared thick log while Bucky smashes the Vibranium axe into another chunk of wood while you watch him with a mischievous smirk playing at your lips. “You’re doing a fantastic job with that by the way.”
Bucky sets another one down as a smile pulls at his handsome face, “Oh yeah?”
“Yes, your form is just...amazing.” You applaud, making a chefs kiss motion with your fingers as he chuckles before splitting another hunk in two.
“You know..” Starts Bucky as he sets the axe against his shoulder while you rest your knuckles against your chin, “this would go a lot faster if you helped me.”
“Then I wouldn’t be able to watch you doing your thing....and by the way you look real fine, did I mention that already?” You add with a click of your tongue while he throws you a humored glare of affection.
“I could use your help.”
You point to the wagon seated next to you, “I did, I threw all these bags and split wood in here so now I’m taking my earned break that I obviously get because I finished my job. You on the other hand don’t deserve an earned break.”
Bucky huffs, deciding to ignore your little bout of sass that so unmistakably is targeted to rile him up, so instead does he mumble out something incomprehensible just for himself to hear, “Yeah, and if we were in that hut I’d show you an earned break.”
Snickering, you cross your arms while studying Bucky’s concentrated face; his dark mane is all wet and unwashed, clothes a bit dirty and unkept with some sweat stains marking them from when you two sparred each other that morning. But God if you don’t think he’s the most beautiful creature to have ever walked this earth in your lifetime. How did you ever get so lucky?
He’s been a true beacon of hope and refuge since Romania, and you’re for certain that if not for one another’s found love. You’d both be much lonelier people.
“What’r you thinking about?” Mutters Bucky while you return from your drifting thoughts. Though soon you’re alerted to the sounds of walking in the grass that draws your attention to the hillside. “Why the fuck is T’Challa here?” You move to stand and a moment later King T’Challa and a couple of the Dora Milaje are walking down the grassy hill with something in their arms to greet the two of you. The king of Wakanda appears a tad bit distressed, face unusually more serious then what marks his features most days. You immediately know something is wrong.
Bucky shares a wary glance with you as the king greets you two with a nod, “Mr. Barnes, Miss. Valerious.” One of his guardsmen unclasps the long black case only to reveal a Wakandian styled metal arm.
Bucky purses his lips as he looks down at the new appendage, “Where’s the fight.”
King T’Challa gives the two of you a hard expression, “On it’s way.”
After learning about some angry aliens on their way to take the mind stone from Vision, and that a good portion of the rouge Avengers are on their way to Wakanda. You and Bucky knew deep down something wild must be stirring in the universe for something as big as this to happen, something very bad indeed.
You just have no idea what.
Clasping your black armored top together, you move to put on the Wakandian black leathered Vibranium gauntlets that were gifted to you for this special occasion, not that it’s really that special, but you do look cool. The new armor feels solid and stable against your forearm as you focus on tightening the clasps when suddenly you can feel Bucky’s eyes on you.
“I know you’re looking at me.” You muse, side eyeing him.
He smiles, eyes never leaving you as you lock in the armor to your forearm. He studies the brilliant dark attire that’s laced with a vibrant golden hue, “You look like a warrior.” Admits Bucky almost in awe of how you’re currently looking.
You nod, “I’d feel a little out of place next to the Dora Milaje....but uh, this suit is nice.” You add with a shrug, “Comfortable and practical, they really know how to size right.”
“Yeah....” Mumbles Bucky with a breathy laugh while you focus on the task at hand, oblivious as to where his gaze wanders all over your vessel and the parts your new attire ever-so-slightly accentuates. He just thinks you’re so beautiful no matter how you look, and right now, in Bucky’s head you’re one fine specimen. 
“How’s the new arm?”
Bucky’s wandering eyes soon shift down to the new dark plated Vibranium and golden laced metalwork, “Feels light. Like it’s apart of me you know? I still can’t believe how amazing their tech is.”
“I know right..” You pause for a moment, glancing warily over to the clock, “Well, guess we better get moving. Okoye said they’ll be here soon.” Bucky nods before zipping his jacket up the rest of the way and walking over to your side. He stops to buckle down the left side of your Wakandian styled black vest while you happily let him. Enjoying how close he is to you and the adorable way he sticks his tongue out when fully focused on a task.
Once done, Bucky takes a look at his handiwork, reaching to clasp your one hand with his. He smiles though a sadness hides behind those beautiful blues, “To battle?” Whispers Bucky.
Reaching a hand up to place a soft touch against his stubbled cheek, you smile fearlessly, “To battle.”
Soon the two of you are outside of T’Challa’s palace, standing off to the side as the king and his warriors greet the approaching Quinjet as it lands on the stone landing pad. A minute later, you catch the sight of a bearded Steve, a blonde haired Natasha, Sam, Bruce Banner, and lastly Wanda and Vision as they walk out side by side.
Vision looks hurt, and Wanda has a scar above her brow. Wonder what brute did that?
T’Challa welcomes the team before he nods and turns for them to follow, Vision and Wanda walk past you two as you finally see them clearer through the parting crowd, “How we looking?” Asks Natasha as she follows behind the king, Steve to her immediate right, the others following close behind them. 
“You will have my Kingsguard, the Border Tribe, the Dora Milaje, and...”
“And a semi-stable 100-year-old man.” Quips Bucky as all of you finally come face to face with one another, Steve immediately smiles as you walk next to Bucky. “Plus whatever the hell I am.” You jest as the two of them go in for a hug.
Natasha gives you a smirk as they part, “How you guys been?” Asks Steve, blue eyes flickering between you two.
Bucky looks over at you and shrugs, “Uh, not bad...”
“....for the end of the world.” You deadpan, causing Bucky to chuckle as well as Steve and Natasha.
“Well, it’s nice seeing you guys again...” Adds Steve as Natasha takes a step forward towards you. “We gotta stop meeting each other like this.” Quips the ex-assassin. 
You snort at the little inside joke between the two of you, raising a brow at them, “You know, you guys don’t have to visit just because some aliens are threatening our entire existence. Couldn’t we have saved a reunion for a wedding or something?”
Steve sighs, “Yeah, that would have been preferred.”
“Too bad none of you invited us.” Smirks Natasha as she looks between you and Bucky with a raised brow of her own, his stubbled face growing a small shade of pink while you awkwardly cough, eyes darting elsewhere.
“Yeah, we’re getting there, Nat.” You mutter while rubbing the back of your neck, the thought of marrying Bucky has never actually crossed your mind. You love him, its just, you two married? Actually married? Would he even want that? You have no idea, maybe talking about it before the alien situation would have been helpful in the long run. Too late for that now, guess another time then.
“Alright, come with me upstairs my friends, my sister will see what can be done for your friend.” Adds T’Challa as he takes a step back, Steve, Natasha, and Bruce all following suit and through the doors they go inside to assess the Vision situation upstairs. Leaving Sam and Rodney. 
You watch as Natasha’s body disappears behind the dark glass before turning around to meet a smiling Sam as he wanders closer to you and Bucky. Undoubtedly about to give you two a proper Sam-like greeting, “Nice to see you two weirdos again.” Chuckles Sam as he takes in how much or little you and Bucky have changed since a couple years ago.
“Can’t say the same.” Muses Bucky as you snicker at Sam’s half-offended reaction.
“I guess.....maybe....possibly.....it’s nice to see your annoying face, again.” You add, voice dripping with sarcasm as he nods, “Better then you coming to try and arrest us.”
“Alright, I’ll take it.” He smiles, “At least someone cares about me after all this time.” Side eyeing Bucky as he holds back a laugh.
“Never said that.” You mutter while shaking your head at him, “Definitely did not miss you at all.”
“You were thinking it.” Points Sam, “So was Bucky.”
“I wasn’t.”
About ten minutes later, after fully catching one another up on the happenings missed by the distance and time apart, the hair on the back of your neck pricks with the sound of something large and unfamiliar breaking into the atmosphere above. Soon a smoking metal ship crashes into the forcefield high above your heads, an explosion of fire and debris blasts in its wake as the destroyed object slides off the sides.
“God, I love this place.” Mutters Bucky as the three of you look to the sky.
“Yeah, don’t start celebrating yet, guys. We got more incoming outside the dome.” Announces Rodney on the ear coms as your face falls when more blasts crash against the protective outer barrier of Wakanda.
“Fuck......I’ve never met an alien before.” You mumble as they look to you now, your eyes wide and fearful as you stare up at the sky, “And I don’t think I want to.”
Soon more glaring fiery balls come racing past high up in the clouds headed straight for the Wakandian forcefield, violently crashing against it though nothing pierces through much to your great relief. Not even a minute later T’Challa and the rest of the team are on ground level with the rest of you. Urging everyone into the advanced Wakandian vehicles, you file in close to Bucky and Natasha as the driver begins making haste for the huge fields beyond.
Wind flies wildly past your face as you observe the growing smoke rising up from the broken and burning forest from where the aliens have landed, where they’re preparing for battle far behind the protective forcefield.
The hover vehicle reaches its destination on the knee high grass, immediately everyone files out; your boots fall into the soft ground as you find yourself on the field positioned in between Steve and Bucky while the rest of the Wakandian army keeps strong from your left, right and rear.
It’s a small comfort having everyone so near but it still feels like a false protection; Bruce is held in the Hulkbuster suit standing high and strong above the rest, while Rodney and Sam keep to the skies as they circle around in anticipation for what’s to go down.
You wish you felt better about this, but you’d be a lying fool if you claimed to feel dangerous and fearless, you’re not fighting against mortal men this time. These are beasts from a whole other world with no intention of sparing a life, they don’t care for human problems, they’re here for one single goal and that’s to take the mind stone.
Heart beating nervously in your chest, you turn a worried glance over to Bucky who’s holding a large machine gun in his left arm, he sends you a reassuring nod as T’Challa walks over to speak with Steve.
“There’s two by the perimeter, what our next move?”
“We’ve met the female one before, I guess we’ll go see if they can be reasoned with, though I’m afraid of their answer.” Begrudgingly replies Steve, eyes set ahead at two figures approaching the forcefield. One a tall broad scaled being and the other a half pale faced woman with two dark horns rising upward from her temples.
Steve, Natasha, and king T’Challa collectively decide to walk the distance to face them while everyone else remains in suspense. They speak for about a minute before walking back to the rest of you as the giant alien machinery shifts and rises with strange movement.
“They surrender?” Mutters Bucky as Steve takes his place by your side.
“Not exactly.” Well that sounds fucking promising.
Your body begins shaking with adrenaline as loud thunderous rumbling emits from the forest, a second later, large dog-like creatures race madly out of the tree line headed at a dead sprint for the forcefield.
“What the fuck.” You mutter, brows furrowed in confused bewilderment as the foreign creatures slam violently against the forcefield with little regard for what its doing to them.
Natasha hums, “Looks like we pissed her off.”
You nod as some of the beasts force their way through the guarded perimeter, they scream in fury and pain while their bodies and limbs get phased by the power of the giant shield protecting Wakanda.
“They’re killing themselves.” You can hear Okoye mutter in fearful bewilderment as the screaming creatures push through their violent assault, soon about a dozen break through, racing furiously over the shallow river and across the large battlefield to where everyone is standing.
King T’Challa shouts the battle cry as his army calls their technologically advanced shields to arms in an instant. The alien creatures thunder across the grass, getting closer and closer as the army around you begin shooting them down as fast as they can.
Bullets fly past your head as Bucky begins aiming for the beasts, shooting them down with great accuracy as you breath heavily from your growing adrenaline. Sam and Rodney shoot from the sky; you watch more fall but a plethora of others begins running off to the sides as they attempt at searching for an alternative way around the forcefield.
T’Challa realizing this, calls for the opening of North-West Section Seventeen, which is the one right in front of you all. Well this is it then, you think nervously. Dreading how the events of today may play out within the next hour, or ten minutes for all you know.
“This will be the end of Wakanda.” Mutters M’Baku as the section is lifted.
Okoye nods, face stoic and fierce, “Then it will be the most noble ending in history.”
T’Challa steps to the front lines before valiantly shouting, “Wakanda forever!” And with that does the warriors cry with courage and might as everyone including you begins a dead sprint across the grassy field, pumping your arms hard, you feel a thrill of strange excitement pulsing throughout your entire vessel as your boots thunder against the ground in tune with the beasts that charge onward.
Steve races inhumanly fast, you right on his tail as T’Challa makes ground to your immediate right. The rest of your fellow warriors keeping up as best they can. You don’t remember ever unsheathing your claws, or when they sliced violently into the thick skin of the first alien you met.
But soon your hands are covered in the warm inky blood of the creatures you’ve killed as you don’t have time to think, only kill and survive is all your mind is on. You’re practically on autopilot as the beasts thrash and slash at everyone in sight.
Suddenly one of them traps you between it’s bear paws and the rough ground, sharp daggered teeth chomping at your face as you drive your fist straight through it’s jugular and back out again, instantly a spurt of sticky dark purple blood sprays onto the side of your face as you turn away from the gory scene.
Shoving it off of you, another one punts you into the rocky earth, in retaliation you throw a clawed fist right across its shoulder. Making sure to sink it in deep when you reach its stomach. Screams of pain are all you hear as it dies, going still as stone while you jump right back into the action.
Without warning, about three pin you to the ground while you grunt and groan from the weight and their knife sized claws digging into your armored sides, damn you’ve really had better days. Shoving your Adamantium talons right through it’s exposed chest, it immediately goes limp as it’s two friends strain to reach you while it’s annoyingly bulky vessel pins you to the rough ground.
Your lungs struggle to take in a decent breath when suddenly a crack of lighting sounds throughout the battlefield, a second later the large alien bodies are thrown off of you from the force of bright white electricity, killing them instantly.
Sucking in a deep breath of relief and general oxygen, you jump to your feet only to take notice of a blonde man in some type of royal armor with an axe in one hand and sparks of lighting in the other. Oddly enough, a raccoon and a walking humanoid tree to either side as he scans the horizon before turning around and belting out, “Bring! Me! Thanos!” Before taking flight as more electricity sparks and shoots all around him.
Yeah, alright that’s normal. At least they’re on your side.
He lands and a giant plethora of white hot lighting emits all around him, killing many of the alien creatures where they stand. Though there’s no time to celebrate this small victory when giant circular machines of war burst forth from the ground, many going in different directions, but these couple begin heading straight in yours.
Eyes widening in fear, you book it in the opposite direction as T’Challa yells for his men to fall back for the tree line, your heart races a mile a minute as you force yourself to keep running through the exhaustion and slight pain in your left thigh from a heeling bite mark.
But just as the razored metal closes in behind you, a bright whispy red halts it in its place. Turning towards the source, you’re almost comforted to find Wanda at the hands of the machinery’s demise. She yells, throwing her hands back as the metal clashes across the battlefield, killing the beasts as they go.
And she was up there this whole time?
Turning to face more foes, you look over to notice as the female alien stalks across the ruined battlefield towards Wanda at an alarmingly hefty pace, dark rusted yellow eyes set and predatory as she reaches her oblivious prey. Smacking her armored fist across Wanda’s head, the Sokovian tumbles into a ditch, horned lady alien trailing after her.
Shit, you should do something.
Taking out another beast, you book it over to help Wanda, jumping into the wide trench behind the woman, you catch the end of her heated threat to Wanda, “He’ll die alone. As will you.” Venom tripping off of her every word, God why are they so angry?
“She’s not alone.” You growl, face painted with inky purple blood, claws shimmering in the sunlight as she whips around to face you. Her eyes trail over your body as she scowls in deep irritation, before handing her an unfriendly smirk, “Come on you ugly fuck.” You growl.
She lunges at you, weapon drawn as you dodge her deadly blow by the sharp thin blade. She quickly whips around and is kindly greeted by your claws that rips the dull white flesh of her lower face. Blood seeps out as she screams, face flaring a fierce anger as she powers through and thrusts her blade into your left shoulder. Fucking bitch!
You’re immediately greeted with a sharp stinging pain that rips violently into your body from the assault. A boot rudely kicks you backwards onto the hard earth as Okoye smacks her dagger across the woman’s back, distracting her from trying to end your life. Like that would work.
Blood pools hot and angry out of your opened flesh while Okoye and Natasha handle the horned bitch from behind you and Wanda. Your hands push you off the gravely earth as Wanda shares a fearful glance with you, giving her a pursed lip grin. You jump to your feet and assess the escalating situation before you; Okoye is breathing heavily on the ground as Natasha holds back the woman with her shocking stick while pinned on her back, straining to keep the opposing blade away from her throat.
“Hey!” You shout, causing the woman to lift her gaze from Natasha to you, she doesn’t even have a second to react as your clawed fist slashes a deadly blow across her face. She immediately stumbles back in shock as blood spirts wildly out of her deep cuts, her eyes going wide as saucers when you land a powerful kick into her lower torso, sending her body flying upwards only to be mauled by one of the circular razors rolling past.
Blue blood marking your already dirty face, you turn to look down at Natasha as she glances between the three of you, face dotted in blue blood just the same, “That was really gross.” Grimaces the blonde as you give the others a once over before jumping back out into the action.
Minutes fly by as you fight your way to the tree line closest to the Wakandian palace, suddenly Steve’s voice is heard in the coms, “Everyone, on my position. We have incoming.” And with that do you follow Bucky and T’Challa as they race into the woods where Steve, Natasha, Sam, Bruce, and Wanda is protectively holding Vision as they keep seated on the grassy earth.
Collecting your breath, you walk over to Bucky as everyone feels a soft hunting breeze blowing the trees around, “Something’s not right.” You mutter worriedly as he shares a nervous look with you.
“I know. Just stay close to me.”
You nod before giving him a weak reassuring smile, a moment later a strange anomaly of purple, blue, and dark grey clouds present themselves a small distance in front of you all. A tall figure of great stature and physical strength walks out from the odd whispy mass, he’s larger then anyone you’ve ever seen before, skin colored purple and golden laced armor of another world.
“Cap. That’s him.” Announces Bruce as you heart begins racing once more, oh shit oh shit oh shit. Fuck he’s really big.
Steve raises his two arm shields, “Eyes up. Stay sharp.” As he starts walking in the direction of you’re assuming is this Thanos everyone has been talking about.
Hulkbuster thunders past, but as Bruce reaches Thanos, his body turns a transparent blue and falls right through the purple alien before lodging himself in the rock of the ascending cliffside.
Steve’s next as he throws himself at Thanos, the titan uses his golden gauntlet when a sudden purply wisp of energy throws Steve into the trees. T’Challa lunges, but is swiftly stopped when Thanos’ giant hand wraps around his throat. He’s then thrown him down like a ragged doll; Sam is next, wings fold in on themselves and soon he’s down too.
Rodney right after as Thanos uses the gauntlet to crush him from within his suit, he’s promptly thrown to the side like a rock. Bullets fly violently through the air as Bucky fires shot after shot at the purple titan to no avail, he’s thrown across the ground like nothing.
Terrified yet too much full of rage to think, you race for the bastard titan as he pushes Okoye to the side, Natasha left disabled when tree roots throw themselves around her. He quickly takes notice as you jump on the roots, heading straight for him with an animistic rage flashing through your eyes.
His fist rises as he calls more roots to action, you skillful dodge their grip as you make a desperate jump for the titan below you now. He’s fast, but not fast enough to evade your clawed fist, the middle razor slashes a clean line right across his left eye as you tumble to the ground behind him, finding your footing in an instant.
Yourself now between him and the mind stone that’s currently getting destroyed by a tearful Wanda from behind you, though you’re not paying enough attention to fully realize what’s going down, you breath heavily while eyeing up the bulky man.
The pissed off titan whips around to meet your courageous glare, left eye missing, dripping with warm purple blood that trails like an ugly waterfall down his scared cheeks until it spatters to the forest floor. Face now visibly angered and very much in pain as he stares you down.
He takes a threatening step forward as you take a cautious one back, eyeing you up, he nods, “A clean hit, I’m afraid this one won’t heal for me unfortunately...nonetheless, I am impressed by your valor small one, but your bravery will be in vain.” Speaks the titan as you stare up at him with shaky breaths.
oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.
A second later the power of his golden gauntlet sends you flying into the trunk of a thick tree, knocking you out on impact.
When you awaken with a jolt, your nose is wet with drying crimson that trails across your lips and chin. Nothing hurts anymore but your body feels incredibly weird, taking in a deep breath, you stand on shaky legs. Eyes scanning the area only to find a confused Thor who’s looking rather dreadful and lost.
Steve quickly runs up to him, eyes searching around for Thanos who’s nowhere to be seen, “Where’d he go?” Wonders Steve as you slowly walk over to them, “Thor....Where’d he go?” Asks Steve more urgently this time, blue eyes looking around to no avail. Thanos is gone. Just like that.
But how?
You quickly catch movement to your left, but it’s just Bucky walking over to the three of you. Heart filled with relief, you start walking over to him as he locks eyes with you, a confused expression crossing over his features as he looks over at his left arm.
You follow his puzzled gaze and watch as his arm begins to disintegrate like ash on a windy day. Bucky finds your concerned face; panic, confusion, and fear flashing through his stormy irises as he takes another desperate step to reach you, “Y/N?” Is all you hear as the rest of his body begins turning to dust right before your very eyes.
His gun falls to the ground with a thud as the rest of his body disintegrates to nothing more then ash and dust upon the grass. You freeze, it feels like your heart as just been frozen in ice and smashed with a steel sledgehammer without remorse.
You swallow, walking on trembling legs to where his ashes remain, you slowly kneel. Hand touching the area as delicately as you would hold a newborn, this isn’t real this is just a shitty dream and you’ll wake up any second with him right by your side.
It’s just a dream. But you know, it’s not.
Steve wanders to your side before kneeling down and placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. Biting your bottom lip to hold the lump back that’s building in the back of your throat, you turn your head to meet him, your eyes glossed over with unshed tears.
He lowers his head in defeat as you stare bitterly back down at the ground where Bucky once was, lip quivering uncontrollably as you fight back a waterfall of hidden tears. The pain in your heart almost too much to bear. “Sam! Where are you?!” Shouts Rodney, a voice to bring you back to the world.
No, not the others too. How many did he take?
Blinking hard, a couple stray tears patter onto the brown ashes as you rise, Steve doing the same, you watch as he walks over to Vision who’s void of all color and taken of all life, a small crater marking the demise of his life force, the mind stone.
He kneels down to meet the body as Natasha runs into view, she quickly halts once her gaze falls onto Visions corpse, mouth agape in shock. Bruce, Rodney, that little raccoon, and Thor coming to from behind them as you amble closer to the distraught six, though your legs feel like they could give out at any moment.
“What is this?” Wonders Rodney as he looks from Steve to you and then over to Thor, “What the hell is happening?”
Tears stream silently down the sides of your cheeks now, they make a clean line from all the other dirt and blood that marks your skin. Breathing heavily, Natasha looks over to you, “Y/N?” She asks, voice wavering as her eyes trail over your mournfully stoic face.
He can’t be gone, not Bucky, not him.
Tagged: @diegos-butt @minigranger @bibliophilewednesday @holyhumorliteraturelight @lilacs-lavender @a-girl-who-loves-disney @starkssnarks @vikingqueen28 @bizarrebibitch @atomicpersonacheesecake @jmstz @staygoldsquatchling02 @marvelbros-oneshots @shawnartmendes​ @mischiefmanaged71 @jckie94​  @iamasimpingh0e
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erensproudsimp · 8 months ago
Work out
Armin Arlert x reader Oneshot
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⚠ Sexual Content Ahead ⚠
Summary : I woke up, thought of gym sex and wrote it
Word Count : 2.3k
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"Come on y/n, going to the gym is not that bad plus Mikasa would be joining us too", Annie encouraged you.
"Working out seems so much of trouble that I certainly don't want to partake as I'd rather spend my energy to binge watch anime", you replied flatly eyes not moving away from your phone.
Snatching your phone Annie said with a serious face, "Y/n how do you expect to pull any of your anime crushes looking like a potato? "
"Hey! Give me my phone back and even if I do look like a potato Sasha would love me and don't bring my husbands in this topic!" you ran after her to retrieve your phone.
"Alright then, I'll pay you a KFC meal if you come for one day to at least try it out", Annie suggested.
"I don't know why you're so adamant about taking me to the gym but if there's free food involved, I'm in", you gave in.
"I just want you to stay fit you know and we're starting tomorrow so go to sleep", your roommate said preparing her gym bag.
"Whaaat nooo", you complained unaware of the impact that a stranger you're going to meet will have have on you.
The next morning both Annie and you hopped into Mikasa's car to go to the private gym owned by Mikasa's family and family friends.
"That's actually a relief to be able to work out without fearing strangers looking at you", you reassured yourself.
"Yeah it's gonna be really comfortable and I also would like to introduce you to some of my friends y/n, I know you're gonna like them", Mikasa added.
"Well can't say I'm not excited to meet them", you replied looking at your phone reading a fanfiction.
Couple of minutes later you reached your destination. From the outside the building looked very modern with transparent glasses through which you could see the inside and barely any life around made the place peaceful.
When you went inside, Mikasa took you both to the changing room where you left your stuff on the shelf to change your outfit.
Putting your towel on your shoulders followed by Annie, Mikasa led the way to her friends who were lifting weights.
"Hey guys", Mikasa said to get their attention, "This is y/n and Annie and this is Eren and Armin", she said pointing at each person respectively.
"Pleasure to meet you two", Armin said as Eren nodded with him.
You swore that the moment you saw the blonde boy, your heart skipped a beat. He was so effortlessly gorgeous.
"Same here, hope to have a good gym buddy relation with you two", Annie replied as you were lost in your reflection. Snapping yourself from your thoughts, you agreed with her.
After that y'all left the boys to let them do their previous activities and went to train yourselves. With your unfit body you were tired from the first exercise itself and was laying on the ground trying to catch your breath.
You failed to understand how could Mikasa and Annie keep going but you were not going to give up and decided to look at it as a new challenge for yourself.
Picking yourself up, you went to do something easy as a starter which was skipping ropes.
Little did you know that the blonde guy had been sneaking peeks at you from time to time smiling to himself.
One hour later, everyone decided to take a break to refuel their energy.
"So, what are we going to eat", you questioned.
" Why not soup? I've been craving miso soup for a while," Armin proposed, everyone settling on soup.
Getting into the car, Eren drove us to the nearest fast food restaurant. Inside you sat between Annie and Armin. Filled with anxiety of Armin being so close to you, you fidgeted with your hands to keep yourself stable. Armin noticed your restlessness and asked if you were okay but you couldn't possibly tell him that you were crushing hard on him so you just replied with a 'I'm fine' and concentrated on your food.
"What are your majors?" Eren asked you and Annie to make conversation.
"I am doing engineering and y/n's an art student explaining why she's so lazy", Annie responded.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Annie, I am not lazy", you said passive-aggressively looking at Annie with murder in your eyes.
"Says the girl who could barely run to take her phone from me yesterday", she coughed smirking.
"No- I - bye-", you stammered making Armin erupt into a fits of laughter. His laugh gave the impression as though angels came down on earth to bestow you with blessings which in this case was the cute sound of his voice. You didn't realise that you were staring at him until Armin spoke, "Is there something on my face?"
"Yes," you said casually swipping the little ketchup stain near his mouth with a tissue. His cheeks were a light pink colour because of your action and he thanked the heavens for not letting his friends noticing what just happened.
"Th-thank you", he bashfully thanked.
"Sure", you said looking away to hide your blush.
Finishing your meals, y'all returned to the gym to continue training then took your leave after two hours. Saying your byes to the boys, Mikasa gave you both a ride to your dorm.
Throwing your body on your bed you heaved a sigh of relief that you were able to survive this first day of going to the gym.
"Tired already y/n ? Too bad we're going to do this routine everyday", Annie commented.
"I guess time to fill the fridge with energy drinks", you jumped out of bed to buy bundles of different brands of said drink.
The only thing that would be keeping you going about working out was that you were able to see Armin everyday.
Due to your classes running late one day you reached the gym at 06 00 pm. Everyone was still there; you greeted them and went to use the treadmill. At around half past seven your friends were hungry and decided to go to a nearby takeout to bring food to the gym because you didn't want to come out of exhaustion.
"You guys go ahead, I would keep y/n company", Armin told them.
Soon you were left alone with Armin and not knowing what to say out of shyness you excused yourself to the bathroom.
There you freshened up yourself to make yourself look more presentable to your crush. Luck was in your stars as you were wearing leggings that gave your ass a nice curve with a matching colour sportsbra.
When you came out, you saw that Armin was missing. You assumed that he too went to the restroom and decided to do squats. A little while later the man indeed returned from the wc. His breath was caught in his throat when he saw you.
He came up to you and asked if you needed any help regarding your training.
"Actually I do, would you assist me in doing sit ups?" you requested.
"Yeah sure, I'll hold your shoes while you're doing them," Armin accepted.
Laying your body on the mat, you watched Armin going in front of you to your feet and held them down. You began to lift your body with your hands on the back of your head as you realised how close your faces were being when you were raised up. You never realised how broad his shoulders were until then and you gulped hard.
"How much do you plan on doing?" Armin asked.
"I'm setting a limit of thirty but let's see if I manage to exceed it." He nodded. Gosh, how does someone manage to look cute and hot at the same time?!
At your 15th sit-up you lifted up your body to make eye contact with him as you were with the previous sit-ups but this time it lasted longer because you stayed still. Both of you gazed into the eye of each other without saying a word your faces becoming closer. You didn't realise what you were doing. It wasn't long until both of your lips touched each other. When your senses were brought back to you, you pulled back so quickly. For a second you saw a frown on Armin's face.
"OMG! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to do this, I swear," you apologized frenzily.
"It's okay, I don't mind at all," Armin just chuckled at your reaction. He came closer and tucked your hair to your ear.
"Have you ever realised how beautiful you were?" he whispered in your ear making all your blood rush to your head.
"I - I- mmph," you were cut off by Armin
colliding his mouth with yours. He sucked on your lower lip asking permission to let his tongue enter your mouth. You opened it a little only for him to stuck in his whole muscle.
You left out a small moan feeling his tongue roaming everywhere while his hand untied your hair and was playing with it.
He had the most tender lips that you ever felt in your life. Giving you a forehead kiss, he held your face in his hands stroking it with his thumb.
You crawled to sit on his lap as he continued to shower you with affection. His head pats were so gentle, you were melting under his touch. He bowed to gain access to your neck and gave it a subtle lick and then proceeded to find your sweet spot kissing you everywhere. A small mewl left your lips when he kissed a certain spot. The man was proud of himself to have found it and attacked it with hickeys. At this point you were shaking on his thighs and in his embrace.
Your hands reached the bottom of his shirt and pulled it off him. His sweaty body glowed in the light yet he looked so heavenly. You couldn't help but lick his collarbones leaving your saliva on his skin.
The fear of getting caught by your friends during this sinful moment turned you on.
Armin's hand gave your ass a tender squeeze before making you lay your whole body on the mat as he left a trail of kisses from your neck your stomach. He grabbed your waist to kiss your on your bellybutton.
"Is it okay if I remove it?" he said hinting at your leggings. You lifted your lower body to help him remove it and threw it away. He gave your core a kiss then carried you in bridal style to place you on the bench press.
He spread your legs and buried his face between them. You wouldn't have never expected such an innocent face to do such unholy things to your body in your life. He sucked your clit which sent electrics all throughout your body. He ate you out as though you were the most tastiest meal he's ever had. You crushed his head with your thighs but he didn't seem to mind that as he continued doing his job. You were pulling his hair so hard screaming his name making sure people passing nearby could hear how good he was making you feel.
His soft hands ran through your thighs making small circle motions on them to soothe you.
"Ar-Armin, I-,"
"It's okay love you can spill it on my face, I want every single drop down my throat," Armin panted.
What he said set off a trigger and the knot in your stomach snapped. All your juices went on Armin's face and he ensured to have swallowed everything.
He retreated away from your opening swipping your cum with his fingers and licking them off. While you were collecting your breath, Armin took off his sweatpants and let his hardened dick free.
"Do you mind if I -," he insinuated with his dick at your entrance.
"Please Armin don't hesitate," you were practically begging him. You expected him to slide it in but instead he was stroking your folds with his swollen member. This felt so good it sent you in a rollercoaster of immense pleasure. You could feel his veins pulsating against your own pulsating clit.
While he was caressing your cunt, his hands went to grab your boobs and fondled them.
His up and down motion continued as he was mixing his precum with your wetness.
Your overwhelming neediness pushed you to grind on him as he was moving so slowly. With instinct you lifted your hips as shivers were sent through your spine. Noticing this Armin picked up speed and with his hand rubbed your clit hard. He bent over to give you a kiss on your nose then to make out with you.
"Ah-ah, y/n-I'm going to cum," Armin moaned.
"Cum with me Armin," you breathed.
Suddenly he picked up more speed and thrusted faster. His dick was moving so quick on you, the lewd sound of your pussy's liquids filled the gym. Armin held your hands and intertwined your fingers. He let out a grunt as he came on your stomach and you on the bench.
He looked at you with such love in his eyes and reached out to wipe your tears and kissed your hands.
He fetched your leggings while he also cleaned the bench leaving no marks of this incident. Since your legs were shaking so much you could barely walk, Armin carried you to the bathroom.
After you went to pee, he made you sit on a stool and he tied your hair back in a ponytail. Hugging you from the back he asked, "Are you feeling okay now beautiful or do you need anything?"
"Water?" you replied.
"Anything for you," he went to fetch the requested item.
Just at that moment your friends returned.
You thanked the universe for not making them arrive while you were making love with Armin and you kept your cool acting as though nothing happened.
Thus, this was the start of a wonderful relationship.
Thank you for reading. :)
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honeelyn · a year ago
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pairing: todoroki x fem! reader
summary: finding out you're pregnant is supposed to be the happiest occasion in your life, but finding out while you're still a student? not the most ideal situation. . .
note🐝: mentions teen pregnancy and abortion !! i'm working on part 2 of "spit fire" so please expect that soon!! i just though i'd feed you all with this while it's still in the works 😌 as always, please lmk what you thought of this and i hope you enjoy 🤍 -honey
PS. i originally had three characters in one post, but apparently tumblr has a limit to text blocks??? so i guess i'll be doing all three of them separately. first up is shoto, then iida, and finally tamaki !!
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if you somehow managed to capture his heart
i seriously hc this kid to be severely emotionally unavailable
so for him to actually start loving someone and actively persue a relationship with them
then you K N O W he's going to love the shit out of you
like, this boy is trying his hardest
and obviously your relationship develops and now you've been together for two years
so quite a while
but in the grand scheme of things,
not long enough to start having children together
especially considering you're both in your second year
the two of you have had sleepy conversations about your future together
how many kids you wanted
shoto wanted four like his own family
their genders, their quirks, their hair colours, their personalities
ya' know,
the sorts.
it's a cute conversation to have with your s/o
and shoto would be lying if he said he didn't see you as the mother of his children
but he expected it to be years into the future.
when you both have stable jobs
and a home together
maybe a pet or two
not when you're 17
in high school
. . .
anyways, when you find out, it's been weeks of morning sickness and some serious fatigue.
shoto was beginning to worry
because now you can barely keep your eyes open throughout the day and often fall asleep in class
and during training, your movements were slower and your timing was wayy off
the morning sickness was worrying him too
despite not having any food in your system, you still threw up in the mornings
at first he thought it was a symptom from your period
and he would bring you hot packs and make your favorite snack
but it kept happening
and you told him it wasn't your period
so baby was just concerned 😔
you had an inkling as to what was wrong with you
but you didn't want to believe it
i mean who would?
you're young, 17, still in high school
having a child is a serious thing
especially since you're a hero in training.
having a child could seriously affect your body and put a hold on becoming a hero
but you didn't want to jump to conclusions
maybe you just had a stomach bug or a sickness sir something
but deep down you knew you were pregnant
so you go to the doctors on the weekend
shoto wanted to come, but you told him you also had to stop by the gynecologist
so he stayed at the dorms
the doctor gave you a routine check up and asked you questions about your symptoms
they took blood samples from you for the test since you didn't want the results right away
you wanted sometime to think about if you wanted this child or not, because that's what they would ask you after the confirmation
these usually take 2-3 days
so you get back to the dorms and avoid shoto for those days, because you knew if you saw him, you would cave in and tell him you might be pregnant
now the day comes
the doctor calls you and tells you your results are ready
you go in to get them
wanting to hear it in person rather than on the phone
plus shoto was at the dorms
"well, ms. l/n." the doctor begins, looking through a stack of papers, "it seems you are pregnant! how would you like to proceed?"
and even after three days of thinking non stop and avoiding everyone like to plague,
you still didn't know
so you decide to walk home
the papers confirming your pregnancy in your purse felt like bricks
you were so spaced out you didn't notice you arrived at the dorms
until you bumped into someone
and the contents of your purse spilled everywhere
you quickly gathered your things
reaching for the papers from your doctor's
but the other person had grabbed them first
in your mind you hoped and prayed it was ANYONE other than your boyfriend
you'd even hoped it was monoma 😭😭
but, thanks to your luck
it was your f u c k i n g boyfriend
😀 fawk - you
"oh, are these your test results?"
you had told him you were going back to the doctors for some test results to figure out why you were sick
which wasn't a lie
but it still felt like one
death please 😌✨
and so you just had to sit there
on the hardwood floor of the common room
your heart racing sO FAST
and tears pooling into your eyes the longer he just S T A R E S at the paper
because that's all he's doing
is staring
as you just wanted this to be over with
but fuck him and his stoticness
and while you usually loved it as his own unique charm,
in this moment, you fucking hated it
because wtf are you thinking?
are you going to leave me?
are you going to stay?
are you going to throw me down a flight of stairs in an attempt of self-abortion?
what's going on, bro?
and he just:
"is this real?"
shoto. . .
you are simultaneously the smartest and stupidest person i know
kidding i love this kid
and you just: "that depends on what you're going to do with the answer."
before shoto could answer
the other students began to look over at you and ask if you remember were ok
because you were still on the floor
and your eyes were glossy and your lip was trembling
your whole body was trembling actually..
"let's go to my dorm and talk." shoto says in his nEUTRAL FUCKING VOICE
and you're just. . .
emotion please 😤
he holds a hand out for you and you take it
he gently helps you up and leads you to his dorm with a hand on your lower back and another holding your forearm
because fuck bro, you're so scared about what's going to happen you can't even walk right
your legs feel so weak
and your head is dizzy from both the emotional and physical stress
when you get to his dorm, you go straight to his bathroom and throw up
while you're emptying your stomach, you hear him sigh and your hair is being pulled back whole a warm hand rubs your back
"so i guess it's true, huh . . ?"
and that's when it really hits you that
hold shit
you're pregnant
there's a CHILD inside of you
well, not achild yet
it's still just some cells
but it will be in a few months
but holy shit
and that's when the tears start flowing out
shoto comforted you the best he could whole his own mind was running a mile a minute
because holy fuck
you were pregnant
with his child
eventually you stopped thorwing up and you quickly brushed your teeth and joined shoto on his bed after he left to give you some space
the two of you just laid there
in silence
and you just couldn't take it anymore
"are you going to leave me?"
silence followed your question
🔥"no. i wouldn't do that. this is as much my problem as it is yours."🧊
and WHOO
it felt like you finally were able to breathe after being held under water for so long
"so what do we do?" you and turned on your side to face shoto
he shrugged
🔥 "it's up to you. it's your body. if you decide to abort it, then we can set up the appointment together. if you want to keep it, then we'll take care of the child together." 🧊
bro you could die happy 😌
he's too sweet
you say in silence ONCE AGAIN
while you thought about what you wanted to do
"i want an abortion."
and that's ok 😌
because you're young and it was a mistake
it happens
but now you both know to be more careful
and that's what's important 😌
shoto nodded, "do you want me to make an appointment for you?"
but you wanted to make it yourself
but then a thought hit you
"where are we going to get the money for an abortion?"
because those ranged from $0-1000 and you didn't have any health insurance or any of that
and you're ✨b r o k e ✨
but shoto just lightly chuckled and pat the top of your head
"my father is the number two hero, my love. he's rolling in money he doesn't know what to do with."
weeks later he was bombarded with calls and messages from his father asking why his credit card got a charge from planned parenthood 😭✋🏼
shoto left him on ✨read✨ 😌
366 notes · View notes
westmoor · a year ago
of men and horses
It’s a common misconception that Jaskier favours the winter season. 
He likes it well enough, truth be told, and he’ll hardly complain about generosity shown by the esteemed and wealthy that request his presence (and puts him up quite handsomely) at courts and castles to add a dash of colour to otherwise dreary months.
But the life he chose for himself is one of travel and adventure, and as much as he revels in all the intricacies and intrigue of life among nobility, it holds little in competition with life alongside a Witcher.
As such, the first week is always the most enjoyable. Sinking into a cushioned chair in heated chambers after every night after a rich supper, letting the chafes and scrapes of the road fade from his skin and the weariness to seep from his bones. 
An audience of fresh faces, and the ability to take the sidelines and enjoy the layers of courtly drama that didn’t directly involve him (yet.)
New connections to make, old ones to catch up with.
The first weeks are always the nicest.
After that, the restlessness sets in.
His legs, not used to settling, have soon wandered down every hall. No corner of the courtyard left uncircled. The woods, if the estate has any, seems disappointingly void of fearsome beasts.
Most places have stories that he occupies himself with uncovering, some many layers deep, that turn into a song or a story of its own.
This year he’s hardly so lucky.
The lord is an old acquaintance, friendly but drab, and he understands fully why his presence in their midst was desired. The bard seems to be the most interesting thing to pass their land in the past five years or so. These people, Jaskier thinks, have altogether far too few worries.
The first week has barely waned by the time he tires of the confines of the upper class and extends his periphery to the stables and kennel.
He’s come to feel at home near a stable, he finds, though riding was never his sport. A stable is a stable no matter it’s location on the continent, the smells and sounds blending into each other from one to the next.
And then there are the people. Quiet or chatty, but earnest and hard-working more often than not. There is something about the gentle tones and steady hands of men who handle horses that makes to soothe the ache that settles in a Witcher’s bard’s heart in the first weeks of winter.
His hosts keep a good stable, as he had expected, knowing their hobby of not just hunting but breeding and training horses fit for the task. As a result, the yard is teeming with life even when the ground freezes under sheets of white. Seasoned mounts taken out for exercise, greener ones finding their footing, yearlings being taught foundations from the ground.
Jaskier takes to watching them work, in between trading stories and songs and conversations. He is at his core an aesthete, and can appreciate the visage of a fine specimen atop a fine mount even if it’s not within his particular field of study.
He ends up not just watching the riders, however.
There’s a mare. A young deep red bay bought from a trader all the way down in Cintra that autumn. The head groom had sung her praises at first, practically waxing poetic about balanced structure and the ease of her gait, but as time wore on his tone had soured somewhat. 
She is, as one of the stableboys put it, a hellion.
Jaskier adores her.
It has become a habit of his over the past handful of days, wandering down to the paddocks after breakfast to watch an otherwise capable horseman fail to mold her into something more agreeable.
There is little progress to be had, and the workers have already started lamenting the likelihood of her being sold on in spring, too headstrong and too temperamental to suit his Lordship’s preferences.
Jaskier can’t help it. 
Watching her huff at pressure and wheedle her way out of tension, and occasionally deer-hop her way over fences and leaving her rider in the muck, tugs on something rather close to the spot in his heart warmed by the sight of broad-handed grooms humming softly to their favourites. 
He has even succeeded in bribing his way into her good graces, armed with apples and candied sugar, a feat he’s rather proud of.
The downside to this routine is that he spends such excessive time thinking about Geralt, in addition to the time he would normally spend thinking about Geralt, that when he rushes down from the main hall one frosty morning and sees a black-clad fellow in the yard, he very nearly goes right past.
It had snowed in the night, morning cold freezing it to dust over branches and parapets, now drifting down as powder with the gentle breeze. Fogged breath drifts along a stubbled cheek, crystallizing in silvery locks.
The moment between Jaskier’s heart skipping a beat and his mind catching up to reality nearly has him going face-first down the stone steps.
“Geralt!” he exclaims, confusion warring with disbelief but both losing out to joy.
The way the Witcher’s eyes light up at the sight of the bard is enough to drive him closer, stopping just short of throwing his arms around leather-clad shoulders and drawing the larger man in for a hug. 
The relief washing across Geralt’s face at the friendly reception provides all the warmth he needs, however. As unexpected as his arrival is, it pains him to know that Geralt might think his presence unwanted and it costs him nothing to prove those ideas false.
“What a surprise! I must admit I didn’t expect you so soon, though I’m glad to see you still hale after four entire weeks without me.” 
There is a genuine question in that statement, but he has a handful of theories relating to the answer, gleaned from his friend’s disposition and the apparent lack of hurry.
“Roach twisted a fetlock just past Hagge,” he says, and something heavy settles in the pit of Jaskier’s stomach. “Couldn’t make it to the mountains before the storms set in.”
“Oh.” Rifling through his admittedly limited knowledge of animal medicine yields little, but he knows the speed at which Geralt travels, and combined with the tension in his jaw - Roach is hardly a yearling. She has been a Witcher’s companion longer than him. “I’m sorry. Is she..?”
“I left her with a farmer. The one with the werewolf problem.”
Jaskier nods, he remembers it well. A good man, he’d paid handsomely with what he had. His son had been a journeyman at the time, though by now he should be a trained blacksmith in his own right.
There are worse lots for a horse to draw, he supposes. Besides, he wonders how many of Geralt’s noble steeds had earned a retirement. 
“I suppose I’ll have to visit next time I pass that way,” he says, at the lack of better comfort. The lines at the corners of Geralt’s eyes soften a fraction, and he knows it’s right. 
A thought stirs at the back of his mind, like opening a door, just a crack.
Maybe. Just maybe.
Geralt doesn’t look too torn. Resigned, if anything.
Sometimes, Jaskier figures, one just has to try.
“Well,” he says, suddenly decisive, and this time he does step up and clasp a hand over Geralt’s broad arm. “If you’re not too tired - your baggage can wait, I’m sure - and if you don’t mind indulging me, there’s someone I’d like for you to meet.”
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vminity21 · 11 months ago
Beyond the Facade | knj
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Pairing: handyman!namjoon X preacherskid!reader, bestfriend!taehyung X pregnant!reader, f2l!au
Word Count: 10,958
Genre: mysterious/angst/fluff/smut
Warning(s): strong language use, semi-detailed childbirth, mention of infidelity, alluding of a love triangle, evidence of a sheltered background, angst involving family matters, smut, losing virginity, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), nipple play, hand groping, lots of flashbacks but that is the point of the story i sorry; Rated: 18+
Summary: A sheltered life leads to harbored secrets that are buried in order to protect someone you are falling in love with. As the time is nearing for the life growing inside you to be welcomed into the world, the reminiscences of all the moments unfold to reveal a beautiful story that needed to be told.
Credits to: @suhdays​ for making such a phenomenal header! The talent she has never ceases to amaze me!
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The graying of the clouds is all you can see beyond your window other than the panging rain droplets now trickling upon the glass. Arm resting against your forehead, your lips press into a straight line in response to the series of thoughts circling your mind. Carefully, you slide your palms upon the mattress in an attempt to sit up, wanting to see more of the view besides the crying sky. Knuckles curling to rub your tired eyes, you furrow your brows, the comforting warmth of the bed covers remain tangled between your shins. Leafless trees border the side of the building save for a small swing set; a paved section decorated with a basketball hoop where a large shed stands many feet across from it. If one is to step outside the front of the structure, there sits a church surrounded by a gravel parking lot where the neighboring land hosts a barbed wire fence with an abandoned house and field.
It's been four months since you deemed the fellowship hall your home, and appreciatively, the area has been vacant since the falling of the church which saves even more stress than what you've been in since moving here. Achingly, your legs stretch to move off the bed before your feet land onto the grainy carpet. Your right-hand slips to steady your back, maneuvering your body to scoot to the bed frame, which has become a daily routine, weak fingers gripping the wood until your digits become pale white. Letting out a steady sigh, with all your strength you lift yourself to where you can stand, "Oomf," a small whimper escapes past your lips, tensing at the cringe plaguing your shoulders.
Being seven months pregnant sometimes has its perks, but this isn't one of them. Bending your body forward slightly, you step sluggishly toward your dresser, pulling out maternity clothes lent to you before the move.
"So, when are you going to tell us?" The soft murmur belonging to your mother echoes from the driver's side. Her expression submits an evident mixture of exhaustion and exasperation; though it's been a month since the announcement of your pregnancy, your mother is currently driving you to a doctor's appointment for a checkup on the baby to make sure everything is okay, "we have a right to know."
Arms crossed over your chest in mild annoyance, you bite the corner of your mouth until the side of your head meets the window, getting lost in the line of trees zipping by.
Waddling into the bathroom, the vague memory fades, your hand reaching to turn the knob of the shower. The squeaky sound along with rushing water splatters against the shower curtain sending a soothing jolt of excitement. Chilly air springs goosebumps over your limbs once you're freed of your clothes, waiting patiently for the water to warm before inching into the tub. When steaming liquid soon dribbles among your frame, a grin of satisfaction sparks brief happiness you needed an escape to. The heat of the downpour eases your aching bones, fingers clasping behind your neck to lean your head back, "Oh!" You gasp in surprise when the instant feel of a kick happens within your tummy. Eyes flutter down in the direction of your swollen belly, palms moving to caress it, "Look at you, what are you trying to do? Escape?" Cooing with a light giggle, when the baby kicks again, you can't help the giddy smile tugging at the corner of your lips. Now, this- this is what you love about being pregnant. Finishing up, you dry your hair before swiftly dressing along with brushing your teeth.
Thoughts still pertaining to the small life growing inside you, you've decided since your first doctor's visit that you do not want to know your baby's gender until the day that you give birth. When you presented the idea to your mother, she was all on board, proclaiming how she had done that with your younger sibling. Running a brush through your hair, you skim one final look into the mirror formerly then head to exit the bathroom.
Gradually sauntering through the mini hallway, you're more zoned on the way your hand pats upon the wall in some form of maintaining stableness to the point you hardly notice almost slamming into a tall figure.
"Oh shit, I'm so sorry!" A deep voice panics, raising his arms in a way to catch you though your arms mirror the same. Heart ramming, a breath of relief winds past your parted lips- your eyes scanning the slim legs that follow to the handsome face of Kim Namjoon. His eyes enlarged apologetically.
"Oh Namjoon, you scared me," a tender chuckle sets the feel of calm for he sees the amnesty etched in your eyes.
"I'm so sorry, [Y/N], I was about to head out to mow the lawn, but just wanted to check and make sure you're okay," he timidly scopes the view of your huge abdomen, gulping once his hands rest loosely at his sides, returning his eyes to search yours before a sweet grin spreads upon your face.
"It's no biggie. Thank you for checking on me,"
His dimples show from the way his lips press in a tight smile, nodding in reply, timorously turning to waltz to the outdoors in preparation of the day ahead. You watch until he disappears from your line of vision; the creep of a blush burning from your chest to your cheeks. Raking your hands through your hair, you force yourself once again to deny the attraction seeping through your soul thankful your blush attacked after he left.
Kim Namjoon works for your father, making sure the church grounds continuously stay clean and cut creating a pretty environment to the eye. Protecting the land is another part of the job description- protecting it from any loiterers, wild animals, protesters, etcetera- maintaining flower bushes encircling the area as well as mini projects your father will want Namjoon to build. The swing set, including the shed, happen to be plans that Namjoon successfully constructed due to your father's wishes. In return, Namjoon is provided a place to live- the room that once held your father's office, is now changed into a bedroom.
It's strange for you to think about it now- how so much has changed in just seven months, when a year ago the church was thriving, unaware of the secrets that clouded within the audience. Squeezing your eyes shut, a reminiscent from the beginning of your pregnancy rears its head causing a tiny brink of nausea to form.
Taehyung's arms drape around you tightly, embracing you in all entirety that your eyes shut against the crook of his neck. Your fingers squeeze his shoulder, legs bent across his thighs while tepid tears spill onto your cheeks.
"Shhh," he tries to comfort, his breath tickling your exposed ear- your face still buried beneath his chin, "It's going to be okay," he whispers just as soft as the flicking fire burning amongst numerous candle wicks. Scents of vanilla blends with birch fitting the dimly lit bedroom that you're thankful exists other than the man refusing to let you go until you feel better.
"How?" You choke back another sob, "How am I going to tell my parents? How am I supposed to confront the church if that's what it comes down to? Shit... My dad is going to fucking kill me," Taehyung's shirt is soaked, but he could care less, tangling his long fingers into your hair to stroke the back of your head.
"Okay, now, you're being dramatic,"
"So, maybe I am? But you know very well that my parents aren't going to take this lightly,"
"Yeah, but I think it's safe to say that telling your parents you're pregnant is far better than if you were to tell them how you truly feel about religion,"
"Okay? Perhaps, you're right," a snippet of a frustrated huff leaves your trembling lips, "especially not with what's been going on with the church, I don't know how much more they can take,"
"Well, your dad should have thought of that before he had an affair with my mom," Taehyung's icy tone brings chills to your frame before he loudly swallows, lips firm from the anger boiling behind his almond eyes. Tendrils of his bright, red hair glow regardless of how dark the atmosphere is, and you hardly hold back the sheer pain stabbing your heart from the guilt you can't help but endure.
"Tae, I'm so so sorry,"
"Hey," he peers down at you, realizing he may have taken his comment too far, even though you're just as angry towards your father as your best friend is, "you didn't know," sniffling back the remaining mucus clogging your nostrils, you desire to face Taehyung no matter how foolish you think you may look, scooting your body to where your palm indents in his mattress next to his legs, his arm now rests around your waist, and for a split second, you're close enough to where the tempting appearance of his striking face beckons the strange glimmer of longing. A longing of curing whatever loneliness you're going through, but you're not the only one experiencing this moment for Taehyung's lips part just enough to plead your attention.
You can't stop yourself, and you don't, because before either of you comprehend, you close the gap letting the delicate wave of his kiss caress yours. "Tae," you breathe against his lips, reuniting with his kiss almost immediately while a dizzy spell of want travels through your chest. You know this isn't right. He knows this isn't right, but too many pent-up emotions between your hearts have gotten out of hand, and for now, all the two of you have is each other. His fingertips move to tenderly trail your jaw, gasping into his mouth when the tip of his tongue circles yours before you move to trap him in a perfect straddle. You need something, anything to feel whole again- something to forget about the people you lost and the people you will lose. And, if there's anyone in this world you do not want to lose it's him.
There's no refraining, there's no hesitation, just the growing pace of the kisses, and the way you're so enthralled with how beautiful he feels squeezing you tighter to him. "[Y/N]," he moans, hating himself for how far he wants to go with you, yet he craves your touch, nearly supplicates for it. You want to feel his skin, and the aching throb below you seems to deafen any other screams of stopping, and yet, your fingers move to the end of his shirt, peeling it just enough to expose the solid wall of his abdomen. "[Y/N]," he stops you, breaking the final kiss, his hand covering your wrist, while your eyes frantically search the side of his face, "We- we can't,"
You haven't seen him since, because of the boundaries that were crossed and would have been farther crossed if Taehyung had not had the strength to stop. The pair of you have been best friends since childhood, and neither of you wants to take anything beyond for the sake of feeling empty, but he assured you that night, even after your panic of apologies pouring from your mouth, after the humiliation that shackled your system, even after the daunting assumption that your friendship was over- he cupped your cheek, promising that he was still here and that he would never end your attachment over something, you both will never regret.
It's a secret you've suppressed for some time. Taehyung calls every so often when he can; dealing with his broken-hearted father on top of two jobs consumes every bit of his time. Yet, you can't help but miss him, the one person who loyally stayed by your side even when you came forward to your friends about your pregnancy. And, the one friend who still loves you all the same, even after discovering his mother's affair with your father.
Rage isn't enough to describe the resentment against your father, and ever since you told your parents that you were expecting, and ever since your move, you haven't spoken to him. You'll never forget how torn your mother was- depression weighing heavy on her, and that's something that's hard to forgive.
Your mother looks frail as she twiddles the crumpled tissue in her hands. Tears brim her eyes through the silence in the car, sparse sniffles breaking your heart into a million pieces. The two of you had just come back from the grocery store to restock the kitchen in your recently new home and are now parked at the church's back door to drop you off. You hesitated upon leaving because the thought of your mother having to return home to a place of remorse is the last thing you want for her. The promise of a car was granted to you, but you turned it down, refusing to accept anything from the man who caused so much pain to your family. To Taehyung's family.
Running the tissue underneath her eyes, she speaks, "[Y/N]?"
"Yeah?" Your voice is barely a whisper, but the guilt from how stressed your mother has been is something you wish you could carry instead of her. After the betrayal of your father as well as him resigning from the church to send people away from the place they once sought refuge in- on top of her oldest daughter being pregnant with her first child is already a lot to handle. The other frustration you bite your tongue from expressing is the fact of your parents refusing to let you get a job until the time after you give birth. You want to make the money to provide for yourself and your son or daughter without the dependence upon your parents- your mother especially, yet you're grateful for her adamancy on keeping you from any risks outside of the walls of your home.
It takes a moment before your mother gathers her words, "Do you- do you think you could ask Namjoon to help take you to the hospital? Whenever it's time... for you to have the baby?"
It was easier for your mother to ask that of you because he lived in the same building, and if any emergency of your water breaking happened earlier than expected, at least you would have someone available to take you to the hospital. Your gaze clears from the zone out you've had the whole time standing in the entrance of the hallway before Namjoon left. Turning on a heel, you decide to return to your bed, slipping under the covers- you're too wide awake to sleep as of now, yet the foam of the mattress eases the soreness of your back once you lean against the pillows.
-Four months earlier-
Queasiness envelops your abdomen to where you recognize the cue, rushing to the porcelain throne to heave whatever yellow liquid is left- spurting it into the toilet while you grimace through the pain. The door swings open behind you mixed with heavy footsteps quickening to you. When large hands swoop to hold your hair back, you don't have the strength to look at the intruder due to the continuous retching that deems you defenseless.
"It's okay, it's okay," the deep voice is soft, and relief brings tears to your eyes when you recognize it to be Kim Namjoon. You're embarrassed once your stomach gives you a break, your palms pressing to your forehead while you slump against the wall.
"I'm so sorry," you whisper, swiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Namjoon scatters to find a tissue, patting the corners of your lips.
"You don't have to be sorry,"
"That... wasn't what I was apologizing for,"
A knowing glance is all he must give for you to share whatever thoughts you can't bring yourself to voice. He was your friend before all of this, yet you failed to mention to him about the pregnancy, and with him being the worker of the Church- he didn't discover your budding stomach until the day you moved in. His eyes flicker away from your stare toward the slight protrusion of your baby bump due to your ruffled t-shirt. He settles on the floor across from you, silence being the only conversation held. He isn't one to hold anger, and though you kept him unaware until your third month of pregnancy, he refuses to leave your side, making a pact to himself he will do whatever it takes to provide the care that you will need. As well as the little one.
Despite the emotional roller coaster, you remain amazed with how he keeps his patience with you. A day of depression to a random bout of laughter- memories turning of the betrayals of close friends who judged you immediately the day you put your trust in them- the freedom you craved away from the sheltered life your father forced upon you- even days where you can't seem to put your tears on pause, yet Namjoon holds you through every grieve.
"What if... what if I'm not good enough?" Your voice shakes between sobs- you had been dreaming restlessly yet another night, tossing within your bed to the point Namjoon came to check on you- rushing to pull you into his arms the moment your eyes fluttered to reveal pained tears. Your words nearly shatter him- pulling away just enough to where his eyes lock with yours.
"How can you say that, [Y/N]?" The faint light of your lampshade causes his face to glisten- angelically, you decide, yet the shadowing doubt of motherhood plagues you still, because what if you genuinely can't care for the child that you're six months away from holding? Fears encompass you like an ocean, smashing along your mind in harsh waves. "Look at me," are the words that snap you from whatever sea you were suffocating in to realize you had unintentionally switched your gaze from him. It's the calming effect the warmth of Namjoon's eyes bring when he exposes whatever faith he has in the woman you are and will become. "You're going to do just fine, believe me, I know it,"
Sniffling, you run the back of your hand along your chin where an escapee of a tear dangled, "How can you be so sure?"
"Because when have you ever given up on anyone that you care about," it's not a question, he's stating what he knows to be a fact. Something he learned of you when he first was hired to tend to the property. "You're stubborn when it comes to winning someone over. I was determined not to befriend anyone here. But you changed that for me, remember?"
A knowing tug of a smile trembles into a stretch upon your lips, "I do,"
"Same with the baby. I know you will love that little one more than life itself. It doesn't have a choice, and you'll let him or her know the second they're born,"
When a hearty snicker leaves your mouth, you notice the sticky feel of your drying face- you are no longer crying.
"You don't have to do this alone, [Y/N]. You showed me that even when I didn't know what else to do. Now, get some rest, okay? You have a doctor's appointment bright and early," the bed creaks from the gradual movement of Namjoon standing,
"Wait!" You speak before you can stop yourself, Namjoon immediately pausing- the heat of his arms is felt beneath your palms from your pounce of panic, and with evident chagrin, you shyly stare at his chest, "Can you uh, ... Can you stay in here with me tonight?" You've refrained from asking sooner due to the shame of not telling him the news that's become apparent, and even now, you haven't been able to comprehend how he's not the slightest bit angry with you. When his arms encircle you closer to his frame, no words need to be said because he's already answered by just this gesture. Nuzzling into his embrace, the side of his chin pressed to your forehead, "Whoever it is, I hope they grow up to be half the person that you are," you whisper, squeezing him tighter, infinite smiles now ending the night that cures any ounce of uncertainty.
By the fifth month of pregnancy, you finally come to the realization of how selfish you have been- it's no longer about you and your needs; it is now about the needs of your son or daughter growing within you. Namjoon catered to every grocery store trip, stocking the kitchen and in return, you choose to cook for him every meal, hoping to show as much appreciation to him that you can.
"Have you thought about any names?" Taehyung's voice muses on the other line of the phone, the sound of him bringing a small smirk upon your face. You've missed him terribly so, yet the acceptance of surprise phone calls is all you can settle with for now. At his question though, you pause with the tilt of your head, taking a quick sip of the broth that you're currently heating on the stove.
"No?" It's a brief question of guilt, something you haven't been ready to ponder, "Honestly... haven't thought that far ahead yet," you add in the vegetables to boil within the broth.
The familiar, deep chuckle is all you hear to gain an idea of what your best friend is about to say next, "I should have known,"
"Alright, Birkenstocks. What do you mean by that?"
"Breezing past that mistake. You named your Parakeet, Bird,"
"Well, in my defense, I was seven years of age,"
"And in my defense, playing basketball in Birkenstocks was supposed to start a trend,"
"Since how? I-"
"Ask Hoseok,"
"You lost a bet didn't you-"
"And, I will pay for it for the rest of my life, now won't I?"
"With me around, you will,"
Hoseok is the deacon's son who's dream of fashion has been shunned by his family, yet he designs in a sketchbook Taehyung hides for whenever Hoseok and he share the same work shifts. He's not one you have had the opportunity to communicate much with, but you're thankful Taehyung has someone to maintain a friendship with while you two have been apart. A short response of silence settles while your cheek and shoulder squeeze the phone for a moment as you stir the steaming vegetables.
"You could have named the bird, Tweety at least-"
"Oh!" You playfully growl, "Back with that again, huh?"
"Do I need to send you a link of baby names-"
"I promise you, Tae, I do not plan on naming my child, Kid, okay?"
"You'd be surprised-"
Taehyung's excitement for his future Godchild brings a simmering joy to the surface of your pattering heart. Almost as equal to the eagerness, your mother has shown with this being her first grandchild. Graciously, your mother has never been as strict as your father, hence why the past five months have gone much smoother then they would have if your father had never had an affair with Mrs. Kim.
The phone call ends whenever dinner is finished, and by that time, Namjoon scuffles through the door- the outdoorsy scent drifts to your nose while you place the sweltering bowls of soup on the table. Namjoon shimmers his feet from his work boots before hanging his coat, timidly glimpsing in your direction to confirm you're okay.
Small talk ensues with the typical questions of how each of your days has gone once the pair of you take your seats. One secret, yet another you and Taehyung have harbored, is the awareness of Namjoon's atheism- something your father must never learn of his worker. Namjoon, who will not admit it, works on the church grounds in order to provide for his family who lives a few miles up the road. Ultimately, there are many secrets not worth sharing to your parents, not only for the sake of sanity but for the protection of the ones who you've kept close, especially Namjoon. With your father being the tyrant of a priest, he used to be, there is still the potential distress of him firing Namjoon over the mere difference of beliefs. Something you refuse to let happen while you're around.
Clinking spoons replace conversation, for how long, you're uncertain; the fog of your thoughts seem to consume upon one in particular- something that has remained festering long enough, yet you have never said it aloud- figuring this moment may be the time that you do. Namjoon confided in you and Taehyung once he found comfort in trusting the pair of you- even subjects that one would have never expected him to open about. Guilt presents itself to the point your eyes squeeze shut, opening them to move your spoon to play at a piece of broccoli swimming in the potage.
"They don't know," your words are careful- slow even- continuing your vision on the dinner before you. You can feel Namjoon's soft eyes on you, his expression confused. "They don't know who the father is," that's when your gaze trails to meet his eyes just for more guilt to manifest behind them. By they, you're referring to your parents, as well as every other soul excluding Taehyung, "I won't tell them." Namjoon slowly nods with the sense of understanding, knowing the cost that will be taken if your father were to know who you're trying to bury beneath this web of fear. "Besides," you sigh heavily, "I'm surprised my father was lenient enough to let me live here," you confess, "if he wasn't so guilty over the affair, I would be homeless-"
"I wouldn't let that happen," Namjoon says suddenly, destroying whatever anger you were dwelling upon. Your mouth falls open in shock at his words and the frilly flutter of your heartbeat is hard to ignore. After living here for two months, he's proven time and time again that he means what he says; what he just said. Speechless, the rest of dinner continues in fond silence, your heart refusing to steady for the man slowly captivating your heart.
The sixth month of pregnancy gifts swollen feet and aching bones on top of your belly growing heavier by the week. Namjoon has stayed loyal- tending to your pregnancy cravings in the dead of night, aiding to your discomfort whether it involves a heating pack or a cup of ice, slipping under the covers on nights you want him to hold you, driving you to every doctor's appointment without any hesitation; with all that he's been doing for you, it's like your feelings have blossomed deeper which you know shouldn't be happening with the peril of your father finding out. The unexpected visits from your father are few, yet you usher the reminder to yourself of protecting Namjoon, though he carries the weight of facing your father instead of you who avoids the confrontation.
Night comes quickly after a day spent cleaning up the nursery that seems to be coming together, other than the crib Namjoon's been building- something you accidentally discovered when strolling close to the shed one sunny day. He's so dedicated to the unborn infant, it nearly brings you to tears, glancing around the elegant hues of multiple pastel colors painted across the room with stuffed animals, blankets, and furniture he continues to gift you amongst different items your mother has added to the collection. You always enjoy the sporadic visits from your mother, because she's free to celebrate the life that she refuses to consider as a sin.
"Are you thinking boy or girl?" Your mother elbowed your side earlier today after moving around the furniture.
"Hm," you hummed happily, thankful for the relationship that's being redeemed with her, "you know? I'm not very sure,"
"I can tell from all the colors you've chosen," she teased, "it looks beautiful," she cooed, pulling you into an accomplished side hug. You didn't want to stick to just pink or blue, so you chose every other shade in between, colliding the space with colors that could go for either or. "You're going to be a wonderful mother,"
The sound of the front door opens distracting you from the former memory, staring down at the table that now rests heaping plates of chicken and rice. The fellowship hall used to be filled with numerous rows of horizontal tables mingled with circular ones where the crowd would come to camaraderie to joyful hymnals, delicious food, reflected testimonies without any warning of the secrecies soon floating to the surface. Now a solo table, the one planted before you, pairs with a few sparse chairs just enough to seat at least four people.
"Hiya," you greet, trying to ignore the subtle increase of your heartbeat. Namjoon flashes a kid-like smile once he shutters out of his jacket, "How was your day?"
"It was good, thank you," he replies, taking long strides until he makes it to you, "How was yours with your mom?" His right-hand steadies the small of your back while his left one clutches yours to help settle you into your seat. It's hard to focus on the question he just asked when the scent from outside seems to heighten the attraction you already feel towards him, "It was good," you manage to say, reaching for the silverware to begin digging into your food, "Thank you... For helping me," the distance between your stomach and the table now is something you've been trying to get used to as well as the turmoil of trying to stand and sit.
A blush floods your cheeks when he holds your timorous stare, so you avert your eyes to your dinner, letting the obvious feeling of Namjoon watching deepen the red shade on your skin. A few minutes disappear into time before you feel a shove against your abdomen from the inside. Your hand instinctively flies to press upon the baby bump, Namjoon jumping at the motion, stopping mid-chew, while his eyes enlarge in surprise.
"It's okay," you chortle at his reaction, "it's just the baby kicking," his response reminds you of the moment you felt the baby kick for the very first time- similar to a weird flutter that's hard to describe, and it had taken you a second to realize what it was exactly- just your baby making its presence known to you. Namjoon swallows the bite of food in a nervous gulp, the pang of his silverware mutes from where he lays it on the napkin.
"Here," you murmur affectionately preparing to stand to your feet. Namjoon immediately jolts from his chair, rounding the table to gather your hand in his. Instead of relying on his strength to help you position yourself, you plop back onto the seat, sliding his hand to the area where the baby kicked a few minutes prior. Namjoon kneels to level with you, his plump lips ajar mirroring the widen stance of his eyes while he patiently waits, his nervous heart pounding in his temples. It's the exuberant joy in his smile that meets his eyes in a dazzling glow the pure second the baby kicks again, and the bliss of delight smothers your heart in so many ways imaginable at this moment the pair of you are capturing together. Your hand remains resting upon his while your eyes lock repudiating from breaking contact.
"I told you that you don't have to do this alone," he whispers, and it's then you come to the awareness of how near his face is from yours, his dimples visible from his smile to the point you press your lips to each one, shocked at your act of boldness, but you can't refrain. He's too handsome and too wonderful to stay away from any longer. That's all the invitation needed, for Namjoon's lips brush yours igniting the sparks of what you've been trying to suppress for way too long. Your fingers find his hair when he leans to deepen the kiss, moving his hands to rest on the chair, fingers pressing into the wood until pale white.
At this moment, you don't care what anyone thinks.
You are in love with Kim Namjoon, and there is nothing in this world that's going to scare you away from that.
-Present day-
The pitch black outside the window brings frustration when you awaken to scold yourself for how long you've slept. Gathering yourself once the fatigue rolls off, you cautiously sit up, scooting to the bedpost until you're on your feet. Taking a trip to the restroom, you notice upon exiting the clock on the wall reads seven pm, and you wonder if Namjoon has made it inside for the evening. It's eerily quiet save for the air conditioning, but you pause when you see the lights are on in the main area of the building. Shrugging, you waddle around the corner until the sudden shouts of, "SURPRISE!", nearly knocks you to the ground.
Gasping, your eyes widen while your hand flies to your chest. A prolonged second interferes before your brain deciphers the two individuals cheering before you. Numerous pink and blue balloons hover to the top of the ceiling matching the colors of a cloth decorating the one table now adorned with a cake and wrapped gifts. "What?" You can barely speak from the light headiness taking over, but the tears that well in your eyes when you see the boxy smile of your best friend sends you in an attempt to run just to crash into his arms. He meets you halfway, surrounding you within his embrace as he rocks you back and forth muffling your wails of joy into his checkered sweater. Your soaked cheeks are wiped away from the material as been done countless times before, and his tepid palms squish your cheeks when he steps back to gesture toward your belly.
"Wow look at you! Your belly is huge!"
"I'm still in denial of how fast this pregnancy is going!" You say breathlessly, you're so happy to see Taehyung, you can hardly contain your composure. Namjoon steps forward with his hand reaching to squeeze your best friend's shoulder. Taehyung's fiery strands are curled upon his forehead, lustrous beneath the lights as it always has before, "Your father let you come?" There's a seriousness behind your voice at the question because you are cognizant of the fury Tae's father has against the church from the events that occurred what, in some ways feels like a lifetime ago.
"Well, no," Taehyung winces mischievously, "I told him that Namjoon and I were going to a basketball game,"
"Of course, you did, you sly fox,"
"You know you love me," Tae pecks your forehead before leading you to the table where the sweet whiff of cake flatters your nostrils.
"You guys didn't have to do this," you're still wiping tears off your face, though it's evident that your crying is from untainted gratitude, "What did I do to deserve the two of you?"
Namjoon kneels, intertwining his long fingers with yours, using the tip of his thumb to tickle circles upon your skin, "Taehyung mentioned how when you were kids that you loved surprises, especially if it involved a small party of some sort so," he tilts his head toward Taehyung, "And I knew how much you missed him, too. I just wanted to do something to celebrate you. And, the baby,"
It doesn't take much to smother this man in kisses nowadays, and once you express your thankfulness to the men before you, Namjoon reads your mind, snatching a small kiss in return.
"You two are on kissing terms, again?" Taehyung teases while you poke your tongue at him in mild embarrassment. Namjoon does not know of the moment you and Tae shared, and that's something you're not ready to talk about, and with the cutesy scrunch of Namjoon's face, the memory escapes to the back of your mind for now.
By the end of the night, the frosting had met all three of your faces- some smushed into Taehyung's hair while some swiped across Namjoon's neck, and your eyebrows are smeared along with the possible suspicion of some getting up your nose. Cleaning the mess takes a while, but nobody in the room would trade it for anything, and it's good stalling to prevent the night from completely ending.
Walking Taehyung to his car is the only dread overwhelming your system because you're not sure of when you will get to see him next. Tears flood your eyes, breaking Taehyung's heart as an awe of shame gusts past his lips, "I'm sorry, [Y/N]. My dad's expecting me home soon,"
"I don't want you to go," you choke, on the brink of bursting at the seams- Tae fumbles to tighten his arms behind your back- him trying to be mindful of your abdomen being pressed too firmly against his frame.
"Please don't cry," he whispers near your ear, "Please, please don't cry," His lips curl from the tears burning within his own eyes wishing with all his strength he could rid of the aching hurt that has kept your friendship separated. Tae swiftly pulls away when he remembers another present, he meant to give you earlier, whirling around to unlock his car, bending into the vehicle while his hands shuffle around the floorboard in a desperate search for whatever he wants to show you. When he turns to face you, a sharp inhale of glee echoes into the night- the lopsided plush of a heart is attached to a blue body ornamented with yellow polka dots that match its mouth. "Oh my gosh!" You squeal, "Tae, it's adorable! Where did you find this?"
Wiggling his eyebrows in pride, he hands it to you, "I made it myself. And," he pauses for effect, "since you have trouble naming things, I did the honors and named it for you. I introduce, Ta Ta."
"Ta Ta?"
"Yeah, like 'Ta Ta... for now,'"
"Just when I thought I couldn't love your dork of a self even more," you exhale, slamming your eyes shut just to bury your face further into his chest, not able to breathe in his scent from the clog of mucus stuffing your nose.
"I love you, too." His voice thickens with emotion, "Now, quit saying it like you're never going to see me again, because you know I'm not going anywhere."
"You promise?" Your cold nose moves to press into the corner of his jaw where steady breaths move between your parting mouth. It's a serene moment where he turns just enough to glimpse at you, engaging in the beauty he's always found within your heart. Taehyung's agape lips now rest centimeters from yours when his large hands raise to rest his fingertips along your flushed cheeks- the curls of his frizzy hair pressing to your forehead, prickling your closing eyes. You discover your free hand enfolding around his wrist from the daunting desire looming from what's been left unspoken, and the shiver in his breathing brushes your chin once the light touch of his nose cuddles to yours. You both stand there for a seeming reel of eternity, battling the inward mayhem of choice that's displayed itself on the invisible line tempting to be traversed.
"I promise."
He hadn't kissed you, but there was no denial that he wanted to, especially with the way your face has haunted his dreams since the night your lips met in emotional patterns of sorrow. But, deep down, he knows it's too obvious of a choice if the one for him is to be you, but the love that has been kept for you will never go away. The same as a tether of your heart will forever be his no matter how deep your love goes for someone else. Kim Taehyung will always be your poise- your muse- the soulmate of a friendship that you will always need.
Toddling to the nursery upon Tae's departure still presents the boiling tears from your tired eyes dripping off your cheeks as you set Ta Ta beside the koala plushie Namjoon gifted you; the humor involving the struggle of both Taehyung and Namjoon carrying the crib Namjoon built for the baby taunts a smirk at the corner of your lips. It's dark besides the faint light of the hallway behind you, giving you just enough to admire the scenery around you- sniffling back what you can before reaching to cover your quivering chin with your hand. You've missed Taehyung. You miss him. And, how beautiful of Namjoon to surprise you with your best friend's presence? Reuniting the three musketeers from once upon a time?
Little do they know, from the unearthing of your pregnancy to now, the two men have mended your broken heart and stitched it back together again piece by piece. You're highly uncertain of where you would be without them, and just the thought alone is one you refuse to dwell on. While memories turn like a spindle of loosened thread, a revelation halts you in your tracks. The thought rings loud and clear gracing a wide smile on your face while one more set of tears dampen the corner of your eyes.
After scolding yourself for so long for not thinking hard enough on the subject,
right here, hands grasping the handlebar of your future child's cradle,
you finally have a name picked out for your little one.
2 months later....
"Namjoon, I'll be fine," the pointed look you flash him prompts a nervous chuckle once his hands rest to rub gently along your sides. He's concerned as he's been almost the entire pregnancy, but of course, now his worries are heightened to an extreme, "I'm not due until next week. Don't worry,"
"I know," he groans, tugging you closer just enough to plant a warm to kiss to your neck, "But, I can't help it."
"I'll be fine," you drag the word with a teasing sound of a whine. Namjoon shaking his head at you with a smile you're now feeling upon your lips. "Mm," you hum into his kiss, your hands sliding to squeeze his shoulders in reaction to how impeccable it feels. You end the moment simply to gaze at him, "You'll be back before you know it," you assure him- his trip to the grocery store being the plan for the afternoon.
"Okay," he says tenderly, eyes flickering to your lips once more before leaning to brush them to his own, "I love you,"
There's a small pause, one that entails warmth smothering your chest in giddy sensations when his eyes steal yours after pulling away, "I love you, too, Joon," watching him head out the door until the truck disappears along the road.
Of course, the day doesn't go accordingly the way you expect, because on carefully prodding to the kitchen in preparation to cook breakfast, a slight ache ensues within your abdomen. "Oh," you groan, stroking the area with your fingertips before deciding to lay down for a bit instead. When reaching your room, the sharp pain of a cramp returns causing a harsh cringe as you lean against your bedpost, hardly able to concentrate on the attempt of climbing onto the mattress. You remain hunched over for five minutes, forcing slow breaths to prevent from panicking, and when you find the coast to be clear, you straighten yourself out.
Suddenly, before you can comprehend what's happening, a gush of water splatters onto the carpet soaking your feet in the process.
"No," you whisper, eyes frantically scanning your room for your cell phone. Namjoon shouldn't be far with the grocery store only being a few miles away, but in order to get a hold of him, you must find your only way of contacting him. Hands pat your bed, thrusting off the bed covers and shaking them roughly, yet no 'thump' is heard before you cast the covers in a pile onto the ground. The next destination leads to the restroom, with no luck of your phone being in your bedroom- when another wave of pain shoots within your stomach, you gasp, trying to endure through the discomfort with all your might.
Leaving a water trail behind with every step you take, you desperately search the countertops before stepping into the area that holds the kitchen, wondering if there is any possibility it may have been left behind there. Your feet meet the cool surface of the tile floor, your gape scanning the entirety of the space before a pant of relief escapes past your dry lips the second your shaking hands gather the device. "Agh!" A contraction surges, hands squeezing your phone unintentionally, yet you grimace just enough to maintain your focus on the task at hand. Managing to get the phone ringing, it doesn't take long until you hear the man of your dreams at the other end of the line.
"Joon, it's time," you choke, voice thick with pain.
"Oh, shit! Hold on tight, I'm on my way, just hold tight, I'm coming-"
You just happen to be running by the church in favor of dropping off the work truck keys to your father when he unintentionally introduces you to the new employee you assume he plans to hire, "[Y/N], this is Kim Namjoon. He's going to be taking care of the church grounds for us, isn't that wonderful?"
"Hello, it's nice to meet you," you greet, underlyingly suffering from the attraction swarming to your reddening cheeks. When your father mentioned of hiring, you never anticipated the person to be this overwhelmingly breathtaking.
"It's nice to meet you too, Ma'am," Namjoon's polite nod mirrors the dimples evident from a soft grin, his hand reaching for yours to shake before your father continues the tour of the place you've grown up memorizing. But something initiates you to stay, eyes lingering on the back of the tall figure decked in a turtleneck covered by a green jacket complementing a pair of jeans along with brown shoes. There's a spark of intuition that day, one that ignited the prominent determination that you want to get to know this person even if your father ends up finding out.
Namjoon busts through the door with pure alarm etched in his voice, "[Y/N], I'm here! Baby, I'm right here," he immediately jumps to where you are, keeled over on the floor, throwing his arm around you until he lifts you out of the fellowship hall and into the work truck. Words you attempt to form are muted by whimpers, tears brimming your eyes from the pain that doesn't end, "I'm going to grab the suitcase, I'll be right back," time must be faster than you can measure for Namjoon arrives, slinging the suitcase into the backseat before slamming into the driver's side.
It takes a while for the newly found employee to warm up to every opportunity you take in order to get to know him. One thing he's slowly but surely learning is that you're not one to give up so easily- something you've noticed him picking up on, especially on days, you annoy him when he's on call to build a project. You make it clear to talk to him nonstop until he acknowledges your existence, and the times he doesn't breathe a word results in a call to Taehyung.
"Come help me," you plea hearing Taehyung's exasperated sigh on the other line.
"You are so annoying,"
"You know you love me, fool," you gloat because with defeat, your best friend reluctantly joins you, even accompanying a basketball just in case if Namjoon happens to fancy sports. Your girlfriends, Luna and Jo, were informed of your undying crush on the mysterious worker, crossing their arms in jealousy that you half-heartedly ignored.
"He doesn't even come to the services," Jo droned, "Don't you think it'd be best to get to know someone that's more... active in the church? Like the pianist's son, Min Yoongi. You two had such a cute relationship when you were three-"
You can't get past why no one seems to understand that you must win Namjoon over, and though Luna and Jo have seen the world along with you since childhood, you roll your eyes, turning on a heel, "I'll catch you later,"
Tires screech along the road while Namjoon swerves past cars on the highway, hands ghost white from the tight grasp he has upon the steering wheel. Meanwhile, your hand grips the bar above you while your other rests upon your belly- the keenness of getting to hold your baby in your arms is all you're thinking about other than Namjoon who's keeping you sane.
"Just a few more miles and we will be there. Just breathe," his voice is unsteady from the fright of this situation, but he upholds his enlarged gaze upon the road. He fumbles for his phone- trying to contact anyone from your family in order to tell them the news.
"GAH!" Leaning forward, a wail echoes within the vehicle as another contraction attacks.
"You guys aren't going to stop until I'm your friend, am I right?" Namjoon's elbows are folded from the hold he has on the basketball meeting his chest. Tae jumps sporadically in front of him with outspread arms preparing to prevent the ball from flying into the hoop.
"Damn straight," you shrug your shoulders in observation of Namjoon's tilting head.
"I thought church girls didn't cuss,"
"And I thought you'd have more game than the basketball," You retort.Tae halts, straightening his frame, eyes flickering between you and a quiet Namjoon, "Now hurry up. If you win, I will leave you alone for good. If Tae wins then we treat you to dinner and a movie. How does that sound?"
With an incredulous shake of his head, Namjoon smirks, "Okay," the scuffle of his converse is heard on the pavement when he briefly turns to toss the ball toward the hoop. The basketball pangs the ring, twirling ferociously to the point, your heart begins to sink, but to your pleasure, the ball tips off the rim, landing in a rejoicing Taehyung's arms.
"HAH!" You sprint, colliding into Taehyung's embrace while Namjoon tries to stifle the smile overtaking his lips, "Looks like it's going to be a burger and fries' kind of night," you wink, unaware of the hope that Namjoon has of wanting to gain your friendship just as much.
The hospital entrance appears after the rush of Namjoon turning into the parking lot soon helping you out of the truck. The suitcase will have to wait being he can retrieve it later, his ultimate goal is getting you within the building to where you're safe. "It's okay, it's okay," he tries to appear relaxed, but everything becomes a blur until a nurse with fluffy, black hair approaches with a wheelchair to help settle you in. His nametag reads 'JIMIN' – him rolling you quickly down the hall when the presence of a female nurse whose nametag reads 'MONNIE' helps you change into the nightgown upon arrival of the hospital room. Voices are mingling together from the pounding in your temples, but Monnie keeps her hands gentle on your back to lead you to the bed where she hooks you up to what seems like a million machines whilst providing as much comfort to you as possible.
Namjoon's calloused hand covers yours when one other nurse, Jungkook, floods the room, bringing a chair for him to sit in. You're not sure of all the commotion that's overwhelming the room, but you steady your breathing as Namjoon directs, squeezing his hand through each contraction. You recognize the doctor, Kim Seokjin, a tall man already dawned in a scrub hat, mouth mask and gloves, scurrying to where you are, "Alright, I am going to check your dilation Ms. [Y/N], just breathe in and out." Slamming your eyes shut, you whimper from the discomfort, "Alright, she is dilated three centimeters. Once you are at ten centimeters [Y/N], you will begin pushing. No worries, I will alert you as soon as I need you to begin. Keep breathing. Everything will be okay,"
"Taehyung... My mom... Dad-" you murmur deliriously between breaths, the foggy sense of your conscious outweighing how to speak properly.
"No worries baby, they're on their way. They're on their way right now," he sweetly kisses your perspired forehead, running his free hand through your tangled hair.
The three musketeers were official after the day at the basketball hoop, eventually learning of Namjoon's atheism as well as him providing for his family.
"My dad couldn't find a job that pays enough, so I promised him that I will do whatever it takes," it had been six months since Namjoon had been hired, and currently is finishing his final paint to the shed while you and Taehyung sit Indian style in the grass. "Thanks to the job here, I can afford the rent for my parents as well as give them my car since here, I just use the work truck..." Namjoon sharing more in-depth with his life story- you finally get what you've been determined to gain since meeting him.
It's weeks later that you'll never forget, leaning against a mini, red monkey bar after sharing your feelings toward the man you've grown so fond of. There's no denying the feelings he's had for you, and once he inches closer, the crave to hold his hand has never been stronger. Boldly, your fingers trail to intertwine with his, your nerves close to getting the best of you despite the persistent smile that hasn't left him. When you find the bravery to look up at him, he swallows calmly before leaning in, you stand on your tiptoes to meet halfway until your lips touch. The slide of his arms encompassing your frame feels so inviting when he presses his body to yours. The world is put on pause to you and nothing else matters other than the way his lips move so elegantly- your arms wrapping around his shoulders while he sways you from side to side.
Time doesn't seem to speed up through all this pain, but the adrenaline swimming in your veins peaks when Dr. Seokjin prepares to check your dilation again. "Ten centimeters-" He confirms, "Alright, [Y/N], the baby's coming. When I say push, you push. Okay," he positions himself though you can't see anything past your gown and raised knees, "One, two, three! Push!"
"AGH!" You grunt, a small scream vibrating at the back of your throat once you push with every fiber of strength, you can muster.
"Breathe, breathe," Namjoon's hand hasn't once left yours- sweat pouring from your scalp while the burning agony overpowers your body.
"Is she here!?" The click of darting heels enters the room and are loud enough for it to catch your attention. "Oh, honey, I'm here!" It's your mother- scampering to your side with the undeniable blur of Taehyung's red hair following suit. You want to ask where your father is, but before a chance is given, the doctor shouts, "Push!"
"AAAAAAAGH!" You manage, body straining in all its entireness. Taehyung jolts to let you squeeze his hand along with Namjoon's. His features show nothing but fear at the sight of you being in so much strife, yet he holds it together enough to cheer you on.
"I'm- I'm so glad you both are here," you cry- another sixty seconds drifting before the shout of, "Push!" erupts.
"I'm scared," you murmur in the dimness of the room. On your knees, Namjoon's soothing hands glide along the tops of your thighs motivating you to run your hands along his forearms. You don't know where your parents are, and you're too angry to care. You're bushed of the fighting so, you sought comfort in being here, with Namjoon. Taehyung dropped you off at the fellowship hall with the promise of not breathing a word- because if your parents were to find out remotely of your whereabouts, you'd hate to discover what the consequences will be.
"Me too," his nervous eyes investigate every inch of your face. You've never been with anyone this way before- secretly hidden away from the world outside trying to suppress the revealing crave of what you're curious about. Scooting forward, you drape either leg around him, propping yourself enough to where your arms lace around his neck.
His breath hitches from the gesture- your lips erotically aligning with his in slow movements, heat rising below you when you feel the hardening of his being beneath your sense, "I want you," you whisper. He knows that you're a virgin, and with care, he lays you on the bed, hovering above your frame where your bodies align perfectly. "Are you sure this is what you want," concern consumes his countenance, but you desperately bring your hands to cup his cheeks.
"I don't think I've wanted anyone so much in my life,"
You gasp into his kiss where he slips his tongue along yours- the sensation one you've grown used to from the slovenly kisses leading up to this very night. You give Namjoon permission to sneak his large hands underneath your shirt, trailing up your ribcage before swallowing your breasts whole in his heated palms. Nipples so sensitive, your heat drenches the moment he realizes the effect it has on you just by merely brushing the rising buds, lipping at your neck while he basks in the beauty of your moans. "More," you beg, "Please, Joon, more." When clothes start to be thrown off, you're determined to pleasure him, but have not an idea on how to do so. "Show me," you breathlessly demand, Namjoon's palm leading yours to encircle his twitching being. You stroke his erection as shown, biting your lower lip from the throbbing feeling of your core- him instantly finding your entrance to fill it with his fingers as carefully as he can- both of you pleasuring each other, yet still getting lost in kissing so deeply, the two of you forget to gasp for air. The sensation of heated pressed bare skin can be the most beautiful thing, especially with the way your legs entangle with his. You're surprised the feel of his prodding fingers didn't bring as much discomfort as you would have originally anticipated, but when he brings a hand to his penis, he rubs his tip along your slit letting the sloppy sound of you leak onto it. "Holy shit," he moans from how soaked you are for him- his fingertips finding your clit while yours dig into the backs of his shoulders.
Smoldering kisses move from your lips to your breasts, down your abdomen to your inner thighs where you tense underneath his touch that slides to hold your bottom half where he can scan your heat. The tip of his tongue swipes upon your slit excruciatingly slow to the point your fingers tangle with the material of the bedsheets. The smacking sound of his lips savor your taste while his tongue circles your core- you're hyperventilating from how deliciously he flicks his tongue upon your slit, screaming his name relentlessly- the speed of his skilled mouth driving you wild from the growing climax beckoning your stiffening thighs, "Oh, Namjoon, oh- Joon- I- Oh!"
He's not ready for you to finish because there's more he wants to show you. Hovering above you once again to see you coming down from your high, your heaving chest longs for his touch, and he nearly comes undone from the smile embellishing your face. His tracing fingertips parade along the outline of your body in featherlike tickles while the sounds of panting breaths mingle with shifting sheets bring subtle music to your ears for the rest of the night. The gentle parting of his lips grasps your own in smooth movements persuading arousal streaming from your core. Your fingers now link with frilly tufts of his hair, gripping the strands in reaction to the pressing of his bare chest to yours, dreaming of nothing more than to be entwined with him for what you hope will be forever. Hips grinding into yours prompts the light moan teasing his ears for more before his mouth trails to pause above your pounding heart. His hair brushing your chin, your arms glide to wrap around him holding the hope that he will never let you go. Not even for a second.
"Alright, one more! Almost done! Push!"
Sucking in one long breath, with a compulsory scream, you push with all you have left in you. Exhaustion weakens your limbs, yet a rush of relief floods your body when the cries of an infant reverberate within the room. With heavy eyes, you turn to see your mother with tears cascading down her face and onto the back of her hand covering her agape mouth- eyes remaining locked in front of her. Taehyung's gaze doesn't drop though his fingers loosen from yours at the small bundle immediately apprehending the eyes of every individual. Right then, you move your head to your other side where Namjoon gradually rises in awe- his hand still has yours. Gathering any ounce of strength, you're ready to see the child you've been waiting to hold for nine months, so cautiously you sit up until your stare meets Dr. Seokjin's. You can see the smile in his eyes despite the mouth mask, and what he says next brings you to tears, "It's a girl,"
"Oh!" You thrill, anxious to meet her while the nurses scurry to clean her up.
"Sir, would you like to do the honors?" The doctor gestures a pair of scissors towards a stiffened Namjoon whose eyes are welled with hushed tears. He can't even speak, yet he nods from the happiness exploding beneath his chest.
"Wait," Your mom says, "Is- is?"
It's a moment that seems to fit the setting for your father walks in, as if on cue, shoulders slumped from the anticipating tension now darkening the room. Taehyung's shoulders tensed at the sight of the man he despises, but for the sake of you, Namjoon and his Godchild, he keeps his composure enough to ignore the elephant now standing in the room. The fear that used to consume you upon your dad unraveling the truth about your secret vacates you when you know that you and the two men present can conquer anything.
"Yes," the answer is to your mother, but your stern glower of warning is only connected with your dad's although your mother's stare remains on you, "Namjoon is the father."
Namjoon stands with pride while he accepts the pair of scissors from Dr. Seokjin- your father, with a shocked expression, watches as the man he hired happens to be the same man who stole his daughter's heart without his knowledge. Yet, he refrains from anger, because who is he to ruin such a precious moment about to unfold here?
Pictures are taken of Namjoon cutting the umbilical cord, his fingers gently rubbing his daughter's cheek while he wipes at the tears dripping from his eyes. Jungkook takes her into his arms to weigh her before wrapping her in a plush pink blanket, "She is seven pounds and five ounces,"
Endless joy envelops your heart from the scene playing out before you; especially, when the vision of your father's quivering chin, admiring his granddaughter leaves you speechless along with the hope of redemption entering your beating heart.
"Are you ready to hold her?" Monnie's kind eyes match her smile when she touches your arm.
"Yes," you stifle a sob, "I want to hold her,"
Monnie poses her arms to where Jungkook places your daughter, Monnie guardedly turns to rest your baby into your arms. Her small face chortles, her eyes closing while she puckers her tiny lips. "She's so perfect," you cry, love in all its beauty falling from your eyes while you watch your daughter's fingers fold individually upon her chest.
"Just like you," Namjoon whispers, locking eyes with you before inching forward to give you a loving kiss.
"I love you, Joon," you whisper, pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth.
"I love you, too."
"Uh," the deep serenade of your best friend interrupts, all attention abruptly turning to see him raise an index finger in the air, "So, as the Godfather, I must ask a very serious question," the room chuckles along with him as they patiently wait for his request, "What's her name?"
"Ah," you nod, realizing that hasn't been made known to anyone other than to yourself. Your mother steps forward to place her hand upon your shoulder while your father keeps his distance enough to not cause any trouble- though the two of you share a small smile to let him know all is well. Namjoon watches you in admiration- the woman of his dreams holding his child in her arms while facing her deepest fear yet holds her head with pride about the man she will spend the rest of her life with along with her daughter swaddled to her chest. You are everything he's ever longed for and more, and he's ready to defeat any storm in life if it's with you and his daughter.
To answer Tae's question though, you return to face him, tears gathering in exhilarating bliss.
"Taejun." Her eyes slightly open at the hearing of her name as a tiny smile adorns her lips,
"Her name is Kim Taejun."
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dee-lirious · a year ago
yours, and I will tell you mine (geralt/jaskier, pg-13, 2778 words) There are mornings when Geralt doesn’t get up right away.
He’ll think, I’ll get up now, and then linger on some lumpy, unevenly filled inn’s mattress while the minutes tick by.
It doesn’t happen often, because he has careful routines and obligations, unwritten lists that force him standing. He has to get up, to get dressed, to check over his armor, to sharpen his swords, to look after Roach, to find or finish a job, to retrieve his coin, to procure food and oats, to gather ingredients, to brew his potions, to find a place to sleep, to do it all over again tomorrow.
Underlying Geralt's tasks and responsibilities is the fear that he could just lay down—in a borrowed bed, or his bedroll, or simply the dirt of the earth—and he wouldn’t get up again. The fear that he’d prefer that, actually. No one would bother him, and no one would wonder after him, and he could let his mind fall peacefully quiet, maybe forever.
He doesn’t, though. Obviously. (Read on AO3)
He’s having a bad morning, after a hellish hunt after a nest of bruxae that kept the adrenaline and Cat both racing through his veins until nearly dawn. He manages a rough, light sleep for a few hours, but then he just...lays there on his stomach, eyes closed, thinking idly about the repairs to his armor to be made, and the fact that he’s running low on potions in an area where it’ll be difficult to find several of the herbs he’ll need. It’s almost enough to force him up when he remembers that he’d done a poor job of settling Roach in the stables last night, and that she’ll need a proper brushing today.
Geralt is imagining all the steps he needs to take: sit up, clean up the lingering blood and ichor from his face and arms, find a clean shirt, put on his boots, and on and on until he can get out the door. He’s picturing stepping into the stables, and petting Roach’s soft nose in apology, when someone gives the door a perfunctory, soft knock before it opens.
“Geralt? Are you awake?”
It’s Jaskier, obviously, and Geralt forces his shoulders to unwind. “Hm,” he grunts in reply, and forces his eyes open a crack.
Jaskier closes the door behind him with his foot, balancing a tray with several crude-looking hand-carved bowls and a stack of misshapen bread loaves on it. He’s got one of Geralt’s bags slung across his chest—the one that carries most of his potions, which is mildly worrying.
He also starts talking immediately, of course. “I brought breakfast—or rather, lunch, I suppose, since it’s nearly midday. The cook’s quite lovely, Hanna’s her name. Bread’s a bit doughy, but she makes a mean venison stew.”
Jaskier sets the heavy tray on the small table, followed by Geralt’s potions bag, which he opens and starts rummaging through, pulling out glass vials and little cloth-wrapped bundles of wild herbs.
“I found honeysuckle and verbena growing in the field just outside town, but I had a hard time tracking down any fresh hellebore. I went to talk to the local alchemist—an absolute prick, he tried to sell me some knock-off weeds, if you can believe it! Made me wish I’d brought along your sword as back-up. Oh, I looked in on Roach, tipped the stablehand to give her a brush down before we leave.”
Jaskier fishes out a larger bundle—looks like a dark grey linen parcel, which he unfolds to reveal as a plain but sturdy-looking tunic. It’s stiff enough to be virgin fabric, not yet worn in. It’s got a row of little buttons at the neck, just off-center enough to be a little fashionable, without being gaudy or attention-catching, and some subtle embroidery at the cuffs in matching thread.
“Geralt, look, I got a bargain from the tailor—he said it’s out of season. You can now have three whole black shirts; a wardrobe fit for a king!” Jaskier explains, proudly flapping the tunic’s sleeves in Geralt’s direction.
Geralt’s closed his eyes again, and thinks he should say something. A normal person would have some kind of reaction, now. He’s just—overwhelmed, a bit.
“...Geralt, are you alright? Your wounds look closed, are they still hurting?”
One thing at a time.
“You brought food,” Geralt says, blinking slowly and allowing his pupils to adjust to the light coming in through the thin curtain. It really is noontime, which is much later than he’d meant to lie in.
“Yeah, it’s just some bread and leftover stew from last night. Do you want something else? I think the cook might be making a proper meat pie for lunch, I could go and wheedle a portion for you.”
“And you got—potions. Ingredients?”
Jaskier glances over at the small pile on the table, and shrugs, “Yes? Not all the ones you need, I think, but you said yesterday you wanted more verbena as soon as possible. I’m still thinking of going back to give that two-bit alchemist a proper shakedown, you know. The nerve of him.”
“Roach,” Geralt interrupts.
“Roach is fine, the boy in the stables has no doubt given her a dozen apples by now,” Jaskier snaps, impatient. “Geralt, seriously, are you alright? You didn’t seem grumpier than usual when you got back last night, but you must tell me if you’ve been—you know, poisoned, or cursed or something; honestly, use your words—“
“Not poisoned,” Geralt grunts. “Or cursed.”
Jaskier stares at him for a moment, then softens. “Just tired, then.” Geralt manages to rumble a sound in assent.
The immediate understanding on Jaskier’s face is a bit too much to look at, so Geralt forces himself to sit upright as a distraction.
Jaskier hands him the new shirt, and retrieves his pants from where they’re folded over the back of a chair. Geralt remembers dropping them on the floor last night, and, upon closer inspection, notices that they’ve been washed and dried recently, smelling of the lightly-scented soap Jaskier favors for laundry.
For some reason, that’s the thing that overwhelms him—the neatly folded pants; the idea of Jaskier picking them off the ground at dawn, going downstairs to ask after a clean tub of water and washing them, probably in the hallway so as to not disturb Geralt’s tenuous sleep.
His ridiculous man knows him so well. It’s as terrifying a thought as it is precious. Geralt is afraid to examine it too closely.
“Thank you, Jaskier,” Geralt manages to say. Hopes that Jaskier understands that he means it for more than passing him his clothing. Simultaneously hopes Jaskier doesn’t acknowledge it at all.
Jaskier quirks that lopsided smile at him, guileless but warm, his blue eyes impossibly clear.
“You’re welcome, Geralt.”
Geralt could leave it there. Should leave it there, and would, ordinarily. There’s nothing extraordinary about this morning—indeed, Geralt realizes, Jaskier has done all of these little things and more, regularly and without comment from either of them, for years.
“You should drink some water,” Jaskier is saying. He’s turned back to the table to give Geralt some modicum of privacy to get dressed. He pulls out Geralt’s mortar and pestle from his bag, and carefully pours a small palmful of verbena petals into it.
Geralt swallows around some uncomfortable emotion—not dissimilar to being swept off his balance during a fight, the split-second before he reorients his vision. Softer, but no less urgent.
“Jaskier, stop,” he says, trying to grasp onto the feeling.
It clearly comes out sharper than he’d intended, because Jaskier flinches a bit, and drops the mortar. “I can do it!” he snaps back, defensive. “I watched you last time!”
“No, that’s not—” Geralt rubs a hand over his sleep-crusted eyes. He carefully sets his clothing aside as Jaskier moves closer, hovering at the side of the bed.
He’s not in the habit of introspection, at least not in the way Jaskier does it: putting flowery words to his every thought and experience. It’s always seemed exhausting, frankly, and Geralt is woefully under-equipped to match him.
But he can, and should, try.
“You need to tell me if something’s wrong,” Jaskier is saying. He’s fiddling with his hands a little, as if he wants to reach out but is restraining himself. Geralt, still sitting on the edge of the bed, has to tip his head back to look at him, and the difference in height; the vulnerable position it puts him in; his exposed neck—it doesn’t feel like a weakness, like he’d expect.
The center of Jaskier’s brow is furrowed a bit, and eyes are so, so clear.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Geralt manages, finally, and it’s not hard at all to let himself smile a little as he cards a hand through his tangled bedhead. Especially when the motion causes Jaskier to visibly relax.
“You’re being peculiar this morning,” Jaskier says, sounding simultaneously fond and accusing. He’s still observing Geralt curiously. “I thought you’d be in a poor mood, considering you’re still covered in vampire blood. Should’ve known you’d find it refreshing and not at all macabre.”
“I was. In a poor mood, I mean.” Jaskier stills at the admission, genuinely surprised, and Geralt pushes past the reflex to look away, to deflect, to change the subject. “Didn’t want to get up and deal with all the—”
He gestures vaguely at the rest of the room: the food and potions on the table; their neatly packed bags; his armor and boots piled in the corner, looking as if they, too, have been cleaned. The large and small chores which he’d been dreading, and which Jaskier has already done.
Jaskier, who looks a bit uncomfortable himself, now. “It, I just—It’s not a big deal,” he sputters, starting to look attractively flustered. “You were out all night being bitten by sexy lady monsters!”
“I suppose I should be glad you still haven’t seen a bruxa close up,” Geralt deadpans, which earns him an indignant glare.
“No thanks to you! You wouldn’t know a descriptive word if it kicked you in the face! All you’ve said is they look like women but they’re actually big, mad bats—and I dare you to write a song out of that,” Jaskier puffs, and throws his arms wide, “And! Don’t think I did all your errands like I’m your steward, or whatever—”
“No, I wouldn’t— Jaskier,” Geralt interrupts, and carefully grips both of Jaskier’s flailing forearms and lowers them. “Calm down. I’m not...accusing you, or whatever it is you think I’m doing.”
Jaskier’s gone still again, and chews on his bottom lips for a moment, which Geralt valiantly does not get distracted by. “I… I don’t do your chores because I feel obligated to,” he finally says, firmly.
Geralt, who had never considered the idea, is nonetheless relieved to hear it. “That’s good, I wouldn’t want you to. You’re not my steward.” Even if he could afford it, the idea of a witcher with a travelling butler is extremely ludicrous. “Though I am grateful.”
Jaskier’s still frowning, though, and doesn’t look any less agitated. Geralt sighs. “Why are you upset?”
“I think… Geralt, I think you’re trying to thank me for being kind to you,” Jaskier says, reprovingly.
Geralt finds his offended huff endearing, which: oh. He’s helpless against the smile on his face, and also against the way the blush on Jaskier’s face spreads down his neck in response.
“Thank you,” Geralt murmurs, quiet and low, and tracks the movement of Jaskier swaying a little closer, those blue eyes drifting down to Geralt’s mouth.
Geralt swallows, and forces himself not to lean in, yet.
“Witchers aren’t supposed to be comfortable,” he tries to explain, “and the Path isn’t supposed to be easy.” Geralt runs a soothing hand up and then down Jaskier’s arm, when he feels bard ready to puff up indignantly again on his behalf, to tread the well-worn beats of this argument: That’s not fair, Geralt, and You’re a person, Geralt, and You weren’t made just to suffer; I won’t let you, Geralt.
He could turn away, now, probably, and get dressed. Jaskier would allow this whole conversation to be forgotten.
(Jaskier allows a lot, in deference to the things Geralt needs, and that’s motivation enough.)
Instead, Geralt holds on to the warm feeling that’s been buzzing in his chest since Jaskier walked in the room.
“You make my life easier. More comfortable.” Jaskier’s breathing hitches. Geralt can hear the way his heartbeat accelerates in anticipation, and for once it feels easy to say: “You’re important to me, Jaskier.” He breathes that warmth out, into the stale air of this rented room, letting it linger in the midday light amongst the dust and the smell of verbena and laundry soap, only to find that it’s still there inside him afterwards.
The feeling isn’t finite. He hasn’t used it all up by speaking it aloud.
There’s more, of course: No one’s ever cared about me the way you do. I don’t know how you do it. I want to learn. And, fearfully: Someday you won’t be here, and it’ll be like how it was, except I’ll still remember what this feels like, and possibly I won’t be able to live with the knowledge.
Geralt might’ve considered saying some of those things, but he’s interrupted by Jaskier’s mouth on his, pressing a desperate, atonal grunt against the seam of his lips. It’s the least musical sound he’s ever heard his bard make, and he’s determined to hear it again, as soon as possible.
Jaskier pulls away quickly, before Geralt can properly kiss him back, his eyes and mouth both rounded in surprise. “Geralt—”
Geralt crashes forward into him, chasing his lips. Jaskier’s going to ask whether Geralt wants this, and kissing him back is the fastest way to confirm, yes, they’re both here. On the same page, Geralt thinks, which is a turn of phrase well-suited to a poet, if not a witcher.
He abruptly realizes he’s wearing nothing aside from his smallclothes when Jaskier’s lute calluses grip against his shoulder blades, followed immediately by a lap-full of bard when Jaskier scoots forward on his knees to straddle Geralt’s thighs on the mattress. Geralt’s own hands are pawing underneath Jaskier’s doublet, scrabbling to untuck his chemise as his mouth drags down the length of Jaskier’s throat.
“Hang on, hang on,” Jaskier pants. Geralt can’t stop the whine when he leans away, just enough to meet his eyes. “Geralt, hang on.”
The seriousness on Jaskier’s face is enough to focus him. “What, what’s wrong—”
Jaskier’s palms are warm on the back of Geralt’s neck, buried in his surely spectacularly-tangled hair. He’s breathing hard, his pupils dilated. His smile is tremulous and full of some intense emotion when he barks a relieved laugh and says, “Nothing’s wrong—gods, you’re gorgeous, it’s fucking distracting—”
Geralt tightens his arms across Jaskier’s back, where his clothes are heavily rumpled, and can’t help matching Jaskier’s grin. His head feels light, and all his senses are focused on the warm body in his lap. “Let me distract you, then.”
Jaskier wriggles a little, gleeful with adrenaline that Geralt can smell, this close to his neck. “In a moment, dear,” he cups Geralt’s face in his hands, letting his arms bracket Geralt’s head and neck, like a set of warm, enticing blinders, and rests their foreheads together. “Let me say this first.”
Geralt hums, low in his chest, and stares into Jaskier’s eyes and doesn’t blink.
“You keep spare lute strings in your saddlebags,” he says in a near-whisper. His voice is suddenly shaky, and Geralt’s stomach swoops as if he’s just dived down a hill. “The good kind, the kind I prefer. And you bought me new boots last spring, when you saw mine were beyond repair, when I hadn’t even complained about it yet. And, fuck, you mended my favorite shirt last week, before I’d even noticed.”
Those are small things, Geralt thinks. The lute strings are light, and Jaskier tends to forget he needs them until he’s run out. The boots were practical. He’d been mending his own pants at the same time. Small things, not worthy of thanks. But then, he supposes, that’s the point.
Geralt can’t help himself from reaching up to touch Jaskier’s face, brushing his thumb against the point of his mouth.
“You’re important to me, too, Geralt of Rivia,” Jaskier breathes, and it sounds like the other thing, the thing Geralt isn’t quite ready to say, but knows, now.
Geralt leans in, and tastes the shape of Jaskier’s smile.
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angelanimedesaray · 8 months ago
Wings in the Dark Chapter 15:  Glimpse of the Depths
AN:  AAAAAAnnnnndddd we’re back to talking chapters.  Honestly I think we’re going to do a time jump in the next chapter.  Time to get things progressing a bit faster before the chapters start getting dragged out.  I’m just happy cause that means relationship progression :D
Characters:  Levi, Vampire!Fem!Reader, Erwin (Mentioned), Petra (Mentioned)
Pairing:  Levi x Reader
Warnings:  Language, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Blood.
Word Count:  6023
<----Previous Chapter    Masterlist    Next Chapter---->
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*Levi’s POV*
An entire day passed where Levi didn’t hear anything from Y/N.  He didn’t dare go to her room to check up on her and draw attention to her absence, or weaken the credibility of his claim that she was sick and it was infectious so she was staying in her room.  If she was infectious, he was the last person who’d walk into her room without being covered up head to toe in his cleaning gear and gloves.  He had to trust that she was recovering behind the closed doors of her quarters, and that he’d hear from her soon enough.  He spun the lie whenever someone asked about her absence, since by now the other members of his squad were returning and getting back into their usual routine, which by now Y/N was a part of.  So of course they noticed when she wasn’t there, and were bound to ask him where she was if she wasn’t running around acting as an aid and doing training.
Erwin had noticed the absence, as well, which meant that the two of them ended up meeting so Levi could tell him what happened and what was going on with her.
Of course, after they’d seen how strong she was, seeing a vampire stronger than her that almost killed her had been a bit of a reality check.  They were lucky that the vampire that had infiltrated their ranks had good intentions--what if an older vampire with malicious intentions, as Levi had thought she might be, found its way into the Scouts?  What were they going to do, then?  They were taking white sage, but it was just a deterrent from being bitten or compelled--there were plenty of other ways to kill a person if that was the goal.  And apparently Y/N was not evenly matched against the other vampires out there.  They couldn’t depend on their own vampire to fight off another one--not one on one, strength verses strength.  They needed to come up with contingencies in case they were ever faced with a vampire threat.
And maybe he should have encouraged her to keep talking when she’d started teaching him how to fight a vampire.  All he’d really been told was that it was about leverage and fighting smarter not harder when it came to vampires--he hadn’t given her the chance to say much else.  That, clearly, had been a mistake.
It looked like they were both going to be teachers.  Not that he would tell her.  He was still the instructor here, and he wasn’t going to lose that stable position in their strange relationship.
Erwin had suggested as much, as well.  With his strength and speed, Levi was the best candidate right now for someone to be prepared to handle vampires.  So when Y/N got better, they needed to start practicing handling other vampires together.  Maybe running into other vampires wasn’t going to be a common occurrence, but it would be foolish not to prepare for it all the same.
Now she just needed to recover, wake up, and feed so they could get back on track.
The second day passed with Levi starting to get worried about how long it was taking for him to see her emerge from her quarters.  He had to hold Petra back from bringing her herbal tea to help her feel better, spinning some bullshit lie that she already had tea in her room he’d brought her earlier and she didn’t need more.  It was the best excuse he could think of off the top of his head at the moment, but it worked, and that was what mattered.
That night he went in to check on her after everyone else had fallen asleep, to at least reassure himself that she was in fact healing and he hadn’t accidentally left her to die in her room.  She was still pale as death, but she was breathing now, and it seemed her wounds had almost entirely healed--there was just a bit of scarring that would probably go away by the time she woke up.  It also told him that she was probably going to wake up tomorrow.
Good.  He wouldn’t have to be worried about her recovery anymore.  And he wouldn’t have to cover for her absence much longer.
On the third day, he was doing most of what was usually in his daily routine, except for what he usually did with Y/N.  Instead of sparring and training with her, he used the time for more of his own training and to exercise his horse--and to take care of her horse in the meantime and made sure Zephyr stayed clean, fed, and watered, with plenty of time out to pasture for exercise.  Someone had to take care of the horse while she couldn’t.
And, though he wasn’t going to let anyone find out, he also took a stop by her little garden regularly as well to make sure it stayed watered, taken care of, and that the white sage didn’t grow out of control while she was out of commission.
After his midday training, Levi retreated to his quarters to wash up and have a cup of tea for the middle of the day, door locked so he could walk around shirtless while he cooled down after the hot bath, the towel he’d used for his hair draped around his neck to catch any leftover water clinging to the damp strands.  He wandered into the office, pulling the curtains over the windows along the way so no one could peak inside.  In his other hand was the remainder of his tea, which he was sipping on as he looked at a few stray papers on his desk.  Hange was still asking about catching Titans for research, that was an easy refusal to write, he wasn’t going to help her on a suicide mission like that…
Though technically they did have the perfect bait and two of him now.
It was still a no, though.  Too many things could go wrong with too many casualties and too high of a probability that it wouldn’t yield enough information to make the sacrifice worth it.
There was a dull thump on his door, followed by a low knock.  Levi turned towards the door with a slight furrow in his brows, setting down the teacup as the knocks continued.  With how weak they were, there was only one person it could be.
Levi crossed the room in a few steps, unlocking the door and opening it to see Y/N leaning in the doorway, clothes thrown on and hair brushed back, looking pale and a little clammy, eyelids droopy.  She looked like she was about to topple over, which prompted the instinctive reach for her shoulder to steady her.  However, she pulled away before he could make contact, putting a hand out as if to tell him to keep his distance.
“The gesture is appreciated...but not smart right now,” she murmured, and Levi instinctively took a step back at the reminder she was probably ravenous right now, and he was a feast teasing her hardly a step away.  “I just came to say I’m going out.  So you don’t find me missing from my room and freak out.”
Levi scoffed.  “I wouldn’t’ve noticed.”
She shot him a ‘please,’ look of skepticism that still had the attitude despite the state she was in.  “Your scent is all over my room,” she said simply, before turning away.  She let out a long breath, which made Levi realize she’d been holding her breath standing so close to him.  And as she sucked in a fresh breath of air, it was shuddering, and she froze up for a second before she glanced at him over her shoulder.  “Captain,” she said simply in parting, and Levi didn’t stop her from leaving, since at the moment she was clearly struggling not to sink her fangs into him.  Frankly it was an amazing courtesy she’d stopped by to tell him she was going hunting in the first place.
Someone started to round the corner, and Levi stepped back into his office and locked the door before he could be seen.  He pulled the towel from around his neck and did another pass over his damp hair, heading back to his bedroom to get dressed so he would be clothed and ready for discussion when she got back.
And there would be a discussion.  Not here, of course, there was far too much activity at Headquarters right now, since it was the middle of the day.  He trusted her to be discreet getting to and from the Underground, but he wasn’t going to have the discussion about blood and vampires midday in say the mess hall, or even his office, just in case someone came by to talk to him and caught them in the middle of their serious discussion.  And he was going to be generous and let her rest for the last half of the day, considering she was just now waking up and he didn’t know if getting blood in her system was going to be a magical cure-all or if she would still be drained when she got back.
He had a few ideas of how they could get some privacy for their discussion if the usual spots weren’t an option because it was the middle of the day and not the middle of the night like it usually was.
For now, though...he was just glad to see her up and moving around again.  Seeing her dead to the world had...well, it had scared him for a bit there.  Especially with how long it took her to wake up and be responsive again.
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*Reader’s POV*
Waking up after a ‘death’ was never a pleasant thing.  You were groggy, drained of all energy, confused and off kilter longer than you would have liked.  It was even more confusing to have gone from passing out in the filthy underground in Levi’s arms to waking up clean and bandaged in your own room, Levi’s scent lingering strong enough in the room to tell you he’d been in your room fairly recently, though there was faded scents around the room as well that told you he’d been here another time, a little longer before.  And it appeared he had been everywhere that day.
Maybe that had been when he brought you back to your room and taken care of you.  It had to have been Levi to clean you up and take care of you, based on his scent all over your room and the fact he’d been the one with you when you passed out from blood loss.
But that, that didn’t matter.  Your injuries were healed--not so much as a thin scar left to show what happened.  By now you’d also had three Underground thugs to satiate what was had turned into a ravenous hunger.  You’d been hungry from the start after the exhausting expedition, but then you’d gotten into the fight with the other vampire, lost all that blood, temporarily died, your body had to do all that work to heal itself and bring you back…
You were going to stop at two, but that hadn’t been enough.  So you were gone longer than normal once again because of the amount of people you had to hunt down for your thirst.  Your thirst had been bad enough when you woke up, you almost left without telling Levi where you were going--it probably would have been the smarter decision.  You could smell him three halls away--not just his usual scent, you meant his blood.  You had to start holding your breath as long as you could as much as you could while you drew closer, and then he’d been right in front of you, bare chested, freshly washed, except while any other being attracted to men would have been staring at his freshly washed, glistening abs, you’d been fighting not to stare or weave towards his exposed jugular.  He’d been so close, you could hear his blood rushing through his veins, the steady thrum of his heart, that unique cocktail that was the scent of his blood completely overpowering the scent you associated with him that had covered your room.  You really thought you were going to bite him when he stepped closer, you could feel the fangs protruding, but thankfully he’d been able to tell from the hand keeping him back what was wrong and that he needed to back up and not come closer.
Hence why you’d kept the conversation very brief and left as soon as possible.  You were afraid staying too long would cause you to attack him, which you were not going to be able to deal with if it happened.  Especially after he’d taken care of you after the fight underground.
Maybe the third body you’d dropped Underground had been insurance to make sure Levi didn’t get hurt the next time you saw him.  You didn’t want to risk any thirst of need strengthening the possibility that you might lose control around Levi.
You’d been a bit messier than normal with how badly you needed blood, which meant you kept your head down on the way back and you went straight to your room to clean up.  That was where you were when there was a knock on your door, which turned out to be Levi, unsurprisingly.
It wasn’t a long conversation he had.  Mostly he gave you a place, a few directions, and then said forty minutes before he continued down the hall like he’d just told you that you were late for training.
Frankly, you were just glad that your bloodthirst didn’t rear its ugly head when he was in front of you this time.
You gave yourself enough time to make sure you were presentable, that you didn't still look like you'd just woken from death and that there wasn't any blood on your skin or clothes.  By now you were well aware that Levi wasn't comfortable with your lifestyle, and it would be easier for him if you kept it out of sight out of mind.  Once you were certain you looked like a normal human being and you were dressed in civilian clothes, you left headquarters and headed towards where Levi told you to meet him.
You took a deep breath as you walked through the busy streets, the cacophony of scents from the city washing over you and adding variety to the fresh air.  The sun was a little bright after so long unconscious after being Underground, so you had to squint against the light for a little while, your necklace out in the open for once as the black gemstone caught the sun and caused a rainbow of light to flicker inside the fire opal like little flames.
The place Levi wanted you to meet him was both easy yet difficult to find.  It was difficult in the sense that you wouldn’t have known it was there if you hadn’t been directed there by Levi ahead of time, easy thanks to Levi’s clear directions.  The scent of fresh pine was strong here thanks to the carpentry next door, though the place he wanted her to be was...a tea shop.  Not the kind where you sat down and had tea, though.  This looked like a store that sold tea blends to take home, tea sets, tea making supplies, plants to grow at home, additives, things like that.
You didn’t see Levi here yet--which made sense, with that vampire speed of yours kicking in whenever you were alone, on instinct.  It was more natural for you to walk around at vampire speed than it was to walk at a normal human pace, which was more a part of the front that you put up around other people.  So, since you had some time to kill, you went ahead and went inside to take a look around and see if there was anything you liked.
There was a sweet older man behind the counter that was all too happy to help you with any questions or inquiries you made, giving a surprising amount of detail about any tea blend on display that you asked him about.  He was even willing to talk tea brewing techniques, what kind of tea set was the best to brew tea in, good additive combinations for different blends…
Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, if you weren’t careful, you were going to leave this place with bags of stuff in hand, and you doubted Levi invited you here simply for a shopping spree.
You did commit to buying a few tea blends he eagerly suggested to you after the two of you discussed your specific tastes in tea.  After that you told him you were waiting for someone and would simply browse while you waited, so the man left you alone and went into the back room.
With the tea blends safely packed away in a parcel under your arm, you walked around the other part of the store, the one full of tea sets, tea balls, tea bag making supplies, tea strainers, teacups, and just some simple decorations for, say, a tea room.  Or tea themed décor.  Some of the wood burnings looked like they were made of pine, which suggested there was a partnership between this store and the carpentry next door.
There was a tea set that caught your eye, though.  Fine white porcelain with gold trim, with teal blades of grass in a watercolor like style, and pearly white flowers within the grass blades.  It was gorgeous, amazing artwork, and your hand brushed gently against the smooth surface.
Too bad it was out of your price range.  You’d have to save up for a couple months to be able to afford the set, and you just couldn’t justify it when your money went somewhere else for an important reason.
But it really was nice…
“That’s a nice set.”
Damn it, you really hadn’t been paying attention, had you?  How the hell had he actually managed to sneak up on you for once?  Maybe you were still off, still recovering.
That was a good excuse that you were going to stick with for now.
Your hands dropped away from the tea set, and you took a step away from it as you turned to look at him.  “It is.”
Levi’s gaze flickered to the parcel under your arm, and then he stepped around you to head towards the tea blends.  It seemed he knew exactly what he wanted and where it was, with the old man returning at the sound of voices from the front.
“Ah, Captain Levi.  I have your usual ready for you, prepared this morning,” the old man said pleasantly, reaching below the counter to pull out a parcel similar to the one you had, which Levi took and paid for with a slight nod in show of thanks before turning to you.
“Buying anything else?”
“No, I’m good,” you said simply, knowing he was giving you the chance to get that tea set, even though you weren’t going to buy it.
Levi gazed at you for a few moments, and then started for the door.  You fell into step just behind him, giving a small wave to the old man behind the counter before both of you left the shop.
“You don’t really buy things for yourself, do you?” Levi asked abruptly as the two of you started down the street.  Your eyebrows rose slightly at the question, but you answered, directing your words towards his back since you were following him.
“No.  My salary goes elsewhere.”
There were a few moments of silence where Levi seemed to be considering something.  “I thought so,” he said simply.  You looked at him curiously, about to ask what he meant.  “Do you ever go visit them?”
Your parents.  He knew about your parents.  It seemed he had his suspicions that you were paying for their care with your salary, which you’d just inadvertently confirmed.
You looked away at his question, a sad frown appearing on your face.  “No...I don’t.  I’m dead, remember.  And I don’t age.  I can’t.”
Their murdered daughter showing up in their rooms after forty years was not going to go over well for two people in their eighties, nineties.  You’d probably send them to an early grave--not that early, but still.
A silence fell between the two of you, Levi showing no signs that you could pick up on from behind.  He actually led you towards the edge of town, the noise quieting as houses spread out and nature started to overtake buildings.  Before they actually left town, though, Levi took a detour from the road the two of you had been following and guided you towards what looked like a small, out of the way park on the edge of town.  It wasn’t anything fancy--a bench probably made by a local carpenter, a few trees, bushes, plants, a dirt path, a small pond with a wooden arched bridge complete with railings going over it.  You could tell by the swish and plop of water that there was also probably fish in that pond, as well.  Most likely something pretty and fancy to make the pond more aesthetically pleasing.
You could have asked him why the park, but you left your question unasked.  It was quiet, no one around, a change of scenery but still privacy for the most part.  And maybe he just wanted some fresh air instead of being cooped up inside.  You certainly appreciated being outside instead of inside.
“What’s the story you gave everyone for my absence?” you asked him conversationally as the two of you wandered along the dirt path towards the little bridge.
“Sick.  Infectious.  So you stayed in your room,” Levi said simply.  He stopped halfway to the bridge next to the bench, putting his parcel down on the seat and holding his hand out for yours, which you handed over so he could put it besides his.  Once the parcels were set down, the two of you finished walking over to the bridge, which the bench was in perfect view of, so neither of you had to worry about your purchases from the tea shop getting stolen.
“Now I know.  I’ll be sure to ham it up so it’s convincing I was out for a few days,” you mused, coming to a stop halfway up the bridge and leaning on the railing with folded arms.  “Thank you, by the way.  For helping me home.”
Levi snorted softly.  “Don’t thank me.  You helped me first.  It was the least I could do.”
“Well, still.  Thank you.”
Levi came to a stop on the other side of you, a little further across the bridge with his arms crossed over his chest.  “How did you find me?  It wasn’t my...scent.  You said you block everything out when you’re Underground.”
"Your blood.  Even blocking things out, that scent would cut through any nearby vampire's concentration.  It sounds strange, but you're lucky he drew blood.  Otherwise I wouldn't have known," you said honestly, a chill going down your spine at the thought of just how close to death Levi came the other night.  And since for him it had only been a scratch, you wondered if he realized that before now.
Well, maybe not.  He'd still had the white sage in his system.  After a few drinks, the vampire would have been out like a light and Levi could have gotten away, and his bleeding from the attack would have caught your attention.
Maybe he'd been a little further from death, but it was still a scary thought.
"He got a taste before you showed up," Levi said, voice tense.  "I thought you said white sage prevented that?"
"Well, not like that, not with blood," you said uneasily, leaning forward on the railing and turning your head to meet his stormy eyes without fear.  "Think about it--blood is the sustaining substance, especially your special brand that's like an extra boost of energy and vitality.  You could argue the possibility that because it's our sustaining substance, it means it dilutes the white sage.  A vampire has to take a few gulps before the white sage hits their system and starts to burn, like when you take medicine--a delayed reaction as it works to get into your system and take effect.  Except faster than medicine in a vampire's case, since it's a poison.  Not all poison kills immediately.  And it won't burn with physical touch because, again, the blood is diluting it, and it's our sole sustenance, it gives us life.  Tea on the other hand, yeah, it will burn on contact, cause as much as someone may like tea, vampire's don't need it to survive.  There's nothing diluting it, then."
"So it would have worked...eventually."
He didn't look too pleased this distinction had not been made beforehand.
"Better than not at all.  But yes, he would have gotten a good taste before the white sage hit, maybe a bit more considering how strong your blood is.  But it still would have poisoned him and dropped him to the ground," you said honestly.  "If you're worried about it, you could try higher doses of white sage.  Maybe start having a cup of white sage tea a day, or put a bit more in every cup of tea.  It'll stay in your system longer, too, if you do that."
A silence settled over the two of you again, and you looked down into the pond, watching colorful fish swim idly around below you, a faint shadow of you and Levi standing on the bridge reflected in the water.  He shifted uncomfortably next to you, the fact he held his breath a second too long in hesitation giving away the discomfort, though he inadvertently ended up a bit closer to you in the process.
"You're always talking about my scent and how my blood smells," he muttered unhappily, and you quickly turned to face him.
"It's nothing bad, I promise.  It's not a bad scent, like when Squad Leader Hange forgets to bathe for a few days.  It's just your natural smell--everyone has them.  It's actually...pretty good," you finished in an embarrassed rush, turning your face away.  It was the truth, but it was still embarrassing to say.  At least he didn't smell like acrid smoke, liquor, cigar smoke, urine, and shit, like some people.
There was a reason you blocked out smells in the Underground.
You pulled hair back behind your shoulder, rubbing your neck before you realized it was a nervous tick and you stopped yourself.
"Good, how?" Levi asked awkwardly after a few moments.  This had to be so weird for him.  At least you'd had forty years to get used to these oddities--he was still adjusting to the concept itself, but he still asked these strange questions, at least.  "Good as in tasty?" He added in a flat attempt at a dark joke.
"No, not as in tasty.  Well...not your actual scent anyway.  Blood is its own separate thing, though it does contribute, when it's strong like yours," you were quick to clarify as emotions flickered in his eyes too fast for you to catch them all, though you did catch a bit of disturbance, incredulousness, and discomfort.  But you still answered his question.  "It might be slightly different to other vampires, but for me, it's...Soap or cleaning supplies...mint...tea leaves.  I don't know if the mint comes from the tea leaves or some of the cleaning supplies infused with mint, but it's there--not strong though.  Fresh air, or maybe it's the forest...maybe both.  That clean outdoors smell.  And then the overall sense of...richness, I think that comes from your blood.”
His eyebrows seemed to be rising with every description, which was now making you feel embarrassed by proxy for saying such things.  So you looked away again, pretending that you were enjoying watching the fish make endless circles in the pond below you in the name of sanity.
You didn’t say anything further for a few moments, which prompted Levi to press for the rest of the question you hadn’t realized he still wanted answered.  “And...my blood?” he pushed with a note of disgust at the end with the topic.
“That’s...a little hard to answer without things getting more awkward than they already are,” you said with a slightly wry smile.  “Lots of descriptors that could be used in another context.”
Levi gave you a look that clearly screamed ‘really’ at you.  “What, are we children?”
“Okay, well...there’s not really a...descriptor for what blood smells like to a vampire.  Humans sometimes smell that metallic scent, but that’s not really there for vampires.  It’s more like a...an aroma that invokes feelings and instincts more than anything,” you struggled to explain.  It wasn’t like you could tell him, ‘hey, you smell like a glazed roast at Christmas time perfectly seasoned’ because that wasn’t how this worked, he didn’t smell like food.  “For you, it’s like, ah...overpowering.  Heavy--no, heady.  Rich, and thick.  It's alluring, hooks you in and just...draws you in deeper and deeper.  And there’s a...a surprisingly...delicate edge to it, like the rarity factor given form.”
“I get the picture,” Levi said abruptly, getting you to stop talking about what his blood smelled like.  Maybe he was tired of watching you struggle for descriptors.  Or maybe he was getting more embarrassed about this than he was letting on.  He sighed, stepping forward and mirroring your position leaning against the railing beside you, except instead of folded arms, his elbows rested on the railing with his clasped hands dangling over the edge.  “Erwin and I talked--on top of our regular training, we’re going to start working on dealing with vampires.  Just in case.”
You inclined your head, easily overlooking the natural instinct of preservation that said don’t teach someone how to kill you now that Levi had taken care of you while you’d been defenseless.  “Smart idea, in my opinion.  You never know when you’ll need it...I guess I’ll need to start thinking of lessons.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
“What?  If we’re going to train to handle vampires, we both know I’m going to be the teacher,” you said smugly.
“We’re working together to prepare for vampires beyond your strength.  We’re on equal footing.”
“I’m still the one with the knowledge about it.  Is it the age thing?  You do realize that technically I’m twice your age.”
“How does that work?” Levi said abruptly, and you didn’t fail to notice he was quickly changing the subject.  You might have wounded his pride a little.  Whoops.  “The age thing.”
“Be more specific,” You said with slightly narrowed eyes as you tried to pin down what exactly he was asking.
“The frozen in time thing--do you consider yourself still 22, or are you counting all the years you’ve been alive?” Levi asked.
“You know, you’re not supposed to ask a woman her age--it’s considered rude.”
“Just answer the damn question.”
You snorted at his irritability despite your attempt to keep the mood lighter, but humored him and attempted what was actually a difficult question for you.
“I don’t think about it a lot.  I mean, physically, yeah, I’ll always be 22--frozen in time.  Experience still accumulates, though.  I still have sixty, seventy years of experience.  Though…”  You trailed off for a moment, chewing on your lip for a few seconds.  “You could argue...I didn’t really grow much while Underground, though.  Forty years, and it was mostly spent just surviving and learning how to live all over again because I was something else, and I didn’t have a direction to push towards.  I was just...stuck.  Maybe age doesn’t matter, especially if you’ve got eternity stretched in front of you.  Just experience.”
“Experience,” Levi murmured, leaning heavily on the railing and turning his gaze downwards like you, watching the fish quietly for a few long moments.  Wind rustled the trees, birds fluttered from branch to branch, one of the fish got adventurous and jumped out of the water.  You tuned out the sounds of the village until it was just the sounds in the park, and Levi’s soft breathing beside you, the steady beating of his heart…
“What’s it like to die?”
Your head turned to him, but Levi wasn’t looking at you.  He kept his gaze fixed down at the pond, expression controlled so you couldn’t get a good read on him about why he asked the question.  He was as unyielding as ever with what was going through his head.
“If you’re asking me about life after death, I’m not a good person to ask.  I haven’t really...died--permanently, I mean.  I wouldn’t know.  If you’re asking what it’s like overall...I wish I could say it’s all peaceful, but it really depends how you go.  Sometimes it is peaceful, like falling asleep...sometimes it isn’t,” you said honestly.  You were watching him closely for his reaction, noting every twitch, how one of his fingers rubbed against the nearest one in his clasped hands before he pushed away from the railing, giving you a quick glance.
“Take the rest of the day off.  Tomorrow, back to work.  And go see Petra--she kept trying to sneak you tea and soup,” he said, walking briskly away to grab his package off the park bench and leaving the park entirely.
You, on the other hand, lingered, staring in the direction he left, pondering on his last question.  Normally, that question might have made you worried for his well being, but that wasn’t the sense or tone of voice you got from him.  This had been different.  And between the fact you were probably the best source for that information he would probably ever find, the bloody history of the Scouts, and recent events--both the attack Underground and the massacre during the expedition--it made sense for him to have asked the question.
Considering the recent death, the past death, his own recent brush--brushes--with death…
Your mind called up the image of Levi on the last expedition, standing in front of the gathered corpses, a small pouch filled with the patches of soldiers that couldn’t be recovered that he could reach.  The excess gloom that hung over him on the way back, as they walked through the streets and heard the not-so-quiet whispers about ‘a failed mission’ and a waste of money and resources.  Not a waste of people, not a grief over loss of life--a waste of money and resources.
You didn’t dare assume why he’d asked the question, but you knew what you would say if you had to give a theory.
You shook yourself out of your stupor, leaving the bridge behind and heading towards the bench to retrieve your package as well.  You needed to get back to Headquarters and get your rest--and get back in touch with the rest of the squad--for your day off before you went back to training with Levi.  And with a little extra training from here on out, too, so next time Levi ran into a vampire in a back alley, he’d stand a better chance.
That thought gave you a little peace of mind.
Yeah, even if he was touchy about the whole you being a teacher thing, you were going to put effort into this to make sure he could defend himself against a vampire as seriously as if you were being put into an instructor position.
You definitely were.  Even if he wouldn’t admit it.  And you were going to do a damn good job to make sure he was prepared--that you both were.
Though personally, you were going to make sure Levi was prepared.
His close call had scared you, too.  And you weren’t going to let it happen again.
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