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funtimebunnyblog · 3 years

Note

Pillar men during their heat?

What will their s/o do?

Me: *opens my ask box and sees this*

My brain: *CARELESS WHISPER BLARES*

You got it Anon! 😘🥰😇 Big stronk Himbos feeling the big feelings coming right up!

Pillarmen (separate) in heat and their s/o's reaction...

(Under the cut for length!)

Kars:

• On the norm, Kars wasn't overly affectionate with you.

• Sure, he had his times; like when he would put an arm around you when sitting on the couch or when he held you in his lap on occasion while he worked.

• You'd also get rewarded with some sweet little kisses during your daily routines.

• But really, he wasn't really a clingy creature...

• Well... not until his heat strikes, that is.

• When undergoing heat, oh boy, this hulking Pillarman's cold and collected demeanor practically melts away to reveal a cuddly, purring kitten.

• The first time he underwent his heat cycle around you, you knew something was definitely different... yet you couldn't place what.

• "Kars, I have to get ready for wooork..." you whined softly, squirming in his hold under the covers.

• Normally, when you woke up he would already have left to do some work of his own or you two would exchange some loving words and kisses for a brief moment before getting up to start the day.

• But this morning you were pleasantly surprised to wake up to him clinging to you, humming and peppering your face and shoulders with soft kisses.

• You honestly didn't want to ruin such a moment, most especially when it was such a sweet cuddly moment with Kars, but you had been laying here with him for over an hour and you really had to go or else you'd be late!

• The Pillarman only held you tighter in his arms, curling around you almost protectively and nuzzling into your neck; your protests and pushing were helpless against him.

• "Hmmm, no need." He hummed, a tendril of curly violet hair tickled your nose as he snuggled you in his vice-like embrace. "I already called in for you, dear one."

• Needless to say, he wasn't letting you go anywhere anytime soon.

• Another thing; Kars wasn't a man to beg (for anything at all really) most especially attention.

• From ANYONE.

• Usually, he was the one laying back with a smirk; lavishing in any and all of your pleas to have him hold YOU and him give YOU attention.

• He just found it absolutely delicious when someone became needy over him; being not only a gorgeous man but a ruler and Ultimate lifeform as well; your pleas for his touch only fed his ego.

• However, when Kars was in heat, he almost became a completely different person.

• "Kars, please, I just need to get these dishes done first..." you sighed, trying to focus as you were elbow deep in dishware and suds.

• The gargantuan Pillarman clinging to your back and nuzzling you did nothing to help as you tried to complete the task.

• "Oh come now, please? Please, can we snuggle on the couch? I'll put on your favourite show~" he whined, the vibrations of his chest sent trembles down your spine as he begged.

• "After dishes," You told him, trying to be firm but crumbling. "Pleeeeease, beloved one? I haven't seen you all day, my sunshine, and I've missed you so~ We can finish them later, together~" Kars hummed, digging his nose deeper into your neck.

• You were honesty starting to fear he had been replaced with an imposter of some kind.

• KARS SUS

• It becomes obvious to him that you're not understanding what'sgoing on and it's not long after when Kars follows his natural urges and gets to building a suitable nest.

• If you didn't understand his madness before, he fully intended to make you with this.

• You come Home from work one afternoon to find the Livingroom essentially turned into one giant blanket fort; pillows laid strewn about across the cushioned floor.

• The most notable thing about it all was the Pillarmen laying in the midst of all of it... in all his glory.

• "Come and join me, dearest~" he purred, gazing at you through hungry crimson eyes as you stood there gawking in the doorway. "I've been waiting~"

• Even though you still don't understand, this time you find you can't refuse him. Definitely not while he's licking his lips like that...

• You'll have to call in to work again tomorrow ;)

Esidisi:

• When Esidisi undergoes one of his heat cycles, it's best described that he becomes a hot mess.

• Even more of a hot mess than usual that is...

• The man was already a very emotional person but somehow, he became even more emotional when in heat.

• You started to suspect something was wrong with him when you came downstairs one morning only to be immediately met with a spine cracking embrace and a flood of tears.

• He was going on a sobbing rant about how he was so happy to spend his mornings with you, his Mate, and that you were wonderful in every way and the very light of his life.

• Normally, he only got this emotional when watching Cat videos.

• You also couldn't help but notice that he's burning even hotter than his usual warmth.

• Normally, he just felt like one big muscular electric blanket; radiating a comfortable warmth. But now he felt something akin to the scalding blast of heat that hits you in the face when opening the door to an oven.

• You practically had to wear oven mitts to lay hands on him now.

• You couldn't shake the feeling something was definitely off about him when he started leaving you little gifts lying around.

• The things he left ranged from clothing to food to trinkets and just general things you liked; all for you!

• Not to mention the fact he was being extra sweet, going out of his way to give you lots of kisses and loving, and even cooking you more meals and doing all of the chores.

• You appreciated the sentiment of it all but really, you were quite puzzled as to why he was putting so much investment in you. It wasn't a Holiday or your Birthday or anything...

• Little did you know you were also puzzling him.

• You were supposed to be taking interest in him!

• In his eyes, he was dropping obvious hints to his cycle; he took your confusion and lack of response to all of his offerings as somewhat of a rejectment and that actually hurt him enough to make him cry a little...

• He decides then that there's only one more thing he can do... he'll put together a most excellent nest for you! The best nest you'd ever seen!

• "Esidisi?" "Hmm?" He turned to look at you, doe-eyed, arms suspended in the air as he laid out another blanket on top of the growing pile.

• You were Home from work early and he still had much work to do yet!

• "What are you doing?" You questioned with a raised eyebrow. Not only was he rearranging your whole room, he had covered the entire space with blankets and pillows.

• He had even gone so far as to thoroughly douse the area in the perfume/cologne you always wore.

• "I'm making us a nest." He says, almost matter of factly. When you ask him why he's doing that, it floors him.

• Did you seriously not understand?! This entire time?!

• After he sits you down and explains himself, everything clicks with you and you actually feel terrible for not understanding sooner.

• You didn't realize his kind underwent natural cycles like this...

• You ask him if you can finish building the nest together, if this had to be done you wanted to help and have it be done right.

• His heart absolutely soars at your offer, making him teary eyed as he nods eagerly.

• However, you barely get the chance to finish it before you're both putting it to good use ;)

Wamuu:

• Throughout his many years living, Wamuu had always viewed his heat cycle as more of a distraction than anything; even though it was a completely natural phenomenon for the Pillarmen race.

• He had much difficulty focusing on training or fighting at all when it happened, making him feel quite useless.

• He always felt too mushy and needy during this time; things he viewed as shameful to see in him when he was supposed to be presenting himself to peers and enemies as a powerful foe.

• When heat struck, the Pillarman would simply hole himself up in his chamber, enduring the entirety of the cycle alone until it was over and done with.

• Eventually, when it passed and he was feeling his normal self he could go out again.

• However... things had changed now that you, his Mate, were thrown into the equation.

• You definitely knew something was different about him when it all started.

• On the norm, Wamuu was strong and he was a man to stand his ground as any proud, battle-hardened Warrior should.

• But when his heat struck... Wamuu became quite flighty.

• It seemed like the littlest of things would have him fleeing from the room; often in a blushing mess.

• He couldn't even sit through a simple kissing scene in a movie you two had been watching the other night.

• "Wamuu, what--" You blinked owlishly as a HUGE bouquet of red roses was pushed into your arms suddenly. It was as if he had picked you an entire field of them!

• "Flowers for you!" He said quickly, practically yelling, before taking off; out of the room and up the stairs. You couldn't see the flaming red in his face from over the massive bundle of flowers he had dumped on you.

• You couldn't help but realize he had a hard time to look you in the eye anymore. In fact, he seemed to break into a sweat if you even did something as little as touch him.

• You were seriously starting to worry that something was wrong with him.

• He on the other hand wasn't sure whether you wanted him or not during his heat and he was scared to act on his primal impulses.

• Usually, he liked to spend his free time with you watching TV or helping you around the household but he was spending more time upstairs, away from you; specifically in the spare room.

• You also took notice that there were a lot of blankets and pillows around the house missing but you didn't really focus on that as you were more worried about Wamuu and his strange behavior.

• After a few days of this, you decided to confront him.

• However, he got to you first; coming downstairs and sheepishly taking your hand, asking you to follow him.

• Wamuu had given into his primal instincts and had spent the last few days perfecting a nest for you both up in the spare room.

• You thought it was an impressive feat; he had turned the entire room into one big cushy and comfy heaven... but you didn't really understand why he had done this.

• Wamuu's eyes go huge when you ask him why. Did... Did Humans do such things for their Mates?

• HAD HE BEEN GOING ABOUT THIS ALL WRONG?!

• Poor Wamuu has to sit down and explain it all to you; his off behavior, most importantly the matter of you, the meaning of creating a nest and the cyles of his race behind it all...

• To his relief; you're very understanding and, even more to his relief, intrigued.

• Needless to say however, you and Wamuu don't leave the nest for a good little while afterward ;)

Santana:

• Much like Wamuu, Santana had often spent his years enduring his heat cycles in isolation.

• Nobody would see hide or hair of Santana from before it happened until the very end.

• The day before it struck he would simply pack up and leave to God-knows-where and stay there; sometimes he wouldn't even tell the others he was leaving.

• That being said; nobody (not even the other Pillarmen) knew what exactly Santana was like during the time of his heat cycle.

• Until you came along that was.

• You were Santana's Mate; the only proper reason for him to stay put when undergoing his heat.

• You'll begin to notice subtle changes, like the fact that Santana seems just a little more alert; attentive even.

• He brings you things before you even know that you want them; like snacks when you're starting to feel hungry or the cup of coffee you enjoy at noon.

• Somehow, he just seems to know.

• You'll also notice his fascination with your clothes or specifically the scent you leave on them.

• "Are you cold, Santana?" You question with a frown. Not only was he wearing your favorite hoodie, he was also wearing the baggy old T-Shirt you wore yesterday.

• Which was strange, as you knew Santana didn't really like clothing aside from the loincloth he wore.

• They were almost comically small on him, despite them being big clothes for you.

• He hummed, burying his face in the baggy neck of the hoodie; he felt as if he was surrounded by a Heavanly warm cloud of just you. "Hmmm, no."

• Surprisngly, it doesn't take long into the cycle for him to start constructing a nest.

• He takes things from all over the house; blankets, pillows, cushions, any stuffed animals or huggable plushies you have lying about, etc.

• Even if you happen to be sitting on them the moment he wants to add them to the growing pile upstairs, he just walks up and wordlessly takes them and then squirrels them away.

• If you happen to confront him on it, don't expect him to give you a detailed answer.

• "Santana, why are you taking the couch cushions?" "Because." "Because why?" "Because I have need of them." "Ok. Why do you need them?" "Because." "Because...?" "Just because." "Just because?" "Yes."

• Once his nest is all made up and deemed fit for you he goes looking for you.

• If you happen to be busy doing anything in the moment where he finds you, too bad.

• He just simply walks up and picks you up, squirreling you away to the nest like everything else as you were the most important thing to go in it.

• The explanation of everything can come later, much MUCH later; now was the time for action ;)

#funnybunny #pillarmen #kars #esidisi #wamuu #santana #pillarmen headcanons #kars x reader #esidisi x reader #wamuu x reader #santana x reader #my writing #anon ask

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lustbile-archive · 4 years

Text

Dog Will Hunt

JohnnyxReader

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary/Warnings: Watching slashers with your boyfriend never goes as planned. Nothing crazy just some oral, but spoilers for Texas Chainsaw Masacre I guess? and vaguely described gore.

(also the title is a quote from the second movie, but they watch the first one. I know this don’t @ me)

You flinch at the wet cracking sound of Leatherface hitting the boy with a hammer, your body tensing under Johnny’s as he lays on top of you as you both watch as he inhumanly twitches before the murderer drags the lifeless body away.

You had begged Johnny for days to stay in one night and have a slasher movie night with you, and once you were pouting and telling him you could get pizza from his favorite restaurant down the street, he had easily agreed.

So this is where you found yourself now, you lying on your back in your living room floor on top of piles of blankets and pillows, Johnny sleepily lying on top of you with his head resting on your rib cage, a pizza box that, instead of holding the pizza, had now become home to your growing collection of empty candy wrappers, a few wine coolers by your sides, and the flashing images of teenagers being slowly picked off by a giant murderer wearing a human skin mask dancing on the tv in front of you.

Johnny shifts on top of you as you tense, your heartbeat speeding up slightly as you now watch the pretty girl walk slowly up to the house, the low shot and the way she calls out for her now dead boyfriend instilling you with the anxious knowledge of what her demise would be.

“Nooo don’t go in there,” you murmur to yourself without thinking, Johnny quietly laughing into the skin of your stomach that he rests his face on from him shoving your shirt up below your chest before he would lay down. He’d always had a thing with skin on skin contact when you two cuddled, but that didn’t stop your teasing when you pointed out him wanting to press his face against your bare skin may be a little weird considering the things the murderer in the movie you were about to watch liked to do with skin.

You’re so distracted and nervous from watching the girl trip throughout the house, kicking at discarded bones in fear and disgust, you don’t notice what Johnny is up to at first. You don’t register his lips pressing against the skin below your ribs, and you only assume his shifting down is him trying to get more comfortable.

It’s when you feel his tongue that you’re ripped away from watching Leatherface start to chase the girl. You try to keep your attention on the screen as he lays warm open mouthed kisses down your stomach, his hands trailing your side as he moves slowly down your body. You groan out in what you hope reads as disappointment to the eager boy that rests between your legs, but you know better than anyone that once he’s got himself on a mission it’s almost impossible to pull him out of it.

“This is one of the most iconic horror scenes ever you know?” you ask rhetorically as you weakly swat at the retreating top of his head, only getting a muffled laugh and lowering kisses in response. There’s a wash of shame that fills your chest when you can feel yourself getting wet at the feeling of his touch while such a gorey movie plays, but you can only grumble in response, “is this really what gets you going John? Teenagers getting murdered?”

You turn your head to see at that moment is when the girl is caught by Leatherface, her legs kicking and thrashing in the air for only a moment before he’s shoving her onto one of the meat hooks as she screams in pain.

“Yeah all that screaming and stuff reminds me of how you get,” he taunts as he sits up long enough to start tugging at your pajama shorts, the way you lift your hips to aid in the fabric being pulled down is enough to tell him you want this more than you’re letting on, “and the chainsaw noise kinda reminds me of the vibrator you like so much.”

“I’m gonna go Leatherface on your ass I swear to god,” you kick at his stomach as he laughs, not hard enough to hurt him but enough to please him with your dramatics. He’s also a big fan of how your squirming gives him a better opportunity to catch the bends of your knees in his hands and spread you open for his greedy eyes.

“You can kill me and have my skin after I make you come Ed Gein,” he digs one last time before he lays back onto his stomach, an evil grin filling his face as you scoff.

“Gross don’t call me that,” you protest, your physical response contradicting your words and attitude as you relax back into the blankets beneath you. He may be a weirdo at times, especially when he decides to refer to you by the name of an actual murderer, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s skilled with his tongue and you’d be a fool to deny yourself from experiencing it.

You hear him repeat your words quietly in a mocking tone, but before you can retort, his mouth is on you. His hands still hold onto your legs, shoving them up and to the side, almost enough to strain the muscle, and he shows no hesitation when he lays his tongue flat against you, dragging it slowly from the bottom of your opening and up until the top of his tongue is digging into your clit.

You feel yourself clench around nothing at the feeling, the muscles in your shoulders and back melting further into the fabric as he repeats the motion again. The pleasure and the way you drip on his tongue is almost enough to drown out the sounds of Pam screaming while her boyfriend is chopped to pieces.

“You’re a freak,” you groan as he sucks on your skin. He groans against you in response to words and the way your hands move to weave your fingers into his hair. He picks up lapping against you again when your nails scrape at his scalp, and you feel your eyes rolling at the feeling.

He loses himself easily when he goes down on you, this time, even with the creaking sounds of the film surrounding you, is no different. You feel him relax against you and his hands let go of your legs as he sucks your clit between his full lips. With them free, your legs fall to rest against his back and his hands trail up your torso until they’re pushing under your shirt and grasping at your bare chest.

Your hips rock up into his face all but using his tongue as a sex toy he drools onto your skin. His nails scratch at the sensitive skin of your chest before he starts tugging at your nipples making you whine and pant.

In your squirming, your head falls to the side and you’re greeted with the sight of him gently rocking his hips into the blankets below him. Seeing him so lost in pleasing you that he’s started to seek his own pleasure has you reeling, and you both let out matching moans when his simultaneously hits a certain spot both on you and himself.

“Make me come Johnny,” you say sweetly, your bubbly tone coated in arousal sends shocks of electricity directly to where he grinds against the floor. His tongue gets more eager at your simple request, and his hands leave your chest to lock tightly against your legs, pushing you tightly against his unrelenting mouth.

You can feel your body shifting up, desperately trying to escape the pleasure that bleeds from his mouth. He only moves with you, using the shifting to help pleasure himself. He only lays a few more licks against your sensitive clit before you feel your skin warm and you’re teetering on the edge.

He lets out an animalistic groan against you, pushing you over. You feel your stomach tighten and your eyes roll back hard enough for them to ache, and you’re coming harshly on his tongue. Your mouth hangs open letting you quiet moans slip out and your back arches off the floor.

He licks you through your orgasm, his own rocking through him as he thrusts roughly against the floor, the taste of you combined with the way your fingers tug at his hair being his own personal demise. You two lay there jerking and moaning against the other, while the movie continues to blare in front of you. His tongue becomes more desperate as he comes and it feels like every movement he lays on you sends shocks of pleasure up your spine.

He finally lets go, after turning your brain to liquid with aftershocks, and as he sits up you see the way the evidence of your orgasm coats his mouth and chin and the heavy rise and fall of his chest as he tries to catch his breath.

There’s a moment where you stare at each other dumbly, trying to pull yourselves back to reality and out of the torturous bubble of pleasure you had been trapped in moments ago.

He recovers quicker than you, flopping ungraciously down onto your still shiver form to press his mouth harshly against yours. The taste of you is so prominent on his tongue you can’t help but groan at the taste.

Your hands fly up to the side of his face, holding him against you as you lick into each other's mouths, and you can feel the grins forming on your lips as you kiss.

He breaks away, only for a moment, his eyes squinting and staring into yours before he speaks, “you might want to restart the movie.”

#nct smut #Johnny smut #nct imagine #Johnny imagine #kpop smut #halloweenfic

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shaydeoffical · 3 years

Text

Christmas Under the Lights: Denki Kaminari x Gn! Reader

Summary: (Y/n) is just coming home from a long day at school. They left their partner, Denki Kanmiari, home along for the whole day, and Denki has a surprise for them for the holidays

Word Count: 1.4

Warning: None, fluff, soft, domestic

Author’s note: This was for the Secret Santa event in the BNHA Sanctuary Server. I got permission to share the Y/n version for you all, and I hope you enjoy!

Denki Kaminari xGn Reader

Dancing Under the Stars

Letting my shoulders dip, my backpack slid into my hand and nearly dragged on the street. The snow had been brutal, filling up the sidewalks and creating a dense screen that wouldn’t let me see more than a few feet ahead at a time. My phone buzzed in my pocket, the familiar sound of Electric Love, making me want to dance in the street, played. Covering the screen with one hand and bring it close to my eyes, I accepted the call.

“Hey love,” my lips quivered, “did you make it home safe?”

“You’re not home yet?” His voice picked up; shuffling could be heard in the background. “Where are you?”

“I’m by the old bakery. Where are you?” I gripped the front of my coat tighter, the wind picking up.

“I was home, but I had to go pick up something.” Keys jingled, and the front door slammed. “I’m coming to get you, just find a place to shelter down.”

“Babe, it’s too dangerous to drive,” I argued, tucking behind a tree for the moment. “I’m close enough to home. It’ll be fine.”

“If you’re so close, then let me come get you.” The car door shut, and I heard the heater turn on.

“I don’t think arguing with you is going to work.” Leaning against the tree, I tucked my head deeper into my hood. “Just be safe.”

“You got it.” He hung up, and I knew he’d be here in just a few moments. He’d always be my personal hero, no matter how large or small the task was. There he’d be, chasing away the crowds or opening pickle jars for me. It was the small gestures that assured me I was loved. He did grand acts for the public almost daily, but I was the only person he sang to sleep at night.

The cold was less bitter as my heart raced. He was a simple man, easy to please, even easier to make laugh. There was no one else I wanted to see at this very moment. Closing my eyes, I thought back to meeting at the grocery store. He had the goofiest smile as he asked for my number. If he hadn’t been so charming, I would have turned him away, but he was a cutie. I’m so glad I did give him a chance; while the life of a pro hero was hard to deal with, we made it work.

A honk caught my attention, and the blonde jumped out of his car, carrying a blanket. “There you are.” He wrapped me uptight and kissed my forehead, his lips like fire on my icy skin.

“On second thought, I’m glad you came to get me.” He took my school bag, and we piled into the car. The heater was going full blast and was still warm from when he had run out earlier. “Thank you, baby.”

“Of course,” he tapped my leg, pulling onto the road and taking it nice and slow.

“I’m glad to be out of the storm.” I checked my phone now that snow wasn’t in my eyes. “Oh, I missed your text earlier. So you have a surprise waiting for me?” I hummed along to the song on the radio.

“Yea, it was my first day off in a while, and I wanted to do something special. Though it was more difficult than I imagined it’d be.” He pulled into our driveway and walked around to get my door.

“Thank you, baby.” We entered the house and began to remove all the winter layers.

Denki reached forward and undid my scarf. “This is the one I got you, right?”

“It is. I wear it almost every day.” I bopped his forehead, sliding off my boots. “Did you just notice?”

“No, I just. I’ve been thinking about how terrible my gift was last year.” He kept smiling, but I could see the sorrow in his eyes.

“I love my scarf.” I squished his face between my cold hands, his blush dissipating.

“You went all out for my gift. Scarf pails next to a nice electric guitar.” He shuffled to the kitchen, working on some tea for the both of us.

“Well, that was a gift for me too. I love to hear you play.” I perked on the kitchen counter, sucking in my lower lip. “Besides, the first year a couple is together, their gifts are normally a little underwhelming.”

“But yours wasn’t.” He set out the cups, focusing on the stirring spoons.

“Well, I’m sure you’re going to blow me away this time.” I took his hand and ran my fingers over his knuckles. He perked up at the mention of this year.

“Yea, I’ve made up for it this time. I know it’s early, but I’m so excited to show you.” The teapot was ready, so I poured it while Denki got the bag ready to be steeped.

“Well, now, I’m curious.” I humored the blonde from time to time, but I had a feeling this was about to be impressive. “We can look after we warm up a bit, okay?”

“I don’t think I can wait that long.” He hugged me from behind, his body radiating heat. “So I’ll have to warm you up faster than the tea.”

“That’s one way to do it.” I hugged his arms, both of us swaying back and forth. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to go ahead and see the surprise. “Okay, let’s see it.”

“Yay,” he held my hand, guiding me to our bedroom. “You’re going to love this. Close your eyes.”

I did as asked, the soft hum of old music began to pour from the room. Stepping into our bedroom, I could sense the plush carpet under my bare feet, and I wondered why there were little hard pieces under my toes.

“Open.” It took a moment for my eyes to adjust. The whole room was blacked out, our drapes tapes down, and the little red light from the tv is gone.

“What’s going on?” I reached out, trying to find out where my boyfriend was, but I couldn’t find him. Lights suddenly came on, the ceiling full of Christmas lights.

“It’s the constellations!” he beamed, coming from the power strip I could barely see on the floor. “We live in the city, so I know it’s hard for you to see the stars. I wanted to bring them to us.”

“Denki.” His name fell from my lips, a smile growing the longer I looked at the detail. There weren’t just Christmas lights but glow in the dark stickers, fairy lights, and a galaxy projector in the corner. He flipped a switch, and the whole room looked like the milky way. “I’m speechless.”

“So you like it?” He pulled me close, swaying with the music that played. Listening closer, I suddenly realized it was the music they played to the rovers on Mars. Resting my head on his shoulder, I inhaled his cologne and tried to remember how it felt to be in this moment.

Being pressed against the person I loved most, dancing under the stars. His hands tapping against my lower back, his breath tickling my ear, the faint outline of his grin, all making my heart pound. I wanted to live in this exact moment forever.

“I love it.” I leaned back, spinning him. “This might just be the best gift of all time.” Hyping him up, he spun me this time, laughing.

“Hey, next year will be even better.” He assured me. “I’m going to take you to see the real stars, far away from the city lights.”

“That sounds magical too.” I gripped his chest.

“I have one more thing I want to do.” He suddenly stopped, squaring his shoulders and nodding. “May I have this kiss?”

“Oh,” if my heart wasn’t already soaring, it was now bouncing it’s way to my throat. “Of course.”

“Merry Christmas (Y/n), I love you.” He bent down, our lips meeting in a soft peck. I could taste the peppermint from our tree that he had been sneaking. “Why are you laughing?”

“I’m just thinking about how cute you are.” I gripped his cheeks, going in for a deeper kiss. When we pulled apart, he was putty in my hand. “That’s the spirit.” I pushed his hair back, the static giving me a familiar shock. “I love you, Denki.”

Bonus:

“Ahhh, the teas cold.” Denki was crestfallen coming back into the kitchen. After some debate about how much those lights would affect the electric bill, we decided to discuss it over our tea. More time had passed than we realized, and the water was, at best, tepid.

“It’s okay, we can make some more.” I chuckled, getting the kettle back on. “How about hot cocoa this time?”

“Sounds great.” He perked back up at the mention of cocoa, his eyes going to the tree. “I know I’ve already eaten half the candy canes, but can I have just one more for my cocoa?”

“Go for it, babe.”

We fixed up our mugs and cuddled on the couch. Both of us tangled into our blankets, a movie on in the background. It had been a cold day, but my hero had shown up just in time. There was the warmest aura in my chest, and I knew it wasn’t from the cocoa. I held Denki’s hand and kissed his knuckles. He was the best gift I could ask for, any day of the year.

#bnha x reader #bnha imagines #denki kaminari #denki x reader #pro hero denki #pro hero chargebolt #christmas #Christmas special #holiday #x reader #x body neutral #ambershaydeoffical

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floatingpetals · 5 years

Text

Thief in the Night

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: literally all fluff

Word Count:2000+

Summary: She tried to talk to him about it. It’s been an issue with Steve for as long as she could remember. But every night, it always ended the same.

A/N: There is like no plot to this lol. It’s just all fluffy goodness. I needed a little break from my series stuff and this just kinda crapped out. I hope you all enjoy! Please reblog and let me know what you think! ❤❤

Gifs not mine, credit to the creator!

Frigged cold air licked at her legs, instantly causing Y/N to curl up in a ball deep in her sleep. The sudden temperature changed made a frown to tug at her lips and her brows to crease. Her teeth started to chatter, and her body trembled as the chill set in. It didn’t take her long to wake with a start and blink groggily. In her haze, Y/N’s wondered just why the hell she was so freaking cold.

She groaned and stuck her hand out behind her, blindly reaching for the sheet and comforter she was one hundred percent certain she had wrapped around her when she fell asleep. She paused when she felt a lump behind her, a warm thoroughly wrapped up lump that was happily snoring away.

“Of course,” she grumbled.

Y/N rolled over to her back and glared at the back of her sleeping boyfriend beside her. Just because she couldn’t see his face, didn’t mean she wasn’t fully aware of the relaxed and unfazed expression on his face. Steve Grant Rogers had gone and done it again. Not like she could really get upset with him; he didn’t exactly mean to steal the sheets. But he was the reason the room was so stupid cold; Steve ran insanely hot at night for some reason and needed the air in the room to be cooler to not overheat. Y/N didn’t’ mind that. She did, however, not appreciate him stealing her comforters.

She glared for a moment longer before decided to take her comforter back. It took her a moment to find a way to wiggle under the covers, but once she did, she plastered herself to his back and wrapped her arms around his waist. Unsurprisingly, he was radiating heat like the massive furnace he was. He didn’t even flinch when she settled against him, his snores continued without missing a beat.

Well, that can’t do, Y/N thought to herself with a wicked grin. Nuzzling her nose into the crook of his neck and she let out a breathy sigh. She couldn’t hold back her grin as she shuffled her legs further under the sheets and pressed her frigid feet against his stupidly warm calves. At the same time, she slid her equally freezing hands up under his white t-shirt and shoved them up to rest on his pecks.

His reaction was instantaneous. His eyes flew open with a hiss and his body reflexively lurched to get away. Y/N giggled and tightened her grip around his chest and slid her feet up his legs.

“Jesus Christ!” He yelped when her freezing foot climbed up his thigh. He shot a hand out to stop her from going higher, his grip tight in warning. “Why are you so damn cold?!”

“Me?” Y/N counter indignantly. “You’re the butt munch who stole the sheets! Again!”

Steve bit his lip, the frustration of being woken up fading away when he took note of his position under the several layers of blankets. It was an old habit of his, from before the serum when he lost body heat regularly. Bucky always used to say he looked like he was in a cocoon whenever he’d spend the night on Bucky’s old couch. He didn’t realize how inconvenient it was until he started dating Y/N a year ago and they had the same outcome every night they spent together. Sighing, he unclenched and started unwrapping the blankets to drape over her behind him.

“’M sorry,” He murmured. Y/N snorted and snuggled closer against him. If she couldn’t get her own space, then fine. She’d cling like a koala and he’d lose his.

“I know you are.” She sighed and pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. A purr rumbled in his chest, the soft-touch causing his eye to flutter close. One of his hands reached under his shirt to cover hers, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against the back of her hand. “Still doesn’t mean we’re gonna overlook your problem.”

Steve smirked and shook his head. He had a feeling this wasn’t gonna end that easily. She had already given him an earful about it a few nights ago before bed. He wasn’t intentionally ignoring her. It was a work in progress.

“I know.” He murmured. “I don’t mean to…”

Y/N hummed and let her head fall on the pillow. She let out a heavy sigh and tried to fall back asleep. Unfortunately, she knew it wasn’t going to be that easy. Once she was up, it took a long while for her to fall back asleep, unlike the thief in the night who could fall asleep on a dime. She hated that but also loved knowing it was because of her presence that Steve to felt safe enough to fall asleep so quickly. He had a lot of weight on his shoulders, so any help she could give, Y/N was happy for it.

However, for her, her brain just wouldn’t stop thinking. It was a constant buzz in the back of her head that no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t get it to shut up. Ever. Case in point, right now it kept asking the question what the hell made him still yank covers despite his temperature running higher than it used to be.

“Steve,” Y/N whispered. Steve answered with a teeny groan. Y/N pouted and tried again with a shimmy of her hips. “Steve.”

He didn’t respond and when he started to snore, Y/N knew he was back asleep. The giant jerk. Well, that just wouldn’t do. She was up because of him and he wasn’t getting away with it that easily. Gently tugging her hand from his grip, she reached down and dug her knuckled into his side between his rib cages. It wouldn’t hurt him, but it was a sure-fire way to wake him up. Steve snorted and jerked, his eyes flying open wide.

“Whas happened?” He slurred and blearily rubbed his eyes.

“I can’t sleep.” She stated simply. Steve grumbled and rolled over to face her in her arms. Unsurprisingly, he had an exhausted look on his face. It was clear how hard he was struggling to keep his heavy eyelids open.

“Aw, m’ sorry baby.” He cooed and raised a hand to rest on her cheek. Y/N watched amused as his eyelids drooped shut in seconds on relaxing into her bed. His hand fell with a soft smack on her cheek and Y/N couldn’t stop the laughter tumbling from her mouth. Steve jerked awake once again.

“Y/N,” He whined. Y/N giggled at his pout which only made her laugh harder. He grumbled under his breath and forced her face into the crook of his neck.

“Steve!” She snickered but didn’t fight his embrace. He shushed her halfheartedly and started to run his hand down the back of her head. Well, more like drug his heavy fingers down her head in a sleepy attempt to quiet her.

“Go to sleep,” He mumbled. Y/N scoffed.

“If only it was that easy.”

“It is. Just close your eyes and shhh….”

“But that’s not-,”

“Shh sh sh,” Steve interjected, his speech falling off as he slowly succumbed to sleep. Again.

Now her brain wouldn’t stop jumping from how she was going to wake him up again to what the hell she was going to wear tomorrow, to what she was going to have for lunch. Groaning softly under her breath, Y/N knew this was fruitless and started to wiggle out of Steve’s grip. Steve inhaled sharply, and sluggishly stirred as she shimmed off the bed.

“Where you goin’?” He called sleepily. Y/N stood at the end of the bed and looked over to Steve. He was utterly adorable, with the pile of blankets wrapped up around him and just his face peeking out of the mass as he squinted in the darkness to see her.

“I’m going to make some tea and maybe take some Benadryl so I can fall back asleep since someone was so kind and woke me up.”

Steve frowned and rolled over, mentally debating on whether he should get up to follow after her. The bed was colder without her, the safety blanket he had gone with her. Exhaling dramatically, Steve shoved the blankets off and grabbed one of the thick blankets on top to wrap around himself. Shuffling down the hall, Steve stopped at the entrance of the kitchen and watched Y/N start the electric kettle.

She was humming softly to herself, grabbing a bag of tea from the box in the pantry completely oblivious to the looming man behind her. Y/N turned around to go to where the mugs were and nearly flew out of her skin.

“Jesus!” Her squeaked and her hand flew to her chest. “What the hell?”

“You left me alone.” He pouted. Y/N sighed and rubbed her temple.

“I went-. I told-,” Taking in a deep breath, Y/N shook her head deciding it was best just to let it go. “Never mind. You’re lucky your cute.”

A soft smile grew on Steve’s face and a warm fuzzy feeling settle in his stomach. In the back of his mind, he knew she was poking fun at him, but he was going to take the compliment at face value. It was too early to be sarcastic back. He scuffled across the kitchen and wrapped his arms around Y/N waist. A sweet thought, but in his sleepy state, Steve wasn’t aware of how his body weight sagged down on her.

“O-okay,” Y/N staggered under his bulk. She braced her hands against the counter and spread her legs out keep from collapsing. “Steve, you can’t- I’m not equipped to carry you, baby.”

“Mhm.” Steve’s voice was muffled against her neck, but he didn’t move from his spot. He was comfy where he was.

“So… This is just our life now I guess?” Y/N teased. She couldn’t move even if she wanted to with his weight on her back and he only seemed to grow heavier the deeper he slipped into unconsciousness. The kettle went off, the shrill beeping pulling a pitiful groan from Steve in her ear. “Baby just go back to bed. You’re barely standing as it is. I’ll be there in a few minutes, I promise.”

He mumbled incoherently under his breath but gave in. He pressed a sloppy kiss to her neck, nearly missing the mark before he stumbled back to their share bedroom. Y/N giggled and made up her tea before she headed back to the room.

Steve had flicked on a lamp on Y/N’s side of the bed. She paused when she saw he spread the blankets out, putting a few extra on her spot, before crawling up underneath them. He was out like a light, his arm slung on her side of the bed snoring softly against the pile of pillows. Y/N melted at the sight, her lips turning up in a loving smile.

Y/N set her mug on the bedside table and slowly lifted his arm to shimmy underneath. His eyes fluttered open briefly and gave her a lopsided grin. Y/N smiled back and leaned down to press a kiss to his temple.

“Go to sleep,” Y/N whispered gently. Steve hummed and gently squeezed her hip. She had just sat up when she heard his snores once again. That punk, she thought jealously. Rolling her eyes, she grabbed her mug and settled in to be awake until her brain finally let her sleep. By the time she was able to drift to sleep, the tea was long gone, and her day was planned out down to the second. It was a good thing it was Friday and they didn’t have anything incredibly important to do the next day.

She flicked off the lamp and nestled in beside Steve with a happy sigh. Unconsciously, he pulled her close and nuzzled his face into her neck. A content sigh fell from his lips and he held her tight. She fell asleep with a happy smile against her blanket stealing boyfriend.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #reader insert #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel imagine #captain america imagine #steve rogers fluff #captain america fluff #fluff #imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #fic

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lippskinn · 4 years

Text

Limit to Love

Pairing: Sirius x Remus

Rating: R

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Angst, Medical Conditions, Starvation, Nudity

The bear-like dog trotted down a narrow road in the Yorkshire Dales. It had crossed miles of barren land and had finally reached the last stretch of the journey. Tired and hungry, it dragged itself up to the stone cottage on top of the hill. The place looked uninhabited and resembled more of a sheep shelter than a house; roof tiles were strewn across the land and the door was boarded up with planks of thick wood. As the dog reached the door, it barked, and as the door opened, a familiar face welcomed it. Once inside, the dog turned into a man.

The cottage looked slightly bigger on the inside. It had only one room with a tiny kitchen. The bathroom was separated from the rest of the space by a curtain to grant a bit of privacy. Everything was tidy yet worn; most things were held in place by duct tape, and Sirius noticed the claw and bite marks on the furniture. Remus apologized repeatedly for the state of his house, but Sirius was simply glad to have a roof above his head; anything was better than the cold cave in the Highlands.

The journey South had quite literally eaten him up. The famished human before Remus was much skinnier than the man he had hugged in the Shrieking Shack (if that was even possible). Sirius looked beyond exhausted, yet desperate to tell Remus what had happened at the Triwizard Tournament. Something about Harry, Voldemort, Mad-Eye Moody and a dead student. He had such trouble focusing, however, that none of it made sense.

When Remus offered Sirius to sit down, he almost collapsed on the couch, stretched out his limbs, closed his eyes, heaved a sigh and fell asleep on the spot. He had mustered his last bit of energy to reach the house. Remus stroked his head and cheek and put a strand of hair back behind his ear. He watched Sirius’ chest lift and lower. The old prison uniform hung so loosely on his body that Remus could see every single rib protrude from under the tightly stretched, scaly skin covered in scabs and dirt. A whiff of dried faeces, wet dog and putrid breath surrounded him. His head fell back onto the couch’s backrest, and his mouth gaped wide open. The sounds he made reminded Remus of a dementor drawing closer; the rattling and laboured breath.

Remus figured he wouldn’t wake up anytime soon and wrapped him in a blanket for the night. He gently lifted Sirius’ arms, which were about the size of walking sticks, and tugged the blanket under them. Despite their feather-light weight, the joins were stiff, and they were difficult to move. Remus feared he would break them if he moved them too much. He tried to take off the boots as well; completely removed the laces, widened them and then carefully pulled on them as the full sole came off with it. There were no socks left. His feet were bare and covered in black blisters and lesions. Remus gagged.

He carried what was left of the boots with two fingers, threw them in a bin bag, washed his hands and face, took a deep breath, and checked on Sirius again. He looked like an old man on his deathbed; cheeks hollow, skin stretched tightly over the face, thin nose and sunken eyes. If Remus hadn’t been notified that Sirius was going to visit, he would not have recognized him. He’d been desperate to reconnect with his best friend but felt slightly repulsed by the state of him and at the same time worried he wouldn’t make the night.

So, Remus found himself tiptoeing around him all night. Always alarmed as soon as he made a sound; checked his breath, checked his pulse, watched him closely and added as many blankets as possible. An electric jolt ripped through his intestines every time Sirius coughed and sighed in his sleep keeping him awake until the early morning hours.

That morning, Sirius woke up early with Remus still resting on his shoulder. He stretched, gave Remus a kiss on his forehead, and got up to make some tea for the pair. Finally, Remus was woken by the sound of the kettle whistling, pushed off the pile of blankets, and joined Sirius, who was reading yesterday’s newspaper, at the table. Remus had a slightly lopsided gait and slumped down on the chair as he got to the table. He gave Sirius a wry smile and thanked him as he poured a cup.

“It’s the first time you’re staying for breakfast”, he joked moving in his chair visibly in pain.

“Just ignore my groaning. It will go away eventually,” he added seeing the worried look on Sirius’ face, “did you sleep well?”

“It was the most comfortable in a long while”, Sirius smirked and eyed Remus over the edge of his cup. He made a sound like a suppressed laugh and put his cup down. Remus noticed he’d been making the same sound throughout the night. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

When Remus got the letter from Dumbledore that Sirius was on the way to his home, there was no doubt about letting him stay whatsoever. Their last meeting, a year ago, had ended abruptly and they had not had time to talk. Now, that he was Sirius was awake, Remus hoped to learn a bit more about the events.

“I was waiting for an article in the paper but all they wrote was that Cedric died in the tournament”, said Remus pointing at the paper Sirius was reading, “they dismissed it as an accident.”

“The Prophet has always been a pile of rubbish”, scoffed Sirius, “that Barnabas Cuffe has his nose so deep in Fudge’s bum, he can smell what Fudge had for breakfast.”

“I’m sure Fudge will do anything in his power to lull the public. They cannot afford to admit that Voldemort has returned. Not after they let you escape.”

“Frankly, I couldn’t care less. Let the whole ship go down and Fudge with it,” Sirius took another sip from his mug and set it down a little too hard. Something seemed to fall shut behind Sirius’ eyes. He stared at the cup in front of him for a couple of seconds, licked his lips and then seemed to snap out of it again. “Fudge only cares about a good article in the papers. He’d never do what’s right if it gave him a bad rep.”

“Do you think it will be like last time?”

Sirius seemed to ponder his answer. He scratched his beard, took another sip from his cup, waited a long time to swallow and said, “No.”

“Did Dumbledore tell you anything?”

“He sent me here. It’s not like I’ll be much of help, anyway, is it?”

Remus felt the strong urge to hug Sirius but all that came out of his mouth was, “I think you should rest. Take a shower, eat something, sleep. Dumbledore won’t be here before midnight and he’ll be happy to know I didn’t let you starve.”

“Do you still keep the chocolate in your nightstand?”

“There’s a limit to love, “Remus got up and put his cup in the sink, “I need to go to town. You have the whole place to yourself. Enjoy yourself. Not too much.”

“This is the happiest I’ve been in years.”

Remus smiled and a distinctive crease formed on his forehead. He turned away from Sirius, breathed out and in and limped over to the wardrobe where he’d hung a suit the night before. Sirius watched him take off his pyjamas. Nothing he hadn’t seen before and yet he couldn’t help but stare. His chest was covered in pink and white scar tissue and his body looked like someone who had worked heavy, manual labour all his life.

“Since when are you wearing suits?”, asked Sirius, “I thought suits were for posh people?”

“Since I am a registered werewolf and might have lied to my landlord about a steady income.”

“Is that your business in town?”

Remus froze, dropped his pants and then swiftly pulled them up, “I’m going to the store. Do you need anything?”

“A pair of new boots. Mine magically vanished overnight.”

“What boots?”, laughed Lupin, grabbed a heavy key and opened the door, “I’ll be back soon.”

Sirius watched Remus limp down the hill to the main road. As far as he could tell, it must have been an hour on foot to the closest town. Once Remus had turned left and disappeared behind a stone wall, Sirius cleaned the kitchen table and sat down on a chair. Although he'd only just woken up, he felt overpowering tiredness and his arms felt heavy. He was torn between hunger and sleep and couldn't decide if he wanted to raid the fridge or crawl under a blanket. He stared down on his feet and picked at the remaining fabric of his socks. With one tug, the cotton crumbled and he removed the tatters. His ankles were swollen and he noticed how much his feet were hurting from the journey. Every step felt like walking on eggshells. He rubbed his legs and decided that a bath would probably be best while Remus was gone.

Sirius poured himself a scorching hot bath and steam filled the whole house. He slipped out of his prison uniform and carefully sank into the water. It was as if layers of dirt were peeling off his body and he suddenly felt feather-light. He closed his eyes, leaned back and enjoyed the warmth. Every inch of his body ached as the water turned muddy. Soon the overbearing tiredness returned, he rested his head on the edge and let himself soak in the water. Sleep had won.

The next thing he knew was a wet and frantic Remus rubbing his chest with a towel. He was lying naked on the floor in front of the bathtub, his back propped against Remus legs whose jacket was dripping wet.

"How long have you been in there? I was away for three hours."

Sirius shivered. The last thing he remembered, he'd poured himself a nice warm bath. Remus had dropped the groceries by the door when he hadn't received a reply from Sirius. He'd dragged him out of the cold bathwater by his arms and put him on the floor to check if he was still alive.

"You could have drowned!"

Remus aggressively dried the rest of Sirius' body, wrapped him in a blanket and leaned him against the tub.

"I fell asleep", murmured Sirius drowsily.

"The water is ice cold", Remus put a finger in the muddy water and then removed the strands of wet hair from Sirius' face, "you could have died." Remus pulled himself up by the tub and pulled the plug. He gave Sirius the towel to cover himself and cleaned out the remaining dirt in the tub. He then walked over to the door where he’d dropped the groceries, collected them, placed them on the kitchen table and took off his wet jacket. “I’ll make us some tea and then we’ll start another attempt at making you look presentable. You look like the last survivor of a hunger strike.”

Remus gave Sirius a hand to pull him up; the towel slipped off him, and Sirius stood naked and shivering in front of Remus. He had a nasty scar on his shoulder, which Remus immediately identified as a werewolf bite. Remus shook his head, bit his lip and said, “Sit down.” He helped Sirius sit down on the edge of the tub, took the showerhead, turned on the water and felt the temperature with his hand. “Lean back, I’ll hold you.” Remus had rolled up his sleeves not to get wet and held Sirius with one arm while rinsing his hair with his other free hand. Sirius was still shivering, he had closed his eyes and let the water run over his head. The hair was matted and brittle; steaks washed down the drain as Remus tried to untangle them.

“We might have to try some of James’ hair brews or you’ll have to let me cut it off”, suggested Remus.

“There’s a limit to love, Remus.”

#wolfstar #sirius x remus #hp fanfiction #hurt #remus lupin #sirius black #hp #post azkaban #angst #oneshot #lying low at lupin's #hp headcanon #Remus x Sirius #hp meta #Harry potter #Padfoot #Moony #Marauders

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stormcrawler75 · 5 years

Note

For the Hero/villain ideas: Patton as a villain who is always willing to watch out for young heroes (capture instead of kill, give them snacks, etc.)

This is part 1! Here’s Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Virgil groaned as he woke up. His head was pounding and it felt like he had been run over by a truck. Several times. Virgil tried to move his hands up from his sides to cup his head but his hands only twitched in response. He forced his eyes open and looked down at himself. He was covered head to toe in bandages and was lying down on a large bed. He raised to his head.

His stomach dropped. This wasn’t his room.

That was when the memory from the night before hit him. He had been called by one of the older heroes, The Prince, to help out with a group of thugs that The Prince thought had been hired by one of the city’s villains. He had asked Virgil to take care of them while he went after the villain himself.

Virgil had agreed. Even though he never handled the big name villains like the Prince, usually going after things that the big heroes didn’t have time for, but he wasn’t about to let these thugs walk around his neighbourhood and do whatever they wanted.

He had thought that everything was going fine. It was a small group of people unloading boxes from vans. Virgil had recognized the logos on the boxes as Dr. Logic’s. A man that had a history of selling to villains. He hadn’t hesitated to attack. It had been an easy fight, Virgil disarming the grunts easily and knocking them out. But it had been a setup. The first box he had opened up had released a violent electric shock up his body that had sent Virgil to the ground. He didn’t remember anything else after that.

Whoever had been brought those boxes had known that a hero would be coming to stop them. And had decided to keep Virgil as a little prize.

Panic started to set in. What were they going to do to him? His mask was gone so they probably knew who he was and his powers weren’t responding. This was a nightmare.

Virgil had heard stories about villains did to heroes, had seen some of the Prince’s scars. He hadn’t thought he’d ever had to deal with that sort of thing. Virgil didn’t deal with villains, he dealt with street crimes. He never thought that a villain would be coming after him. He never should’ve taken this job, he was going to be killed, tortured, picked apart piece by piece.

A whimper escaped Virgil when he heard a door creak open. He tried to steel himself for what he knew was coming next. He had to be strong, he had to be strong. Prince would come for him, he would. He just needed to hold out until then.

He looked around the room desperately for something that he could use to fight back but there was nothing. It was an empty room with only the bed Virgil was on, another door that had to hold something terrible in it, and a chair beside it to fill it. He tried to sit up but his muscles barely twitched. Had he been drugged?

The door swung open and Virgil shrunk back into his bed. Be brave, be brave, be brave.

A man, short built with blond curly hair walked in with a covered tray in his hands. He was wearing khakis pants and a blue polo shirt with a grey sweater tied around his shoulders. He looked over at Virgil and smiled happily when he saw Virgil looking back at him. “You’re awake! Good morning, Shadow!”

Virgil clenched his jaw and stared defiantly back at him. He went through the list of villains in his head and tried to match this man to one of them but no one stood out in his mind as this man. Maybe another member of the villain’s crew?

“I’m glad you’re awake,” the man sighed. “I’m so sorry that this happened. I thought that it was going to be The Prince who would be going after my crew, not you. I should’ve known better than to think that, especially since you tend to look out for that side of the city.” He kicked the door closed behind him and set the tray down on the tray.

“What’d you do to me?” Virgil asked. He cursed himself when he heard the waver in his voice, something that the man had picked up on, no doubt.

The man smiled at him reassuringly. “Just a shot that’ll keep you from moving for a while. I couldn’t have you running around my home, now could I, kiddo?”

Virgil tensed up when the man walked over to the closet and start rummaging inside. He glanced over to the tray on the chair and tried to imagine what could be under it. What was this man going to do to him?”

The man turned around with a pile of blankets, something that made Virgil blink in confusion. He watched as the man laid blanket after blanket over him, tucking him in as he went.

“My name’s Patton, by the way,” the man, Patton, chirped. “You’re gonna be here for a few days so I thought that I should tell you. It was going to get really awkward really quickly if I hadn’t. I wouldn’t want you to not know what to call me. So you can call me Patton, or whatever makes you comfortable.”

Virgil asked hesitantly, “And what does your boss call you?”

Patton paused in his task and stared at Virgil. Slowly, a smile grew on his lips and a bubbly laugh came out of him. “Oh, oh kiddo!” He shook his head in amusement. “I think you got me mistaken for someone else. I know that I don’t get out much and there aren’t many pictures taken of me so maybe I shouldn’t be surprised that you don’t know you I am.”

He leaned over and brushed Virgil’s bangs out of his eyes. “I think you’ll know the name ‘Heart’ better than Patton.”

Virgil’s breath hitched. Oh fuck. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.

It wasn’t his luck that he had been caught by a bad guy. He had to be caught by the bad guy. The big one.

Heart was known by everyone. He was an Empath and one of the villains that every Hero knew to be on the lookout for. He was the villain that seemed to have a hand in everything that happened in the city. The real-life boogieman parents warned their kids about.

And now Virgil was his prisoner.

“No need to be scared, kiddo,” Patton cooed. “I know I have a bit of a reputation among Heroes but I’d never hurt a young one. You’re only fourteen, aren’t you?”

“How do you know that?” Virgil asked, fear rising. He was trembling, shaking now. Any chance of staying strong was slipping through his fingers and he wasn’t sure that he’d be able to handle it if Patton started anything.

“I did some digging when my crew brought you in!” Patton sat on the edge of his bed and patted his limp hand. “Virgil Shae, fourteen years old, lives at the city’s Orphanage and is a freshman in High School. You got some cool powers there, kiddo, they’re really something else. You do great work with them!” He leaned over to the tray and uncovered it, placing the dome on the floor. On the tray, was a plate of orange slices and a cup of apple juice with a bendy straw bobbing inside.

Confusion replaced his fear and Virgil could only stare at the plate in bemusement. Was the juice laced with something? Was Patton just playing with him? “What are you playing at?” He asked with an edge in his voice. “When are you going to drop this act and start it?”

“It?” Patton cocked his head. “Kiddo, I think you’re confused. I’m not going to hurt you. You’re just gonna stay here for a few days while I wait for Prince to show his head.” He picked up an orange slice and popped it in his mouth. “I took another young Hero a few months ago. He was poking around one of my operations. I think his name’s Sleep. Did I hurt him?”

Virgil thought back to the story that Sleep had told him about his brief time as a prisoner of Heart. He hadn’t been hurt at all. Kept in a room with plenty of books and a Gameboy to keep him entertained. A minion would give him a plate of food every few hours and he was released after a few days. Sleep didn’t say much about it but was insistent on the fact that Heart had never touched him. Not once. He shook his head.

“See! I promise you’re safe.” Patton grinned and held an orange slice to Virgil’s lips. “Now, you haven’t eaten for a whole day now and you need to get something in your stomach. Eat.”

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

“I’m telling you, Prince,” Virgil said in a bored voice. “No matter how many times you ask, the answer won’t change. He didn’t hurt me. I was drugged up for a few hours and I wasn’t able to move much or use my powers. The muscle thing wore off though and I was fine. I was given food and wasn’t touched.” He shrugged. “Heart gave me a DS to play around with.”

“What?!” Sleep crossed his arms petulantly. He was sitting on the edge of roof him, Virgil, and The Prince was standing on. Virgil was sitting a few meters away from him and Prince was pacing between them anxiously. “That just ain’t fair, gurl. He only gave me a Gameboy.”

“Sucks to be you,” Virgil drawled. Remy flipped him the bird in reply.

Prince stepped between them. “That’s enough. Now, are you sure he didn’t hurt you, Vee? You said he knew your name?”

Virgil nodded. “Yeah, knew a lot about me. Knew where I live too.”

Prince sighed and shook his head. “That’s not good. He has both of your names now. Okay, I’m not taking any risks. I let you go back home, Rem, but now? You’re both relocating to my HQ. We need to keep you both safe. We might have to get you guys new IDs. This is such a mess.”

“He’s not that bad,” Virgil shrugged. “He seemed to like us, at least.”

Remy nodded. “Maybe he just doesn’t like you, Princey.”

Prince gasped dramatically and clasped his hands to his chest. “Everyone likes me! Heart just doesn’t appreciate my witty banter, that’s all!”

Virgil rolled his eyes and stood up. “Whatever, Princey. Now, are you gonna show us our new digs or not? I’m hungry. Patton might be nice but he didn’t give me many snacks except for orange slices.”

Remy grinned at him. “Sucks to be you. He gave me some pineapple.”

“What?! Lucky jerk!”

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#tw swearing #torture mention

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bitsandbobsandstuff · 6 years

Text

Best. Date. Ever.

Summary: This wasn’t quite what you had in mind.

Characters: Bucky x Reader Warnings: Bad language. A smidgen of murder. A splash of fluff.

A/N: This was written for the lovely @abovethesmokestacks ‘s summer challenge, and I’m a slacker who’s a week late, so thank goodness Pia’s amazing! This story came about because I was seriously coveting these shoes and because Pia gave me a super cheeky dialogue prompt, which you’ll find bolded in the story. Enjoy!

A/N 2: Check out Best. Proposal. Ever. to read more of these two!

If you want on or off the tag list, send me an ask!

MASTERLIST

Dress up, he ordered. Something fancy and sexy. I got a plan.

It sounded promising. A night at the ballet perhaps, or tickets to the opera. Dinner and dancing, maybe. Something classy. Something elegant.

After eyeing them in the window, you decide to buy that pair of outrageously expensive Jimmy Choo’s for the evening, anticipating something spectacular.

Well.

It was something alright.

*****

Black satin clutch tucked tight beneath your arm.

Quiet steps on the balls on your feet.

Gun drawn, cocked and aimed, you tiptoe down the dim hallway, keeping to the shadows, avoiding the puddles of yellow light spilling from vintage sconces lining the wall.

The target looms ahead, a heavy black door at the end of the corridor and a steady stream of quiet curses slips from clenched teeth as you move, damning his dumb ass to hell and back.

Eyeing the narrow beam of light lining the bottom of the door, you pause when muffled laughter slips beneath the crack. Momentarily confused, you wonder if you have the wrong room.

Nope.

“Answer the fucking question,” a frustrated voice suddenly shouts, followed by the dull thunk of metal slapping skin. Bucky’s responding groan is long and low, a guttural sound ripped from deep in his chest.

It sounds desperate.

It sounds wounded.

It sounds – excessively theatrical.

Of course.

Is it possible to roll your eyes so hard you see your brain?

Leaning into the door, you press an ear to the thick ebony wood. There’s a hum of unintelligible muttering and then plain as day, you hear Bucky’s cheerful response.

“Yeah, no. Feels like you’re hard of hearing there, big boy. You wanna hand me that knife? Let me clean out your ears real nice and careful like? Or maybe you were that stupid kid sitting too close to the TV growing up, watching cartoons while your Mommy was running around banging the mailma – ow! Fucking ouch god dammit, what the hell’s the matter with you?! Who the hell stabs someone? That fucking hurt!”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sigh.

Here’s the thing.

Now and then, the avenging gets slow. It happens occasionally, not often, but enough for you to discover an interesting personality twist. When the avenging gets slow, Bucky Barnes gets bored. And a bored Bucky Barnes is – concerning. Full of pent up energy, leaking sarcasm and sass, he has a small tendency to find trouble.

It’s not trouble, it’s called saving the world, he always argues.

It’s not saving the world, it’s called gratuitous chaos, you always respond.

The voice comes back, full of fury. Electricity pops and sizzles and suddenly Bucky swears at the top of his lungs.

“Wait, wait, wait, stop! Damn, fine, fine. You got me, just stop, please, I’ll talk, I’ll talk, let’s talk…about the fact that your mom was totally fucking the mailman, I mean come on – “

The sound of electricity buzzes louder and he howls in pain.

“Say it again,” you hear the voice snarl, followed by Bucky’s breathless reply.

“No joke man, you touch me with that thing again, I’ll shove it so far up your ass you’ll shit sparks for a week.”

In addition to the whole trouble thing? He’s also a massive drama queen.

“This is bullshit, Bucky” you hiss at the door, glancing at the absurdly expensive heels and reaching to brush dust from the toe. “I’m so fucking pissed at you.”

Seriously.

Clutching the gun tight, you carefully turn the knob and with a deep breath, hip check it open. And yep. The reveal is exactly what you could have anticipated, because you know Bucky Barnes way, way too well.

Dangling by his hands from a wide steel beam, his wrists encased in what appears to be a reinforced cuff, Bucky swings gently, the toes of his black boots barely brushing the ground. His faded grey t-shirt is slashed down one side, soaked through with thick splotches of blood and clinging to his body like a second skin. Twitching his head to shake away sweaty strands of dark hair, you see the impressive array of purple bruises painting his face, extending down his neck.

He looks terrible. Awful. A beaten man in terrible pain.

Except –

The anguished grimace fades when he sees you, morphing into a shit-eating grin. Wiggling his fingers in a mocking little hello, he gives you a wink.

What an ass.

Hearing the swinging door, the man in front of Bucky spins, raising a gun in one hand and a taser snapping lime green sparks in the other. Frustration is etched in every line of his face, which is, to be fair, a common expression for anyone talking to Bucky.

“Drop the gun,” he bellows, shaky hands holding both weapons in front and sounding for all the world like a two-bit security cop in a low-budget heist film.

Throwing him an impressively impatient scowl, you shake your head.

“Listen, I’ve had a long day and these heels are killing me and I just wanted to spend one night without worrying how I’m getting blood out of my clothes in the morning. So since that fantasy’s shot to shit, can you please just not?”

“Don’t try to distract me!” he yells in response. “Drop your gun or I’ll shoot you both!”

Looking past him, you meet Bucky’s wide-eyed, innocent blue eyes.

Innocent blue eyes. Seriously. What a crock.

“I’m fucking pissed at you,” you warn Bucky, pointing the gun down at your shoes. “These were expensive.”

He pokes his lip out in an exaggerated pout and swings himself playfully in the restraints. “Don’t be mad honey baby, it’s all part of the plan.”

“Jesus. I shudder to think what else you have planned.”

The guy follows the exchange like a tennis match, head swiveling in confusion, until he focuses on you again and opens his mouth to shout another disappointingly dull threat, but you hold your hand up to silence him and he looks unbelievably put out by the gesture.

“Look, I’m really not in the mood, alright? I gave you a chance.”

Flicking your eyes to the bloody, sweaty man dangling behind him, you cross your arms and wait.

Here it comes.

Vengeance fills his features, a blinding smile of murdery glee, and in the blink of an eye, Bucky curls his knees to his chest and hoists himself up with the metal arm. With a casual kick, he hooks his thighs around the man’s neck and squeezes tight.

Dropping both weapons, the man scrabbles at the dirty legs locked around his neck, panic flashing through his face.

“You sir,” Bucky states, as the man chokes, trying to wrench free, “are a real dick.”

With a graceful twist of his hips, he snaps the neck with a jarring crunch. The body collapses in a heap and Bucky glares contemptuously for a second and then proceeds to aim several childish kicks at the head, but his toes are just out of reach and he flails uselessly in the air.

He looks up in annoyance.

“Hi. Little fucking help here please?”

Stepping over the body, you rummage through the pile of electronic gadgets and random torture devices strewn across the table. Locating a small purple device attached to a SpongeBob keychain, you dangle it in front of him.

“Apology first.”

“No worries, I accept your apology,” Bucky says graciously. “Now get me down.”

“No asshole, I want an apology. You said dress up and now my Jimmy Choo’s have blood on them.”

“Okay fine, I’m sorry.” Skeptical of his quick submission, you punch the unlock button slowly and the cuff releases. Bucky drops to his feet, rubs the red chaffing around his wrist, and gives you a wide smile. “I’m sorry you’re a wet blanket who doesn’t appreciate fun, but anyway.”

He anticipates the move and ducks when you snatch a knife from the table and fling it at him, letting it smack harmlessly against the concrete wall behind him.

“I swear to god, you’re lucky you’re hot Barnes. It sure as hell’s not your personality that keeps me around.”

“The hell do you mean? I’m charming as fuck,” he argues. Wetting his busted lips, he uses the collar of his shirt to wipe away the pool of blood caked in the corner of his mouth, while interested eyes trail down your outfit.

Strapless black silk dress falling to your knees. Diamonds dangling from your ears. Bright red lips. Black Jimmy Choo heels with a flirty little feather on the side.

His smile turns a shade darker and ten shades filthier.

“You look smokin’ hot. Nice.”

“And it’s apparently a waste. When you said dress up, I sort of assumed we’d be doing an activity other than murder.” Tossing the keychain on the table, you come closer to scan his impressive mess of injuries. Probing the thick muscle below his ribcage, he sucks in a strangled breath as your fingers brush the source of blood still soaking his shirt.

“Buck – “ you start, but he cuts you off.

“Don’t baby me, I’m fine. Me and that bag of dicks just had a little disagreement over one of his brainless questions.”

“How did he go from asking questions to sticking a knife in your gut?” you ask, trying to tug up his shirt to confirm the damage.

“No, I will not have sex with you!” he says loudly, pushing your hands away. “God woman, keep it in your pants.”

“I’ll punch you in the knife wound Bucky. I really will.”

Sighing loudly, he stops struggling and lets you pull apart the remaining shreds of his shirt. Examining the blood under his fingernails while you examine the slow leak of blood down his side, he shrugs nonchalantly.

“If you must know, he just got a bit pissy because apparently suck my dick wasn’t the correct response to that question.”

Life with Bucky Barnes is akin to chasing an aggressively accident-prone toddler, so you’re actually prepared for this situation.

Opening the silver clasp on your clutch, you search for the extra-absorbent bandages you threw in earlier. Folding his hands obediently, Bucky rests them on top of his head and watches with a serene expression while you wipe away the blood from around the wound, before ripping open the bandage and applying it carefully to his skin.

“Has it ever occurred to you,” you ask, paper held between your teeth, “to try being a little less mouthy?”

Straightening the remains of his bloody t-shirt and wiping your grubby hands on his jeans, you look up to find him grinning.

“It did occur to me. But where’s the fun in that?” He holds his hand out expectantly. “On to part two. Did you bring my gun?”

The worst. Honestly. Sometimes he’s the worst.

“Yes, I brought your gun, you ungrateful douche.”

Lifting the edge of your skirt reveals the narrow straps of a black thigh holster, with Bucky’s favorite Glock strapped in place. He bites his lip and gives you that filthy smile again, crowding in close.

“Ugh. Dammit that’s so hot. Here, let me help,” his fingers snag the silky fabric, trying to pull up your skirt.

Slapping his hand and giving him a warning knee in the balls, he grunts and backs away with his wounded puppy face. Unclipping the gun, you flip it around and hand it over.

“Keep it in your pants Barnes, we don’t have time. The show’s about to start.”

Standing up straight, he salutes you with the barrel of the gun and cocks it dramatically.

“You’re the boss. Lead the way, you sexy little minx.”

*****

Navigating the labyrinth of halls, you find the back staircase leading up to a maze of crevices and hidey holes helpfully built into the rafters of the enormous ballroom. Finding a slot near the edge, you crawl into position, the smooth silk of your dress picking up the thick film of dust, making the slide easy.

God. Dammit. Bucky’s spending tomorrow morning getting this dress dry-cleaned and you better not hear a breath of argument from him.

“Seriously, I’m so fucking pissed at you,” you whisper, knowing full well his annoying super hearing will pick it up and sure enough, he rewards you with a stifled laugh.

The space is dark, muted light from the ballroom’s sparkling chandeliers allowing you to stay hidden from prying eyes down below. Bucky follows close behind, wiggling in next to you. Getting comfortable, he sighs happily and turns to you, gaze drifting from your face down your bare shoulders, over the swell of your ass, and that filthy smile appears again. Reaching down, he massages the back of your knee and runs his hand up your thigh, trying to pull your dress up again.

“Lemme see your panties.”

“For god’s sake, do not say panties, you weird fuck.”

“Fine. Lemme see your underpanties. Are they lace? Tell me they’re lace. You know how much I like lace.” His hand wanders further up to find your black lace covered bottom and he gives a whispered yes of delight.

Ignoring the wandering hand squeezing handfuls of your ass, you open the black clutch again, extracting four paper-thin pieces of metal. Clicking them together reveals a lightweight air-rifle with a narrow scope affixed to the top.

Bucky’s eyes light up.

“Gimmie,” he says breathlessly, releasing his death-grip on your ass and reaching grabby hands toward the weapon.

Still ignoring him, you prop the rifle on the ledge in front of you and peer through the scope, searching for the reason you’re stuck in the dirty ceiling of this exquisite ballroom, instead of somewhere fashionable with people making jealous remarks about your amazing shoes.

Bucky nudges you.

“Gimmie,” he says again.

“No, Bucky.”

“Yes, Bucky,” he insists, now trying to tug it from your grip. “Did you forget I’m the best shot the US army ever had? I even have a certificate that says so. You can’t argue with my certificate, it’s not patriotic. Captain America’ll arrest you.”

Still searching through the crosshairs, you peel his sticky fingers from the barrel with one hand.

“You drawing a picture of a gun, writing ‘Bucky rules’ on it, and taping it to the refrigerator does not mean you have a certificate.”

He gives an indignant little squawk. “Uh, I didn’t tape it to the ‘fridge, I superglued it to the ‘fridge. That fucker’s never coming down.”

“Can you please shut up? I need to focus.”

“Come on honeycakes, let me have the rifle,” he whines softly, resuming the light strokes down your thigh.

“No. I know you. You’ll shoot the guy in the eye just to prove you can, he’ll realize something’s up, and it’ll blow our cover.”

“Why would I do that?” His voice oozes shocked sweetness.

“Because you’re a showoff,” you mutter.

“I’m not a show-off,” Bucky argues and somehow in the narrow space he manages to crawl on top of you, straddle your hips and start licking your neck. “Sometimes I’m just vindictive, I can’t help that. Now come on and give me the rifle, hmm? Please? I got stabbed earlier, you should let me have my way. If I have internal bleeding and I die later, you’ll feel really bad about not giving me this one little thing. Come on, hand it over.”

He sucks your earlobe and tugs with his teeth.

Long ago, this strategy might have worked.

He is charming.

He excels at sweet talk.

He is murderously adorable.

The only thing working against him now – is that you know he’s completely full of shit.

“Get off me, you weigh a ton,” you respond instead, wiggling your shoulders to shrug him away.

“Did you just call me fat?” he whispers. He bites your ear harder.

“Maybe,” you shiver at the petulant huff warming your neck.

“I am offended.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not, but someone with less self-confidence might be and would you like that on your conscience?”

“I’ll manage.”

In that moment, the crosshairs find him, a tall man dressed in an impeccable black tuxedo, his blond hair slick and shining. Even though he’s dead set on being an annoying little shit, Bucky instantly recognizes your posture change and goes motionless above you. Taking a deep breath, focusing on the small mole on the back of the blond’s neck, you gently squeeze the trigger. With a twitch, the rifle silently expels the microscopic dart and you know it’s a direct hit when the man scratches absently at the patch of skin above his collar.

Bucky gives a hum of approval and plants a sloppy kiss on your neck.

“Nailed it. High five,” he says and reaches between his legs to slap your ass. “But how come you’re always so mean to me? And why the hell does it turn me on so much?”

Breaking down the weapon, you pack it back in the purse and snap it shut.

“Because you’re a fucking masochist.”

“True. So – now what?”

“Now we wait.”

As the words leave your mouth, the chandeliers begin to dim, the hum of voices dropping as the crowd of people shuffle to their seats.

Folding your arms, you lay your head down to wait. Bucky finally stops fidgeting, settling on top of you, balancing his weight on his forearms and resting his chin on your shoulder. He smells like attic dust and irony blood, but his heavy presence is a warm and comfortable weight.

All fades to black. Absolute silence.

The single note trembles in the darkness, the vibrating twang of a cello. Low lights slowly illuminate the small platform at the front of the ballroom, revealing three musicians and the sudden haunting whine of a violin shatters the stillness.

The air overflows with music, Tchaikovsky, Mozart, Bach, a symphony of classics bleeding together, never pausing. Bucky stays still above you, his only concession to movement when he occasionally presses his lips to the space behind your ear, breathing in the familiar lingering scent.

And sure, he drives you bonkers half the time and he may be utterly full of shit, but a simple fact remains.

Nothing in the world, beats the feel of his mouth on your skin.

Ninety minutes of magic fly by and applause fills the room as the lights come up for intermission, the audience leaping to their feet. No one notices the blond man seated halfway back, slumped in his seat, nor the shadowy figures of two people energetically arguing as they slip from a hidden exit in the back.

*****

From a distance, you spy the neon sign, the only beacon of colorful life along this desolate stretch of highway. Bucky perks up and bounces in his seat.

“There it is! Pull over.”

“Bucky, no. I’m tired and you’re bleeding on my leather seats and I want to go home and shower.”

“But I’m hungry. I’m literally wasting away.”

“Figuratively. You are figuratively wasting away.”

“So, you agree then, I’m wasting away and we should stop.”

“Oh my god, fine.”

Swerving into the parking lot with a screech of tires, both of you clamber from the vehicle still debating his rampant disregard for basic language definitions and stomp into the brightly lit Taco Bell. At this lonely hour, it’s nearly empty, minus the energetic high school kid with headphones using his mop as an air guitar, the line cook playing Jenga with a towering stack of tomatoes, and the bored woman behind the counter, chomping her gum and watching your bickering approach with interest.

Glancing at Bucky, you flinch at the image. The harsh light throws his wounds into sharp relief, bruises already fading from dark purple to sickly greenish-yellow. The gray t-shirt is shredded and stiff with blood and sweat and what appear to be chocolate fingerprints, lifted from the half-melted M&Ms he found in your glove box.

To be fair, you don’t look much better. The previously elegant heels dangle from loose fingers, speckled with blood and holding two wilted feathers. Covered head to toe in dust and cobwebs, your knees are scraped up and your polished toes curl bare against the floor.

What the hell possessed you to walk barefoot into a 24-hour Taco Bell you’ll never know, but alas. Here you are.

Bucky saunters up to the register and slaps his grimy hands on the counter, giving the woman his most charming smile and what he believes to be a sexy wink. She simply raises an eyebrow and snaps her gum.

“Hello. I want the dollar menu,” Bucky says, squinting up at the sign.

“Which items?”

“All the items,” he replies promptly. “And a diet soda please, not a regular one. I’m cutting back on the calories, apparently I need to watch my weight. The lady here says I’ve been pudging out.”

Pinching the non-existent fat on his washboard of a stomach, he gives her a conspiratorial nod and points back to you.

“I most certainly did not say that,” you huff, glaring at him.

“Yes, you did, you called me fat earlier,” he reminds you. “Remember? When I was on top of you and tried to pull up your dress?”

The woman stares at him and blows a pink bubble. Her eyes slide to you and she gives you a slow nod, the kind that clearly says nice.

“No,” you say sternly, pointing a warning finger. “Christ no. Do not encourage him.”

Bucky laughs, the sound of his husky voice echoing through the restaurant and dammit, he looks like someone threw a brick at his face and used him to sharpen their knives, but he’s still the most attractive man you’ve ever met and how’s that for annoying?

Fifteen minutes later, you’re back on the road, flying along as Bucky holds tight to his food and watches the highway intently, counting out road signs. Finally, he points to a small green number.

“This is it, last stop,” Bucky says, his voice brimming with excitement. “Slow down, the road’s there.”

Arguing is futile, so you follow his directions, turning off the highway and bumping down a narrow strip of unmarked road. The path winds further and further and you wonder at his end game, until the trees suddenly clear and you hit the brakes in surprise.

The night sky extends in front of you, an infinite black road to the stars twinkling above the black ocean waves, a dazzling full moon low on the horizon. The secluded beach is empty, a quiet world existing for you and Bucky alone – and when you turn to him, you see him watching you with an adoring grin.

That damn smile. It gets you every time.

“I swear Barnes, you’re good. You’re really good,” you admit and Bucky tips his head back and starts to laugh.

Climbing from the car, you dig out a plaid blanket from your trunk, and with heels and soda in hand, the echo of crashing waves pulls you through the darkness. Finding a flat space, you fluff the blanket out and collapse, stretching out with a soft groan and closing your eyes.

Bucky drops his bag full of cheesy beef burritos and chicken quesadillas and caramel apple empanadas and kicks off his boots with a matching groan of pleasure. Falling to the blanket he rolls onto his stomach and tears into the food, making his way through each item in silence. Long minutes tick by as the damp breeze blows over your skin and you begin to doze.

“You know,” he finally says, chewing thoughtfully. “I’m calling it. Tonight? Best. Date. Ever. Gonna be hard to top this.”

Rolling to the side, you prop your chin in your hand. “Come again?”

“Yeah, I planned it perfectly! The whole night, it was all things you wanted to do.” He finishes chewing the last bite, tucks the wrappers into the bag and sits up on his knees, ticking off the evening’s events.

“So first, we did a fun couples activity.”

“Me saving you from an ass beating and you snapping a guy’s neck isn’t exactly a couple’s activity, but sure.”

“Second, I got us private box seats, so we could go to a – sold out I might add – classical music concert.”

“I mean, again with the murder and now a massive dry-cleaning bill, but okay.”

“And to cap off the perfect date, we’re having a romantic moonlit picnic on the beach.”

The sarcastic quip balances on the tip of your tongue and in all fairness, Bucky expects a sassy response. Sass is the bedrock of your relationship.

But the words don’t come.

Instead, you absorb the pure beauty of the glowing white sand and of Bucky’s handsome face, reflecting on everything about him that led you here tonight.

He’s incorrigible.

A pain in the ass.

Ridiculous.

Passionate.

Hilarious.

Adorable.

The love of your life.

Damn. You’re head over heels for this idiot.

Nodding slowly, your lips curve into the smile he loves so well, the one that melts his heart, the one he went to outrageous lengths to pull from you tonight.

“Yeah. You’re right Buck. You pretty much nailed it.”

Bucky grins at the compliment. He picks up your left hand, brushes specs of sand away, and places two kisses on your finger.

One above your wedding band, one below.

Contentment sings through his veins and he threads his fingers through yours.

“Happy anniversary honey.”

“Happy anniversary Bucky.”

“Do me a favor, yeah?” Bending closer, he rubs his mouth lightly against your forehead, your nose, your lips. He drinks up the word with a blissful sigh when he hears your reply.

“Anything.”

“Get those heels back on, I ain’t letting them go to waste.”

Laughing, you hand him the shoes and he pulls your legs apart and crawls between them, slipping the heels gently on your feet one at a time, leaving wet kisses on each ankle.

The filthy smile is back.

He tugs up your skirt.

And this time, you go with it.

*****

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#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #piassummermadnesschallenge #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes fic #bucky fic #bitsmasterlist

4K notes · View notes

javelon · 5 years

Text

A Friend In Need

Chase leaned back against his chair with a sigh. He had just spent all morning and most of the afternoon editing videos for Jack while the YouTuber was occupied preparing for Con season. Chase was more than happy to lend a hand to help ease Jack's stress. Though as Chase stretched his aching back and shoulders he realized he may need to get a new chair if he was going to be editing videos for hours at a time.

"You're getting old, Brody." Chase mumbled to himself, groaning as his back gave a satisfying pop, "Mmm that's a bit better."

Giving his shoulders another mini stretch he reached for his phone, taking it off silent. When he got in the groove with video editing it helped to not be distracted so he usually silenced his notification sounds. Unsurprisingly he had a couple texts that he replied to then doubled checked he hadn't missed any other texts. Hmm looked like he was good though he realized as he looked through old messages that he hadn't heard from you for a couple days. Odd...he usually heard from you at least once a day.

Maybe you were having a bad day and hadn't felt like talking to anyone. Chase understood what that was like. He was doing a lot better with his depression but he still had days from time to time where the world was just too much.

Yea that was probably it. Chase quickly scrolled through his saved pictures until he came across a cute supportive animal gif that he knew you'd like and sent it to you along with a little message asking if you were ok.

That done he ventured to the kitchen in search of food, giving Henrik a smile when they made eye contact.

"Hitting the coffee already, doc? What would Y/N say?" Chase teased, watching Henrik fill up his thermos with the fresh brewed coffee.

"Zhey'd tell you to mind your ovn business, Brody." The doctor scowled at him.

Chase grinned and tossed an apple from the fruit bowl at Henrik, chuckling at the doctor's yelp of surprise even though the doctor had successfully caught the fruit. And without spilling his coffee too. "Here take this too. Doctors say a single apple is equal to a cup of coffee in terms of keeping you awake."

Henrik frowned at the apple then up at him, "Vho told you zhat?"

"You did, doc."

Chase smiled when Henrik blinked at him, "See? I do listen to your advice. I just don't always follow it."

The doctor huffed at him, though Chase saw a hint of a smile, "Speaking of Y/N, haffe you heard from zhem today? Zhey haffen't been by in days and I know you tvo text often." Henrik swiftly switched the subject.

Chase's smile dimmed and he looked down at his phone, "I haven't heard from them since the other day. I sent them a text a little bit ago but it only says delivered next to the text."

"Hmmm." Henrik frowned in concern, "Perhaps ve should check on zhem? I'm zure zhey are fine but it can't hurt to check. It's not uncommon for us to get patients in zhe hospital vho vere alone for days at home, too injured or zick to call for help."

The alarm must have showed Chase's face as Henrik was quick to say, "I'm zure zhey are fine! But ve'd feel better if ve checked, ja?"

Panic now simmering under his skin Chase nodded, turning to leave the kitchen, "Yea yea I'll go check on them."

"Do you vant me to come vith you?" The doctor called after him.

Waving him off, Chase shoved on his jacket and shoes, grabbing his keys from the hooks near the door, "No I'll be fine. I'll call you if I need you!"

Henrik's "Zou better!" was muffled by the closing door as Chase hurried to his car. He's sure Henrik was right and you were fine. But you only lived a few minutes away and he would feel better seeing for himself. His knee bounced and his fingers drummed on the steering wheel every time he had to stop for a light or pedestrian. Good grief was everyone and their mother out today?? Chase gave a sigh of relief when he finally pulled into your drive, several minutes later than he had been hoping. Shaking himself, Chase climbed out of the car and located the extra key you'd given him on his keyring. He had insisted at the time it wasn't necessary but now he was glad to have it.

Unlocking the door and stepping inside he found most of the lights were on though the house was silent.

"Y/N?" He called. The silence bothered him. You almost always had the TV on or the radio playing music. Said it helped you not feel so lonely when you were stuck at home all day.

His ears strained to hear any hint of talking or music in the house. Where were you? "Y/N you here, dude?"

Venturing further in, he wrinkled his nose when he noticed an unpleasant smell. What on earth was that? You had the nose of a blood hound and thus hated bad smells, especially in your home. Following his nose he came to the kitchen where a pile of old dish towels caught his attention.

"Oh fuck!" Chase whispered with a harsh gasp, already fishing out his phone, his eyes not leaving the pile of bloody towels on the floor.

"Hello?"

"Hen I need you! I can't find Y/N and there's a pile of blood soaked towels on their kitchen floor!" Chase cried, backing out of the kitchen and keeping his eyes peeled for you.

"Vhat?! I'll be zhere in a few!"

A sudden click told Chase the doctor had hung up, likely already out the door. Now that help was on the way Chase needed to find you.

"Y/N?? Answer me please!"

Damnit! Every room he entered was empty! You weren't in the living room, your bedroom, you weren't even in the bathroom! Heart thundering in his chest, Chase opened the door to the last room, the spare bedroom that you always kept setup for him and the other egos, for when they needed a break for a day or two.

"Y/N!!" Chase cried, seeing your body sprawled on the floor. He quickly knelt next to you, gently turning you from your side to your back, eyes frantically scanning for where you were injured.

You groaned when he moved you and he could have wept in relief, "Y/N! I need you to open your eyes please! Where are you hurt??"

It took several long seconds for you to slowly peel your eyes open, blinking up at him in confusion. "Ch'se? S'wrong?" You mumbled.

"I came to check on you when I realized I hadn't heard from you in days and I found you like this! What happened?? Where are you injured? Wait don't get up!" Chase kept a firm grip on your shoulders as you tried to rise.

"I'm injured? I don't feel injured..." You murmured, rubbing at your eyes and looking down at yourself.

Chase's eyes widened in barely concealed panic, "You don't remember? I'm glad I found those bloody towels then!"

You looked up at him, a frown on your lips, "Bloody towels?"

He nodded, "On the kitchen floor! I saw them when I came in. Don't worry though, Hen's on his way. He'll patch you up!" He smiled at you through his panic.

You chewed on your lip, looking like you were thinking hard before your eyes widened, "Oh! Oh Chase hun that wasn't my blood."

Chase froze, "What?"

You gave him a gentle smile, "It wasn't mine. Here." You sat up, Chase hovering his hands over you in case you collapsed. You placed your hand on his chest, pushing gently to make him sit back then pointed at a spot behind him, "This is why you haven't heard from me."

Chase followed your finger to a cloth covered box he hadn't noticed before, an electrical cord coming out from under the blanket and connecting to the outlet in the wall. He looked back at you confused, "A box? That's why you didn't answer your text?"

You shook your head at him and smiled wider, "What's in the box is what kept me busy, dork. Look."

You sat up on your knees and carefully pulled back the blanket a bit. Chase peered inside and gasped. In the box was your sleeping cat and 5...no 6 teeny tiny kittens.

"She went into labor yesterday around 4 am. Three of these little guys came backwards so I had to help pull them out. She birthed the last one this afternoon. I must have fallen asleep shortly after making sure they were all clean and nursing properly."

Chase looked at you in surprise, "I honestly forgot she was having kittens soon. Were you awake with her the whole time?"

"Of course. Had to be ready for complications which we had unfortunately." You smiled down at the kitties, "But everyone looks healthy and happy which is all I can ask for. Poor mama girl. So sleepy after delivering so many babies."

Warmth replaced the last of Chase's panic as he watched you coo softly at your now awake mama cat. Though you both snapped your heads to the doorway when the front door slammed open.

"Chase?? Y/N?? Vhere are you??" Henrik's voice called.

Chase was quickly on his feet and down the hallway holding up a finger to his lips when he finally made eye contact with the doctor, "Shhh it's ok Henrik it's ok. False alarm, sorry."

Fear and concern was replaced with anger and confusion on Henrik's face, "Vhat do zou mean false alarm??"

Giving him an apologetic grin Chase replied, "I just found Y/N and found out what happened a couple minutes ago. Sorry I didn't get a chance to call you. Her cat had her kittens yesterday morning and Y/N had fallen asleep after being up with her kitty the whole time."

Realization dawned in Henrik's eyes, "Oh the blood was zhe placenta zhen! Good good I am glad zhey are ok." Snapping back into his professional mode Henrik strode down the hall, "Now vhere are zhe kitties? I must examine zhe newborns for I am zhe great Dr. Schneeplestein!"

Chase could hear your laugh as he followed Henrik into the kitty room.

"Cats and kittens are a bit different than people, Dr Schneeplestein." You grinned up at him but still moving aside so he could peer in the box.

"Nonsense! Ve are both living breathing zhings! Just because zhey walk on four legs does not mean I cannot examine zhem!" Henrik exclaimed as he knelt by the box, his voice changing to a soft coo when he looked inside, "Fear not mama cat, zhe great Dr. Schneeplestein is here to check your babies!"

You looked over at Chase and he exchanged a knowing smile with you. It was no secret that Henrik loved baby animals. Sometimes Chase wondered why the doctor hadn't become a vet. Thankfully your cat knew all the Septics well so she seemed comfortable with Henrik handling her babies.

"Hey Chase can you hand me that box of supplies behind you? It's the stuff my vet told me to have on hand for when the kittens were born." You motioned to a box that sat on a small table next to Chase.

"Oh yea sure." Chase leaned over and picked it up, peering inside to see a bunch of items he wasn't familiar with along with ribbon, scissors, a small scale for weighing mail, and a notepad.

"Why the ribbon and scale?" He asked as he handed over the box.

"Zhe ribbon iz to tie off the umbilical cord of course!" Henrik spoke up, taking the box before you could, "And zhe scale is to make sure zhe babies are eating enough! Now I need absolute quiet vhile I vork!"

Chase exchanged another grin with you and he followed you out when you stood up, "Well then I think now is a good time for food. I'm starving."

Your nose was wrinkled up when Chase stepped next to you in the kitchen, "Ick bloody towels. Such stink. Much gross." You scooped up the towels and held them far away from you as you dumped them in the trash can.

A laugh bubbled up in his chest as Chase watched you, "It's an older meme sir but it checks out. Fitting really as you're getting pretty old now."

You spun on your heels towards him with an offended gasp, "Excuse you! I am not that old yet!"

Chase's cheeks were starting to ache from grinning, "Says the one with grand kittens now. Pretty sure that makes you a grand parent and officially pretty old."

Laughter filled the house as he ran away from your sputtering form, "Like hell I am! Get back here, Chase Brody! This "old" grand parent is going to kick your ass!"

Earlier panic forgotten Chase was glad he had come over, despite now being chased out of your house. Maybe when you'd let him back in the house he could talk you into starting a YouTube channel for all to watch your kitties grow up. He knew he was looking forward to it at least and he couldn't wait until they were old enough to play. Could kittens learn tricks? Eh he'd find out later.

"Damnit Brody! I said get back here!"

Yea definitely much later...

#chase brody #fanfic #jacksepticeye #henrik von schneeplestein #x reader #chase brody x reader #chase x reader #fluffy fluff #poor Chase just worries so much about his loved ones

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mushroomminded · 6 years

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Alone in the Cold

After the war started, night began to set in incredibly early every day. The sky was always a dark, unfriendly gray under a thick coating of clouds, but the pitch darkness of night ate up most of the hours of the day. Sometimes it felt as though the nuclear bombs that had spewed endless amounts of smoke into the sky had managed to hit the sun itself, casting the planet into an eternal night. There was still gray in the sky when Matt left the house. Storming out with nothing but his heavy winter gear and a gas mask, he trudged away from the unlit red home through a packed-down trail of ice, the thick clumps of snow falling from the sky already beginning to pile back up inside of it.

Matt pulled his scarf up tightly against his mask. Despite the cold, he could feel his own heat radiating back off of his clothes. He was furious. Edd wasn’t there with Tom while he lay sick and dying. Edd didn’t see how weak and miserable Tom was. Edd hadn’t felt his burning skin despite the frigid cold inside the house. Edd didn’t know how bad of shape Tom was really in, but he knew that Tom needed medicine, and that was literally his one job. What did Edd do? He came back. With cola. With Tom’s health draining away he had the nerve to be so selfish, and it was more than Matt could take. He found his pace quickening has he marched. Tom needed to get help, and fast, and it was up to Matt now to save him before it was too late.

Secretly, Matt hoped that Edd would be miserable back at the house as he watched Tom. He hoped the guilt would eat him inside out. He hoped Edd would learn a lesson and he hoped the cost of it wouldn’t be too high.

This was some hours ago. Now, as Matt walked, the path became less packed down, and Matt had to lift his legs up and out of the snow for every step he took. The trail was still worn enough that Matt should find his way back, but the journey out to the nearest abandoned gas station was a common stop for the boys. Held back only by the sizeable distance from the house and the amount of stuff they could carry in their arms, the three would have raided the convenience store entirely. How lucky they were that no other survivors seemed to have stumbled upon the place themselves, they said, but deep down they knew the truth: there were no other survivors to look out for.

The darkness was beginning to set in. It was only now that Matt realized he’d forgotten to bring any sort of provisions. In a haze of anger and worry, he’d dashed right of the house, fully aware that there wasn’t enough daylight to make it to the convenience store before nightfall. He felt a twinge of worry for himself. Well, it wouldn’t be fun, but he could dig a cave for himself in the tall icy snow drifts around him and hunker down until it got light. He knew he should start digging, he knew he should worry about himself, but Matt kept walking. Just a little further, he told himself, and he’d stop, just a little further.

The darkness fell too quickly. Matt couldn’t see where he was going, and he was feeling his way down the path. A sunken footprint here, a snow drift that was too high here. He knew this was a recipe for getting lost, freezing, and dying, but the thought of the pain on Tom’s features wouldn’t let him slow down. That’s when he saw it. In the distance, a gentle orange light. Matt blinked. There was no way that there was light anywhere out here. The electricity had long gone out and there were no survivors to start fires...or were there? Wiping clumps of snow from his goggles, Matt turned and steered off the path, setting the light directly in front of him. If he hurried, he might be able to investigate the light and return before his footprints filled with snow, but if there was somebody or something out there, that could be just the help they needed. Matt trudged forward.

Slowly the light grew closer, and quickly the night grew colder. His anger had long worn off and the cold had seeped into Matt’s clothing, running up and down his goosebump-ridden skin. His breathing was heavy as he took big slow steps through the high snow. He was so tired, but he had to keep moving. He had to save Tom.

As he drew closer, Matt realized that the light really was a fire. Matt could almost feel the warmth of it, drying his wet gloves and radiating on his face. It had been some time since the three of them had a fire, knowing that the winter hadn’t even begun and that supplies needed to be conserved for when the temperature dropped further. Wearily, Matt dragged himself towards it. The bundle of wood for the fire was set on top of a thick metal box, supposedly to prop it up above the snow and keep it alive, and around it were several bags and crates, but no people. As Matt stepped up to the fire, unable to resist the warm pull, he noticed footprints. The ground around it was packed with them and there was presses in the snow where figures had been sitting or lying. Several figures! So someone had survived.

“Hello?” Matt called into the darkness, turning away from the light to scan the darkness. “Is anyone there?”

He was met with only the sound of the cold wind.

“Please! There are three of us, we didn’t know there were other survivors! One of us is very sick and we need help!”

No response. Matt stood in the snow for a while, the fire crackling to his back and the wind chilling his front. They can’t have gone far. The fire was too big to have been tended to more than a few minutes ago, but who knew when they’d be back? Matt needed to hurry. Glancing around one more time, Matt crouched beside one of the packs and opened it. He just needed the medicine for Tom, he wouldn’t touch anything else. If he could, he’d leave a note, but he needed to move now. Finding nothing, Matt closed the pack and set it aside. He rummaged through another bag, and another, then he peered inside the crate. Inside there were so many important necessities that Matt’s eyes widened. Firewood, matches, bottles of water, warm clothes and blankets, first aid kits, food wrapped in packs. It took all of Matt’s self control to reach only for a series of orange plastic bottles. They were labelled with each sort of treatment they supplied. Matt lifted a few, held them to the fire to read them, then replaced them until he found it: high fever. Matt could have cried with relief. Carefully, he pocketed the canister and replaced the top on the crate. He took one last look at the campsite and-

There was a soft whooshing noise, and then there was pain. Matt cried out as a burst of pain exploded in his chest and he fell to the ground.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” A voice cried.

“He was raiding our things!” Another voice piped in.

“You idiot!”

Matt gasped, his hand clutching at his chest. His glove turned red. He’d been shot.

“Hey, you’re gonna be okay, hold on,” The first voice was close. Matt felt someone grab his arm and heave him into sitting upright. Matt cried out in pain.

“Who are you? How did you get here?” The voice questioned him. The speaker was cast in silhouette, his back to the flames. The second figure stood behind him, his face equally dark. Matt felt his coat unzip and hands touching his chest.

“Matt…” Matt said, “And my friend is...sick.” He moaned, his breaths coming in short and shakily.

“Listen to me Matt, you’re going to be okay, and your friend is too.”

Matt wasn’t so sure if he believed him.

“Pat! First aid kit! Now!” the speaker turned, at Matt caught the very side of his face as the flames lit it up. The standing figure scrambled over to the crate and fumbled inside of it.

“Matt, I need you to tell me where your friend is, and we will help him.”

“There’s a trail,” Matt said, turning his head towards the way he came. “My footprints are….fresh...you can follow them…”

“Are they both alive?” The standing figure, Pat, asked, crouching beside the other survivor with the first aid kit. Matt didn’t understand the question. He felt his tears freezing on his cheeks.

“Hell, you got him good,” The first figure muttered. Matt felt the cold biting his bare chest and stomach as he worked, but only barely. The pain seemed to be numbing.

“Hey, hey Matt, stay with us,” the figure said, patting Matt’s face to stir him.

“Please...help him,” Matt forced out with a cough. He felt very tired.

“This is gonna hurt, bud,” The first figure said, but Matt didn’t feel it. He didn’t feel much of anything. He just felt cold. He felt cold all over.

“Please,” he whispered, feeling the bottle of medicine fall from his hand into the snow. The fire went out. There was a soft, very distant voice, that sounded rather like the first survivor, and then it was quiet. Matt exhaled deeply and felt the cold take him over.

#written #bummers #nuclear winter au #bad things happen bingo

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dearest-alexander · 6 years

Text

You Are The Reason Chapter V (Tom Holland x Reader fanfiction)

Summary: “I could be anything in the world, yet I wanted to be yours. But you don’t love me yet…or do you?“ The whole world thought you’re together but something’s stopping you, something’s stopping him.

Summary Chapter: “Dreams are excursions into the limbo of things, a semi-deliverance from the human prison.I’ - Henri Amiel

Chapter 5

YOUR POV

Much to our chagrin, traffic jam had caught up right after leaving the hospital premises. Harrison and a sleeping Gabby dropped us off first before heading back to our place. We called out the old guy at the reception who raised a mug of something at us in acknowledgement. My watch read 10:46pm by the time we reached their doorstep. Our dogs’ excited barks could be heard from the other side of the door as Tom wrestled with his keys for a bit.

“Im telling you, he’ll find a way to do it.” Tom argued, pushing the apartment door open.

“Uhm, no. Cause I know Gabby, once she’s tired, she’s tired. You can’t make her do anything not until you’re bleeding to death that is.” I debated back cheekily.

The traffic seemed to go on for the rest of the night ergo, to past boredom, Tom and I exchanged text messages whether Harrison would be able to pull his plan or won’t, among many other silly things. We still have to keep it under wraps since Gabby still has no idea. “What are you two scowling bout back there?” she asked before falling asleep minutes later.

“Fine! Alright! Let’s just ask Harrison tomorrow!” he exhaled with resignation in his voice.

. I brought a clenched fist and elbow to my knees in a sign of victory.

“Bloody hell, you don’t give up do you.” He said after a moment, putting everything on the countertop separating the living room and their kitchen.

I wriggled my eyebrows at him. His face contorted for a second to fight the smile from slipping through. He failed.

“Only for you love.” I said with a laugh, hugging my dog who won’t stop bouncing up at me from the moment we enter the apartment.

“Whatever… How are you lovely?” he knelt down to give Tessa a smooch on her gray head.

I filled the pet bowl with water before dragging my body onto the couch, face down with a heavy groan. I hate traffic.

“You wanna hit the shower first or should I?” Tom asked after minutes of shuffling in and out of the room. I propped my chin but kept my eyes closed as I replied.

“Go ahead, I need a second so these cushion could suck me in.” I wiggled my body as if it would dissipate the stiffness of my legs from sitting too long.

“You know where my room is.” He answered with a small laugh. I heard a creaking noise of the cabinet door then a wisp of wind when he threw something soft and large at my opiate position. I lifted my head when I heard him dematerialized behind the bathroom door.

I scanned the two-bedroom flat from my lying state. It was too tidy for two grown men to live in. Not a crumb or bottles of energy drinks in sight. Perhaps Gabby’s controlling nature had finally rubbed off on Harrison. He and Tom had decided to rent this place from Gabby’s cousin whenever they want to stay a while longer after wrapping up press junkets. Possibly, it was Harrison who wanted to stay longer and Tom being wherever his mate was, would stay until he pleased.

Willing myself to get up, I grabbed my overnight bag and the towel he threw at me to his room, the wall behind the mounted television. Two dogs sniffing happily behind me.

His room reeked with ocean breeze laundry detergent and embodied late adolescence-ness. I noted the lack of articles of clothing and trainers scattered on the floor, unmade bed and wide open luggage last time I was here. His double bed stood at the center of the room, two end tables on either side and dark clothes hung and were neatly stacked on the exposed clothing rack. 10 pairs of shoes in an orderly pile on the floor.

Despite the fact that he had let me sleepover a thousand times, I never heeded nor have I ever had the slight urge to interest myself on what he is like in his solidarity. I pride myself to never the one to snoop around. The prevalent awareness of being in his room haven’t bother me. Up until now. Which was the case I found myself in, prancing around his room as if for the first time in an unnamable light.

His room can’t be categorized as neither pristine nor disorganized. Stuff that usually don’t go well with each other –not that I know anything about interior styling- somehow complemented and blended with his impulsive personality. His obsession on shameless hoarding of any Spider-man merchandise he could get his hands on endured after all these years. “What a total nerd.” I chuckled to myself, setting down his action figure on the same spot. The red and blue collection disparate from the gray overall theme of the room. Letters and artworks from his fans were all compiled inside three black dossiers.

I was lazily lugging my index finger on his dust-free shelf, along the lines of books and photographs of his family, co-star photo calls, sceneries when a solid wooden framed picture halted me in my tracks.

Memories gushed in an unstoppable wave. The picture was cropped from the chest and up. I snapped this shot right after the first successful jumping obstacles I finished with my mare. We’re smiling. His cheek pressed onto mine, his other eye was squinting in order to avoid the harsh glare of the sun and my face reddened with sweat and excitement in his riding helmet. My arm was draped around his shoulders while the other extended the camera to fit us in the frame. I remembered hurriedly leapt down to Tom, who was already reaching out for me before my booted feet even touched the damp ground. I remembered stalling in his embrace, his body radiated as if he had somehow swallowed the whole sun, his thumbs that were drawing circles on my hips, pushing down the hitch emanating from my throat. I remembered how I together with his family went to their lake house later in the evening, his dad, stood by my side, with one comforting and familiar arm on my blanket-ed shoulders, staring ahead the setting day had said, out of the blue:

“Sometimes it’s practical to test waters first cause no one wants to dive in murky water, knowing whether we’ll hit the rocks or sand. But this day..” he trailed off, smiling and shaking his head. “He may be daft sometimes but thank you for sticking by him. Thank you for everything you’ve done. Thank you for making him happy.”

Before I could even ask Senior Holland to elaborate, an added weight made the docks screech in slight objection. Tom trudged to where we were, my bottled juice in hand. Frankly, I momentarily lost contact with my body, with my surroundings upon seeing his delightful face, how his curls bounced voluptuously like he’d just been prepped for some bloody movie minutes ago.

All these years, I try not to abide on what would happen if Tom and I just.. that maybe we could… I shook my head to eliminate the thought that’s been trying to eat me ever since once upon a time.

Tom’s POV

We were left to ourselves. Again., I think Harrison and his girlfriend liked to do this on purpose. There's a part of me wanted to strangle them both for doing this, albeit, the half part wanted to get down on my knees and hug them both with praise and reverence, saying "I owe you, big time."

I turned the shower knob off and quickly dressed in a shirt and sweats. I walked out into an empty and barely lit hall. The only evidence of her presence was her dog sitting outside my slightly open bedroom door. I patted his furry head before I knocked gently. She was not the one to get un-clothe with the door left ajar so I peeked inside when I didn't hear a response. She was leaning on my table, holding a picture frame in her hands, and the other clutching the desk. She didn't look up until I spoke.

"Hey, everything ok?"

She seemed startled for a swift second before smiling at me and waving the frame in her hands.

"I had no idea you printed and framed this."

"It was a good day. I should dare you more often." I went to her side, brushing against her as I lean over to look at the picture. I crossed my arms over myself to hide the goosebumps running from the tip of my fingers up to the hairs on my neck.

"Yeah. Really was." She sighed then locked her gaze with mine. I hugged myself even tighter, my fingers dug into my palms to keep from pulling her and crashing my lips to hers.. Heaven knows how badly I wanted no, needed to kiss her. But I’m waiting for her. Waiting for something to cross her eyes that will somehow tell me that she wants this just as bad as I do. I do not want to come across as one of those hot-blooded exes of hers who tried to force her to do something she does not like. But it’s me, I try to tell her with my eyes. I will never hurt you. . I hugged myself tighter to keep my heart from sprinting out of my chest as the moment of pure electricity stretched between us.

Until it wasn't anymore.

"I uhh.. Need to.... Take a bathe." She mumbled and broke her gaze. She handed me the frame and walked away. If she was nervous or felt at least something, she’s hiding it extraordinarily. I could feel my cheeks as they started to redden. She stopped at the door and crouched down in a playful defensive stance against her dog who wagged its tail gleefully. We let out short laughs before she disappeared.

I hung my head to the ceiling and I swear I could hear Harrison say “Youre the world’s greatest idiot..” I groaned.

I couldn’t sleep. My mind has not accustomed with Harrison’s four walls of a bedroom for the past two hours.. Every time she and Gabby would come over, I’ll let her have my bed like the perfect gentleman that I was raised. I didn’t mind the couch nor Harrison’s bed because I knew my sheets would smell like her for the remainder of the week and I would wake up in the morning and bury my face in the pillow. A sweet torture.

I fluffed Harrison's pillow to try to make myself more comfortable. Laying like a starfish on the bed and stared up the ceiling, my mind recalling one type of conversation that had always seem to play out every morning whenever we were alone together..

The couple would show up, their elbows leaning on the countertop, hyperexcitable faces on the palm of their hands, kind of like children waiting for their slices of chocolate cake.

"So...... Did you do it?"

I kept quiet while rummaging the kitchen for her favorite breakfast. Eyes never leaving my task. But shook my head.. "Nah. Wasn't the right time."

"Oh c'mon man!" Harrison exclaimed, dropping his head on the countertop in between in forearms.

"Alright Osterfield , hand it over ." Gabby opened and closed the back of her hands. Harrison produced a 20 dollar bill from his wallet to give her.

“You guys are the worst. I hope you know that.” I scowled under my breath.

"Thanks H olland " She patted me on my naked back..

"Man! How can you chicken out on me like that, you said you're gonna tell her last night....or the night of last week..... or the fortnight......or the months before that." He whined, Emphasizing each time frame then his forearms inching dangerously near the breakfast I'm making. I moved the plate out of the way and my eyes darted cautiously on my bedroom door. Checking for any signs or sounds of movement.

I shrugged, frowning.

"As much as I like winning against Haz, dude, you have to make a move. That window's not gonna be open forever. Take that hunky actor from GQ for example.”

“What? Who?” I snapped my head at her. I tried to sound less nervous and irritated but even to my own ears, I knew I came up short.

“I forgot his name . But we saw him at Jamba juice last week and the punk’s leaning a bit closer, in my opinion.” she shrugged

"She doesn't like me that way." I countered, hoping to get the melancholy disappointment out of my voice. Eyes still casted down.

"She likes you. Everyone with eyes can see it. You're just both too stubborn to admit it." Gabby retorted, before gulping down a carton of orange juice.

“Why? Did she tell you anything ?” I deadpanned but a little hopeful.

"Actions, Holland. Actions. They speak louder than words, like the song, dumbass." She had an elbow leaning on the counter at my side as she regarded me with slight irk and concern.

"But no... She doesn't tell me anything. You know she's always been like that, bottling up her feelings til she knows she can hold it." She placed the cap back on her carton box.

"Well then, i think i'll just wait for that bottle to spill."

"Tom." Harrison interrupted in a quiet tone that I finally looked at him.

"You know she's not her right?. They're both, different. This is a new story. It's gonna be different this time around. You're not running blindly here, not this time." Harrison was never soft spoken and sober , not unless he could help it.

"Maybe we'll just lock you guys up in here for a week and then maybe we'll see. Don't make me do it." Gabby remarked, staring at the something behind me

"Don't make you do what?" Our heads frantically turned to the sound by my bedroom door. Dressed in a sleeveless loose top and pyjama bottoms, her bedridden hair falling on her shoulders, the palm of her hand digging on his left eye. Her healthy skin glowed along with the morning sun. Eyes still glossy from sleep and puffy lips pouted adoringly. It's almost impossible to be that alluring during this early hour in the morning.

"Hey!!!!! Good morning sunshine! Did you just wake up?" Gabby asked, a little too cheerfully, three of us following her every movement.

"Um yeah. I didn't even hear you guys come in. How was your night?" She sat on the bar stool in front of me and Gabby, Harrison seated on the stool by her side then faced his body towards her, chin leaning on his shoulder. I exhaled a great sigh of relief, our kitchen conversation safe from her ears.

"It was fantastic …” Gabby said in a haste, “ , by the way, I heard you got drunk last night?"

"I did. And I'm never doing it again." She moaned, pressing her forehead on the cold counter, arms folded in front of her.

"Here you go." I pushed the garnished plate in her direction and the glass of juice.

She smiled, "You're brilliant. Did I ever tell you that?." pulling the plate near her.

Gabby made a tsk sound then walked back round to the couch. Harrison grabbed the ripe banana off of her plate before jumping out of his seat.

"Hey! That's mine!" She leapt up abruptly but regretted it in an instant. She grunted, dropping her head onto the surface again.

"You're a buffoon." I threw the dish towel resting on my shoulder at Harrison's figure who hustled out of the way. I hand her another.

"Don't you just love them?!" She mumbled under her breath, sarcastically

"Oh and would you mind putting some shirt on Holland, she and Haz may be used to it, but I'm not besides it's completely unhygienic." She instructed, flinging the shirt I discarded upon waking up from the armrest.

"You tell me." I chuckled, putting my shirt on.

It didn’t take long before I became conscious of her little quirks: the way she would pinch her lips when she’s trying to decide about something, how she likes to pop her knuckles that always seem to creep out Harrison and how she always find something nice to say about mean people. Something about her just felt…right; like everything seems to fall into place whenever she’s near.

My body almost jumped when I felt the incessant and loud ring of my phone on the bedside table.. I clicked answer right away .

"You still up?"

"No." I kid.

"Idiot. I Can't sleep." She sighed.

"Me neither. What are you doing?"

"Reading one of your books"

"What book?" I got up and leaned against the headboard.

She laughed. "You know we can just talk to each other, You're literally just across the hall.

"Ok, let's meet."

I hurriedly put on my shirt and walked out the door. She's already on her way to the fridge when I appeared in the kitchen.

"I'm hungry. How come you don't have anything here?" She complained and closed the fridge door behind her.

"Well, we're always at your place anyway."

"Urgh! Let's order pizza. You're paying." She picked up the phone line in the living room and dialed.

I made my way to the couch and will my body to heel before I do something I will regret. Like, I don't know, maybe kissing the day lights out of her until I die from deoxygenation..

"Hey you wanna watch a movie?" I initiated, grabbing the remote from the floor.

12:47am

"You know what? Fine fine! Let's just watch The Breakfast Club and we'll see who's right." She retorted, getting up from the sofa and inserting the dvd on the player, a slice of pizza dangling from her mouth.

"You're gonna be so bummed out when I win the fourth time today." Putting my hands behind my head and stretching my feet under the blanket we shared on the couch. It's already 2 am and All attempts of falling asleep diminished after indulging on a box of pizza, 2 bags of chips and 4 cans of root beers. My previous jitters had died down to a embers as we fell back into an amiable and platonic routine.

"Ha-ha! Move." She sneered jabbing my foot with her finger.

I scooched over backwards for her to settle comfortably on the opposite side her. She rested her head on the armrest. Her sock clad feet lying near my stomach, I boldly closed my hand around them.

We watched in silence for the rest of the movie until we got to the part at the end where Claire gives John his diamond earring.

"See! I told you, I told you! It was an earring not a ring." I sat up and gestured towards the screen. "Oi yow Pizza!" When I didn't hear or feel a slightest of movement I extended my arm on the floor, half my body still sitting on the couch and look at her. I must have known she had dozed off. Her even breaths were calm and soothing halfway through the movie, her face appeared pallid against the television screen. I got up as gently as I could and sat on the floor, over her side. I watched her for a little while, memorizing the way her shutted eyes would twitch every few seconds, her long eyelashes fanned out attractively across her features, her pouted lips carnation in color. I saw a crease formed at the center of her eyebrows and felt a lump clogging my throat. "What are you dreaming about?" I whispered. I reached an index finger to carefully smoothen it out, and lingered.

"I swear, you'll be the death of me. " Before I could help myself, i pressed a feathered kiss to her forehead in replace of my finger.

8:17 am

I felt more than heard the sound of barely audible mumbles as it vibrated from my chest. I squinted my eyes open to see panting smiles from two dogs and instantly became aware of the soft weight nesting on my chest. I don't remember sleeping in this position earlier in the morning but damn it to bloody hell, I wasn't complaining.

I or she must have moved positions during our sleep because now, on this glorious Sunday morning, our bodies lie snugly on the sofa, both my arms around her, one of her hands rested underneath my shirt, atop the unsteady thumps of my heart. Her head on my shoulder. Blanket still draped over us.

"Want. Pancakes." She mumbled, eyes still closed.

A chuckle crept up onto my already- smiling face. I never knew she talked in her sleep as we've had never been in this position before. I stayed still for quite some time, careful to maintain our position in case she woke up and assess the situation with regret or something . It Could be minutes or hours;. I lapsed the ability to comprehend anything right now as I committed this moment to memory

The smell of her hair dominate the entire room, happily suffocating me to my death.

Or How every inch of her molded perfectly into mine; her breathing patterns almost lulling me back to sleep

Or How her warmth masked and overpower my senses, making me forget to think, to breathe.

A nagging thought entered my mind that I was, in a way, taking advantage of her slumberous state, and was about to separate my body from hers but was snapped out if it when I heard her next words. Making my world rattle to smithereens then build back up again.

"Mmmm.. I like you Tom.”

I looked down on her to see if she’s woken. It probably meant anything that I hope to be but still, I couldn't fight the grin that jeopardizes to split my face in half or the euphoria openly transuding over my skin. I pressed my lips on her forehead and slowly pulled her even tighter. And i could die right after this, because she shifted closer- if that was still even possible-and lightly scratched her fingers on my bare and beating pectoral.

I’ll just put the links of my A03 and Fanfiction pages. :)

#tom holland fic #tom Holland story #tom Holland x reader #tom Holland and reader #tom Holland fanfiction #tom Holland fluff #tom Holland and y/n #tom Holland shirtless #yatr #you are the reason fic

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ktheist · 6 years

Text

darling, we’ll be okay

pairings: yoongi x reader word count: 2 360 genre: fluff i guess

concept: do you ever feel, for whatever reason be it as small as having absolutely nothing cute to wear to screwing a job interview, you want to disappear from the world and bury yourself in blankets and netflix and chill? it’s okay to do that. even the avengers need a break after battling an army of alien invasion.

You thought that if you’d stayed put, wrapped in your blanket like a burrito with only a flock of bird’s nest visible on one end, who ever’s knocking on your door would get that you’re not home. Since not many or at all would get why someone wouldn’t get the door if they were, unless they’re in the shower or have the stereos blasting in their rooms until they went deaf by the music.

But your walls are paper-thin and even a sneeze from the farthest room in your apartment could travel through the narrow hallway, into common area and past through the crevice under the door. So no, you don’t have the volume at its highest and you aren’t dancing on the bed with a pair of faded shorts and fader t-shirt of your favorite band you got off their website when you went to see them two years ago and you’re not in the shower thus you won’t be getting out of it anytime soon if they’re planning to wait until you do.

I mean anyone sane enough should leave and come back another time, or give you a call on your cellphone and leave a voice message after the beep once they realize their hand could be falling off their wrist and the door still won’t be open, shouldn’t they?

Amidst the debate between what kind of headstrong person on your door and whether you should take it as a sign from life telling you it’s god-knows-what hour and get your ass up and get some decent meal, AKA the leftovers from the fridge that you knew would come in handy, the incessant knocking stops. Completely.

And since your walls are equivalent to the thickness of a cardboard which, isn’t very thick, you hear the clipped clicking of the lock, the ominous creak that your door tends to make as it reminds you that the hinges need oiling before you get locked out of your own apartment for good. But you’re willing to give it another five years, give and take, before the metal keeping the door and door frame intact completely rusts in its place and requires you or whoever moved in by then to shoulder-shove and foot-on-the-wall yank it to make it open and close.

In a sense, you should be alarmed that someone’s found the spare key you stored under the mat and abandoned all common sense of privacy to get into your apartment to drop off god-knows-what they couldn’t just leave on your doorsteps.

Your intruder struts in with a steady pace that goes against the urgency brought by the drive of coming in uninvited, their footfalls echoing louder in the hallway until they stop by the bed which you are currently rotting away under the layers of blanket.

Against your better judgement and lack of will to face the world and people, you grasp the end of the blanket and yank it down to your nose, just enough to pry one eye and see the figure towering over you with all black and smelling of coffee, something delicious and fresh laundry. The latter, you haven’t had the luxury of donning.

“What time is it?” Even you’re surprised of the toad-like voice that scratched your throat, all the more reason to get off the bed after who knows how long of netflix and chill.

Judging from the lights pouring through the smallest of gaps from the blinds, the sun must be high over your head and shining brightly for a day’s worth of errands and for Yoongi to also be barely awake at this time of the day. Yet here he is, fresher than the morning dew and in your apartment instead of his.

“Three in the afternoon give and take,” he shrugs, “You’re not answering you phone or texts, how’d the interview go?”

He sits himself on the bed, his thigh pressing against your blanketed arm though he can do without the contact since the empty sides of the bed is big enough with you forming a lump on the center. But you’re not one to complain as you find the warmth of another being much more welcoming than what your blanket offers which really is just your body heat accumulated under it.

You look over the handbag on the floor by the door where your phone has been since you got off the plane, dropped carelessly last night in your lack of care for the world and immense urge to detach yourself from it which is saying a lot since you rarely separate from the device, checking your social media accounts every five minutes out of habit and sometimes seeing a new post from one of your friends while other times, the dashboard remaining the same in its content since you last saw it.

“Good,” you take your bottom lip between your teeth in ginger contemplation, staring at Yoongi’s softened features and feeling a familiar knot in your stomach at the recollection of how things went not even 24 hours ago, “not good, not really.”

You pry the blanket waist-level as you drag yourself up, your joints feeling a whole lot less enthusiastic about the movement after having been constantly buried under a pile of blankets for 12 hours.

Yoongi hands you a cup of coffee, the circular emerald logo on it signifying your favorite place to get a quality caffeinated drink which just sends your heart flipping in your chest. He doesn’t just check up on you, he’s making sure you have your morning dose of awakening and judging from the suspicious paper bag next to the cup holder on your nightstand, Yoongi is making sure you’re getting the most important meal of the day as well.

“What’s wrong?”

You take an appreciative gulp of the bittersweet beverage, your arm pressed against his not in a compact, no-space kind of way like when you’re packed in a car with four people instead of three in the backseat but rather a nice, comforting human contact kind of way where you can feel his own muscles relax against yours, shoulders slumped as you both lean against the headboard, staring at the baby blue wall in front of you.

Yoongi’s eyes are barely open like they usually are even though he’s probably already finished his own coffee on the way here. The corners of his mouth are naturally pulled down, giving him the signature blank look he wears most of the time which anyone would have guessed him to be bored, disinterested in fact, despite the serious question.

But having been friends with Yoongi for over three years and noting that he’s more observant than he lets on, you know your answer, however ridiculous it may be, Yoongi will not be one of those people you decided against confiding because you know how they’ll react and brush off your anxiety like dust on a broom.

“I stuttered,” you mumble against the rounded carton rim, hands encasing the cup like the only beacon of strength you have left, “more like choked on my words which is worse honestly and fidgeted in my seat.”

Another sip of the liquid is just an excuse for you to soak in what you’ve said yourself, recalling the moments you wish badly to forget through reruns of Criminal Minds with a bowl of cheetos. Whilst you would have flashbacks at the most random times and wish to hit your head against the coffee table just to tell your memory storage to stop giving you unnecessary remembrance, Luke Alves, for the most part brought you back to the present and how he profiles the unsub.

“And blabbered on and on,” the panelists’ faces are clear in your head as you tell him whilst holding the urge to face-plant into the pillow and scream until your throat hurts and you can project a screech no more, “It was a mess, I’m pretty sure I failed, no, I know I failed.”

“You don’t know for sure,” Yoongi takes the beverage when you hand it over to him to place it back on the nightstand, deciding it’s lost its sugary sweetness to the bitter aftermath of overflowing thoughts,” not until you get a notice whether you got it or not.”

His hand wraps around your now empty hand whilst the other fetches the paper bag and drops it on your lap, thumb pad caressing the back of your hand and sparking electricity with every minute stroke like a match on emery. Your hands fit together perfectly, yours a tad smaller but perfect, you think as you trail the green vein protruding under his skin, disappearing under the sleeve of his cardigan.

“I heard them laughing as I leave the room,” Though uncurling the top of the bag serves to be more of a struggle with one hand, you manage to straighten it out and peek in, the smell of sausages and bacon instantly hitting your nostrils as your stomach all of a sudden decides it’s hungry, “I mean, if I don’t get the job, I at least get to be an amusement, right?”

You bite off a strip of bacon, relishing in the wholeness of an actual food since yesterday’s lunch; last night’s cheetos doesn’t count as a meal and despite the nonchalance you put on, your hand twitches just the slightest bit, gripping Yoongi’s a tad tighter for the briefest moment and you can only hope he doesn’t feel it, “Not the mean kind of laugh, more like, an adult watching a baby’s reaction to broccoli kind of laugh.”

The only sound resonating off the walls is the crippling of the paperbag as you dip your free hand into it, opting for a sausage next as Yoongi leans his head against the board, sight averted to the ceiling instead of the wall; his thumb is still caressing the patch of skin near your knuckle. You’re not sure if he’s doing this mindlessly or if he really knows how much you need it more than you do from the years you’ve spent, mapping each other’s faces, rubbing off one another and learning the little things about the other.

“How are you feeling now?” Judging from the comforter draped over the couch, the bowl of half eaten cheetos and a few kernels that missed your mouth and are now lying on the floor and the laptop on the coffee table next to said bowl, not to mention your excessive lethargy to getting the door, Yoongi’s bound to catch on and ask the million dollar question, in spite of the joke and unaffected tone.

Your biting stops, the food going down forcefully as you lose what’s left of your appetite. For half a second, you’re recalling every minute you spent in the room you were interviewed in from the moment you stepped in to the moment you humiliate yourself with your nonsensical babbling until you're led out.

Yoongi brings you back with the sparks of his touch, not realizing what effect he has on you as he peers down at your reverie-stricken self with those down turned lips which can only mean two things which a) he’s attentively listening and right now it’s the silence that’s speaking so loud and b) he’s debating whether to tell you about the pinch of bacon stuck in your teeth.

You’re assuming it’s the first.

“Not okay,” you release a long sigh and lean your head against the dashboard as well, uncaring if your tightening grip is almost uncomfortable and causes him to want to pull away but you need this, you need him even just for a second to remind you that you’re back home, away from the nerve-wracking interview, done, “I feel like I made a complete fool of myself and all I want is stay in bed all day long, sleep and just forget about everything.”

Yoongi lifts his head and looks at you in the eye, dark brown exploring the depths of your messed up soul and yet instead of feeling as though every layer of your skin is being peeled until you’re reduced to a throbbing piece of organ that’s bare for the world to judge and laugh at, you’re safe from the prying eyes, sarcastic inquiries that only builds up to letting you down and everything that leaves scars and bruises over these hands.

“And that’s okay too to want to want to take a break from life and binge watch crime shows all day so you won’t overthink,” he bops his forehead with yours, the gesture too brief to be believable but the fresh blaze on your cheekbones and ears tell you otherwise as you refrain from covering where he bumps your forehead with your own hand as you play it cool, “so long as you invite me.”

Yoongi already has his head back on the dashboard, shoulders slumped and looking as relax as he can be except he’s not staring into nothing; he’s looking at you and he means every word of it, understood the struggle of waking up to face the world, the frightening notion of facing a society that deems staying in and wanting time for yourself is nothing but laziness.

Your heart fill up with something warm and not so foreign when it comes to Yoongi and his all black wearing self, his unsmiling and then gummy smiling the next minute self, his absolute passion for sleeping in and his subtle ways of making you feel a whole lot better about yourself.

“Well,” you flip your wrist so that your palm is facing upwards and Yoongi’s is facing downwards as your own thumb mimics his, acknowledging the handlock for the first time, “since you brought me food and coffee, consider yourself invited.”

In the quietude of the sword-clashing and order-barking from The Magician, you sit side by side with your arms pressed together the way you would despite the fact that it’s a three person couch, immersed in something that sets your mind at ease and even the remembrance of the interview couldn’t make you to want to change that with a head-bang or a pillow scream.

note: this is something really personal for me, and it’s not as fluff centered as the standard oneshots on here but if you’ve come this far, thank you for reading. or even just checking this out.

#bts scenarios #yoongi scenarios #yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #networkbangtan #bts fluff #bts angst #yoongi scenario #bts scenario #bts au #yoongi fanfic #yoongi au #bts #bts images #yoongi imagines #bts oneshot #yoongi oneshot #yoongi drabble

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vnderoos · 6 years

Text

rooftop ❁ scott mccall

warnings / cursing, mentions of a divorce word count / 3,974 pairings / scott & reader (somewhat)

(gif is not mine, credit to the owner)

request / "hi love! can i request a scott mccall imagine where the reader's mom is divorcing their dad and scott helps them through it?? ty!! i love your work!!"

masterlist

↴

⠀ ⠀ Y/N HUGGED the oversized sweater thrown over her torso closer to her freezing body, shivering against the feeling of the chilly atmosphere of the empty hallway of the boy's wing of the campus. She stood—engulfed in the waves of fuzzy blackness that built up and crashed around her—outside of Scott McCall's apartment, waiting for him to let her inside. It was dark at this time of the night—most of the other students having fallen asleep—and all the lights in the building had seemingly gone out, but she could hear someone moving around on the other side, shuffling their feet as they made a rushed attempt to open the door for her. She listened to the soft clicks as they unlocked the multiple locks on the other side of the door, pulling it open when all was said and done.

"Y/N?" Scott's roommate—and also one of her oldest friends, Stiles Stilinski—stood before her with his robust facial features pinched up in a confused and groggy manner, the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes stretching out like a spider's web. His wavy brown hair was a disheveled mop on top of his head, some tufts matted against his creased forehead while others were sticking straight up like they wanted to touch the ceiling, and the hairs of his thick eyebrows were brushed slightly out of place. He was squinting as he looked at her, despite being turned away from the lighting of the dorm, and there were faint, red indents pressed into his cheeks; those were telltale signs of a good slumber.

She felt an immediate pang of guilt, her fists clenching at her sides as she mentally scolded herself, when she figured he must have been asleep before she arrived. "I'm so, so sorry, Stiles, I had no idea you were sleeping. I just— something happened and I really need to—" She began to ramble in a voice barely above a whisper, sorry for ruining his attempt at getting a bit of shuteye on the night before midterms but also trying to explain her reasoning for showing up at two in the morning.

Stiles shook his head quickly, cutting her off as he stepped out of the doorway and to the side, leaning his lanky body against the wood when the path had been made clear for her. "No, no, don't be sorry, Y/N," he told her, rubbing his eyes and flashing her a polite smile. "Scott's in his room. I'm pretty sure he's still up and he'd be more than happy to see you," he explained, knowing that she always liked to confide in the alpha wolf when something bad was thrown her way. "He always is."

The corners of Y/N's lips were drawn up into a gentle smile at his words, a surge of comforting warmth spreading through her body as a side effect. "Thanks, Stiles," she said gratefully, before bidding him a goodnight with a gentle kiss on the cheek and letting him get back to his sleeping.

By the time that Stiles had nudged the door closed with the heel of his foot and wandered back to the couch, where he reassumed his position beneath a raggedy old quilt, Y/N was making her way down the hallway of his and Scott's dorm, trailing the soft pads of her fingers over the protrusions in the paint of the wall. She shuffled her feet along the carpet as she walked, gnawing on her bottom lip like a nervous child. Her heart was beating rapidly in the confinement of her chest, thudding faster with each step she took towards Scott's room and clonking against her sternum. She could feel her veins pulsing as blood rushed through her body and her ribs rattling as she moved, excitement and fear simultaneously barreling into her system.

She stopped when she finally stepped in front of his room, peeking inside so she could make her presence known. She was about to knock on the sleek wood of his doorframe, but the hand she was lifting caught in midair and her mouth fell open a bit when she caught sight of Scott. He looked exactly the same as he always did, possessing that same golden glow that radiated off of him on a daily basis, and that was precisely her problem. Scott McCall was insanely, absolutely, undeniably attractive and even Y/N, who was usually immune to the affect of the good looks and handsome smiles that were thrown her way, had fallen under his spell.

In the moment, he was seated on the mattress of his full-sized bed and he would've been naked if it wasn't for the pair of flannel pajama pants that adorned his legs. He was hunched over a math textbook with a calculator practically glued to his palm. The upper half of his godlike body was bare, granting Y/N an amazing opportunity to drool over the perfectly tanned mounds of muscle that he'd built up on his torso over the past couple of years. His hair was a tad messy, though still not nearly as tousled as Stiles' had been, and an unruly lock or two of his deep brown curls hung in his eyes, barely even shifting as he punched numbers into the device in his grasp with his dense hands. There was a pencil perched between his pearly white teeth as he did, driving her absolutely insane as she watched him from her position in the hallway.

Staring at him in all of his glory almost made her forget the reason she'd arrived in the first place. Almost.

Y/N was about to say something, anything—possibly even a hello—to grab his attention, but upon opening her mouth, a garbled, frog-like croak left her lips instead. She brought a hand to cover the lower half of her face the split second after the noise had been emitted, her cheeks flushing red in absolute humiliation. She watched, with fear rustling the hairs on her skin, as Scott looked up from what he was doing, his long eyelashes fluttering as he blinked at her with his beautiful doe eyes. His face seemed to soften when he saw her and it didn't look like he cared much about the sound, only the fact that she was standing in his hallway at two in the morning. To her surprise, his delicate, fleshy lips were tugged upwards into a sympathetic smile, and he immediately dropped the calculator in his hand, setting his pencil down as well.

Scott maneuvered himself off of his mattress, almost eager to get nearer to her, and he took fairly large steps to get to her. "Hey, Y/N/N," he greeted her breathlessly, opening his arms up the moment he was at hugging distance and pulling her small frame into his embrace, knowing that it was something she needed. Even if she wouldn't admit it. As his arms secured themselves around her, Scott could smell her emotions more prominently. The fragrances of affection, sadness, and anger—which hadn't gone undetected before—rolled off of her figure in waves.

Y/N had no time to refuse his hug—otherwise she might have—but she was glad that she didn't as Scott squeezed her against his naked chest, smothering her with his body heat and the smell of fresh pine. Her toes—covered by a pair of cat-patterned socks—curled at the feeling of her giant, werewolf blanket nuzzling his face into her shoulder and her arms rose up from her sides, gently looping around his abdomen in an attempt to return his gesture. "Hey, Scott," she whispered softly, her breath blowing against his neck as she nestled her head in the crook of his neck, splaying her fingers out on the surface of his back.

There was something about it, being wrapped up so tightly in his arms, that triggered the sensation of relief somewhere inside of her body, helping to extinguish the embers the hurt that flared inside of her chest. A few moments passed by and neither of them made a move to pull away. Scott only began to brush the tips of his fingers up and down the length of her spine in a soothing manner, leaving a trail of electric tingles in their wake. "So," he started after a couple of moments of standing in silence. "Did you just stop by to say hey or did something happen?" He spoke up, the tone of his voice extremely docile as he asked a question that he already knew the answer to.

Y/N could feel Scott shudder beneath her frigid touch as she dragged her hands from the center of his back to rest on his chest, flashing him an apologetic smile after she did. She lifted her head, taking a step away from him just so she was able to lock her gaze effectively with his own, and she pushed a sigh through the gap between her lips.

It was only a couple hours ago that she'd gotten the text from her mother, explaining the problems she'd been having with Y/N's father very loosely and throwing in her plan of action. She'd tied the message up by telling Y/N to call her when she was ready, when she'd processed it all, but, in all honesty, she hadn't even let herself think about it. It was only the moment she'd set foot in Scott's room that her thoughts had started to run wild. "Well, um, a little bit of both, actually," she answered, deciding to take another step back and free herself from his arms completely. "My mom told me something this morning that really sucked, but I love hanging out with you so I thought..." she trailed off, suddenly lost in the way his eyebrows furrowed together and his eyes stared at her so intently. "I thought we could sit on the roof and disappear for a while," she suggested, her hands positioned at the bottom of her sweater as she rolled the hem between her fingers, almost nervous as to what he was going to say.

Scott nodded his head in response. They always went to the roof in times like this; it was their own little getaway. "Yeah, of course," he told her, before making his way to his closet. "I'm just gonna grab a jacket and a blanket first," he explained as he pulled the white sliding door open, revealing a line of dark clothing and a pile of fluffy throws on the shelf resting above them. Y/N watched the muscles in his back flex as he reached upwards for one of the blankets, his hands pulling on a bright red one with snowflakes dotting the fabric. He turned around with a grin on his face and he hurled it in her direction. Because of the weird shape, it fell to the floor between them, but she moved to pick it up anyways. She gathered the soft material in her arms and wrapped it around her shoulders, preparing herself for the cold to come, and Scott slid a navy blue hoodie over his head. "You ready?" He asked her with a smile on his lips, tucking his bulky hands into the pocket of his hoodie.

She could feel her lips as they curved into a gentle smile and something warm sparked in her heart, blossoming from her chest and traveling to her fingers and toes, as she looked at him. "Lead the way, McCall," she mused, trailing a few feet behind him as she watched him slide open his bedroom window with ease and step out onto the fire escape. Y/N mimicked his actions and she slotted her legs through his window, shimmying her way out into the open. Scott placed his hands on her hips when she was halfway through, awakening the butterflies in her stomach, and he helped her slide out. "Thank you," she said as her feet hit the metal floor, gently shaking the ground as she did.

Scott nodded and maneuvered his body to the opposite side of the ladder, climbing up to the top rung by rung. She watched him from outside of his room as he did, listening to the squeaking of the bolts as the metal of the ladder scraped against them and watching him urge her to come up with a gesture of his hand before he vanished to somewhere over the edge. She decided to move after she couldn't see him anymore, trailing her fingertips over the cool edge of the railing of the fire escape as she circled around the ladder. She tied the two uppermost corners of the blanket together around her shoulders, before confirming that the knot in her makeshift cape was sturdy enough to keep it from falling as she climbed towards the sky. When everything checked out, Y/N placed her hands on one of the rungs, clambering upwards just as Scott had until she reached the top.

Y/N grabbed onto the edge of the stone roof, hoisting herself over the small ledge. She dusted her hands off on the cotton of her leggings and untied the knot in the throw blanket that had seemed to tighten around her. After she had, she looked around for Scott, who she found sitting on the far side of the roof. He was sitting with his legs dangling over the edge, leaning back on his hands as he looked out over the city, watching as some of the lights began to flicker out due to the hour.

"I'm sorry, Scott," she whispered as she took a seat beside him, folding her legs so that she sat criss-cross applesauce. She took one of the corners of the blanket and handed it to him, feeling the pull of the fabric and the heat of his body spreading to hers as he wrapped it around his own shoulders.

"For what?" He asked her, turning his head to the side to look at her as she tilted hers towards the stars.

Y/N exhaled deeply at his question, shrugging as her Y/E/C eyes fluttered over the myriad of milky specks sprinkled over the inky canvas. "For this," she explained, tearing her eyes away from the world above and focused them on the alpha beside her. "I'm sure you would've rather stayed inside, studying for exams and not freezing your ass off. I know I always do this, too, and it's not just tonight where I mess up your plans."

He shook his head at her, moving his right hand so that it rested over her left one, and he slotted his fingers through her own. "You didn't mess anything up, Y/N/N," he reassured her. "I've been studying all day, anyways, so it's nice to have a little break. And with the cold, I'm a werewolf, remember? Hardly bothers me," he added, frowning down at her when he noticed the tears brimming in the waterline of her eyes.

Y/N slid her hand out from beneath his, pulling it back towards her body and resting it in her lap. "I'm sorry, it just feels like I screw everything up," she admitted as a couple tears broke free and made a run for it down the length of her cheeks.

Scott was quick to catch them, though, smearing them away with the pad of his thumb and locking his gaze with her own. His eyes searched hers as she blinked and another round of tears slid forth. "You don't screw everything up," he whispered. "You can screw up sometimes, but everyone does. It's alright, okay? It's human. Don't cry," he continued, bringing his calloused hand to her cheek so he could brush his thumb over her soft skin.

She turned away from him almost immediately as his fingers grazed her skin and she let the blanket fall from around her shoulders, lifting her hands to her face so she could swipe at her cheeks. The cold rushed to her body the instant her blanket fell, taking advantage at how vulnerable she'd become—in more ways than just physically. "I'm sorry, Scott, I—"

"Stop apologizing, Y/N. There's nothing you need to be sorry for."

"Sorry," she whispered, before she winced, mentally scolding herself for being so stupid. "I'm sor— shit— I'm sorry. I'm sorry. God, I'm such an idiot!" She shouted in frustration, digging the heels of her hands into her eyes for a moment as another wave of tears presented itself. She unfolded her legs and brought them to her chest, wrapping her arms around her knees and laying her forehead on top of them.

She could hear Scott sigh as he watched her break down next to him and he pulled his legs up onto the rooftop, so it was easier to turn his body towards her own. "You're not an idiot," he told her quietly, yanking the blanket from his back and throwing it on the ground, because the only reason he'd even been using it was to get closer to her. "You're just... frustrated," he concluded, placing the palm of his hand on her sweater-clad back and hoping Y/N wouldn't shrug him off again as he tried to offer her some comfort. Scott could feel her shaking beneath his touch as she started to cry harder, resulting in him rubbing gentle streaks up and down the length of her spine. "You've got all this crap bottled up and you've gotta let it out. That's why you came here, isn't it? To talk?" He asked, his voice barely louder than a whisper, out of a preposterous fear that he might scare her into complete silence.

At his words, Y/N sniffled and looked to her left, her right ear resting on top of her knees so she could stare at Scott sideways. Her eyes scoured the surface of his face, seeking the same tranquility that his voice offered her, before she finally nodded her head and straightened her posture. She swept her hands over her cheeks, removing her tears and their residue, as her stomach swirled at that stupidly adorable smile he flashed her.

"So," Scott paused, slowly retracting his hand from her back. "Talk to me, Y/N. I promise I'll listen," he swore.

She shook her head at that, a small smile gracing her lips as another tear fell. She knew he would listen to her. He always did, without ever promising and without her ever asking, but sometimes, it was hard to tell him. "You're going to think I'm a baby for getting upset over this," she mumbled, a bitter laugh leaving her mouth. "But, my parents are getting a divorce," she confessed, clearing her throat the second after she did.

Scott's eyebrows lifted as she spoke. "Oh my God, Y/N," he muttered, his heart sinking a little in his chest as she watched her shrug her shoulders and pick at the skin around her thumbnails. "Why the hell would I think you were a baby for being upset about something like this?" He asked, shock and the underlying tone of anger laced in his voice.

Y/N shrugged again, swallowing thickly as she brought her eyes up from her thumbs to the city below them. "I don't know, I just thought that you go through so much, you really do. Think about it, you struggled with a psycho alpha biting you in the middle of the night, you found a way to save your best friend after he was possessed by an evil fox spirit, you dealt with some crazy banshee who made a bounty list that got a shitload of hunters to try and kill you, you fought a group of creepy, dead horsemen who literally wiped Stiles from existence for a solid three months, and do I even have to bring up Gerard and Monroe? My parents' divorce is nothing compared to that and, yet, here I am with tears in my eyes and I probably reek of sadness," she admitted, sniffling as she took a brief glance in his direction. "It feels like its all my fault, you know?" She asked him.

Scott shuffled closer to her side, shifting his body so he faced the city once again, and he draped his arm around her shoulders, squeezing her into the side of his body in an attempt at a hug. "I know how it goes. Doesn't sound like a big deal, but it feels the fucking worst," he said and Y/N nestled into his side, hooking her arms around him in return and laying her head on his shoulder. "When I was a kid, I went through the same thing, which should be no surprise to you. It was like there was one night where we were all happy, we were a family, and then, the next night came and everything was different. My dad came home drunk and angry and I don't remember much, but I remember he and my mom were fighting about something. Didn't take long for my mom to file a divorce and I remember asking myself what I did wrong. I remember sitting in my room, when she told me it was time for bed, and laying there for hours, mulling over every bit of every moment I could think of and telling myself I should've worked harder to be a better kid and maybe they'd still be together. It wasn't until a few years ago that I realized it wasn't me or anything I did, that the only reason they split up was because my dad knocked me down the stairs in his intoxicated state. The point is, Y/N, that my parents' divorce wasn't my fault and I promise you, with everything I have, that your parents' isn't your fault, either."

She pursed her lips for a moment or two, letting herself breathe. "Maybe, if I'd stayed home, this wouldn't be happening. I could've gone to a community college instead of flying so many hundreds of miles away and they might still be together, Scott," she whispered.

"Okay, forgive me for saying this, but shut up, would you? It wouldn't have mattered if you didn't jump on a plane and move as far as you have. It wouldn't have mattered if you'd stayed in Beacon. If your parents are getting a divorce, then, they weren't happy, Y/N, and they haven't been for a long time. You are not a factor in this situation," he reassured her. "You have nothing to do with it, believe me. The only thing they'll be worrying about at this point is who gets to spend the most time with you on the holidays or if you decide to pick sides. Your parents are separating because of their own reasons and, no matter what, they'll always love you as much as they always have, if not more."

Y/N's fingers curled into tight fists around the fabric of Scott's hoodie as he spoke and when he finished, she looked up at him with glassy eyes, swallowing the knot that has formed in the back of her throat. "But how can you be so sure?" She asked, her voice falling into a whisper. "How do you know that I didn't break them apart somehow?"

Scott sighed and moved an inch or two away from her to create a bit of space between them, allowing his eyes to comfortably meet hers as one of his hands brushed tufts of her soft hair from her tear-stained cheeks. "Because, Y/N," he answered, a grin forming on his face at what he was about to say. "You're impossible not to love."

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fadefromthelight · 4 years

Text

No. 10 - Blood Loss

Summary: Everly’s dizzy and he needs something not even from this world. Brooklyn doesn’t know what to do.

Read on: Ao3

Everly heaves in deep breaths, his eyes wide and darting. Sweat collects at his brows, sticking the wispy threads of silver hair to his forehead. He leans against the door frame, his knuckles whitening. Brooklyn stands a few paces away, her hands hovering outstretched. “Everly, what’s wrong?”

He shoves a hand into his pocket, pulling out a thin, translucent vial. A deep blue liquid rests inside, charged with an energy that Brooklyn can’t decipher. It tingles across her skin almost like electricity. It was a mirror of the magic Everly wields. “I’ll be fine.” Everly’s voice wavers, and he licks his lips. He opens the vial and drinks from it.

“What is that?” The question tumbles past her lips before she can stop it. She back tracks quickly. “If you don’t mind telling me.”

He caps the vial, shoving it back into his pocket. He draws in a breath, slower this time. He runs a hand through his hair. “It’s magic. In a more concentrated form.”

“And you can drink it?” Brooklyn could barely grasp the concept of magic. She only believed Everly after a demonstration of the strange substance. It still confused her to no end.

Every narrows his eyes, brows pressing together in concentration. “Yes, technically. But we don’t go around drinking magic, it can complicate things.” He glances at her, and frowns at her confusion. “Magic exists in everything in Sytaria. The atmosphere, the produce, even me. But…” Everly tapers off, looking away from Brooklyn with an expression she can’t decipher.

“It doesn’t exist on Earth.” She finishes. “That’s why you have to drink it.”

Everly nods. “I want to make sure that I’m not left without magic.”

It’s barely detectable but Brooklyn can taste his magic, bitter and bright against her tongue. A thought slowly crawls through her mind and she doesn’t know what to do with it. It can hurt to ask. “Can I try some?”

“No!” Everly voice cracks with something she can’t identify and he shoves a hand into his pockets. Magic arcs along his skin, the bright blue thin sparks against his clothes. Brooklyn steps back, fear running through her chest. She can’t stop it. He sighs, his voice softer when he continues. “I don’t think it’ll be a good idea.”

Brooklyn accepts the answer, even if it feels like Everly’s hiding something. “Alright.”

Everly pushes away from the wall and grabs the keys from the table. “I’ll be back.”

He leaves before she can respond.

——

The lights in the hallway before her apartment flicker and buzz. She slips the key into her door, unlocking it and stepping inside. She’s greeted with a thick darkness and the heavy sound of coughing. She turns the lights on, stepping into her apartment. “Everly? Vanessa?”

There wasn’t a response for either. She didn’t expect one from Vanessa, she was often working late. But Everly should be here. He told her that he wouldn’t go running off alone anymore. Despite the lack of magic, her world is more dangerous than Everly knows.

The living’s empty, the blankets spilling off and piling onto the floor. The coughing continues and Brooklyn traces it to the bathroom. They start to sound more wet. She knocks on the door. “Everly, are you okay?”

Coughing fills the silence between the two of them but it subsides and Everly’s voice croaks out from the other side. “I’m fine.”

“Can I come in?” Brooklyn doesn’t trust him to be honest. He’s been hiding something for a while and she might finally get some answers. She doesn’t wait for his response before opening the door.

Everly stands leaning against the sink half-dressed, meeting her gaze in the mirror. Large bruises mar the surface of his skin, a deep rich purple color hinting with wisps of red and bright against the pallor. He holds a bloodied towel to his lips, his teeth stained red.

“What’s wrong?” Brooklyn whispers, leaning over and opening the cabinet beneath the sink.

Everly places a hand on her arm. “You don’t have to do that. I have it under control.”

Brooklyn pulls out the first aid kit and drops it on the counter. “You call this having it under control?” She gestures to the towel and bruises. “I don’t even know how you’d get something like this.”

From Everly’s gaze, she could tell he does. He tightens his grip on the towel. “That doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters!” Brooklyn’s hands shake as she opens the kit. Band-Aids and neosporin rest against a sparse amount of gauze. She shuffles around until she finds some bruise ointment. She opens it and holds it out to him.

He sighs and leans further into the counter. “That won’t help.”

“Then what will?” Brooklyn throws it back into the kit. “The CVS is open 24/7. They must—”

“Brooklyn stop.�� Everly’s voice is pained and fragile. There’s no echo of the magic it usually possesses. “Nothing from this world will work.”

“What do you mean?” Her voice is small and she doesn't want to accept what she knows she should.

“It’s that—” Everly leans over the counter, digging his fingers into the plaster. He coughs and shudders through him. He sways and Brooklyn grabs onto him, his skin cold and clammy beneath her touch. She guides him against the wall, sitting on the floor beside him.

“Should I call an ambulance?” Her voice trembles. She has no idea if they can even do anything.

Everly shakes his head but blood seeps through his fingers and she can’t just sit there and watch.

“I’ll be right back.” She leans him against the corner of the wall.

“No—” Everly coughs, the words catching between the blood coming up. He turns over and vomits on the floor. It’s just as bloody. “—don’t.”

“They’ll help you.” Brooklyn leaves and grabs her phone from the table. Her hands shake as she dials 911.

It only rings once before it connects. A woman speaks from the other side. “911, what’s your emergency?”

Brooklyn walks back to the bathroom. Everly’s slumped against the wall, his hand limp at his side and his head’s lolling. “My roommate was coughing up blood and now he’s passed out.” Her voice is edging on hysteric. She reaches over and presses her fingers against his throat. His pulse is fast but weak.

“Can you give me you and your roommate’s names?”

“I’m Brooklyn and his name’s Everly.”

“Alright Brooklyn, can you give me your address?”

Brooklyn gives her address. “It’s the third room on the right. We’re in the bathroom. I think the front door is unlocked”

“An ambulance is coming your way. ETA is about ten minutes.” Clicking bubbles up from the receiver. “Are there any visible wounds?”

“No. There are only bruises.” Brooklyn her hand against his throat, feeling his pulse and hearing the ragged sound of his breathing.

“Don’t try to move him until the paramedics arrive.”

“W-Will they come in time?” Brooklyn asks, unable to stop herself. Every minute feels like it’s dragging out.

“They’ll be there. They’re five minutes out.”

Draws in a shaking breath. Everly can hold out for that long. His breathing is labored but it isn’t weak and his pulse still beats against her fingers. “Alright, thank you.” She hangs up the phone.

The next five minutes are both the longest and shortest she’s experienced. The paramedics slam open her door and rush into her apartment. Two of them crouch beside Everly and the other drags her out into the living room. Brooklyn is asked questions that she can’t remember, her gaze trained on the bathroom. The paramedic placed her in such a way that she can’t look in. She doesn’t know if it’s better or worse.

The two paramedics pull Everly out on a stretcher and Brooklyn follows them. They carry him down the four flights of stairs, going as quickly as they can. She watches them, feeling detached and disconnected. She can feel the gaze of her neighbor’s on her back but she doesn’t even give them a glance.

She hadn’t realized it, but she had Everly’s coat bunched up in her hands. It had unraveled from the scarf he so often weaves it into. Something settles in the pit of her stomach. That couldn’t be good.

The paramedics load Everly into the ambulance and Brooklyn joins them. Once inside, they start hooking him up to monitors and place an oxygen mask over his face. His breath fogs it, mixing with blood at the occasional cough.

“Pulse is dropping.” One of the paramedics calls out.

“Ready the defibrillator.” Another one responses.

Everything shudders to a shaky stop as she watches the first paramedic apply electrodes to Everly’s chest and hears the heart monitor flatline.

“Clear!” The second paramedic calls out. The other two paramedics step back and the second one turns on the machine.

Everly’s body arcs and all the lights in the ambulance flicker. But the heart monitor resumes beating and Brooklyn can breathe again.

The first paramedic removes the electrodes and wipes off the gel on Everly’s chest. The second paramedic turns to the driver. “ETA?”

“Less than two minutes.” The driver responds, taking a sharp right.

The second paramedic nods and continues to watch the monitors.

They pull into the hospital and roll Everly into a room. Brooklyn waits outside the room, watching the nurses and doctor work from a far.

——

Everly wakes in bits in pieces, everything a murky blur of half formed memories. He’s greeted by a white room, wires and monitors flanking him on both sides. An IV in tucked into his elbow, a bag of blood and a solution he couldn’t identify are connected to it. He resists the urge to remove it. For now.

He shifts, his chest aching. His magic twists inside of him, a hunger that he can’t bay gnawing at his stomach. His gaze settles on Brooklyn sitting curled up in one of the chairs. His jacket is in her lap, bunched up in one of her fists. He pushes himself into a sitting position. “Brooklyn.” He hisses.

She startles awake, almost falling out of the chair. “Everly! You’re awake! I should call—”

“Don’t.” Everly pushes her hand away from the call button. “They’ll only interfere.”

“They want to help you.” Brooklyn glances back at the call button but settles back. “It's more than what you can say about yourself.”

Everly doesn’t dignify a response to that. “You have my clothes, right?”

Brooklyn blinks at him, confusion flooding her expression. “Yes.” She starts, hesitant. “But where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m getting out of here.” Everly gently extracts the IV, letting it drop.

“Don't do that!” Brooklyn stops him from pulling off the electrodes. “Those are helping you.”

“I already told you this.” Everly hits her hands away and pulls off the monitors. It only takes him turning around and shutting them off to silence them. “Nothing here can help me.”

“But you’re doing better here than anywhere else.” Brooklyn hovers over him, biting her lip.

“Not if I can get home.” Everly swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands. He’s steady enough. “Now give me my clothes.”

“You’re going back?” Brooklyn’s voice wavers, a strange mix between confused and pained.

“Yes.” When Brooklyn doesn’t move, Everly holds his hand out to her. “I can’t survive here.”

She frowns but hands him the bag with his clothes and drapes his jacket over the bed.

Everly pilfers through the bag and grabs his pants. He pulls them one and removes his gown. He puts on his jacket, buttoning it up to his throat and zipping on his shoes. Brooklyn watches the whole thing with a half-lidded gaze.

He removes the vial from his pocket. It pulses against his magic and everything within him burns. The vial’s only half full, but it’ll have to do. He uncaps it and down the entire thing. It’s bitter and runs sticky down his throat, settling heavy in his stomach. But his magic coaxes to life in his palm.

He summons his book with a flick of his wrist. Brooklyn’s eyes widen and she steps back. “What is that?” She licks her lips. “What are you doing?!”

“I need to remove our influence.” Everly flips through his book, landing on a specific page. Kaiden rests on his shoulder, peering over the pages.

“Y’know, there are easier ways to deal with this.” Kaiden flips the pages to another spell. He taps his fingers on it.

Everly doesn’t respond. He flips back to the page he was on and shoots Kaiden a glare. Kaiden steps away with a shrug of his shoulders and a thin grin. He disappears.

Kaiden’s gotten more irritable since the last time Everly’s seen him.

Everly presses a hand against the book and tears the world apart.

Only to rebuild it the exact way he wants.

#whumptober2020 #no.10 #blood loss #internal bleeding #OC #writing #tw: blood #tw: injury #tw: hospital #my writing #faded writing

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nationofimaginations · 7 years

Text

Get Up//Stiles Stilinski

(A/N): Saving Beacon Hills from supernatural threats was hard work, but getting Stiles up for school is even harder. Reader resorts to unorthodoxed methods for getting him out of bed.

Warnings: Sexual themes/ heated make out session, language, nudity, no proof reading (I believe that is all)

This is my most heated scene I’ve posted so far... Be warned

A monotonous beeping made your eardrums sting from the deafening pitch. Even after slamming the wretched machine off a ringing remains in your ears.

A brunette head of hair poked out of the blue comforter. Gentle snores escaped his lips while his chest moved up and down rhythmically. Along his collar bone was a dark purple blotch marking his freckled skin. A smile pulled at your cheeks as you reminisced the previous night. The two of you had planned a study session to study for your upcoming exams. It was a perfect plan since you had mostly the same classes, however you had gotten distracted.

It was a blessing to have a Stiles in your life, but a Stiles was awful for your attendance. Even with the other study sessions that you and Stiles had, you were falling behind in some of your courses. Of course, these sessions were rarely productive since the two of you became quite preoccupied with other things. Sighing, you lift the covers before cuddling up to his warm body.

“Stiles, we have to get up,” you grumble snuggling into his bare chest, your lips skimming his warm skin with each syllable. You attempt to shake him awake, but he would only shrug your touch away. “Stiles. Get up.”

“No.” His pitiful whine makes you roll your eyes.

“Yes,” you begin, tracing imaginary shapes over his bicep with a finger. “You’ve been absent 28 days this semester already and we’re only two months into the school year.”

“Sh, go back to sleep, babe,” he hushes you. Your heart flutters from his deep, raspy morning voice. His eyes remain closed as his arms wrap around your waist, effectively securing you to the bed.

“Nope, not this time,” you respond, pushing his arms off you. Before he can pull you back into his warm grip, you’re already jaunting to the other side of the room. The bed shakes as Stiles drops his arms back to the mattress, making you shake your head playfully at your silly boyfriend.

Taking a deep breath in, you realise that it was going to take some major convincing to get that lazy lump out of bed. Your eye spots a particular item that sparks an idea in your head. A set of underwear that just so happened to be Stiles’ favourite. The corners of your lips curl into a mischievous grin while a plan develops in your mind.

Reaching for the waist band of your underwear, you begin to pull the fabric down your legs. You emphasis your hip movements with every motion as you remove it. After stepping out of the garment, you grab the other garment and toss the fresh set to the floor

“Aw, would you look at that,” you muse, pouting your lips. You turn to Stiles who was eyeing you carefully.

Bending over as far as you could, you slowly reach for the silky garment, your most intimate parts out on display for Stiles’ viewing. Your fingers play with the edge of fabric, making sure that you had given him a good look. You step through the material and slowly pull it up your legs, signaling the end of the show.

“A-Ah, fuck.” A breathy groan sounds from behind you, prompting a smirk to curl at your lips. So your plan was working after all.

“Like what you see?” You wink, shaking your behind a little bit more. At this point he was sat up against your headrest; lips parted slightly and cheeks flushed.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind waking up to this every morning,” he remarks, his tongue gliding across his lips. His hazel eyes rake your body shamelessly, memorising the layout of your body.

You toss an oversized shirt over your head, and slip the new set of underwear over your hips. As you’re about to open your closet an impacient groan grabs your attention.

“Babe, come give me a kiss,” Stiles requests with open arms. His short hair sticks up in all directions in an adorable fashion, nearly making you forget the dirty scene that just occurred.

“Just one kiss and you’ll get up?” Your lips purse as you raise an eyebrow towards him.

“One kiss and …” His voice trails off becoming so low that you can’t understand his mumbles. You simply shrug it off, assuming that he had accepted the conditions of the bargain.

Climbing over the pile of blankets that lay at the foot of the bed, you slowly crawl over Stiles’ body. Like a predator about to claim it’s prey, but little did you know that roles were about to be reversed. Straddling his legs, you lean in to peck his soft lips. The two of you act like magnets when you touch, as if attracted to each other by the laws of science and nature. Your mouth moves steadily against his,

Pure hearted and PG as you tried to make the kiss.

Stiles on the other hand was having none of that and began nibbling at your bottom lip, determined to get the most out of this. His hands grab greedily at your bottom, pressing the two of you even closer together. Chest to chest, a firey sensation flows over your body, but thoughts of school entered your mind once again.

You pull away, however Stiles has other plans and connects your lips again. Hard. Once again, you’re hypnotized by his kiss. Slow burning passion flows through your veins as you instinctively return the kiss, tangling your fingers in his course hair. Moaning into your mouth, his grip tightens around your waist; no doubt leaving finger-shaped bruises that you would wear proudly. He tugs at the hem of your shirt, making you snap out of the trance.

“No, Stiles,” you scold, pushing his chest with an open palm lightly. “We agreed one kiss and you would get up. We have to go to school today; no excuses.”

His large hands easily catch your wrists and pull them over his shoulders and around his neck, making you fall against his chest from the rigid movements.

“Well, I remember saying one kiss and something of mine would get up,” Stiles remarks. His hips roll up to meet yours, and sure enough, there was a not-so-little member poking at your inner thigh. The simple movement prompted sparks in the pit of your stomach, ones that only he seemed to ignite.

His lips meet yours again. You move in perfect sync, each move building more and more sweet pressure in your abdomen. Your heart pounded violently against your rib cage, while your head began to feel light as air. Adrenaline coursed through your bloodstream. Kissing Stiles was the best kind of high.

Without realising it, you find yourself slowly rolling your hips into his thighs, begging for more friction against your needy core. Stiles’ hot fingertips waste no time exploring under your shirt, making sure to leave none of your skin untouched. He continues to pinch, rub, and tease with his hands before they finally settling near the edge of your underwear. His touch would teasingly dip below the thin fabric every so often, but never close enough to where you so desperately needed him.

Stiles pulls away from your throbbing lips before leaving a trail of sloppy kisses along your jawline.

“You said I missed, what, 28 days? Missing a couple periods today wouldn’t hurt. Plus, it won’t be like we’re missing the entire day,” Stiles reasons in a low tone. His teeth grazing the shell of your ear, sending waves of electricity over every inch of your body. Involuntarily your back arches into him, giving him full access to your sweet spot. His mouth slowly inches over to that one area of your neck that he knew so well at a painfully slow pace.

“A couple?” It’s a struggle to speak while you’re under his mercy. Your voice raises an octave as you try to resist moaning from his skillful touches. He sucks and laps at your skin as if his life depends on it. Your nails were surely digging into Stiles’ skin, luckily he secretly loved showing off the marks you would leave on him. “How about one?”

“Hm, I can work with that for now,” he hums against the fresh mark on your neck. “But I won’t be opposed to comply when you’re begging for more.”

That cocky little shit.

“Shut up,” you growl, smashing your lips against his once more. Ah, the things this boy does to you.

~*~

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