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socialkid · 1 year

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(Alternative title: Not so Secret admirer)

Pairings: Bakugou Katsuki x Fem! Reader

Genre: Romance (Enemies to Lovers?)

Warnings: Slight cursing

Summary: When catching the eye of one of your most prized possessions, you remember the romantic story and reasoning behind it.

A/N: Thank you so much for all the love on my last post! I really do appreciate every single like, comment, and reblog! Now that I think of it this is kind of a Valentine’s Day post…but who cares I’m only one month late!

Having a Pro Hero boyfriend was a bit of a struggle you had to admit. Don’t get it wrong you loved the attention from the various amount of people who shipped you and Bakugou, and the feeling of protection and safety when you’re snuggled up in bed with your human explosive, but that was the thing. Waiting to get that affection from your partner was such a long process, especially on days with outrageous villain attacks.

You picked up your phone rotating it to the side to checking for the red line identifying that the phone was possibly on silent mode. It wasn’t. You turned on your phone and scrolled down your notification banner; Snapchat notifications, TikTok notifications, and other unnecessary announcements. You went to settings to check your notifications. Your messages seemed to be on. You opened the message app and clicked ‘Dynamite 🧨💥🧸’ only to see your chain of texts still on delivered. Sighing you lazily scrolled through your texts then studied his name above them. You remember for months Bakugou had questioned the teddy bear emoji. You placed down your phone as your eyes trailed over to the teddy bear on your side of the bed. An cute almond brown bear holding a red heart that had the words ‘Be mine?’ printed in cursive on it.

You grabbed it and snuggled it, the fur on it tickling your nose, and the scent of your boyfriend lingers on it. You remember your first look at this bear. It was all the way back in second grade. Everyone was passing out candy and cards into everyone’s boxes for Valentines. You had finally gotten around to the last desk and dropped your last card in. When you got back to your desk there it was; the bear sitting on your desk with a card right beside it. You didn’t even bother to open the card yet, you just went straight for the plush. “H-hey who gave this to me?” You asked loud enough for the students to look back towards you. They murmured and questioned but the kid that caught your eye was Bakugou. The one who didn’t flinch by your question, nor turn around and face you. Just continued to eat his candy in a careless manner. You had a hunch it was him because he did the opposite of what everyone else did, but why would he get something so meaningful for you?

Back even when you were younger than second graders, you and Bakugou had never had a good history. As it seems to be known Bakugou and Izuku Midoriya, your green haired friend did not get along as kids. Whenever Bakugou would pick on him, the classmates felt bad but they didn’t want a piece of Bakugou so they just stood to the side and observed. Until you came along. Bakugou still remembers the day the teacher introduced you to the whole class. He stared at you as the teachers endless babbling continued.

“Oooh looks like somebody’s in love!” One of Bakugou’s friends teased him as the other clammed his hands together and proceeded to make kissy faces in the air. “What!? No I don’t, and I’ll prove it!” Bakugou replied quickly. He waited for the teacher to Exscuse you to go sit down on the carpet before he spoke, “Hey newbie! Why don’t you just step aside cause I bet you’re really weak!” Bakugou shouted. “Bakugo-!” The teacher started before you interrupted her, “Not weak, just stronger than you.” You replied calmly. Some of the class laughed while Bakugou gritted his teeth in anger. “Yea yea whatever, you haven’t heard the last of me.” He muttered but to your surprise he left you alone. And since he left you alone that meant he was back to only one target. Midoriya.

All day you watched Midoriya being stepped on by Bakugou and his crew. “Hey Deku you should just give up now. You don’t even amount to me!” This kid would say proudly while showing off his quirk. ‘What’s this kids deal?’ You thought. Finally recess came around and you sat down and played in the sand box with this other girl. You were enjoying your time not long before commotion broke out behind you.

“You’re being mean Kacchan! Leave them alone!” The green haired boy yelled. ‘Kacchan…?’. You stood up from the sand box, the girl in there with you questioning you. “Deku what did I tell you about trying to be a hero? It’s not gonna work, at least not against me.” Bakugou replied punching his fist together. Izuku trembled but stood his ground as Bakugou and his friends approached him. He reached for Izuku’s shirt before you screamed, “NO!” Everyone stopped in their tracks.

“You again,” Bakugou said “What do you want?”.

“I want you to leave him alone!” You replied. Bakugou stood silent with a puzzled look on his face. “What this loser?” Bakugou said moving him by his shirt. “He’s not a loser, you are! Now get away from him!” You replied. Bakugou blinked than let go of Midoriya. “Whatever, you two can hang out and be two quirkless losers together!” Bakugou almost shouted. He walked away, his two friends trailing behind him. You turned around to go back to the sandbox before hearing, “Hey, thank you!”.

Ever since that day Bakugou’s always seemed to have a bone to pick with you. You thought he hated you, little did you know this boy was absolutely fascinated by you. No one’s ever had the courage to stand up against him nonetheless succeed. His ego wasn’t as big as it would be in middle school (in the future) but he still had his moments. Yet he wanted to impress you. He would never admit it. Like ever. But he would give anything just for five seconds of your attention. So he would do stupid things. And when I say stupid things, I mean very stupid things. Like insulting you. Why he thought that was a good idea, you will never know. Litteraly trip on thin air just to see your reaction. And then there’s the normal stuff guys do to get a girls attention; talking loud, acting different when you’re around, and sending his friends to talk to you. But still not enough. You were too busy hanging with that Deku kid to “notice him”.

“Katsuki we came to the store to buy Valentines for your classmates so that’s what we’re going to do!” Mitsuki, Bakugou’s mom said dragging Bakugou by his arm. Mitsuki had gotten a email from the school that they had a Valentine’s Day party in for the second graders in the classroom. She wanted her son to be involved in the classroom more often, seeing his ego was growing she knew he had very limited friends.

“But I don’t want to.” Bakugou pouted trying to walk back to the exit of the store. Mitsuki struggled against her surprisingly strong son but dragged him back to the shelf.

“LISTEN, Katsuki! We’re just going to grab a stack of decorative cards and candy and then we can leave ok!?”, Katsuki pouted at this. He turned her back on her with his arms cross whilst her mom asked him questions she knew he wasn’t going to even respond to. “Ooh these are cute, how about these? Ooh but these ones come with stickers. What do you think?”. Bakugou began roaming the isle looking up and down the shelves. He scanned and studied the objects but there was this particular one that caught his eye. It was a cute little cuddle sized bear. It held a heart with fancy writing that spelled ‘Be Mine?’.

After about 5 minutes of shopping Mitsuki was done, but when she was she caught her son eyeing this bear. She stood behind him for a good two minutes before he turned around a noticed her. “Jeez! Mom what do you want?” He asked after being startled by Mitsuki. “Do you want me to buy that bear for you?” Mitsuki asked him. At this Bakugou cocked an eyebrow up at his mom. She never usually buys the stuff he wants in the stores, she’s more of a work for it and earn it type of mom. “Why?” Bakugou asked. “Oh I don’t know, possibly for a little crush you might have at school?” She asked him smiling. At this Bakugou’s ears lit up. “NO I DON’T!” he shouted. “You might want to watch who you’re yelling at Katsuki.” Mitsuki replied very calmly but scary enough for him to simmer down.

After the back and forth between the mom and son they walked out of the store with grocery bags, Mitsuki’s hand held with Bakugou and Bakugou’s free hand carrying a teddy bear.

Bakugou sat up in his room staring at the bear on his bed. He got up and opened the door out of his room to peak on the kitchen counter where a couple extra cards laid on the counter. He took one and a sharpie that was next to it and snuck off back to his room.

And that’s when you received your bear by a “secret admirer”. You weren’t 100% sure it was Bakugou, but you didn’t care. You cherished that bear. You took it everywhere with you, airplanes, vacations, sleepovers, it didn’t matter what the occasion. Even in 6th grade when you had pajama day at school. “You still carry around that stupid bear?“ Bakugou asked. “How do you know, have you been watching me?” You asked as he scoffs, “Besides I think he’s cute.” You replied hugging your bear as Bakugou grunted but exscused himself quickly because he felt his cheeks burn. You ask him about it later but he just pushed you away. But Bakugou knew you wern’t the type of girl to push situations away, you wanted to get to the bottom of everything.

The questions you asked him for months seemed so intrusive to him after a while he was thinking about just telling you the truth so you would leave it alone. But by then his ego was to big.

As the years went on the drama between you came to a rest and finally you two became somewhat friends. And somewhere along the road some what friends became best friends (with crushes on each other yes). Now you were in your last months of U.A and had been known of the school’s best couple for years now. And yet still through the entire way you had the bear.

You remember the first time you had a sleepover with your boyfriend in your dorm. You had just came out of the bathroom brushing your teeth to see Bakugou (in his black tank top 😩) with your teddy bear. He hadn’t noticed you there, but you over heard him muttering to himself, “She till has this huh? Commitment.” He said, then placed the bear down. He turned around to face you and slightly jumped “WHAT THE HELL!?” He screamed as you giggled, “What is up with you and my MOTHER sneaking up on me all the time!?” He said, still he grabbed you and pulled you into his arms.

You always think about the story of you, Katsuki, and his bear in your free time. But your thoughts were interrupted by heavy foot steps outside the apartment door. The keys jingled for a while before the door was unlocked and your boyfriend trudged in. He closed the door and locked it behind him, then headed straight to your room where he knew he would find you.

“Baby!” You said groggily still holding on the bear. Bakugou grinned a bit before pulling you off the bed and locking you into his arms. He then proceeded to kiss you longing for the taste of you all day. “How was your day Suki?” You asked him as he snorted, “Nothing special down at the agency pretty slow day if you ask me. But I’m glad to be back at home with my baby for our special time together.” He said kissing your neck as you sighed with pleasure. You could do this all day but you knew Bakugou had to get in the shower, he absolutely refuses to get on the bed dirty.

Once he finishes showering he slides into bed with you. You have SpongeBob playing in the background, Bakugou learned not to question it when once you had a six hour fight about it.

Your still snuggled up with your bear when Katsuki finally pops the question. “What is up with you and this bear?” He asks as you turn over and face him. “Because you gave it to me.” You reply. “Yeah yeah, but how did you even find out?” He asked. “Dunno. Maybe it was justa gut feeling? Or the the amount of times you made it obvious, it could be that too.” You teased. “HAH? So you’re getting smart with me huh dumbie?” He responded. “Just a little” you giggle. You pull yourself closer to Bakugou and close the gap in between you.

“I love you Suki.” You say earning a kiss on the tip of your nose. “Mmm love you more baby.” He replied. “I have something special for you…” you said smirking. “Oh really?” Katsuki asked grinning leaning more on you by the minute. You hummed in agreement before reaching behind you and grabbing a pillow and hitting Katsuki Bakugou smack dab in the face.

Your giggling became continuous laughing as Bakugou’s smirk turned into a frown then into an evil grimance. “Alright, since you want to play that way.” Bakugou started before grabbing a pillow and swinging at you. You quickly dodged it and ran around the room, Bakugou chasing you close behind. After about two minutes he caught you and picked you up. “NOOOO!” You screamed while laughing before he threw you onto the bed and the game was over.

“God I can’t wait to make you my wife.”

BONUS:

For those who are curious what 2nd grade Bakugou’s note read, here it is:

“Here’s a bear you deserve it. You work really hard and you seem nice. I hope you enjoy this. Happy Valentines Day.” - Secret Admirer.

Such a sweetheart am I right 🥹 ?

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #boku no hero academia #katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #Bakugou oneshot #enemies to lovers #bakugou x yn #bakugou x you #oneshot

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lovelyhan · 1 year

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hope you're comfy in the cold weather kai!!

speaking of cuddling with hao, i think he'd be the type who Seriously just wants to cuddle when it's cold out, but sadly for hao, his s/o is a tease and keeps grinding their ass against him until he isn't sleepy anymore and intentionally gets him worked up af

(can i be your ❄️ anon also? 🤭)

you are an insane person! criminally unwell! you deserve to be locked up without parole!

⟣ when it's cold outside ⟢ wc: 0.4k words minors do not interact!

minghao doesn't see any problems when you asked him to get under the comforter with you when he visited your apartment. it was colder than usual and he could use a quick nap before heading back to the dorms.

so here he is, face resting against the crook of your neck as the heat of your bodies permeates into each other—enveloping the two of you in warmth so inviting, it nearly lulls him to sleep right away.

though you wouldn't catch him admitting it aloud, minghao enjoys these quiet afternoons with you much more than he thought he would. he adores how your body slots perfectly against his own—like two pieces of a puzzle he's been searching for his whole life. not to mention, the scent of you both in his arms and all over your sheets easily tempers his mind into a state of relaxation.

lying with you like this isn't so different from meditating.

most of the time.

"love," he groans when you push your ass back against his groin—yanking him halfway from slumber. "why are you moving around so much?"

he could give you the benefit of the doubt that you were simply moving around to get more comfortable. but minghao has been with you long enough to know when the things you do bear no ill will and when you fully intend to make him suffer a little.

"no reason," you giggle before doing it again. another tantalizing roll of your backside that grants him friction he didn't even know he craved. "you can go back to sleep if you want to, hao. i'm just getting comfortable."

though his mind attempts to distract himself from your no-good antics, his body responds in kind—slender fingers gripping your hips deliciously tight. minghao grinds his half-hard length against the valley of your ass, sucking a sharp breath through gritted teeth. he can't believe how easily you made him succumb to temptation.

but then again, he can never hold out against you for long.

"h-hao," you whine, tilting your head around to brush your lips against the corner of his mouth. "feels so good..."

minghao half-expects you to roll back into the pillows to let him climb over you like usual. but to his surprise, you put in a bit more force into your arms when you turn to push him back down on the bed—planting your thighs on either side of his hips as you stare down at him with a needy look in your eyes.

"you'll give it to me, right?" you whisper, making him groan as you gyrate your hips slowly—his aching cock straining even further against the fabric of his sweats. "you'll make me feel good. right?"

looks like he's heading back to the dorms later than usual.

besides, who was he to deny you the pleasure?

hope you have a nice day or whatever :/// totally didn't get ME worked up when i was supposed to work on a wip :////// (also yes you can definitely be ❄️ anon! but have some mercy on my mental health next time xoxo)

#🍵 tea time #❄️ anon #seventeen smut #the8 smut #minghao smut #you are Crazy #i can't believe you've done this!#<- actually enjoyed every minute i spent writing this #feed into my delusions yes #📝 drabble #lovelyhan

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lupically · 3 years

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#FFF8EA | XIAO.

genre | fluff

word count | 2233

warning | mention of falling off a moutain

note | i just have some ideas for xiao...

"the yaksha is fond of you."

madame ping was no stranger to you. the kind old lady roaming around yujing terrace, often seen admiring flowers or brewing a cup of hot tea, was someone you come across every afternoon after school when you head to the censor to make a wish to rex lapis.

the conversation you two have had always been brief, mainly because you were always in a hurry to get to work. she never minded your urgency, blissfully talking about how fast-paced and active young people these days are, and simply being happy that you even stopped to let her hand you some glazed lilies from time to time.

interestingly, though, she stopped giving you glazed lilies after a while and began handing you some pretty qingxin instead.

you never questioned it. it was just flowers. you could live without being gifted only one kind of them for the rest of your life. but after today's incident—after the burning down of your school located just outside the city, as well as what madame ping told you with hearty laughter laced in her voice, you were starting to think the switch to qingxin meant something.

"the yaksha is fond of you."

you tightened your hands around the weak strap of your school bag, made out of bamboo after lots of trials and errors, and you tilted your head with increasingly furrowing brows.

"pardon me, the what is fond of me?"

"the yaksha, my dear."

you stared at her. the corner of your lips was quirking up in confused twitches, and she could see that you were fiddling uncomfortably on your spot because you truly have no idea what she was talking about. it was not because of the history of the yaksha that might have made you feel jittery and out of place, you simply had no idea!

madame ping smiled even harder at your innocent oblivion then. how could you have such ample knowledge of rex lapis and the adepti, but nothing about the yaksha? especially the one with his mark, a jade green glow surrounding you like fireflies, all over your aura?

maybe that was why xiao chose you.

or, at least, it was one of the reasons why he liked you.

it was because you knew nothing of him. you never think about him, you never talk about him, and you would never suspect the string of random good luck and trails of safe travels that have been following you around.

while it must be tearing him down on the inside; the fact that he wasn't being able to approach the one person who made his good deeds a choice rather than an order. it must be plaguing his mind and patience every day.

but, even then, your surprising lack of information about his identity does save him the pressure of being chased down by you.

it saves him the problem of being even further attached to you. it was already pressing on his breaking point when he went out of his way to watch over you, leaving trails of his magic over your mortal soul to keep you safe when he was busy. any further interaction would be disastrous.

logically, he knew he would fall for you, so he was doing preventive measures. he has to keep his chest sealed so his heart wouldn't jump toward you involuntarily; he has to keep his chest sealed so you couldn't see all the mess inside.

"oh, sweet child," madame ping cooed as she walked toward you. she whispered to herself, "you're being protected by an adeptus and you don't even know."

she brought up a qingxin from her pocket, the petals slightly wrinkled from the confined space. she tucked it carefully in the pocket of your shirt before patting the bloomed flower, almost as if she was reminiscing.

"this is his flower," she said.

you hummed, looking down at it. "this is his favorite flower?"

"i'm not sure about his favorite flower, but this is his flower," she replied casually.

you pursed your lips together. well, at least now you knew the qingxin did have something to do with the... yaksha... or whatever.

"madame ping... may i ask–"

"you can find him at qingyun peak," she cut you off calmly. "during the lantern festival. he is always there during the festival. it was for the quiet, he said, that old man."

you shut your mouth, surprised that she knew what you wanted to ask. "uh... qingyun peak... is kind of... a big place..."

"you will find him if he wants to see you," she said. "you can speak his name–xiao. he might not show himself to you, but if you have something to say, he's likely there to listen."

qingyun peak. the lantern festival. the yaksha.

right.

that was how you found yourself bearing the freezing night cold with just a thin shirt and a ragged fabric wrapped and tied around your torso, your hands hurting from grabbing sharp edges and rough rocks, and your anxiety increasing with every jump that not only would the almond tofu in your bag fall, but you would as well.

as opposed to watching xinyan play for the lantern festival, being warm and cozy from the warm city lights and the tasty street food, and maybe even letting go of a lantern yourself after making a wish, you were here. you were alone, climbing mountains for a chance.

all for a random boy madame ping told you about! someone who was supposedly fond of you—if this xiao guy was so fond of you, he would have shown himself the first three times you called his name at the bottom of the mountain!

"fond of me–what a joke," you said through gritted teeth as you hoisted yourself up on a small ledge. "i'm going to kick his ass so hard when i find him."

you let yourself pant for a minute, regaining your stamina as you groggily accessed the higher peaks above you. your eyes squinted in dismay, but something inside you—the curiosity for the truth, as well as the longing for a friend, also the anger for playful revenge—urged you to keep going.

"he better eats the almond tofu i made," you muttered to yourself as you moved closer to the mountain. "i even picked some flowers... for him."

jump after jump, you were close to making it to the second ledge when suddenly, a slime jumped and appeared above you. it looked surprised, mirroring your expression, and as it prepared itself to attack you after seeing your hands move, it stopped when it saw you fumble about in the air before you began to fall further away from itself.

you had let yourself go. out of surprise, and an instinct to grab a weapon, your hands moved away from the edge and you fell.

your mind raced as the wind hit your face, your falling body heavy against the current that desperately tried to take you up from the ledge you just climbed up from. you would surely die from the impact if you drop. even without dropping down to the bottom, you would still suffer from a painful death.

was there something to do? how did this happen, you were doing fine! what should you do, what could you do? you were falling already—what was there to do now? anything, something?

"i–archons–" you heaved with the cold air, your lungs squeezing inside you with fear as tears began to drip out of your eyes.

anything? anybody?

xiao?

"you can speak his name. he might not show himself to you, but if you have something to say, he's likely there to listen."

"xi–" your voice broke for a millisecond when you could see the green grass approaching quickly. you squeezed your eyes shut, and your voice was louder than you have ever allowed it to be.

you called his name, loud and clear.

the first thing you felt was a lightning strike. you opened your eyes at the electric feeling to find a flash of green. it was bright, close and bright, in a way that was blinding. but then the tail broke into gentle fragments as a pair of arms circled your body to catch you from the fall.

one arm went around your waist, the other hand securely tightened itself around the back of your neck to keep it from breaking from the impact of his fast landing.

xiao growled under his breath when his feet struck the ground in a heavy blow. he pushed your head to his shoulder, shielding your face away from the soil that bounced upward as a result.

quietness ensued after a moment of calm. you took the moment to access the situation—you were fine. someone, likely xiao, saved you from the fall. you were fine.

he dropped onto the ground, sitting on the cold grass with your body pressed close to his, when he heard that you began to sob from the accident.

despite feeling awkward and unsure, he kept quiet and let you vent out the post-accident fear so you could slowly bring in the relief that you were still alive. but his quietness was unwelcomed when you suddenly curled your fist and hit him across the shoulder.

"screw you! why didn't you just answer me when i–when i was at the bottom of the moun–mountain! screw you!"

you blamed him and you hit his shoulder repeatedly. your weak fist was nothing compared to the pain he has endured in the past, but your cries cut through him like glass in the most seamless pattern when he realized he was part of the reason why you had to go through that traumatic experience.

if he had just jumped down from the peak when he heard you the first time, this would not have happened.

xiao looked at the empty spot before him. his golden eyes glowed with a softness that has long fallen into the abyss, forever gone and forever abandoned. but he brought it back out now because he cares about you, and he is, ultimately, attached to you, and he loves you.

"you're right," he said, holding you close to him. "i'm sorry."

ever since you discreetly left the almond tofu on the roof of the wangshu inn, your shy figure hunched over in an apologizing manner because you were told that you were giving food to an important, albeit weird, guest, and your blissfully ignorant words of encouragement as you told him to go out and explore the world, to give it a chance so he could find people he would like.

ever since then, he has loved you, in fragile and discreet ways, in unwavering and patient ways, in protective and caring ways.

"i love you, i'm sorry."

you stopped sobbing almost immediately, and he was afraid he might have said the wrong thing.

wasn't it what he was supposed to do? verr told him to speak his mind once. just be truthful with his feelings and nothing could go wrong. was he not supposed to show his affection blatantly, as he would his complaints and opinions?

"that... that is going a little too fast for me, xiao," you joked. "let's settle with appreciating each other for now."

he heard you laugh, causing the weight of his heart to drop, like finding lights in a fog, like seeing the lanterns in the night sky and realizing that there are more people alive with you than you think.

"thank you, for saving me," you said kindly then, your fist long stopped hitting him and was now patting his shoulder.

"always."

“but burning my school down is not the best approach for... whatever it was you were trying to help me with.”

xiao blinked in confusion, then realization hit him. he almost forgot about that! he was, shockingly, dwelling in the prideful fact that because he literally destroyed the building, you would be free of school for the day, and therefore not having to face all the hardships inside the walls he could not venture past. he thought it was the best thing to do, second to beating up everyone, which he politely opposed to.

“i am not sorry about that,” he muttered. “it was what i thought was best.”

he could feel you grin in his embrace. your laughter reverberated in the air, making his magic glow around you both. it was like nothing he has felt before. he wanted to stay like this—in this position where you were engulfed by him, where he could surround you with himself instead of the fireflies of green he has left behind, where he was with you in a way it was entire, in a way he could feel your beating heart against his own.

you are pressing onto his breaking point.

you are going to open him up, see him whole, and renovate his insides to your will. you are going to take his heart from his chest, breaking through his ribcage made feeble from his sheer affection for you, and claim it as your own. you are going to make him love, like sharp knives, like soft breaths, like tragic past, like warm blood, you are going to make him love.

you are pressing onto his breaking point.

and xiao lets you.

because you will be worth the tragedy, you will be worth everything.

#genshin x reader #genshin imagines #xiao x reader #genshin impact xiao #genshin impact imagines #genshin x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin xiao #genshin xiao x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact #xiao imagines #xiao x you #xiao scenarios #genshin scenarios #genshin impact scenarios

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wondernimbus · 4 years

Text

two sworn enemies — draco malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x female!reader

summary: there is only one thing worse than being hated by draco malfoy; it’s being fancied by him.

requests are closed for now! please refrain from plagiarizing my work.

After being on the receiving end of Malfoy's torment for four whole years at Hogwarts—a place where she's supposed to be making friends and learning and making the most out of all her youthful years—[Y/N] is beginning to grow tired.

The last thing she’s supposed to be worrying about is a snarky Slytherin boy who always has some sort of rude remark resting on his lips every time he comes across her in the corridors. Or anywhere, for that matter—Draco Malfoy's incessant jest seems to stay within no boundaries.

Eleven-year-old [Y/N] used to be fazed by it; she used to cry herself to sleep every time the platinum blond would push past her in the hallway, yelling out something offensive on his way, usually to do with her friendship with blood-traitors and the "big-headed" Harry Potter (or so Malfoy referred to him). She used to feel angry—angry enough to want to whip her wand out at him and hex him into oblivion every time he'd even as much as lay eyes on her. But the more Malfoy tried to bother her, the more it didn't anymore.

Fourth year wasn't so bad. Malfoy had already called her about a hundred nasty names at that point and was running out of them—his creativity was dwindling and [Y/N]'s concern along with it. She'd even laughed at him, one time during Transfiguration class—genuinely laughed, not out of frustration or anger but because she found something that he said to her funny.

"How does it feel being surrounded by blood-traitors and Mudbloods, [Y/L/N]? Pity you chose the wrong crowd to hang around."

"How did it feel to get punched by a girl, Malfoy? I hear Hermione packs quite a punch."

Malfoy’s nose had wrinkled into his signature sneer before he scoffed. "Tell Granger she can improve her right hook." At which point [Y/N] had snorted out a laugh—and yes, it wasn't a full-blown burst of chortles, but it was a laugh nonetheless.

Fifth year rolls around and Draco Malfoy is the least of [Y/N]'s worries. She's gotten over his nagging at this point; all his jabs have lost a bit, if not all of their luster.

But then a week after classes have started, Malfoy starts acting—weird. Very weird. [Y/N] has no idea what's gotten into him, but Draco's cruel insults seem to have veered off course and taken a very dramatic turn. He still yells at her in the hallways, but not to make some harmful jibe [Y/N] has heard thousands of times before. Instead Draco—yes, Draco Malfoy, the same boy who has never once failed to torment her in the past years they've known each other—has now made it a habit to yell pick-up lines. At her. At [Y/N]. At the same girl he's been bad-mouthing for the past four years.

The first time it happens, [Y/N] can't believe her ears. She thinks he's yelling at someone else other than her, because there is no way bloody Draco Malfoy is shouting "DO YOU PLAY QUIDDITCH? BECAUSE YOU SEEM LIKE A KEEPER" at her from halfway across the Great Hall.

But he's definitely staring at her, grinning widely in that conceited sort of way that [Y/N] has always despised.

"Is he talking to me?" [Y/N] asks Hermione, bewildered.

"Looks like it." Hermione looks just as surprised as her. "Knowing Malfoy, he's not up to anything good. Ignore him, [Y/N]."

But ignoring Draco Malfoy is not something [Y/N] is capable of; the feistiness in her makes sure of that. So instead of moving on and turning a blind eye, she cups her hands over her mouth and yells, just as loud, "ARE YOU A BLUDGER? BECAUSE I'D LOVE TO BASH A BEATER'S BAT INTO YOUR—"

Whatever Malfoy is up to, [Y/N] isn't entirely sure she's enjoying it. The next afternoon—also in the Great Hall, while [Y/N] is doing her homework instead of eating lunch (because Snape apparently thinks it's a good idea to ask for a four-page essay when the school year has barely even started), there's a thump and [Y/N] looks up to see that there's a little red envelope sitting on her empty plate. Looking even further up, she sees an owl flying away from the table and out of the roof of the Great Hall, where the owls always come from to deliver letters—although that only happens at breakfast. Which means this is from someone else, likely another student.

[Y/N] stares.

"It's a Howler," Harry says from next to her, like she doesn't already know.

"I'm aware," she mutters, narrowing her eyes at it before she sets down her quill to grab it.

"Who would send you a Howler?" Ron has looked up from where he'd been shoveling beans into his plate. He crowds into her space, peering at the envelope she now holds in her hands; and she can't really answer him, because only her name is scribbled across the front in handwriting she doesn't recognize. Whoever sent it to her didn't bother with writing their own name.

She hesitates, brows furrowed as she, too, wonders where it's from. Her parents don't have a reason to send her a Howler—unless she's done something wrong that she isn't aware of. But it's only been a week since school has started and as far as she can tell, she hasn't done anything worthy of being sent a Howler. Or at least not yet.

"Might as well," she sighs—it's going to deliver its message one way or the other, anyway, and [Y/N] prefers to open it herself than have it burst into flames, rain ashes down upon her homework, and then start talking—so she opens the envelope.

The Howler jumps to life in front of her, hovering in front of her face, and [Y/N] has never seen a piece of stationery look so angry before. A forked tongue slips out of the envelope—[Y/N] braces herself for the worst, despite not knowing who on earth might have sent it—until a familiar voice booms around the Great Hall.

"ARE YOU A BASILISK? BECAUSE WHEN I SAW YOU, I FROZE."

Ron's shoulders automatically start shaking with laughter. Most of the Great Hall—or at least the ones close enough to hear the Howler—have turned around to watch the spectacle unfold, giggling behind their palms and pointing at [Y/N] like she can't see them. [Y/N], in the meantime, stares, completely dead to the world and everything else around her, because she knows that voice.

But then the Howler keeps talking. "IF YOU LET ME TAKE YOU ON A DATE, I CAN PROMISE YOU THINGS THOSE FILTHY PEASANTS CAN NEVER GIVE YOU."

The entire hall has fallen completely silent. [Y/N] feels her face burning up, but not with embarrassment—[Y/N] is angry. She feels it thrumming in her veins, curling around her lungs, clouding all of her senses.

With a single flick of [Y/N]'s wand, the Howler bursts into flames with a final feeble wheeze of I'm also a fairly good snogger. Ron is roaring with laughter and Harry has also joined in. Two-faced gits.

[Y/N] slams her palms down on the table and vaguely even registers the pain this gives her as she steps out from behind the bench and turns around to face the Slytherin table because of course she knows who sent the Howler. Of course she knows who would go out of his way to humiliate her in front of the entirety of Hogwarts, because that extremely irritating, maddeningly haughty voice can only belong to one person—and sure enough, the idiot in question is standing there on top of the benches, arms outstretched towards her and that proud, snooty look on his face like he expects her to actually be impressed.

Over Ron and Harry's laughter, [Y/N] shouts angrily, "Malfoy!"

Malfoy drops his arms to his sides, hops off the bench, and swaggers towards her. She meets him halfway—and when she does, she doesn't hesitate to shove him angrily by the shoulders. He stumbles back a little, but he's still grinning annoyingly wide. "Have you come to me bearing an answer?" he says, his tone mocking, and [Y/N] just barely suppresses herself from whipping out her wand and jabbing it somewhere she wouldn't want a wand anywhere near. They are still surrounded by teachers. "I imagine it's a yes—who would turn me down, after all—"

"Drop the fucking act," she hisses; all eyes are on them, because Hogwarts never passes up a chance for gossip, and this might be the most exciting one yet. Draco Malfoy publicly asking out the girl everyone knows he's hated, and has hated him, for a long time—what a spectacle. But [Y/N] knows that his intentions are far from genuine; this is just another way to humiliate her and get on her nerves. And as much as she hates to admit it, it's a pretty good fucking move, because she hasn't been this annoyed by him in a long time.

Her teeth are gritted together so hard her words barely come out coherent. "I don't know what you're playing at," she practically growls, taking a step closer to get in his face, "But I encourage you to get yourself together."

But Malfoy seems unaffected. "Pity you didn't let the Howler finish," he drawls, still with that same smirk on his lips as he wriggles his brows suggestively. "I could've told you more about my superior snogging skills."

"Which is exactly why I didn't," she fumes. "We're in the middle of lunch—any more of you talking about your 'superior snogging skills' and the entirety of this hall would've thrown up on themselves. I know I would've."

At this, the smile on Malfoy's face droops a little, a ghost of his familiar sneer seeping in. [Y/N] takes a step back away from him, because she can't stand being more than a few feet near the prat. "You've got a lot of nerve, pulling this," she scoffs. "Try it again and you'll regret it. Now excuse me while I go do my bloody homework."

And then she turns around, goes back to the Gryffindor table, and does her bloody homework.

—

But Malfoy, as it turns out, isn't as weak-willed as he lets on. She's started receiving Howlers every morning at breakfast, all of which burst into flames every time to rain ashes upon her innocent plate of eggs and toast, but only after loudly blurting out some ridiculously bad pick-up line. It's been four days since the first Howler and they've only gotten progressively worse ever since—"you must be a Boggart because I'm terrified of pretty women"—and [Y/N] is beginning to grow so very tired.

Today, she hexes him in the middle of the hallway just as he's coming out of Potions class. She had warned him, all those days ago, that he'd regret it if he didn't let up. So [Y/N] watches, terribly amused as Draco starts wailing in the corridor, his hands splayed over his face in a measly attempt to cover the sardines falling out of his nostrils. It's an irreversible hex—or at least for eight hours—but until then, Draco will have to deal with the tiny fishes that shoot out of his nose at random intervals. [Y/N] can't bring herself to feel bad, not when he's humiliated her time and time again in front of so many people.

No Howlers arrive the morning after. There's a sense of what feels like disappointment coming off of the Great Hall; some people have actually turned around in their seats to watch her in anticipation for an owl to come swooping down upon her bearing a red envelope. Unfortunately for them, it doesn't happen. [Y/N], meanwhile, is finally at peace.

Or at least until Ron jabs her in the side and goes, "So are you?" he's grinning. "A Boggart, I mean."

It's a reference to the Howler she received yesterday. Her movements are dangerously swift; immediately she smacks the back of his head, sending him into a complaining frenzy. She rolls her eyes. "Stupid Malfoy."

"As much as I hate to say this," Harry begins, "I kind of wish you hadn't hexed him into stopping. His pick-up lines were pretty funny."

"Ha!" [Y/N] points a finger at Harry and nods approvingly, laughing a little. "That's a good one, Harry."

Harry stares at her dead in the eye. "Oh, I wasn't joking."

Her face falls.

"I suppose being on the receiving end of Malfoy's affection isn't any better than being hated by him," says Hermione, offering [Y/N] a sympathetic smile. "It's a good thing you showed him not to mess with you any further, [Y/N]."

[Y/N] tries for a smile of her own, but it comes out all stiff and crooked. "I feel like the past few days have been a fever dream," she says, shuddering. "This new form of—bullying, I don't know—has just been so weird. The bad names I've gotten used to, but—the compliments? The pick-up lines?"

"D'you think he's gone off his rocker?" Ron suggests.

"Maybe he fancies you," says Hermione off-handedly.

The effect this has on the three is instantaneous; Ron, Harry, and [Y/N] simultaneously blanch as though they've all swallowed something sour at the same time. Ron is choking on a piece of toast and Harry has spit water everywhere.

"Absolutely not," [Y/N] is shaking her head, nose wrinkled in distaste. "He can't possibly—that's ridiculous. We've hated each other for years."

"Feelings do change," Hermione shrugs, rolling her eyes at Ron and Harry, who have yet to recover from their initial shock. "And besides, it was just a suggestion. Although I don't see why he'd go out of his way to send you Howlers repeatedly asking you out if he doesn't fancy you."

"Because he wants to humiliate me in front of everyone!"

"Oh, alright, alright," Hermione sighs, sensing her defeat. "But you never know."

Ron has gathered his bearings once more. He turns to Hermione, genuine concern flooding his features, and blubbers, "Did I hear you right? Malfoy—fancying [Y/N]?"

"Yes, Ronald." Another eye-roll. "It's not that outlandish. Boys are boys—even Malfoy."

"Merlin's beard," he slumps down in his seat, shaking his head. "I don't think I've ever been this surprised. Not since I heard that Percy managed to score himself a girlfriend, and that was three years ago."

A few days pass, and while no more Howlers arrive, Malfoy is still as insistent as ever in his attempts to "woo" her—or, well, whatever it is he's trying to do. [Y/N] doesn’t quite know what to call it anymore; for some reason, it no longer feels like an attempt to bully or humiliate her. It's not as though he's insulting her, and it's not like her reputation is in any way being lessened. In fact, most of Hogwarts, it seems, enjoys the so-called "love-hate relationship" they've got going on, and expects them to get together sometime in the near future.

[Y/N] learns all of this from Fred and George, who are always a good source of gossip.

"What better love story than two sworn enemies falling in love?" George gushes, clasping his hands together.

"So romantic," Fred sings, closing his eyes and swaying his hips as though listening to a sultry tune only he can hear. “Setting aside their differences to answer the call of their hearts."

"Oh, Malfoy's still an arse, of course."

"But it's still romantic."

Part of [Y/N] wishes that the twins hadn’t told her that, because it makes it all the more confusing on her part. If, by some miracle, Malfoy does fancy her—what is she supposed to do? Ride off with him into the sunset? They are enemies—they have been for four, supposedly five years now, except this year Malfoy is being an insufferable twat who won't stop yelling pick-up lines at her in the hallways.

[Y/N] decides to turn a blind eye on him. If she ignores him for long enough, he's bound to stop.

Right?

—

Despite being a close friend to the famous Harry Potter, [Y/N] can say she’s made a name for herself at school that stretches far beyond just that girl who hangs out with the Chosen One. She’s been playing for the Gryffindor Quidditch team for two years and has contributed to some of the house’s most fantastic wins as a Chaser, and she’s also a fairly good student. She may have a penchant for trouble-making, but she knows how to limit herself. She prides herself for her work ethic and thus her grades are above average—enough for her to earn the favor of most of her teachers and for eager first-years to sometimes come up to her asking for help doing homework.

But enough for those very same first-years to come up to her in the hallway ready to do all of her biddings for the day, practically demanding her to hand over her books so that they can carry them for her? No. Certainly not. [Y/N] may have made a name for herself, but definitely not one renowned enough to earn the eleven-year-olds now crowded around her moments after she steps out of potions class, telling her that, “We’re here at your disposal! If you need us to do anything, just say the word!”

[Y/N] stares at the three children clustered around her, all wide-eyed and for some reason incredibly eager for her to start bossing them around.

Taken aback, she ushers them into a corner; the hallway is busy and people will keep bumping into them if they stay in the middle of the hallway like that.

Once away from the bustling main corridor, she bends down a little so that she’s at eye-level with all of them. “At my disposal?” she repeats, eyes narrowing playfully. “What do you mean?”

“We’re here to carry your books for you or grab you snacks from the kitchens or tie your shoelaces if you need us to!” one of them exclaims, bouncing on his toes.

Alright—this is getting ridiculous. [Y/N] pauses, lips pressed together into a thin line as she stares at each one of the first-years in turn; all three of them are staring at her as though waiting for her to start asking them to do push-ups.

She inhales. Someone must have put them up to this, because there is no way these children woke up this morning and simultaneously decided to become her servants for the day.

“Well,” she begins, smiling at them—and good grief, did she really look that young when she was eleven? “Thank you for offering to help me. I appreciate it, really—but lucky for me I’ve got some very capable arms and I think I can handle tying my shoelaces and carrying my books around and whatnot. But again—thank you. You’re all very nice.”

She pauses to look at their reactions; the smiles on their faces have drooped a little as they turn to one another, seemingly at a loss for words. “But,” the one girl says, frowning, “We’re supposed to help you.”

[Y/N] raises her eyebrows. “Supposed to?”

Someone definitely put them up to this—[Y/N] is certain of it now. And she has a good guess as to who.

She starts by saying, tone gentle, “Did someone tell you to do this? Because that’s really kind, and I’d love to thank them.”

The girl bunches up her lips in thought, shuffling her feet against the ground. “We’re not supposed to say,” she mutters, glancing at the two boys next to her nervously.

[Y/N] inhales. She needs confirmation, so she crouches down so that she’s the same height as them, and offers them all the friendliest, most trustworthy smile she can muster. The kind that wins over eleven-year-olds. “You won’t get in trouble if you tell me,” she tells them gently, and waits for them to nod in understanding before she goes, “Was it Malfoy? Draco Malfoy?”

They don’t have to respond—the looks on their faces are enough confirmation. [Y/N] suppresses the urge to roll her eyes, because of course Malfoy is the kind of person to somehow get first-years to do something like this. And she’s pretty sure it has something to do with bribery.

“Did he promise to give you anything, maybe?” [Y/N] presses on patiently.

The girl leans in and cups her hand over her mouth to whisper excitedly, “Chocolate frogs. Five for each of us.”

Ah. Of course. [Y/N] sighs inwardly and nods, standing up properly to once more tower over the tiny first-years. As much as she would love to have her own personal butlers, there is absolutely no way she is agreeing to take any part in exploiting these young kids. So she ruffles all of their hair in turn and promises to give them much, much more chocolate frogs than Malfoy will ever be able to offer if they swear to ignore him for the rest of their lives.

So she stands there in the hallway, a minute late for Transfiguration, watching the three first-years skip down the hallway, grinning excitedly to themselves—no doubt because they’ve just been promised what could be an infinite supply of chocolate frogs.

Which [Y/N] will now have to spend a lump of her summer savings on. Great. Bloody fantastic.

She didn’t think she could hate Draco Malfoy even more than she already did, but now, with the burden of buying chocolate frogs resting on her shoulders, she realizes that anything is possible.

[Y/N] finds Draco later on in the day when she’s heading to the Great Hall for dinner; as she’s passing by a window that coincidentally overlooks the Quidditch pitch, she sees him zooming around the stadium by himself, no doubt practicing to better his (in [Y/N]’s opinion) ghastly Seeker skills.

So she trudges off to the pitch, arms folded over her chest as she yells, “Malfoy!”

He notices, stops in mid-air, and immediately flies down to land in front of her, one hand on his hip and the other resting on top of his broom. That signature smirk is already on his face, mirrored by [Y/N]'s angry scowl. “Here to take me up on my offer for a date?” he grins, shaking his (sweaty, wet) hair out of his eyes. [Y/N] watches the movement, unimpressed. “Or were you just planning to watch me practice?”

She scoffs, tearing her eyes away from the way he’s running a hand through his blond hair. “Neither. I thought you were bad enough, Malfoy, but bribing first-years into doing my bidding for me? In exchange for bloody chocolate frogs?”

Malfoy’s hand pauses in carding through his hair. He drops it back to his side. “So you figured it out.”

”Why else would first-years be so eager for me to boss them around?”

”Maybe because they find you just as beautiful as I do?” he suggests, eyes glinting, the smile on his face growing even wider. [Y/N] lets out a quick breath of incredulous laughter, because is he really still keeping this act up when no one is around to see? Is he that desperate to get on her nerves?

“Just stop it, Malfoy,” she says through gritted teeth, taking a step closer to him. At this, he whistles a little, eyebrows rising, and for some reason [Y/N] tries very, very hard not to look at the sweat trickling down his forehead, the pale pink hue of his cheeks from the strain of practicing—“Please for the love of Merlin can you just drop the whole I’m-in-love-with-you act? You got what you wanted. You’ve annoyed me enough.”

Draco's nose wrinkles. “Oh, but that’s not what I wanted,” the smile on his face falters a little. ”Did you really think I did all of this just to annoy you?”

[Y/N]’s eyebrows furrow—and is that her heart skipping a beat? No. No, definitely not. Falling quiet for a few moments, she finally sniffs and says, “Why else would you go out of your way to act absolutely smitten by me?”

An echo of Hermione's voice from several days ago reverberates through her head. Maybe he fancies you.

Malfoy shrugs, his smirk falling just the tiniest bit to be replaced by a semblance of sincerity. But that can’t be. And then he says, “Maybe I fancy you,” and [Y/N]’s eyes widen.

That can’t be right. Flabbergasted, she blinks, taking a step back. This has to be some sort of joke—no, yes, that’s exactly what this is: another way to crawl under her skin and annoy the daylights out of her. She has to applaud him for his creativity.

Pinching the space between her eyes in irritation, she looks up at Malfoy, inhales, and says, deadpan, “I’m being serious.”

“I am too,” Malfoy counters, eyebrows raised innocently, and [Y/N] has never wanted to smack him more than she does now.

She lets out another incredulous laugh, because this entire situation is just so bloody ridiculous that she can’t quite wrap her head around it. Throwing her hands up in the air in frustration, she turns to him and says, “Alright—okay. Let’s say you do fancy me. I’m going to pretend for a few seconds that you do—okay?”

Draco watches her, evidently amused judging by his grin, shrugs, and nods.

“Okay,” she huffs. “If you do fancy me—why on earth would you?”

Draco opens his mouth, but she cuts him off: “We hate each other, Malfoy. We’ve hated each other since the moment you laid eyes on me and I laid eyes on you. What could have possibly changed your rotten mind?”

He rolls his eyes at this, shifting a little on where he stands. “For starters,” he begins, like he’s talking to a five-year-old, “I didn’t hate you. I disliked the fact that you hung out with the wrong sort of people.”

”The wrong sort of people,” she repeats, deadpan.

“The Weasleys. Blood traitors. Mudbloods.”

She scowls at him, brain struggling to fathom what the bloody hell he’s trying to tell her. Managing to once more plow through her confusion, she says, “Your point is?”

“I’d have asked you out long ago if only you were smarter with who you chose to befriend,” and there it is—that familiar, distasteful sneer [Y/N] hasn’t seen in a long time. “Your family’s one of the oldest wizarding families around. It’s a shame.”

She lets out another scoff of disbelief, but the first few of Draco's words have something inside of her stirring. She refuses to address it and instead says, “So—and again, I’m pretending—you fancy me because of my family?”

He lets out a little sniff. “Not what I said.”

”What is it you’re trying to say, then?”

“Blimey, how long is it going to take you to realize that I actually bloody fancy you?”

Draco has dropped all pretense of nonchalant arrogance; he’s staring at her, obviously frustrated and a little annoyed. He stops leaning on his broom and lets it drop to the ground in favor of advancing towards her until he’s mere inches away from her face.

”I fancy you,” he repeats, and it’s funny, how he says it, because declarations of love are supposed to be sweet and gentle—not scathing and angry. He’s scowling down at her, lip curling, brows drawn in together in the middle in a tight frown. “I’ve decided that I don’t care who you hang around anymore because I fancy you. Do you get it now?”

[Y/N] swallows, staring at him, momentarily frozen. Malfoy doesn’t seem as though he’s joking—and now she doesn’t know what to say. She’s never been this close to him before—close enough to see herself in the reflection of his eyes, which are a striking grey and remind her of thunderstorms brewing behind dark clouds—

She takes in a deep breath and swivels around, turning away from him. “Stop sending children to be my servants,” she says, and starts to walk away—until Malfoy grabs her wrist and forces her to look at him again.

For a moment the look in his eyes convinces [Y/N] that he’s about to apologize, but then his lips are splitting into a wide grin again and he says, “What if I bribe a seventh year into doing your homework for you?”

Another scoff. She tears her wrist away from his grip and stalks off, in complete and utter disbelief.

”Or a house-elf to bring you food?” he calls after her. “Someone to do your hair for you in the morning? Or someone to yell at me for you?”

She halts at the last one, and for some odd, unknown reason, she feels like smiling. But she doesn’t, because that will open a door into something she isn’t sure she wants to explore. So she turns around, suppressing that mysterious little smile, already twenty feet away from Malfoy as she says, loudly, “I like doing that last one myself, thanks.”

From this distance, she thinks Malfoy might be smiling. But she doesn’t stay long enough to find out.

click here to read pt. 2!

#harry potter #harry potter oneshot #harry potter oneshots #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy #draco malfoy oneshot #draco malfoy oneshots #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy imagines #harry potter fanfic #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfic

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donutbf · 3 years

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ooh new blog, hi donut!! i love ur writing so far. having c!dream brain rot atm... maybe when dream breaks out of prison he visits reader and it’s just nice “i missed you” sex,,, headfull

also, 💌 anon perhaps ?

ahhhh, tysm! glad you enjoy it and its rlly nice than you decided to let me know what you think about my writing! <3

and like actually 80-90% of my simping is solely for c!dream so i gotta say, BIIIIIIG fucken same. the c!dream brain rot is deep and real. he’s godawful and i love him deeply. i watch him fuck things up im like <3 <3 <3 cute voice go brrrrrr

anyways there were a few different directions i could imagine for this scenario...

like, either him roughly taking out all his pent-up frustrations on you, him being incredibly touchstarved all whiny and submissive - happy with anything you’ll give him, or it being uncharacteristically tender and loving.

you said ‘nice’ so i’m going w/ the third one. sorry if im barking up the wrong tree here!

edit: i wrote that intro before i wrote the piece itself and i meant for it to be tender and loving but its more like tender and angsty im-

oh! and psst- that emoji is so cute. great choice. you can indeed be 💌 anon! <3

(long NSFW elaboration under the cut. i uh. really went buck-fuckin-wild here. oh my god......)

sometimes people wonder whether or not there’s a person behind that smile.

that mask he’s never seen without. represented by a smile. a mockery of any true expression of joy.

he’s done so many awful things. he’s hurt people. badly. it’s what landed him in that godforsaken prison in the first place. everywhere he goes, he leaves behind an indelible scar.

they could call him a god, or a man with the makings of the devil - or a million other names that lie in between - but you know better.

you know him.

there is a living, breathing human behind that mask and you know him well. you know him with your hands and your lips and your tongue. you know his breath and you’d know him without sight.

you’d know him to the ends of the earth.

so when you find him on your doorstep in the middle of the night - hazy in the moonlight - a part of you distantly wonders if you’re still asleep. but the other part just knows. there’s no mistake. he’s here.

your dream has come back to you, the way he always swore he would.

you’re not an idiot. you love him, but you could never believe blindly in him. you saw what he did. what he’s done. to agree with all of it... that’d make you naïve at best, a wild fanatic at worst.

even before all of… this, you had differing stances. your faith in him was always balanced.

this is one thing you never doubted from this stubborn, broken fool before you.

he’d always come back to you.

you reach out a hand towards him. you want to cradle his face, to make sure that he’s actually here in the flesh - because it doesn’t seem quite real yet - and he flinches reflexively. at this, your heart drops into the pit of your stomach. still, he lets you touch him.

ushering him inside, quickly, quickly, to the privacy of the house, you’re thankful for the isolation of your home and the solitude of the night. if anybody saw you right now, housing him… it just doesn’t bear thinking about.

“dream,” you murmur. you have so much you need to talk about, but right now, nothing else has to be said.

your thumb brushes against a new crack in the surface of his ever-smiling mask, almost split in two now.

he’s not smiling.

fingertips trace every bump and divot you know so well, before slowly taking it off and discarding it on the table behind you.

he looks like fucking hell. you’ve certainly known him to get into scrapes and fights, and even yelled at him for his carelessness before,,, but this? this is something else entirely.

it’s the result of weeks upon weeks of senseless beatings - underfed and unhealing - never given the time or space to regen.

you want to touch him all over, to hold him together in your hands like some fragile thing, but you’re so, so afraid that he might’ve already broken.

neither of you have even attempted to breach the silence yet.

you lead him by the hand to the bed. for rest, is what you think, but he stoops down to tuck his face into neck and inhales, deeply, his hands creeping lower down the front of your body.

he breaks the silence first, deftly trading it for the quiet instead.

“please let me feel you...” his voice is barely a whisper, the sound a cracked, hoarse thing.

to touch another person kindly, after so long spent alone and in pain. to know that you’re still here, and that you haven’t left me. because i love you.

so many reasons and they all go unsaid.

still, you understand him.

clothes are peeled off and bodies are re-explored after so much time spent apart. his bare body’s on display in front of you, all long limbs and pale skin. what was previously smooth and soft now lays dry and cracked - marred with injury - before you.

his eyes won't meet yours. it's something he’s never done before in bed with you. another newly ingrained habit, like the flinch.

you wonder if he’s ashamed right now; if he feels ugly before you, even. he wouldn’t care how he looks to anybody else, but it’s you. and that matters to him. (and the force of just how MUCH it matters terrifies him.)

malnourished and beaten half to death, you still couldn’t find him anything other than beautiful.

cupping his cheeks, you gently tilt his face up to yours, meeting his lips in a slow kiss. every movement of your lips against his is lazy but deliberate.

you touch him as gently as you can, trying to avoid brushing against the myriad of bruises peppering his skin, and cuts both old and new.

even with your efforts, at times you catch him slightly pained - when a touch makes him twitch and wince, sucking in a shallow breath behind gritted teeth.

though he tries his best to hide this - the same way he does in battle, to gain the upper hand - even he knows that he can't hide anything from you.

he preps you but you don't take as long as you maybe should. your movements may be slow and cautious, but you’re both desperate for each other, completely ravenous to feel each other.

you sink down onto him and bite your lip at the feeling of him stuffing you full, stretching you open. god, its been so long.

and apparently, being inside you is what finally breaks the dam. he starts to cry, loudly.

burning hot tears roll down his cheeks and his face goes ruddy with emotion as he starts to talk. his hips never stop pounding up into you.

the pace he sets is erratic, his thrusts stuttering much more than you’ve ever had with him before - the man you’ve always known to be so deliberate and ever in control - but it's all excusable. everything is so different now. what even is the new usual?

“god, i missed you so much. i sat in that cell and- and all i could think about was you. i felt like i was going insane, maybe i have- i thought you’d move on, that you’d leave me. fuck. fuck! i’m so fucked, i’m a mess, i’m bad, i don’t deserve you, i- i...”

and he keeps going. he sounds like raw, jagged edges torn in two, his breaths hitching and his voice cracking open on almost every syllable.

eventually the open sobs devolve into silent tears and the mindless, shaky repetition of your name.

he holds your name in his mouth like its a precious thing, a word he doesn't deserve to say but chooses to say anyway.

he says it twenty times, thirty times, until it doesn't even sound like a word anymore. your name is on his lips when he cums.

physically sated and emotionally drained, you both sink into the bed together. all you can do is hold each other tight and try not to think about the magnitude of what you’ve done, and what tomorrow could possibly bring.

whatever happens - heaven or hell - at least you’ve had tonight.

that will have to be enough.

#18+#smut #drm #fanfic #fanfiction #dreamwastaken smut #dream x reader #dsmp x reader smut #mcyt x reader smut #dream smp x you #dream smp x reader #dream smp x y/n #dsmp x reader #💌 anon #i dont even know what this is #ask to tag #Anonymous

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so-this-happened-i-guess · 3 years

Text

Detective, guide me?

[Goro Akechi x Reader]

Summary: You’re visiting your cousin who lives in Tokyo and you just happen to meet the Detective Prince, Goro Akechi.

Warnings: NONE

Author’s Note: I feel like we need more of Akechi, am i right? Sure I am. Just a short story, please bear with me.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32248585

“Like I said, cousin, I have literally no idea where I am or where I am supposed to be going,“ you huffed as you talked to your beloved cousin on the phone, while also being completely lost in Shibuya. Well, it seemed like such a good idea to visit him while he was here during his probation. Now you were not so sure anymore as you stood completely dumbfounded next to the famous Buchiko statue.

Out of self pity you reached to rub the dog’s paw, listening to your cousin’s attempt to give you the easiest possible directions. Easy, my ass, you thought bitterly.

You eyed the people go on and about their business and you caught yourself spacing out, suddenly the voice that spoke to you on the phone became a white noise.

“You got that? Just make sure you get to Yongen-Jaya. I can pick you up there at the station...“ your cousin hummed, a cat-like noise in the background that made you think the cat was telling him something. Ha, ridiculous. Thank Anime for those thoughts.

You blinked once - then twice. You felt hot and cold at the same time and you glanced around nervously. What was it he just said?

“Uh- yeah! Got’cha! No prob. Be there. Y-Yongen-Chia- was it?” you stuttered.

“What? No, Yongen-Jaya. Good luck, I gotta do something now,” your cousin laughed. “I trust you can do it!”

“W-wait- wait don’t hang up- Wait- Yongen-Jaya- how there?” you called desperately but the call was already disconnected.

Awesome-- you’re doomed. Were you supposed to just call a taxi? Surely that’d be the best course of action-

You had to look very lost and pathetic, because a young man approached you. You weren’t paying him much attention at first, frantically searching on your phone for any help internet could give you.

“I apologise for eavesdropping,“ the man said, forcing you to look up at him. You realised two things: his voice sweet like sugar and his face as handsome as that detective’s you saw on the TV just the other day-- huh, what?

“You were.. eavesdropping..? On me?“ you questioned suspiciously.

“Oh yes, how rude of me, I know. I overheard you’re headed to... Yongen-Jaya?“ he asked, giving you a sweet smile.

“You’re hearing things, sir,“ you remained cautious as you looked up and down his slim figure. You noticed the familiar uniform he was wearing, the attaché case with an A. in a circle. The reddish-brown eye colour that somehow reminded you of red wine.

He laughed softly, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“My, I understand your concerns, but let me assure you, I approached you with good intentions. I, myself, am headed there. There’s this restaurant I’d like to visit.“ he hummed, still smiling.

Well, you should’t look given horse in the mouth if he was offering to help, right?

“What’s your name, sir?“ you mumbled, at this point just making sure.

This question seemed to take him by surprise as he blinked at you, his shock bringing you just a little satisfaction.

“Goro Akechi, Miss. I am-“

“Oh, so it is you,” you gasped quietly, covering your mouth. “Sure have guts talking to random person on the street. Should I start screaming that I see ‘the Detective Prince’?“ you teased, really just testing his intentions.

“Please don’t. Don’t you need help getting somewhere?” he smiled innocently, which took the wind out of your sails.

You nodded, defeated.

“Let me help you.”

With that, you followed Goro Akechi.

_____________

The train was packed.

You could not believe the amount of people that managed to squeeze in, and it was even more shocking to you that it felt comforting when the detective stood between you and the others, shielding you from the rest of the passengers, as you stood with your back pressed against the train’s window.

Admittedly, it was a little weird having his hands just centimetres away from your head on both the left and the right side of you, but he was steadying himself from falling or being pushed on you. What a gentleman.

In return, you were holding his briefcase.

“I apologise, i didn’t think it’d be quite this crowded at this hour in the evening,“ Akechi mumbled, as if annoyed by the others.

“It’s alright, not your fault,“ you offered him a shy smile.

Akechi smiled back at you, keeping as much distance as he could when he felt someone’s backpack press into his back, forcing him closer to you. He still tried to keep calm.

“You know, you seem more patient on TV,“ you thought out loud.

“I try,“ he mumbled, eyeing you as you let out a quiet giggle. Well, that was cute.

"So, you said you're going to some restaurant?" you asked, fancying the idea of trying to have a small talk with the detective.

"It's famous for curry and coffee," Akechi nodded.

That made you pause a little. You were pretty sure your cousin was saying that exact same thing. Curry and coffee of the best quality. A restaurant located in a back alley with a French-like name. Hmm, name. What was it called again?

"-- anyways, in case you were interested, thats the restaurant's name," you caught the last portion of whatever Akechi was saying.

"Huh?" you blinked up at him, now actually feeling his breath on your skin as the crowd made him close the distance between the two of you almost completely. Centimetres apart, literally.

For reasons unknown, you felt your cheeks heat up. On the other side, it was pretty warm these days and the train was pretty full. Yup.

"Quite the habit of not listening, huh? I wonder if you have in common with whoever you're visiting," Akechi voiced his thoughts with a small snicker, either ignoring or not noticing the blush on your face.

Don't be stupid, he was a detective, he had to notice--

“No, not really. He’s a really good listener, actually,“ you shook your head slightly, gripping Akechi’s case tighter.

Akechi didn’t answer verbally, giving you a small nod instead. At this point his elbows were bent and his forearms also rested against the window. So close. You were pretty you’ve read about scenes like those online.

“Can I know his name and your destination, then? I could just escort you there, seeing how close we’ve gotten over our short ride,” Akechi said, an almost amused look on his face when you choked on your saliva. He meant literally. He meant literally!

“Akira Kurusu. Uhh, I am not sure what the place is called-“

“Akira Kurusu?“ Akechi blinked.

You nodded shyly. Did you say something wrong? Surely not?

“Then, assuming you weren’t listening when I first mentioned the restaurant’s name, are you headed to LeBlanc?“

Your gasp was all he needed to hear and you heard him sigh, mutter a quiet ‘Seriously,’ under his breath.

“Is there something wrong?“ you frowned a little. “Do you know my cousin?“

“Ah yeah, We... have met. A few times, actually. Yes.“ Akechi gritted through his teeth quietly. Well, what a full 180° turn in the atmosphere.

You couldn’t help but giggle. This was quite interesting. You loved to annoy your cousin and seeing Akechi’s partially annoyed expression gave you ideas.

Maybe you found a partner in crime.

_____________

Akechi helped you step out of the train, holding your wrist tenderly as he pulled you aside as the crowd flowed through the station. He held your wrist for a bit, watching the people exit and enter the train.

“Here, your thing,“ you mumbled, pushing the briefcase into his free hand, letting him hold onto your wrist as long as he thought was necessary.

“Hmhm,“ he nodded. He fell quiet after he confirmed your destination and Akira’s name.

“Does it bother you that much?“ you asked.

“Does what bother me?“ he frowned a little.

“That Akira’s my cousin, that you volunteered to take me to LeBlanc,” you shrugged nonchalantly, noticing he still didn’t let go of your wrist.

“You said it, I volunteered - and I am headed there too, either way. And it was just... an unexpected information, don’t make it a big deal,“ he mumbled, looking around. “Let’s get going.“

Holding your wrist, he pulled you along, avoiding people as he followed the path he knew so well.

What a tsundere, you thought. That meant Akira knew this man too, then, right? You’d ask him later. Now, all you could do was drag yourself behind this fast paced detective.

_____________

“(Y/N)- finally- why didn’t you call m---“ Akira paused in whatever he was about to say as was left speechless after he just opened the door to LeBlanc to greet you - and Akechi who was still holding your wrist-- wait, what?

“Cousin!“ you beamed, throwing yourself at Akira who caught you in his arms, holding you close - and you realised it was because he was just kind of glaring at the man who guided you here.

“Hello, Kurusu,“ Akechi faked his famous TV smile. “I apologise for this late intrusion, but I happened to run into (Y/N) here and seeing the lost look in your cousin’s eyes, I couldn’t not-help,“ he explained, oh so sweetly.

Akira rolled his eyes, glancing at you as he held your shoulders.

“I’m really sorry, Akira! I just felt so bad calling or texting you again, it felt so embarrassing! And he happened to be headed the same way!“ you apologised as you wiggled out of Akira’s hold.

“... Sure, alright. Uh. I will make you coffee on the house, tomorrow?“ Akira mumbled to Akechi who beamed in response.

“Splendid, how kind of you, Kurusu.”

“Yeah. Uh, (Y/N)... I will ... just... prepare your dinner, you must be hungry... uh... say thanks to Akechi...?“ Akira mumbled, actually unsure how to talk to the detective when you were present. He turned on his heels, shaking his head as he went inside the restaurant.

You glanced at Akira and then turned to Akechi who crossed arms over his chest.

“Thank you so much for the help. I am sure I’d be still at Shibuya station if it weren’t for you!“ you laughed nervously.

Akechi gave you a small nod.

The silence stretched, but you weren’t sure you wanted to say goodbye to the detective-guide that you met today.

You grasped all of the courage you could as you leant to peck Akechi’s cheek quickly.

“Please, be my guide again, sometime soon, detective,“ you smiled sweetly and then rushed inside the restaurant to bother your cousin.

Akechi stood outside with a dumbfounded expression, eyes wide as he watched you disappear inside LeBlanc. He blinked once, then twice, as a smile spread on his face. His gloved fingertips touched his cheek where your lips touched his skin.

“I’d love that,“ he mumbled, to no one in particular.

#Persona 5 #Goro Akechi #Goro Akechi x Reader #Persona 5 imagine #ren amamiya #Akira Kurusu #fanfiction #oneshot

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damnlance · 3 years

Note

Klance angsty prompt 6 please 👀

Klangst Prompt #6

6. “You’ve never hurt me. Ever”

Summary: Lately, Lance has been stressed beyond the point of breaking… The end of the war was 3 years ago and yet, it’s not enough time to pass for Lance to feel better. Not even close. Everyone has always called him a hero. And since the day they landed back on earth, everyone has gone so far to ask for photos and autographs and all that. These days Lance is sick of it.

Or; the pressures of being the ‘savior of earth’ has been building up inside of Lance, causing him to erupt on any and everyone.

Good thing he has his amazing boyfriend.

-there’s a slow start, but I PROMISE it’s klance so just keep reading!

-also galra (kitten) Keith ?? I love him

It all started with a fangirl just a few weeks ago.

Lance decided to walk to his favorite coffee shop one chilly afternoon. He woke up really late and was immediately craving something sweet yet bitter. And since he lives with most of his family, running out of coffee five days after buying a brand new pack of it is very common, especially when no one wants to buy more for whatever reason.

So there Lance was, walking down the street. Hands tucked into his blue lion hoodie (thanks to all the merch the fans of voltron have made over the years), making his way to the closest coffee shop near his home. And then he hears the high pitched squeal of a girl at least 10 feet away from him. Then 9 feet.. then 6.. then 4 because she’s literally running at him with the speed of a hundred cheetahs chasing a gazelle until she’s right there, face to face with Lance.

“Oh my god!!” She yelled, jumping up and down like some 5 year old girl getting a puppy. She was about 5’7, short brown hair and huge blue eyes that almost resembled Lance’s. She wore this giant faux fur coat and beanie to match, and her phone was IN LANCE’S FACE.

She was all over him and it was attracting others to stare their way. Lance tried to calm her down by smiling and using a little of his charm but it was just making the girl fangirl even more. So he took a picture with her to be on his way before the coffee shop got too busy. But she wouldn’t back off. Apparently she wasn’t satisfied with the picture, something about how her eyes were closed? Or how blurry it came out? Lance couldn't remember, he just wanted his coffee.

The girl kept hounding him and following him, demanding that he retake the picture with her. Lance let her down easy, saying how he needed to be someplace important and that he was running late. The girl kept pushing him. Following his every move, right on his heels. Begging, pleading with him to take more pictures because she ‘needed them,’ whatever that meant. Lance tried his hardest to be nice and polite because as a former paladin of voltron and as one of seven someone’s who have saved the entire universe, his image is everything. Without him or his former paladins, there would probably be no earth. So he stopped in his tracks and took a better picture with the girl.

He felt good to see her happy because of something that he had done. Plus he looked really good in that picture, who knew the earth’s natural lighting at 1pm could make his skin look so smooth? Once he gave his approval of the better pic, he was on his way again, hoping that the line to the coffee shop wasn’t even longer now. As he started to fast walk down the busy sidewalk, something yanked him back by the neck and he came crashing down. Literally. He fell right back on his ass and when he looked up, this same crazy girl was looming over him like a mad woman. With his blue hand-knit wool scarf dangling from her grabby hands. The anger that had been simmering in Lance’s gut was at a full blown boil and he was just about ready to explode. So.. he kinda did..

Long and embarrassing story short, Lance yelled at her. He snatched his blue scarf out of her hands so fast, it scared her, and as he rubbed his most likely bruised tailbone, he got in her face and began blaming her for the world's most horrible fan interaction. He was so angry, that he balled his fists, stomped his foot and had veins protruding out of his neck and forehead. He called her names and most likely spit in her face, but he didn’t care. And when he was done, he took a step back and examined the girl in front of him. She was folded in on herself, holding her arms close to her body as her bottom lip quivered and fat, giant tears rolled down her cheeks. She looked so.. mortified. And actually.. scared of him. Like if Lance were to say anything or move a muscle, she’d flinch.

Seconds later, Lance’s face softened into something regretful and he went out to reach for her, to apologize. But, like he knew she would, she flinched. And then hurried away like he was a mad man. All the while crying and clutching her phone to her chest. Lance felt absolutely demolished inside. He tried to go after her but his feet were glued to the cement of the sidewalk. He didn’t even want his coffee anymore.

Thankfully, there were no viral videos or photos or posts about the incident. Lance ended up tracking the girl down a few days later and showered her with all the love he could muster, even taking as many pics as she wanted and liking them on Instagram when she tagged him. But.. something inside him still felt so horrible about the incident. For a moment, Lance had realized that he genuinely hurt that girl for no real reason. He just wanted some coffee but is coffee more important than the people who are thankful and want to show their gratitude for him for everything he did with voltron? If the roles were reversed and he stayed on earth, he would be bending over backwards to let all the paladins know just how thankful he was to live another day on their planet. That girl probably had family, friends, maybe a spouse and kids, and in the midst of that horrible battle 3 years ago, she most likely thought that one of those days would be her last with them.

It broke Lance’s heart thinking about it. He really hurt her. Sure, he made it right and she forgave him, but in that single moment, he actually hurt someone enough to make them cry, to make them run away from him. It was a terrible feeling. It wasn’t Lance. He never wanted that to happen again.

And at the same time.. he.. kinda never wanted to be the savior of earth. Not really.. he just wanted to feel like he had a place in the universe, and to know that he played an important role. That he mattered.

Guess he really matters now..

He sends a long text to Keith with shaky hands.

Message delivered..

The second he walked through the door, his phone rang. It was a three-way call with Hunk and Pidge. Lance pressed the green button to answer and placed the phone to his ear. Immediately, Hunk starts going on and on about how much he misses Lance and when the next time they’ll see each other will be. Lance smiled at his best friend’s inability to ever take a breath between sentences and replied with a warm ‘I miss you too, buddy.’ They got to catching up as Lance ordered his garlic knots and sat down at a private booth near the back of the place. He didn’t want to draw any attention to himself, especially when he got the call from his best friends.

Hunk tells him all the great things that’s been happening at the Garrison and even on the Atlas. He tells him how his restaurant is doing and how his family is doing and how Shay is doing. Pidge catches him up on things with her family, some new inventions she’s been working on, and how being the youngest teacher at the Garrison is going. Lance listens and gives his two cents on everything his friends tell him and honestly, he couldn’t be more happy for them. The way they were able to just get their lives together 3 years after the war is.. incredible. It made him think about everything he’s done since the war ended. Which wasn’t much.. he took over his family’s farm and brought it back to life, he helps out Colleen, Pidge’s mom, with medicine and finding cures to strange space illnesses with plants she has him grow on his farm, and his family’s market wouldn’t be as popular or swarming with business if he didn’t work there. Sad but true. And that’s really it. He hasn’t done much else. Nothing life changing or breathtaking like his friends.

But Hunk and Pidge don’t need to know that. So he simply replies with: “Oh, ya know.. same old, same old,” and hopes it works enough to keep the conversation flowing and follow up questions at bay. It does.

30 minutes into their conversation and Lance is starting to feel a little.. agitated. With the garlic knots consumed and digesting in his stomach, he sits in the booth, alone, listening to his friends go on and on and on about their perfect jobs and their perfect little lives. He gets lost a few times and at one point has literally no idea what they’re talking about. When he tries to ask what or who or even get the slightest details, Pidge lets out a sigh that Lance can’t help but feel like is out of annoyance. Lance sighs back and continues to stay silent because obviously he’s not getting anywhere. Why even bother putting him on a call that Hunk and Pidge could have just had on their own??

Balling his fist, Lance let out a loud, overdramatic sigh. He didn’t care if his friends heard it or how they took it. He was upset. The conversation between his two friends comes to a halt and then awkward silence. Pidge is the first to speak up with a:

“Something you wanna add, Lance?” The annoyance in her voice is very much there and Lance doesn’t miss it. He scoffs loudly and grits his teeth.

“No.” He says, voice deepening in anger.

“Oh really?” Pidge asks, poking the sleeping bear that lies dormant in lance. “Cause it sure sounds like it to me. Why don’t you stop being such a fucking child and tell us what’s bothering you this time??”

Lance damn near growls.

The line has gone quiet now. Hunk’s unsteady breathing is audible but other than that, silence. Lance digs his nails into the skin of his palms and tries to keep the angry tears in his eyes from falling down his cheeks. With a deep shaky breath, he smiles through the pain.

“You know what, Katie,” Lance spits and it makes Hunk gasp. “Fuck YOU and this stupid, shitty attitude you have all the time!”

“Oh, god..” Hunk winces.

“I don’t know what the actual fuck crawled up your ass,” Lance continues, “but I’m sick of it! I've been sick of it for years! I’m sick of keeping my mouth shut and quite frankly, I’m sick of YOU!”

Lance is standing up out of his seat now. His chest heaves up and down as the angry tears have fallen past his face and down his neck. His voice is two octaves deep from anger and the skin of his palm is bloody from how hard he’s digging his nails into it. The place has gone quiet now and Lance can feel multiple pairs of eyes on him. So much for not drawing any attention to himself.

The line is quiet. Then, the sound of a huff of breath. A small laugh.. And then:

“Wow. Nice one, McClain..” Pidge’s voice is small, but so full of something. “Go screw yourself, you asshole.”

The call ends. Whether Pidge or Hunk ended it, is unclear.

Minutes pass, and Lance is still standing in the same place with the phone to his ear. Tears are running down his face, and his Altean marks are buzzing so loud in his ears. His heart is pounding in his ribcage and ice cold sorrow runs through his veins..

He sends a long text to Keith with shaky hands.

Message delivered...

Now, exactly 3 months since that little incident, Lance sits alone in his home. In his childhood bedroom he can’t seem to rearrange because he’s still holding out hope that one day he’ll turn back time and be his child self and get a redo on his life. But hey, it’s better this way. After the whole dilemma with Pidge, Hunk tried to call Lance to help but ended up getting his feelings hurt. Yep. By Lance. Because Lance is a big jerk and can’t stop hurting everyone around him.

So he hasn’t talked to Pidge or Hunk since then. Mostly out of guilt and shame because those two are supposed to be his bestest friends and he hurt them. Nothing he could say or do could make up for his selfish mind and stupid mouth. Lance had this whole plan to go to Shiro about it, to get his advice so Lance could make it all better.

But Pidge being Pidge.. texted the whole thing in their group chat and.. well.. everyone saw it. Shiro, Hunk, Matt, even Keith possibly! It got so bad that Lance’s phone kept going off with alerts from everyone asking what happened and what he said. Curtis tried calling him and left a few messages. Shiro left him a long voicemail. And of course the word traveled so fast that it reached New Altea and Coran got involved. Which caused Romelle to be involved, too. She gossiped to Acxa, who told her girlfriend, who happens to be Lance’s sister, Veronica. Veronica blabbed to Rachel, who blabbed to Marco, who blabbed to Luis.. who blabbed to Lance’s dad.. WHO BLABBED TO LANCE’S MOM. And boy did she have some interesting words for him in the SEVEN, LONG voicemails asking exactly ‘what happened’and ‘why The Holt siblings were so angry with him.’

Everything escalated so fast. Lance can’t even remember what he said. Or why he said it. Since the war ended, it’s been so hard on him. Sure, it’s been hard on everyone, but for Lance it’s been different. Everyone looks up to him for some reason and expects him to do so good and be the hero they all think he is, when in reality? He was just a leg…

Exactly what did he gain from being a paladin of voltron anyway?? Get banged up and bruised almost everyday he was out there? Have people on his case, constantly reminding him how unimportant he was to the team? Pointing out all of his flaws and mistakes and focusing on those when there’s a million other good things he’s done that towers over all the bad shit?? Sure, he returned home to his family who he literally missed and cried for every single day, but he lost the love of his life in the process.

To put it all out there, Lance didn’t really gain anything. He got to travel through space, which was his dream since he was a little kid, and then space chewed him up and spit him out as some fake hero with PTSD and other trauma that will haunt him for the rest of his pathetic life.

So.. these past 3 months.

Lance has been sitting up in his childhood room.

Wishing he could use the power of Altea or something to turn back time.

And be his younger self.

His innocent self.

His happier self.

Back when he wasn’t so fucked up and had dreams and goals.

Back when everyone was proud of him.

Back to when he didn’t know who Allura was or that she even existed. Back to when Voltron didn’t exist either and everything was fucking fine.

Staring up at his ceiling, Lance counts the glow in the dark stars that he’s had up there since he was six years old. Somehow they’re still glowing and Lance is thankful for that because at 3 in the morning when the world is fast asleep and everything is pitch black, he could use the light.

It comforts him. Reminds him of a simpler, more happier time in his life.

Something sharp digs through Lance’s chest as he stares at those fake neon stars, and it hurts really bad. His breathing begins to quicken, matching the beat of his heart, and a lump finds its way up his throat. Tears pool in the rim of his eyes and spill down the corners, streaming down the sides of his face.

And they don’t stop. The stars get blurrier as Lance’s breathing gets heavier. His body begins to tremble with every hiccup of a sob that pours out of him and he’s crying so hard that his brain throbs in his head.

He curls in on himself in his bed and wraps his arms around his torso, crying uncontrollably into his space themed pillow. His Altean marks begin to buzz and glow and he can’t bring himself to care because all he wants to do is disappear.

Disappear from this game called life.

He types a text to Keith with teary eyes and a quivering bottom lip.

Message.. deleted…

As 3 in the morning turns to 4, a pod lands in the grass just a couple yards away from Lance’s farm. Boot covered feet step out of said pod and touch the wet grass waiting for them. It’s still dark out and the only light visible are the fireflies that buzz around a pair of cowboy booted feet. Those booted feet begin to walk, carrying a tall, broad, raven haired stranger up a hill to Lance’s home. The frogs and crickets seem to grow louder as the stranger in black cowboy boots makes their way to the front porch and pulls back the creaky screen door to a cold, locked doorknob. A set of keys are pulled out and a specific blue key is pushed inside the lock, turning and unlocking the door. The stranger walks in and is instantly met.. with..

Crying??

“H-Hello??” The stranger calls out. “Lance?”

The crying stops.

It’s dead quiet..

The door shuts on its own and the echo around the house is eery.

Light footsteps descend the stairs and before they know it, the stranger is being tackled to the ground in a bear hug.

“Ah-! Lance!?” They yell as the duffel bag from their hand falls to the ground.

“Keith!!” Lance yells out, voice rasped from endless crying.

Keith can immediately hear it and wraps his arms around Lance so tight, holding him close. His eyes glow yellow, something that usually happens out of fear, anger, or protectiveness, and his lips protrude to make way for his double set of fangs that are ready to bite any and everyone.

“Lance!” Keith tries to sit up but is pinned to the ground with all of Lance’s dead body weight. “Lance, honey, are you hurt? What’s wrong??”

A hand through curly brown locks and Lance’s crying dies down. He snuggles his face into Keith’s neck and hiccups through a response. Something too incoherent for Keith to make out, but he feels it has something to do with why he was told to go home ASAP.

A few weeks ago, Keith was contacted by Acxa via video chat. They talked and caught up for a few minutes before Acxa told Keith the real reason for her call. She explained that Veronica was having a tough time reaching out to Lance and that he might be in some kind of trouble. Not knowing the full extent of the story, Acxa only told Keith what she heard from Veronica and others. Fearing the worst, Keith packed up his shit and set a course for Earth as fast as he could.

Unfortunately, there were some setbacks on his way over where he had to make a few stops to tend to aliens in need because after all, that’s still his job as a blade member, but when that got finished, Keith hightailed it over. His Galra instincts wouldn't allow him to stay away for much longer anyway and having accepted his galra side a long time ago, it would have been best for everyone to let him go home.

Keith now lays in Lance’s bed, every inch of Lance’s body wrapped up around him like a snake. Keith strokes Lance’s hair soothingly and holds him close to his chest, right over his beating heart. A deep, soothing purr emits itself from Keith’s body and calms Lance’s nerves right down to the bone. Keith knows how much Lance adoreshis Galran features and at this point, Keith would do absolutely anything for Lance to feel better.

They talked about everything that happened and are now in the cuddle stage. Lance has his eyes shut, listening to Keith purr just for him. Long limbs wrapped around every inch of his boyfriend while Keith’s long nails scratch at his scalp, life is so good.

Life is so good with Keith around.

“So,” Keith says, voice as calm as ever. “What exactly did Pidge say?”

“Oh,” Lance answers, his voice quiet as a mouse. “You didn’t see the messages in the group chat?”

“No.” Keith shrugs, laying his cheek against Lance’s forehead. “Been kinda busy.. And I actually don’t understand how a group chat works.”

That rises a chuckle out of Lance as he sits up a bit to reach for his phone on the bedside dresser.

“Idiot,” he whispers with a small smile on his face and it makes Keith light up, his purring becoming a bit louder.

Lance lays back on Keith’s chest as he scrolls through the messages on his phone. When he finds the message from Pidge, Lance clears his scratchy throat and sniffs.

“From Pidgeotto,” he starts, looking at Pidge’s name in their ✨Paladudes✨ group chat. “Just an FYI lance is a.. a total fucking jackass and I am no longer friends with him..”

Keith immediately frowns at that.

Lance continues. “He can suck my big toe for all I care. I’m done with him. Have fun being a lonely loser @LanceyPants.”

“What the fuck?” Keith says, eyes glowing yellow in the dark room. “Why would she say that!?”

Lance shakes his head, tears forming in his eyes again. “Because she was right. I am a jackass..”

“Lance, no!” Keith sits up, bringing Lance with him. They sit side by side as Lance holds himself and looks down at his space blanket. He shrugs once and sniffs.

“Keith, stop,” he says, wiping a tear from his eye. “Look, I said some very hurtful things to her and she lashed out in a perfectly normal way..”

“Normal!?” Keith scoffs, grabbing Lance’s phone and rereading the message again. “Jackass? Loser?? Come on, Lance, she’s completely bullying you and you know it!”

Lance whips around with an angry expression on his face “Because I deserve it!”

The room grows quiet. Keith takes a deep breath and reaches over to grab Lance’s shoulders.

“Calm.” He says, taking a deep breath for Lance to mimic. Lance takes a deep breath with him and lets it out. Keith begins to purr again and it calms Lance even more.

“I.. Sorry..”

Keith nods. He reaches up to cup Lance’s cheek and rubs his thumb across Lance’s tear stained eye.

“You know I would never hurt anyone on purpose..” Lance sniffs. “That’s not who I am. I’m just.. I’m tired of being this symbol of everything strong and good and brave.”

“Mhm,” Keith rubs Lance’s back, leaning in closer to him to nuzzle his forehead. Lance nuzzles back and Keith’s purrs.

“I keep.. I keep hurting everyone I care about..” Lance whispers in a voice so low and fragile, it nearly shatters Keith’s heart.

“That’s not true.” Keith pulls back a little to look into Lance’s teary blue eyes. “Lance, you are the most incredible, selfless, honest person I’ve ever known. You are strong and good and brave even if you don’t mean to be. Or want to be.”

Lance pulls away and stares at his hands. Keith keeps his eyes focused on Lance.

“I know you think you hurt that fangirl from a few months ago.” Keith continues. “Or Pidge. Or Hunk. Or your parents or friend or family or whoever, but you could never hurt anyone.”

“Yeah, right,” Lance shakes his head. “I already did. I hurt everyone.”

“And even if that’s true,” Keith grabs Lance’s hands in his own, “which it’s not, you’re not doing it on purpose. You have a right to your own feelings! And you have a right to speak your mind.”

“And what if that hurts people??” Lance looks up and meets teary eyes to indigo ones. “What if I accidentally hurt my mama or my sisters or brothers, or nieces and nephews because I can’t be who they want me to be, who they think I am!?”

“Lance,” Keith shakes his head.

“What if I hurt you???” Lance’s eyes go wide. He looks Keith up and down and exhales a panicked breath. “God, Keith.. wh-what if I hurt you??”

“Oh, Lancey,” Keith sighs that lovey-dovey sigh where his eyes go all big and black like a cat’s, and the purr in his chest gets louder. “You’ve never hurt me. Ever.”

Lance stares into Keith’s eyes like they’re his lifeline.

“B-but.. but what if-?”

“No more what if’s!” Keith cuts Lance off by covering his mouth with his hand. “Listen to me, Lance. Are you listening??”

Lance nods repeatedly.

“Good,” Keith smiles, all crooked and cute and beautiful. “The only person you ever need to worry about hurting is yourself.”

And there it is. The one thing Lance has been dying to hear without knowing he’d been dying to hear it. It’s like a breath of fresh air, or cool rain on a hot and sweaty day. The permission he needed but didn’t really need. He has a right to care about himself and put himself first but whenever he tries, the guilt eats him alive. Why should he care about himself when he has to care more about others???

No. That’s not the case. It’s never been the case.

“You’ve gotta stop doing this to yourself,” Keith finishes, stroking the endless sea of tears that are falling from Lance’s eyes. He strokes Lance’s glowing Altean marks and leans forward to kiss one softly. Lance trembles slightly, closing his eyes to bask in the moment.

“I’m sure Pidge has gotten over it by now,” Keith reassures. “She just has too much pride to make the first more and apologize. You know how she is.”

“Y-Yeah,” Lance hiccups, nodding.

“And Hunk?” Keith scoffs. “I bet your mailbox is full of letters from him, explaining how sorry he is and hoping you’re doing alright. You know if he can’t reach you from your phone, he has other ways.”

That makes Lance smile.

“There’s probably cookies on the way right now.” He looks into Keith’s eyes, exhaling a small laugh.

“Oh, yeah,” Keith agrees, laughing that angelic laugh and showing off his perfect pearly fangs. Lance’s heart skips a fucking beat.

“And your fangirl?” Keith’s purring stops. “Well, she never should have gotten all up in your space that’s for sure. You had every right to punch her.”

“Keith!” Lance squeaks, face contorting into shock and confusion. “I-I didn’t punch her!”

“Really?” Confusion etches itself all over Keith’s features and he puts a finger to his chin. “I could have sworn I read that in your text.”

“No way, man!” Lance defends, waving his arms around. “Why would I ever in my life-!” He stops mid sentence to see the shit-eating grin plastered on Keith’s face.

“Just kiddin, lil lady,” Keith says in his best southern accent, smiling big and wide.

Lance bursts out into a fit of laughter, hitting Keith’s chest and arms and back. Keith shields himself and laughs, grabbing Lance’s arms and bringing him down onto the mattress. They fall back with Keith looming over Lance, his long raven hair surrounding their faces.

Lance stares up into those beautiful, indigo eyes and sniffs, unable to look away. He reaches up and cups Keith’s face, rubbing his thumb over Keith’s Galran stripe.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” Keith asks in his softest voice, eyes roaming from Lance’s teary blue eyes to his luscious lips.

“Yes,” Lance nods, not even bothering to blink because if he does, he’ll miss Keith’s everything.

“Don’t let anyone get you down, my sweetheart.” Keith whispers, leaning in closer. “Ever.”

Lance nods.

“And if they do,” Keith’s face turns serious, indigo eyes going dark. “I’ll bite their throats out and hand them to you on a silver platter.”

“Keith,” Lance exhales, going red in the face and ears. “Holy shit, you can’t just say things l-like that.”

Keith’s hard demeanor falls as he giggles and leans in close. Before they close the gap between their lips, Lance whispers, “And hey. I thought pet names were my thing?”

And Keith kisses him to shut him up.

They kiss like they haven’t seen each other in years and it’s the greatest Lance has ever felt. Keith kisses like he’s starving for it, craving it so much more than air and it’s hot and powerful and so, so damn good.

Lance wraps his arms and legs around Keith’s body and kisses him back with fervor. He allows Keith to make him feel better, and kisses his pain away. Keith pulls away slowly, licking into Lance’s mouth before he does so. Lance lets out a small groan and smiles before he opens his eyes.

“I love you,” he whispers, tucking some hair behind Keith’s ear.

“I love you, more,” Keith whispers back, settling himself between Lance’s legs. “Feeling any better?”

“A little,” Lance looks away, sniffling a little. His eyes focus back to Keith’s and a small smile appears on his kiss swollen lips. “But I know a great way you can make me feel all the way better.”

“Oh, yeah,” Keith smirks, burying his face into Lance neck to start kissing slowly. “And what’s that?”

Lance giggles like a little kid, running his hands up and down Keith’s sides. When Keith pulls back, he trails his kisses up the side of Lance’s face and stops at his Altean mark.

“Make love to me,” Lance whispers, rubbing his nose against Keith’s. “Touch me all over and hold me until the sun comes up and just.. love me. Please..”

Keith’s face softens into something full of love and adoration. He moves forward to peck Lance’s lips, then his chin, and then his other Altean mark.

“Anything you want, my sweet..” he kisses Lance’s cheek. “Beautiful..” he kisses Lance’s jaw. “Amazing.. wonderful..”

“Alright, enough!” Lance laughs, slapping Keith in the back. His cheeks are on fire as he closes his eyes when Keith starts nibbling on his neck with his fangs. A chill runs down Lance’s spine and tingles to his toes, making them curl.

Keith sits up one last time and stares at Lance like he’s the world.

“I’ll take good care of you, baby.” He says with the utmost truth in his sultry voice. “I promise. We’re in this together.”

“Yeah,” Lance nods, letting his tears fall down his face and glowing Altean marks. “Together.”

And as Keith kisses Lance so lovingly, Lance can’t help but be glad that he can’t turn back time to be his younger self. Because with Keith around, he feels all the happiness in the whole world just like he did when he was young.

-END-

(send me a klangst prompt)

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storytellerofuntoldlegends · 3 years

Text

an icarus and his sun: chapter 4

A/N: what's this? jimmy may be finally leaving denial station? and gray-aroace jimmy because i said so? hell yeah. also more seablings pog!! i do also have the next chapter written already bc it has one of the scenes that was basically the whole reason i wrote this fic, but i'm gonna wait until tomorrow to post it (mostly bc i wanna make sure i have the chapter after that one written bc of... reasons >:) the next chapter is a tad cliffhanger-y and i just don't want y'all to have to wait too long)

Warnings: teasing/banter, flirting, realization of feelings

AO3 Link - Tumblr Masterpost

The invitation for the House Blossom Ball arrived, with a separate handwritten note along with it from Katherine that very pointedly reminded Jimmy to dress up and maybe lose the cod head. Something about how it wasn’t “fancy enough” or whatever. Jimmy felt the cod head was acceptable for any occasion, not to mention he felt weird with his whole head being in view- but maybe he could compromise for Katherine. He’d have to figure out some sort of other headpiece… but the ball wasn’t for a few days anyway. Jimmy had plenty of time to figure out an outfit. In the meantime, he had some work to do on his slime farm. And of course, who else should be there but Scott when Jimmy came up from his farm. He was sitting on the roof of the slime farm entrance, legs swinging idly.

“What are you doing here,” Jimmy asked with a tired sigh, really hoping that he wouldn’t have to deal with another fight with Scott. Scott hopped down from the roof, gliding a bit before landing in front of Jimmy.

“Oh same as always, I was bored and you’re fun to bother,” Scott said with a shrug and a playful grin. Jimmy glowered at him, putting his hands on his hips.

“Oh no, not today! I’m not letting you get under my skin anymore!” Jimmy said, determination in his tone. Scott raised an eyebrow as his grin morphed into a smirk, and there was that squirming, fluttery feeling from their fight again.

“Are you sure about that?” Scott crooned, a clear challenge in his voice. Jimmy shut his eyes, taking a deep breath before shifting his expression into something more neutral.

“Absolutely,” he said firmly, walking past Scott towards his base. Scott seemed surprised for a moment, before getting his bearings and following after Jimmy.

"Not even over this?" Scott asked, walking beside Jimmy and tossing something green up in the air before catching it again. Jimmy stopped walking, brows furrowed in confusion. Scott stopped too, looking him in the eyes as he tossed the object again- a slimeball.

"How- where- when did you- where did you get that from?!" Jimmy demanded. The only way people got slime was from his empire.

“Got it from one of your chests- thought you wouldn’t mind,” Scott replied with a shrug, that smirk still irritatingly present on his face.

“I very much do mind! Give that back!” Jimmy demanded, lunging forward to try and grab the slimeball from his hand. Scott darted back, flapping his wings and sending a gush of wind to push Jimmy back.

“You’re gonna have to catch me, fish boy,” Scott teased, before taking off into the sky. Jimmy grit his teeth in frustration.

“I’m the Codfather!” he protested, equipping his elytra and taking off after Scott. Scott laughed, dipping and twirling in the sky while Jimmy struggled to keep up. Going after someone who had actual wings while Jimmy only had an elytra was a definite disadvantage, but Jimmy was a little too stubborn to care. Scott climbed higher into the sky with ease, Jimmy following close after- and then the sun hit Scott’s wings and Jimmy just about fell out of the sky. The sun’s rays caught the gold tips of his wings, making them shimmer. But it wasn’t just the sunshine reflecting off his wings- it was the way Scott’s whole face seemed to shine like the sun with his smile and how the wind ruffled his usually neat hair. It was how his laugh sounded as if the shimmering of gold made a sound. It was how those icy blue eyes sparkled with mirth as he held the slimeball victoriously above his head. It was how Scott’s expression suddenly melted from that of a mischievous trickster to something almost fond. All of those things caused that pleasant flip-flopping feeling in his stomach to return, and Jimmy suddenly pitched down because of it. He quickly righted himself, flushing in embarrassment and glaring at Scott’s resulting smirk.

“Guess you aren’t one of those flying fish, huh,” he teased.

“Just give me the slimeball back!” Jimmy demanded. Scott laughed, and it felt like flowers blooming in Jimmy’s chest.

“You get so fussed over the littlest of things,” he said, still laughing. Jimmy got the feeling that he should have been angry at Scott’s teasing, he was making fun of him, after all! But instead, Jimmy couldn’t help but smile back. To Jimmy’s surprise, Scott seemed startled by that, eyes going wide and a half gasp, half laugh escaping his lips.

“Sometimes you gotta appreciate the little things in life! You miss those things when you fly above everything and live up and away from the world in the mountains,” Jimmy pointed out with a laugh. Scott pondered this, slowly floating back to the ground as he did so. Jimmy tilted his head to the side in confusion, coming to a landing beside him. Scott was staring at the slimeball in his hands with a mix of wonder and bafflement. Shaking his head, Scott reached out for Jimmy’s hand and pressed the slimeball into it, both hands clasping over Jimmy’s hand for a moment. Jimmy’s hand felt fever-warm at Scott’s touch, and his heart hammered in his chest.

“You can have this back. Sorry,” Scott said, quickly withdrawing his hands. Jimmy felt horrible instantly, he clearly struck a nerve with what he said. Before Scott got a chance to leave, Jimmy quickly grabbed his hands, giving the slimeball back.

“Keep it, I’ve got plenty. You- you should enjoy the little things in life too,” Jimmy said softly. Scott’s face tinged pink, all the way up to the tips of his ears.

“I- whatever,” Scott scoffed, trying to bring it back to their teasing back and forth from before, but failing miserably. Before Jimmy had a chance to reply, Scott drew his hands back, holding the slimeball close to his chest and taking off into the sky. This time around, Jimmy didn’t bother chasing after him. He was a little too busy wondering what on earth had just happened. One moment Jimmy was irritated by Scott’s presence, and the next his heart felt all fluttery and he willingly gave him a commodity from his empire. What was happening to him?! Jimmy had a sneaking suspicion… but he had to talk to Lizzie or Joel first. He just had to be sure.

Jimmy flew to Lizzie’s empire, spotting her and Joel sitting together on one of her giant lilypads. They both looked at him with concern when he landed in front of them, out of breath. Lizzie was the first to jump to her feet, hands reaching out towards him and searching for any injuries. Joel followed after her and hovered at her side, looking unsure of what to do.

“What happened?! Are you hurt, were you attacked?!” Lizzie demanded, and Joel’s eyes shot to the skies as he put a hand on the hilt of his sword. Jimmy laughed, shaking his head.

“Guys, I’m fine! See, look! I’m all good. Just had to see you,” Jimmy said, holding his arms out to show that he was, in fact, uninjured. Lizzie and Joel breathed out a simultaneous sigh of relief.

“Oh thank goodness. Usually when you fly to one of us in a panic, you’re hurt or being chased, or something’s seriously wrong,” Joel said, the tension draining from his shoulders and hand dropping from the hilt of his sword. Jimmy’s smile turned sheepish.

“Well… something… might be wrong. But there’s something I’ve gotta ask you guys first,” Jimmy replied nervously. Lizzie and Joel exchanged confused glances. Lizzie stepped closer, putting a comforting hand on Jimmy’s shoulder.

“Of course, you can ask us anything,” she said softly. Jimmy took a deep breath, working up the nerve to say it.

“How did you know you were in love?” he asked timidly. Lizzie blinked in surprise, and Joel raised an eyebrow.

“Is this about Scott?” Joel asked. Jimmy’s face flushed in embarrassment.

“Please just answer the question,” he muttered. Thankfully, Joel didn’t seem to be in a teasing mood, and neither did Lizzie.

“For me it was her smile. Gave me butterflies the first time I saw it,” Joel said, unabashedly gazing at Lizzie. She giggled, and Joel’s fond expression increased tenfold.

“Butterflies?” Jimmy asked, a bit confused by the turn of phrase.

“You know, when your stomach gets all squirmy, but not in a bad way? Like a bunch of butterfly wings flapping inside you,” Joel explained, and Jimmy was hit with a sudden burst of clarity. Something in his expression must have shown it, because Lizzie gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze.

“You’re telling me that’s what love feels like? It’s that just… all the time?” Jimmy asked, his voice a little hollow with disbelief. At himself mostly, for not realizing it sooner. To be fair, he didn’t feel those sorts of feelings often. In fact, he felt it almost exclusively with Scott. So to realize this whole time what he had really been feeling wasn’t just hatred or irritation… he felt a little silly.

“Well, it’s not always like that, sometimes being around someone you love just makes you feel warm and cozy,” Lizzie added.

“Well… but I feel warm and cozy all the time with you guys!” Jimmy protested, still trying to deny that feeling just a little bit longer. Lizzie smiled, patient and understanding.

“Yes, but with this… hypothetical someone, it’s different, isn’t it,” she gently prodded. Jimmy finally gave in. It was different with Scott, and that honestly terrified him. He’d never felt this way about anyone, ever.

“Oh my god, I like him,” Jimmy breathed.

“About time you figured it out,” Joel muttered. Lizzie moved her hand from Jimmy’s shoulder to swat Joel’s arm. Jimmy was too busy having a bit of an existential crisis to really care.

“Oh my god I really like him. This whole time- but Scott hates me, what on earth am I supposed to- but he seemed kind of nice today…” Jimmy trailed off, beginning to pace back and forth. Lizzie gasped in excitement, rushing over to stand in front of Jimmy and grabbing his shoulders.

“You saw him today?! Tell. Me. Everything!” she demanded. Jimmy let out a sheepish laugh.

“Nothing really happened! He stole a slimeball from me, I chased him a bit in the sky- and oh god he was gorgeous in the sunlight- and then I said something to make him sad and let him keep the slimeball anyway. I- wow I really didn’t like seeing him sad,” Jimmy rambled, a disbelieving smile growing across his face. Joel made a mock-disgusted face.

“I think I liked it better when Jimmy was in denial, he’s getting all mushy now,” he teased. Lizzie rolled her eyes.

“Don’t listen to him, being mushy is a good look on you,” she insisted, getting a laugh out of Jimmy.

“I’m glad you think so, but maybe Joel is right. Cause now all I can think about is how Scott definitely doesn’t feel the same way,” Jimmy said with a sigh. A determined look came across Lizzie’s face, and distantly Jimmy was a little terrified.

“Oh no, you’ve activated her plotting look,” Joel said with the same distant terror that Jimmy was feeling.

“The ball is the perfect time to change Scott’s mind and show him that you are a catch, you’ve said so yourself,” Lizzie explained with a grin.

“Oh no, that is not happening, I just want the ball to be something fun, I don’t wanna make a scene,” Jimmy protested, but it came out a little weak.

“Us? Make a scene? Never. I was just thinking that we make sure to get you a snazzy outfit!” Lizzie said, and while Jimmy didn’t trust her for a second, he could concede that Lizzie had a better sense of style than he did.

“Oh, alright. As long as it’s just that,” Jimmy said firmly.

“Of course!” Lizzie said, far too innocently. Jimmy just chuckled and shook his head.

“And we should probably do something fancier than the cod head,” Joel added. Jimmy sighed, putting a hand over the cod head.

“Yeah, yeah, Katherine mentioned that too,” Jimmy said with a pout.

“Don’t worry, you’re in good hands!” Lizzie chirped, releasing Jimmy’s shoulders to instead grab his arm and pull him to where she and Joel had been sitting, rambling about outfit ideas all the while. Jimmy couldn’t help but smile and be a tiny bit hopeful. Maybe wearing something nice would catch Scott’s eye… but then what? Happily ever after? Was that how love even worked? Whatever the case, he was sure Lizzie would have a plan for that too. And maybe the ball could be the start of something beautiful.

Taglists below! Ask me to be added/removed!

MCYT General Fic Taglist: @corazon10000 @damiensaidno @franticfandomfanatic @gattonero17 @hetapeep41 @space-ace123

AIAHS Taglist: @anty-kreatywna @devilwoodkitty18 @riobug

#empires smp #jimmy solidarity #scott smajor #ldshadowlady #smallishbeans #flower husbands #seablings #empires smp fic #mcyt #aiahs #sage writes

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ashesandhalefire · 3 years

Text

progress report: i am missing you to death

alex, michael, and a lot of unsaid things.

inspired by an entirely out of context teaser shot of alex and a desperate need for interaction that has yet to be satisfied by season 3 canon.

Deep Sky provides the coordinates and the time, so Alex shows up and waits.

While he stands in the cool night air, he scans the flat terrain that stretches out to one side and the gully where the highway sits. Other than the whizzing traffic, oblivious to his insignificance, everything is quiet.

After about twenty minutes of the vibrating stillness, Michael slinks out of the shadows with his hat tucked low over his face and leans against the back of the car beside Alex’s SUV.

Blood rushing in his ears, Alex does a second quick sweep of the lot’s perimeter. Nothing obvious has changed in the shadows since he crept through the bushes to check potential sight lines, but Alex isn’t stupid. He was in over his head when Project Shepherd turned out to be just his father’s backroom hobby. Deep Sky outclasses his expertise in a way he isn’t ready to reckon with. They could be anywhere—somewhere in the lot, somewhere down the road, somewhere miles away—and Michael has sauntered directly into their crosshairs.

He left about five feet between them when he stopped to hook one ankle over the other and stare out at the traffic, and the distance is enough for deniability. Alex tightens his hands into anxious fists and forces a long, deep breath through his nose.

“Hey,” Michael says with a casual nod of his head. They stand listening to the roar of tires chewing their ways along the desert highway, and Alex waits for a sign. He checks Michael’s chest for the red point of a laser sight just in case. Nothing happens. They stand a little longer, and then Michael leans over and asks, “You got a light?”

“No. You got a cigarette?”

The corner of Michael’s mouth twitches. It stirs up a fondness that Alex has carefully and surgically distanced himself from for the last few months, and he glances around the parking lot again. Being in love with Michael is too easy. He falls into it without needing to think about it or to try, and the laziness of trusting things to fate is probably why they’ve never gotten it right. He should probably consider himself lucky. Sinking back into those feelings now, fruitlessly, after so much time has passed, will make him sloppy in a way he can’t afford.

“You shouldn’t be here. They could see you.”

Michael tucks his hands into his jacket pockets and shrugs, easy and unbothered. Or, almost unbothered. The muscles in his jaw are tight and tense. “You don’t even know what they do or if they’re looking for me. I haven’t exactly been hiding for the last year.”

“That doesn’t mean you should paint a bullseye on your chest.”

“But you should?”

Michael spits barbs like an old man working his way through seeded melon, careless and precise in equal measure. He always finds soft flesh.

“This isn’t a game,” Alex grits out, face growing hot with frustration. He watches a tractor trailer speed by on the road below and shoot a piece of trash out from beneath its tires.

“So tell me what it is, then,” Michael says, mouth turning down and voice suddenly going sharp as a knife’s edge, “because I didn’t really wait around to hear the rest of the story after Valenti said you were joining a cult.”

Alex looks over, and Michael’s brow is pinched to match the irritated wrinkle of his nose. Anger and tension leak off him like heat shimmers off the pavement at midday. He holds his casual posture, ankles crossed and hands tucked, but his eyes are furious.

“It’s complicated.”

Michael scoffs. “You know what, I shouldn’t bother. I should just drag your ass home, no questions.”

And now Alex’s temper flares: “Try it.”

“You think I wouldn’t? To save you?” He laughs meanly. “I’d have you over my shoulder so fucking fast—”

“I don’t need to be saved.”

“Obviously, you do.” Michael pushes off the car. The brim of his hat catches the light from the lamppost and casts half his face in shadows. “We have enough problems on our hands right now. We don’t need to poke the bear.”

“This bear poked first,” Alex says, equally furious. He checks behind Michael before hissing through his teeth, “They kidnapped Mimi. They drugged Jenna Cameron. Turnabout is fair play.”

“This isn’t turnabout! This isn’t even revenge. You’re joining their club. You are flinging yourself into a pit, Alex. A big, dark, deep pit, and when you get far enough in, none of us are going to be able to get you out. We’re gonna lose you. For good. And for no fucking reason.”

“Not for no reason,” Alex says. A tingle of shame trickles up the back of his neck. He knows he’s unprepared, going in without an exit strategy. But he can’t sit on his hands and do nothing. It makes him nervous and paranoid to be idle. “They know things.”

“Who gives a shit? Who gives one fucking iota of a shit about what they know?”

Alex frowns. “You have always wanted to know more—”

“Not like this! Not at the risk of—” Michael puts a fist to his forehead. Then he pulls off his hat and takes another step closer. His voice is softer when he speaks. “Why are you so hellbent on doing this, huh? This isn’t just your dad anymore. This is bigger than that.”

“I know.”

“They are gonna swallow you whole, and what’s the point if you’re just gone?”

Alex draws another long inhale through his nose. The weight of the thick, ugly ring on his finger feels like an anchor dragging him down. The memories of Caulfield crumbling to pieces in a cloud of fire are heavier. “If there’s even a chance that they know something, what choice do I have? I’m not getting caught off guard again. I owe you that much.”

“Bullshit,” Michael says with a jerk of his chin. “Doing it is one thing, but don’t pretend you’re doing it for me.” A pair of low-riding sports cars scream down the highway behind him, bobbing and weaving through the minimal traffic with their engines blaring. One falters behind a gas tanker and then chases its companion off towards the horizon with an roar. “If you had any interest in doing something for me, you would stay.”

Cold uncertainty creeps into Alex’s chest, and no number of layers can keep it out. He wants to ask: would I be welcome? Because he hasn’t felt like he would be in a long time. He had showed up, again and again. Sometimes, he had been wanted, and sometimes, he hadn’t been. The haze of open mic night had cleared for an instant, and the future had been visible, tangible, workable, and then, just as quickly, had vanished into the air. He had been left with Isobel’s obvious, humiliating pity, her mouth turned down as she stood to listen through the last note. That door had been closed. And yet, he wants to ask: would I be welcome? Dignity be damned.

“Are— are you asking me to stay?”

There must be something in his voice when he says it, no matter how hard he tries to control the pathetic wavering and the sunken surprise on his face, that means something to Michael. His whole body eases forward as if carried by an invisible current before he catches himself and says, “I’m done asking people for more than they’re willing to give me.”

“But you would ask? If you thought—?” Alex pushes. “You would want to ask?”

The corners of Michael’s mouth turn down and his gaze narrows almost imperceptibly, but Alex is watching for it. The more Michael closes off, the more Alex feels himself splitting open. Something bright and electric stirs in his chest.

“Because I thought you wouldn’t,” he says, waiting for the moment when Michael’s eyes widen, just slightly, just enough to understand. It comes, exactly as expected, and Michael sways closer.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d ask. I’m not about to beg, but I’d ask.”

He’s gotten Michael to beg before, but never for something as serious as love. On his back or on his knees or in the bed of his truck, Alex has heard him plead and bargain for things he wants in the neediest, most desperate whispers, but that had been all carnal, base pleasure, and he had known Alex wouldn’t tell him no. Here, he’s talking about a different type of submission, the kind that humiliates someone like Michael, someone who has never been given enough. Michael won’t beg, and Alex needs to be asked, and a lot of time has been wasted between them thinking that one is the same as the other.

He can’t say he’ll stay. He’s too far in to back out. And, even if he could do it, staying doesn’t mean riding off into the sunset. It means more of the same: the secrets, the conspiracies, the mysteries, the agonies, the scraping open of old wounds in last-ditch efforts to heal them. But it also means Michael, so everything else is white noise.

Michael sees it all play out on his face. He sets his hat on the roof of Alex’s car and then turns to lean against the hatchback. He sighs, and Alex can tell that more weight than usual is resting on his shoulders. It’s not just Max dragging him under. His whole body sags with it, and the sharp focus that’s been in his eyes begins to recede as he drifts away towards the call of whatever nightmare is lurking at the back of his mind.

“It’ll be okay,” Alex says because he lacks for anything else to say, and Michael stares at his boots with a sad smile. His throat bobs as he swallows down whatever it is that’s too hard to talk about with so little time left to say it, and then he turns to look at Alex.

“Your dad was a piece of shit,” he says, like this is some sort of revelation, “and you’re you.”

The words, said like an accusation, should probably turn his stomach, but they’re also said with a reverence that pushes Alex’s heart up into his throat. Whatever is happening has rocked Michael to his core far beyond how Alex knows to help.

“Less of a piece of shit, I hope.”

Michael stares at him, flexing his hand, and then says, with a nod, “Significantly, yeah.”

“I guess that’s the best I can hope for.” Alex laughs, and then he tips his head back to look at the starless sky. “I’ll take being afraid of being like him over being proud of being like him any day. At least it means I’m going in the right direction.”

Jesse haunts Alex differently than he haunts Michael. To Michael, Jesse is another human face that did something terrible to him, just more proof that looking for another planet to run to is a good idea. Jesse is a more specific phantom for Alex, much harder to let blur into the background of the general awfulness of life. There are reminders of his father all around town: placards, photographs, the sign for the street they lived on, a six-foot statue in town square. Those can be faced much more easily than the hints of his father that Alex finds in the mirror: the deep-set wrinkles in his brows, the cut of his mouth when he frowns, the tone of his voice when he yells, the shape of his thumb. To be a little less like him every day is an exhausting but necessary struggle.

Michael smiles, and Alex, mystified, thinks maybe he managed to help after all.

“Your plan wasn’t really to drag me home over your shoulder, was it?” he asks to distract from how Michael carefully swipes a finger at the corner of one eye.

Michael huffs, and the car jostles. “I don’t know. Maybe. I just wasn’t about to let you go without—” He licks his lips and says, “I wasn’t about to let you just go.”

Alex scuffs his shoe against the loose gravel. “Couldn’t get Kyle’s hubcaps off this time?”

Guilt settles over him after he says it. Guilt and something else, something like the relief of setting down a heavy burden that’s been carried too long.

“I thought you were making a mistake back then, too.” Michael takes the comment in stride, accepts it, and reaches out to touch the ring on Alex’s hand. He pinches it carefully, Alex’s fingers curled into the heat of his palm, and rolls his thumb until the ring twists to expose the thinner underside of the band. He strokes, skin then metal then skin, over and over. “Flinging yourself into some dark pit that you’d never come out of again.”

Alex wants to tell him that this is different. He can’t.

“Do me a favor, okay?”

Hand slipping up over Alex’s wrist and into the soft corner of his elbow, Michael crosses the final inches of space between them and pulls Alex close. In the dim light of the parking lot, they might be mistaken for the sort of strangers who meet in shadowy corners for quick exchanges of misery with rough words and rougher touch. But then Michael, trembling, touches the lapel of Alex’s jacket and presses a long kiss to his cheek.

He keeps his mouth there, breath hot and soft, and, before he gathers himself enough to continue, Alex says, “I’ll come back.”

Michael laughs, but it sounds like a gasp for air. “Not even gonna let me ask?”

Alex hums. “I’ll come back.”

“Yeah, you’ll come back,” Michael warns, “or I’ll come get you. And it won’t be fucking subtle.”

It sends a shiver down his spine to think of Michael storming a place as infinitely large as Deep Sky feels. If it comes to that, he’d be better off left behind. But as the thought comes, Michael’s grip shifts and the tentative press of their sides becomes a full-bodied hug that envelopes him like a warm breeze. His nose turns into the side of Michael’s neck: rain, crisp and fresh; gasoline, but faint; smoke, from his fire pit.

“I’m not really going anywhere. It’ll be fine.”

Michael squeezes, and Alex squeezes back. Everything else he wants to say is too big for this moment. And, selfishly, he wants to know that Michael will wait to hear it. He scolds himself for the thought, because they’ve each done their share of waiting miserably at the wayside, but then he lets it stand. Michael squeezes again, fingertips digging into separate points as he clings.

Alex cups a hand to the back of his head and touches his curls. He thinks about what it would mean to kiss Michael now, to kiss someone that he loves, who loves him, and imagines a tower of precariously stacked dominoes. Michael laughs wetly, and Alex lets go first, fingers lingering reluctantly.

#malex fic #malex #roswell new mexico #michael x alex #my fic #i read the jungle; the grapes of wrath; and another country in less than two weeks. idt my writing style even knows which way is up rn #but i had to Produce Something or i was going to go crazy so :/

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 3 years

Text

This Is Still Marvel, Right?

Summary- 2.5k Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes x Wade Wilson x You. Deadpool the character from the comics is sitting across from the table from you, real right in front of your eyes. Not only is time travel a thing, but dimension travel is as well, and he is here for a very serious reason. Warnings- swears. Written for @what-is-your-backupplan-today CATFA 10th Anniversary Challenge. Prompts are highlighted.

Masterlist

“You came from where?” Sam questioned with a tilt of his head, arms folded across his chest as he raised a quizzical brow at the man in all red.

“And why the clown suit?” Bucky right next to him asked, trying to make sense of what was going on.

“I’m from the X-Men verse, you know… bald dude in the wheelchair, Wolvie with butter knife hands, we have our own pigeon boy. Not as sweet as your wings though.” Wade said with a sigh. “And we had a Peter, but the winds… god the winds were too strong. I will never forget you Sugar Bear.” He sobbed in his hand a moment, sniffling a moment.

You were thoroughly in shock, your jaw was dropped to the floor as Wade mother fucking Wilson sat in the interrogation chair, one leg crossed over the other, his ankle jiggling as he leaned forward on his elbows, planting his chin in his palms as he made an cooing sound at the two men. “Aww, they are so cute when they are confused, aren't they cute? The cutest little puppies.” He went to boop Bucky's nose, but Bucky reared his head back away from his hand and a whir of his hand closed around Wade's wrist, which caused the masked mercenary to gasp out excitedly.

“THE WINTER SOLDIER ARM, VIBRANIUM UPGRADE. I keep telling Cable he needs this hook up, his isn't nearly as cool as yours. Mister Bucky Barnes Sir, can you sign my suit? I’m a super fan.” the white eyes of his mask widened and you finally managed to close your mouth watching all this.

Whatever this was, you were actually wondering if you weren't in some drugged hallucination right now. Mission gone wrong? You had eaten that turkey sandwich out of the compound fridge, maybe it was drugged and this was someone's payback for stealing their food.

“Come on man.” Sam snapped out, still trying to get a straight answer out of him. Bucky let go of his hand which Wade muttered to himself.

“I'm never washing this hand, not ever.” He cradled it to his chest. “Just wait till I tell Chrome Dome who shook my hand.”

“ANSWERS!” Bucky yelled out and Wade gasped at the outburst. Bucky reached over to grasp the mask and yanked it off, grimacing as Wade's appearance showed. Both Sam and Bucky recovered quite quickly, you were still freaking out in the corner and Wade gave a suggestive wink to the two of them.

“Names Wilson, Wade Wilson. No relation to this saucy stud though.” He eyed Sam up and down with a purr, who scoffed at the sudden attention. “Don't worry, I know that one is crushing on you hard. The chemistry. I won't make a move on you. Winter Soldier though is fair game, eh?” He made a chef’s kiss motion after pointing at you. “So are you two… do you… fondue?” Wade asked, Sam and You looked at each other and made disbelieving faces at one another. “Oh we're not admitting feelings? My bad. I jumped ahead in the comics. So much sexual tension.” Making a donut shape with one hand and a pointer with the other, meshing them together, you could feel your throat close up and Sam’s eyes widen. Bucky was struggling to keep his calm at this point, Sam too. Wade made a motion to stand and get up.

“Do we have any eats here?” He puts his hand on the handle to open the door and a knife flung through the air, landing right next to his face. Wade paused and turned around. “Here I thought this was still Marvel and not Dc. Tony would have offered me a snack by now.” He grumbled while sitting back down. “A falafel, blueberries, I know he likes to snack, I've seen the movies.”

You finally got over your shock and went to sit across from him. “Mr.Wilson…”

He put up a hand. “Pool please, Deadpool. Or Wade. Or you can call me Captain Deadpool. Too much?” He glanced up at Sam and Bucky. “Yea too much, just call me Wade.”

“Wade.” you started again, trying to figure out how to approach this. “We’re confused, because you are a comic book character.” You pulled up your phone and pulled up a screen clip of his movie.

Wade gasped and grabbed at your phone, studying it. “Look at that handsome son of a bitch. I'm so glad they picked Ryan Reynolds for the part, he looks just like me.” He held the phone up next to his face. “He’s so good looking, it's the Canadian genes.” Then handed it back, you tucked it away and he leaned forward to toss what looked like a beat up comic book on the table.

“What’s this?” You question, pointing at it.

“A comic book. You guys are just comic book characters and I'm here to fix your story. What? You seriously didn't know you are comic book characters in another universe?”

“Our story?” You pulled the comic towards you and sure enough plastered on the front was Sam in his Falcon Suit, Bucky with his own gear and you were soaring in the air above slightly out of focus.

“Yes, your story. Listen Cable, you all know Cable right? He's like a moodier you Buckaroo…” The name caused Bucky to growl a bit, but Wade continued without noticing. “... hooked me up with this cool device. Not like those stones you all have, this is some actual batman kind of future fuckery that I got rigged to not just travel back in time. But other dimensions. Whoo... “ He made wiggly fingers. “It's like magic right? Cool.”

You were flipping through the pages as fast as possible, skimming the storyline. Amazingly all of it was there, the mission report Nick Fury brought Sam this morning, you and Bucky sparring and how he pinned you against the mat, the heart to heart about how you two missed Steve.

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose while Bucky looked over your shoulder at the comic book. “I'm getting a headache, or I'm losing it. Did I get hit in the head?” Sam rambled a bit and you got to the end of the comic, seeing that the mission Fury had given you three was completed, successfully.

“Says there we did just fine.” Bucky said and you closed it before pushing it towards the center of the table.

“It's not all just fine.” Wade threw up his hands in exasperation and you shook your head so confused.

“Explain it to us Wade.” You grasped the comic again, flipping through it, scanning the pages as quick as you can.

“Go to page 53.” He tapped his finger against the steel table and you did, the panel showing you and Sam standing on a roof top about to enter a building from above and Bucky was shown in another panel scaling a building.

“I don't see it…” you shook your head confused as to what he was talking about and Wade pointed at the bottom, that was just barely in view. A hot dog cart.

“You are here, from another dimension of life… because of a hot dog cart?”

Wade nodded firmly. “If we don't protect that hot dog cart, bad things will happen.” His voice lowered, turning shifty. “Spooky stuff… anal stuff.” He shuddered and sat back, staring at the hot dog cart in the bottom of the picture. “If we don't protect that hot dog cart, it causes issues you couldn't even fathom. Another life just poof… what did y’all call it? Spanked out of existence?”

You just automatically corrected him. “Snapped.”

“Spanked sounds better, maybe consider changing it to spanked?”

Sam cleared his throat. “You traveled through dimensions to get here so we could save a hot dog cart? I'm just- trying to keep it all straight. This isn't entirely the weirdest thing I have heard, but it's close.”

Bucky scoffed. “I say this guy needs some help, maybe his brain got scrambled like mine.”

“Nah, I didn't get the mind trip you did. I was tortured by a guy named Francis.” Wade snorted gleefully. “Called himself Ajax, like the dish soap!” Slapping his knee, he busted out laughing heavily, starting to cry.

You rubbed at your face and looked over your shoulder. “I think we should trust him guys. What if what he says is true? We’ve dealt with crazy shit before.”

“You can't be serious Y/N.” Bucky shook his head and Sam looked doubtful. Wade giggled as he wiped a tear from his eye, pointing a finger at you.

“I like you, you're the smart one here I can tell.”

You all turned to Sam who hadn't said anything yet. He sighed and rubbed at his face a bit, before finally saying under his breath. “I'm never going to hear the end of this… Lets take him.”

Wade did a fist pump in victory, leaping up to grab his mask back from Bucky. “X-Force Ass-” You were quick to cover his mouth, leaving the “-emble” garbled.

“He's going to get us killed, Wilson.”

“I said to call me Deadpool or Captain Deadpool.”

“I WAS TALKING TO HIM!” Bucky jerked his thumb at Sam, gritting his teeth while he yanked open the door and left the room. Deadpool followed after him, the next thing you heard was Bucky hollar. “I'm going to kick your ass Prick.”

“Will you? You're making me all excited. Like a fairy making a little girl's wishes come true, I feel like I could fly.”

Then you and Sam heard something loud crack and Wade’s cooing grew fainter. “Nice boots, Tinkerbell!”

You snatched the comic book and stuffed it in your back pocket. “Uh we probably better go stop Bucky. It's pointless for him to try to kill Wade and will just tire himself out.”

Sam opened the door, holding it open for you. “Should we really take that away from him?”

“True and it sounds like Wade is having himself a fan moment anyways and doesn't care.” You stepped out to see Bucky and Wade tangled together wrestling.

Just as the comic stated, You and Sam were able to go in from the top. You could see Bucky below you using rigging to scale the building. Down further below you could see a red dot pushing a hot dog cart down the street well out of harm. Speaking into the comm’s, your wings folded to pull you into a spiral, spinning towards the roof. “Wade’s got the cart moved, and were clear to enter.”

There was a grunt in the comms and Bucky's voice crackled through. “Well damn, I'm glad the hot dog cart is safe… for reasons spanning an entire dimension that we still don't know.”

“Who are we to question it, Bucky? I mean, we’ve seen some pretty strange shit.” You stated as Sam landed next to you, shooting at the door and ducking inside together. “Maybe this is just another one to add to the pile.”

Silence descended on the group as you each made to fulfill the mission. Once the building was clear and the three of you were working on exiting, Wade was waiting on the roof, sitting on the edge eating a hot dog and had three more lined up next to him. “I brought you all lunch, you guys do that sort of thing right? Good Mission? yes I bet. Buckaroo has the happy murder gleam in his eyes.” He took another bite of his hot dog and chewed while studying Bucky closely.

“Don't do that.” Bucky shuddered a bit and Wade proceeded to pop the last bite into his mouth and chewed slowly while rolling the bottom half of his mask down.

“Do what Buckaroo?”

“Stare at me or call me Buckaroo.”

“While eating a hot dog? Only way to properly eat one. I know you love it James. Well my mission here is done.” He pushed off the ledge to give you a hug and handed you a manilla envelope. “This is for you, it explains everything. Toodleloo Kiddies, it was fun knowing you. Oh and if you see Hugh Jackman on the street, tell him his coffee sucks and bitch slap the prick.” He jumped back on the ledge and looked over the edge. “Oh this is gonna kill my knees but this is a true superhero moment. Wait for it…” He gave you all a salute and stepped over, plummeting down. Sam and Bucky rushed the edge, looking over.

You knew better, a superhero landing wouldn't kill him.

“NAILED IT!” you three barely heard, then in a flash of sparks, Deadpool was gone.

“I thought for sure he was going to pancake down there.” Bucky said with a hint of sadness and Sam shook his head.

“We gotta get out of here before we're caught and get this back to Fury.” Sam held up a chip that held the actual intel of the mission.

You silently agreed and together the three of you made your way off the building and back home.

Afterwards once you were back in the tower and changing out of your suit, you glanced at the manilla envelope Wade left you.

Sitting down on the bench, you opened it and peeked in. What looked like another comic book was in there as well as a letter. Pulling out the letter, you scanned it.

~To the Super Duper Trio,

Thank you for believing me. It was crucial. We're not the only comic book verse out there living our lives. Sometimes they cross intersect in ways that I can't explain, go find the wizard, he can tell you more about it. Also ask him to your next party, because he can do the COOLEST TRICKS. But if you take out the comic book enclosed you will see on page 23 there is a hot dog cart as well as a familiar looking dork named Jake Jensen. Alias- Capt Jensen.

Perhaps your Captain is alive in some way, the DC universe having changed him to a loveable, cat hating, Petunias loving, super smart idiot.

Tell Birdman thanks for the vote of confidence, caw caw mother fucker.

Tell Buckaroo he forgot to sign my suit, I will be back. He is my favorite after all.

And what I wanna tell you is take care of those idiots so they dont kill each other.

With Love,

Captain Deadpool

Ps- Yes Cap’s as awkward with women in DC as he was in Marvel.

Pss- Welcome to X-Force! I will be in touch.

You pulled out the comic book and glanced at the cover seeing six people staring down, the title of the comic- The Losers. Flipping to the page, you found a photograph tucked in between the pages, showing another version of the page. One where the street looked demolished and a man lying crumbled by a cart. Also a familiar hot dog cart leaned on its side, demolished.

Setting the picture aside, now you glanced over this panel to see the same man making a show of pulling out a crossbow, the bubble above his head with the words “That’s right, bitches, I got a crossbow!”

The scene didn't really surprise you that much, more like the character now alive in the comic looked just like Steve.

A thinner version, he had facial hair, and the entire get up was never anything Steve would have willingly worn.

But it looked just like Steve Rogers and for the second time that day your jaw dropped.

Maybe Wade Wilson was right, after all…

Nothing was off limits and stranger things have happened.

#this is still marvel right?#amber writes #sweater writes #catfa 10th anniversary challenge #bucky barnes #sam wilson #wade wilson #jake jensen #avengers #deadpool #the losers

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idreamofplaid · 3 years

Text

Healing

Summary: The life of a hunter is hard, loving a hunter may be harder, but love is greater than than all that.

Character: Dean x Reader; Sam mentioned

Word Count: 2196

A/N: Still fleshing out my Masterlist with another fic from my docs.

Dean walked into your room a tattered and bloody mess. You looked up from the book you had been pretending to read while you waited for him to return. It wasn’t easy loving a hunter. The fear was always there, the fear that this would be the time he didn’t come back. It lurked in the corners of your mind. It sat cold and icy in the pit of your stomach. It squeezed your heart when he was late and you hadn’t heard from him, squeezed it to the point you thought you couldn’t breathe.

Even covered in blood as he was, the sight of him sent relief flooding through you. A new fear replaced the former. He was home, but he was hurt. Where was his injury? How bad was it? Why was there so much blood? Your book fell from your hands, and you went to him.

"Dean, what happened? You started peeling the layers off him. Jacket, plaid shirt, t-shirt. You removed every layer. His armor of plaid flannel hadn’t been enough. The scratches were all over his chest, shoulders, stomach, and arms. Some of them were deep, deeper than you had seen before, and you struggled with yourself to stay calm. You needed to take care of him.

"Werewolves,” he told you through gritted teeth. “There was a pack of werewolves right in our backyard, and we missed it." He sat down heavily on the bed, and put his head in his hands. "We missed it, Y/N. How the hell did we miss it?”

"Dean, you can't take care of every single monster in the world. That’s not on you.” You understood his need to make things right, at least as many things as he could.

“Some of these wounds are bad, honey. You're going to need stitches.” Internally, you breathed a sigh of relief. You could do that. Stitches would make it okay. He was safe.

You went to the sink to wet a cloth and came back to sit on the bed beside him. Carefully, you started to wash off the blood, beginning with his chest. You talked to him while you cleaned him up. He’d told you once that hearing your voice made the world right for him and made him forget about the pain.

“Where’s Sam? Does he look like you do?” Sam was okay. You knew that, or Dean wouldn’t have left him. Still, you needed to hear him say it. Sam was the brother you had always wanted, and you loved him; but you couldn’t bear to think of what it would do to Dean if anything happened to him.

You cleaned the blood from his anti possession tattoo while Dean gave you the update on Sam. “He went back to his room. He’s got some scratches, but not this many and not deep. I got in a pretty serious tangle with a mean werewolf.” Dean gave you a half hearted smile. He was trying not to let it show just how much it hurt, but you could tell from the way he was breathing. Dean always put on a brave face for you, and you never let on that you saw right through every one of them.

After getting all the blood off, you headed for your duffle to grab the first aid kit. You brought it back and opened it on the bed next to him. This next part would sting. You poured alcohol onto some gauze and started dabbing the cloth on his wounds. Dean winced.

"I know it hurts. I'm sorry." Your hand stilled for a minute, and you leaned in to place a soft kiss on his lips.

When you pulled away, Dean was genuinely smiling. “You know how to take my mind off anything, don’t you?”

You smiled back at him. “Well, I try.”

Gently, you resumed applying alcohol to his wounds. Dean put his hand on yours where you were lightly tapping the alcohol soaked gauze to the scratches on his torso and looked at you with those green eyes you had fallen in love with. You had seen them every shade of green from the palest jade to the deepest green of the evening sea. Tonight they were dark, like a forest at twilight, and they were troubled.

"Y/N, I don't want to keep coming home to you this way. I don't want you sitting up waiting for me, worrying if I'm alive or dead. You deserve a better life than that." You saw him swallow, and the pain in his expression was worse than anything the werewolf had done to him.

You moved to his shoulder and kept right on cleansing his wounds. "Dean, I do worry about you; I'd be lying if I said I didn't. I don't want to see you get hurt, but I know it's part of what you do. It's part of who you are. You make the world safer; that's one of the reasons I fell in love with you. I don't dwell on what could happen to you. Does it scare me? Of course it does, but I focus instead on knowing that you want me to be the one here to stitch you up when you’re done fighting whatever evil thing it is you had the courage to confront.”

A smile danced around the corners of your lips, turning them up. “And who says I was waiting for you because I was worried? Maybe I was waiting for you for another reason.” He pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and shook his head with a chuckle.

Dean cupped the side of your face in his hand and brushed his thumb over your cheek. "You really are perfect for me."

You kissed him, slowly with just the right amount of tease and a promise of what was to come later. When the kiss ended, you held his eyes for a few seconds before turning your attention back to the task at hand.

"Now, let me take care of these stitches." You selected the suture needle you wanted from the first aid kit and skillfully sewed up the gashes on his shoulder and side. You had done this more than you liked to think about, and practice made you good. It was one of the first things Dean had taught you, but you still hated it. You knew it had to hurt even when he didn't let it show, and his pain always hurt you too.

You kissed every spot where you had placed stitches when you were done and told him. "Go get a shower then come to bed. If you aren't too tired, I'll show you why I was waiting up for you."

You took off your clothes and climbed under the sheets. Even if Dean was too tired for sex, you wanted to feel his naked body against yours. You needed to hold him close and feel his arms around you.

When he walked out of the bathroom wearing just a towel, you took a good, long look. It was still hard at times to believe this man was yours. His lips made you think of the dirtiest things. What he could do with those lips.... They made you think of the sweetest things too, like the things he whispered in your ear, or the way he sometimes kissed the tip of your nose.

"Drop the towel, Dean, and come here.” He was quick to do exactly what you said, and you marveled again at the strength and masculine beauty of his body. It felt even better than it looked when it was pressed against yours.

You welcomed him into your arms, and the kiss you gave him was sweet and lingering with just enough of an invitation in it he could pursue it if he wanted to, and he did. He was on top of you pinning you to the mattress with his body, and his lips were claiming yours, needing yours.

You threaded your fingers through his hair and gently bit his bottom lip. "I want you just the way you are Dean Winchester. Every single scar belongs to me. Every one of them. YOU belong to me.

His erection twitched against your stomach. You had touched yourself while he was in the shower with his name on your lips, preparing yourself for him. Your body was more than ready to feel the sweet stretch of him inside you.

You opened your legs for him, and he entered you slowly and smoothly. The feel of him, so perfectly joined to you this way had you dropping your head back against the pillow and biting your bottom lip. Dean moved with a slow and steady rhythm, increasing his speed gradually. As his thrusts got deeper and faster, your urge to scratch your nails down his back got stronger. You didn't, not tonight. There were already scratches on his back that you didn't put there. If you added your own scratches over them, it wouldn't be a pleasurable pain.

You held onto the back of his neck instead, whispering his name and encouragement in his ear. Your orgasm was right on the brink of tearing through you, but you held back because you wanted to come with him. You knew it wouldn't be long; his thrusts had become erratic. Dean moaned your name loudly, and you felt the release of his hot seed inside you. That's when you let yourself go to fall over the edge with him.

Afterwards, he held you stroking his hand slowly up and down your back. "Y/N, do you ever think about having kids?" You listened, almost holding your breath; you hadn't expected this."I mean, is it something you want?" He turned his head so he could see you better.

You didn’t respond right away, weighing your answer. This subject had never come up before. "I've thought about it. Is it something you want, Dean?"

He was slow with his answer too and sighed before he spoke. "Yeah. I want kids. I probably think about it more than I should because I wouldn't be a very good father.”

You moved yourself on top of him, so you could look right down into his eyes. "Why do you say that, Dean?"

His hand had stopped moving on your back. All of his attention was focused on you, and the look in his eyes was heartbreaking. "I didn't have much of a role model in that department. I don't know how to be a father."

You ran your fingers through the hair above his temple. "Dean, you practically raised Sam. He's told me about it. You read to him. You put bandaids on his scrapes. You helped him with his homework.” Dean’s eyes had changed, the hard edge of pain in them softened by your words. “I could go on. You would be an amazing father. You’re great with kids. Not only would you be an incredible father, you're meant to be one."

Now, the look in his eyes was nothing short of wonder. “You really think that?”

“Yes, I do. You’re a natural.” You kissed him with a brush of your lips over his. Sometimes Dean understood physical affection in a way he didn’t accept words.

He slowly opened his eyes after your mouth moved away from his. "Do you think that could work, having kids, living the way we do?” he asked. There was a touch of hope in his voice that you rarely heard there, but he still needed more reassurance. “I'm gone so much, and I would never want my kid to see me bloody the way you did tonight."

You told him what he needed to hear with the conviction of truly believing what you were saying to him. "Between you, me, and Sam someone would always be here to take care of the baby. We're a family. Families do that. And our child won't see you bloody. We can control things like that, Dean."

The things you had told him were sinking in, and you gave him a little time before you took your pointer finger and started playing with his bottom lip. "Do you want to get me pregnant, Dean?"

"You mean like now?" You weren’t sure if he was surprised, scared, eager, or maybe all three.

You kissed along the scratches on his chest, wanting to replace all the pain he’d ever felt with something more gentle and more beautiful, something he deserved. "Well, I would have to stop taking birth control first, but yes pretty much now."

When you raised up to look at him, Dean put his hands on each side of your face, brought your lips down to his, and kissed you. "I love you, Y/N."

You loved him too. The complexity of who he was had brought a richness to your life and fulfilled you in a way you hadn’t imagined possible. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t a fairy tale. It was something better. Real. You would happily spend your life healing his wounds, the ones on the outside and the ones that were harder to see.

Everything: @gambitwinchester @princessmisery666 @peridottea91 @emilyshurley @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @fangirlxwritesx67 @waywardbaby @atc74 @mariekoukie6661 @tumbler-tidbits @fandom-princess-forevermore @terrarium-jpeg @emoryhemsworth @crashdevlin @jules-1999 @cosicas-cuquis @sammyimpala-67 @queenoftheunderdark @dean-winchesters-bacon @timelordy-fangirl2 @sweetness47 @hobby27 @awesomesusiebstuff @kickingitwithkirk @becs-bunker @sandlee44 @supernaturalgrandma @volleyballer519 @kdfrqqg @lizette50 @sorenmarie87 @lovealways-j @mrswhozeewhatsis @spnbaby-67 @wayward-and-worn @asthesunwentdown @vulgar-library @thinkinghardhardlythinking @petit

Dean/Jensen: @deansyahtzee @flamencodiva @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @focusonspn @akshi8278 @ladywinchester1967 @sgarrett49 @wingedcatninja @coffee-obsessed-writer @adoptdontshoppets @ellewritesfix05 @weepingwillowphoenix

#dean smut #dean angst #dean fluff #dean x reader #dean oneshot

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gryffindors-weasley · 3 years

Text

Promises

Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader

Summary: After you have an unpleasant encounter with Lucius Malfoy, it leaves Draco in fear of losing you. Though he can’t seem to keep himself from you.

Requested by @kiiramalfoy : “i would like to order something with Draco where the reader is Slytherin, and they date, and Draco’s father hurts the reader, and Draco cries a lot for fear of losing her.”

Warnings: mentions of injury, scars, anxiety, fluff

A/N: Thank you for the lovely request!

You exhaled a quiet sigh, one of many that afternoon though the sun was beginning to dip lower into the sky and turn over to evening. It’s golden rays still cast its beauty, however, coloring everything it had landed on in varying hues of a warm orange the more time that goes by. It had always been your favorite time of day for that very reason, that and it was when you could spend most of your time with Draco.

His midnight black blazer had long since been discarded in a crumpled heap in the grass next to you, the top two buttons of its matching dresshirt undone and its corresponding tie loosened around his neck. The light breeze caused a ripple in the water of the Black Lake, the edge not more than a few feet from where the two of you resided against the same old tree you claimed as your own.

This very location was one the two of you had claimed as a whole for that matter, a place that was secluded and nearly unfrequented by most. Despite that fact, Draco had always felt he’d been a target for prying eyes as of late, but he couldn’t seem to keep himself away from you for very long. He’d tried. He’d tried so hard to withdraw himself and keep you away, if only to keep you safe was his reasoning. But his reasoning quickly became overshadowed by his desperate need to be near you, to be with you. So he broke the promise he made to himself not long after it was made.

He lay in the grass with his head in your lap while you sat there, tucked comfortably between the thick roots of the familiar old oak tree. Unseen grass stains litter his black slacks but he couldn’t bring himself to care about such trivial things, instead focusing on the warmth of the sun on his skin or the sweet smell of your perfume wafting his way every time the wind blew. A few stray stars had begun to twinkle directly above the two of you as evening slowly crept in, lightning bugs flickering like glowing yellow dots along the waters edge as they flutter aimlessly through taller blades of grass.

Your hand had been absentmindedly running through his hair as you read a new book, making sure to miss the few sections where a wildflower or two was carefully woven into it. They offered a burst of color in contrast to the iciness of his hair. It took everything in him not to fall asleep at the comforting feeling, because he wanted to take in every single second he had with you in fear that there wouldn’t be more. Though sometimes the task of staying awake wasn’t very difficult when his hair pokes in his eyes or you gasp upon reading something surprising in your book, your hand pausing its movement right over top of his face. Still, he wouldn’t trade these moments for the world.

“Are you going to talk to me, Love?” He asks softly, peeking one eye open to look at you.

“After this chapter, Draco,” you say, though you weren’t entirely sure what he’d said, your eyes focused on the tattered pages as you run your hand down his cheek gently.

“You’ve said that three chapters ago,” he huffs, though he isn’t truly angry.

He sits up quickly, the sudden movement causing the delicate petals once tucked in his hair to tumble lightly to the ground like feathers. You laugh down at your book and shake your head, turning to the next page. He leans over and presses a soft kiss to your cheek, another to your jaw, smiling softly when he sees the pink blush beginning to appear on your skin. However, your attention doesn’t seem to falter from the pages you read from, so he kisses your cheek once more before settling his head on your shoulder with a sigh.

His smile widens a fraction when he feels you rest your head on his though, the small action appeasing his need for your attention momentarily. He takes in his surroundings, the reflection of the pointed rooftops of the castle not too far away, rippled and distorted on the lake. The puffy clouds colored with pinks and oranges and yellows, and the grass swaying gently in the breeze. Yet with all the beauty set out right in front of him, it all paled in comparison to you. And surely someone had to have been wondering where the two of you had been all day, but that wasn’t of any importance to him.

Truthfully, he’d abandon any and all things just to be with you.

His attention is soon focused on your hand, more-so the scar that rests atop it. His fingers brush over the pale scarlet splotch on the back of your hand, one that blossoms slightly further up your arm. One that he’s cast numerous Episkey spells on, and several healing potions gathered from Madam Pomfrey. But not even his rather vast knowledge on healing could permanently fix it. He doesn’t think it makes you any less radiant, never, but he remains horrified by the means of how it’d been put there. His very own father. The thought still taunts him with each day that passes and he fears it might never go away.

7 Months Ago

You walked through Diagon Alley in search of the few items left on your list in preparation for your seventh year. It wasn’t as extensive nor did it feel as important, but you still wanted to go. The pathways were crowded with excited young students experiencing this place for the first time. Though you weren’t as worried this time around because you had taken this trip by yourself now that you had been old enough to.

You were startled by the firm grip placed heavily upon your shoulder, your gaze quickly and dreadfully meeting icy blue eyes when you look to your left.

“Mind if I have a word?” Lucius asks, his smile far from friendly.

Of course he knew you’d be there, and you were starting to regret coming here alone.

You swallow thickly, though you remain calm as you try and control the spike in your heart rate. You barely have the time to give a nod in response before he veers off into an unfrequented alleyway, the sneer on his face now completely gone in favor of a more hardened expression.

“Do you think I am blind to what you have been doing?”

Your eyebrows knit together in faux confusion. “Blind to what?”

His jaw clenched at your apparently clueless words and he took a step closer. His stare was intense as he seemingly towered over you, as if he was reaching into the very depths of your soul to pull out whatever secrets you may have been keeping. Ones you fought desperately for him to be unaware of. “Whatever it is you think you have with my son must come to an end.”

Your heart had froze in your chest at the statement, and you clench your fists at your sides to keep your trembling hands from becoming obvious to the man in front of you. “I don’t believe I know what you’re talking about, Mr. Malfoy.”

He laughs bitterly, his eyes scanning your expression as if he could detect the very fact that you were lying. You took a step back from him. “You are merely a distraction and nothing more, you would only bring disgrace to the contuation of the Malfoy name and you know it. You’ve already brought shame to yourself.”

You try not to let his words have any affect on you, though the task is proving to be far more difficult than expected as stinging tears press just behind your eyes. But still, you were becoming angry at his taunting words as he tried to antagonize you. “How so?”

You’re startled by his sudden grip on your wrist, and he tugs it up to eye level. “You might have the purest magic running through your veins, but that does not make you worthy of anything at all. You and your family’s infamy and regrettable choice to defy the Sacred 28 have no place here, you don’t belong,” He says, teeth gritting, “Either you listen to my words now or I’ll just have to do something about it. Won’t I?”

You flinch at his harsh words as you try and pull yourself from his grasp. It only tightens, unrelenting as his nails dig into your skin and you suppressed the urge to cry out. However, it still hadn’t stopped you from speaking your mind.

“Regrettable? My families morals and their ability to defy your terrible ideals and not frown upon individuals you deem to be less than you is not regrettable. At least my family knows what love and kindness is,” you quip, narrowing your eyes up at him.

You watch the anger twist his face into a threatening glare, the pressure on your wrist almost becoming too much to bear. It felt as though it’d snap in two if it got any tighter and you couldn’t suppress your tears as one rolls down your flushed cheek.

“What are you doing?” A voice sounds behind you.

You glance over your shoulder to find Draco, having difficulty masking his surge of emotions as he catches sight of the tears lining your eyes. Then his eyes bounce to his fathers face, furious and so full of venom he couldn’t bring himself hold his stare. Then his eyes landed on your arm.

His worst nightmares seemed to have been coming true right before his very eyes, and he mulled over his next actions quickly. If he protects you from his father, it’d confirm the relationship the two of you held in secret and he would more than likely lose you. If he doesn’t, he’d singlehandedly destroy your trust and lose you that way. The thought made him sick to his stomach and his head spun with worry as he made up his mind.

“Relashio!” Draco utters, his fathers grip on you faltering. You tug your arm away and rush to his side, though your attempt isn’t all too easy.

A searing pain scorches the back of your hand, the sensation traveling up the top of your wrist as you recoil your hand to your chest and peer out from behind Draco. The flames extinguish from the wand in Lucius’ hand just as quickly as they appeared, the very flames that kissed your skin in his spiteful attempt to hurt you. To scare his son with the consequences of his love for you. The horror was apparent on Draco’s face as he drops his wand, looking at his father through glossy eyes.

“Draco, you’re doing it again,” you sigh quietly, marking your page before closing your book and setting it aside for the first time since you’ve been out there.

“Doing what, darling?”

“You’re thinking about it again. You’ve got that look you always have when you do,” you say, knowing he’d try and convince you otherwise. “I know that look.”

His thumb brushes ever so gently against your hand despite the tension in his jaw as it clenches. He closes his eyes and takes a breath to steady his emotions. “Sorry.”

You sigh lightly and press a chaste kiss to the corner of his jaw, lingering there for a few moments before you spoke up softly. “I’ve dealt with worse, you know.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” He asks, more so a scoff, the idea of you experiencing anything worse than that moment making his stomach churn and twist in knots. He turns to look at you with furrowed brows and a slight frown, though you remain positive.

“Ideally yes,” you say with a soft laugh, one that makes his heart flutter in his chest as you take his hand in yours, “though I take it it’s not working.”

He’s quiet after that, frustration simmering in his stomach as he tries to control his temper for your sake. His gaze shifts to the sky above him once more as he rests his head back on the crumbling bark of the decades old tree. It’s not his fault, not entirely and he knows that. You knew that. It was his fathers doing and if he had been there sooner he wouldn’t have let it happen. You knew he’d protect you, right?

He could only hope that you knew he’d endure a lifetime of pain just so you never had to experience a single drop ever again. It was risky of him to defy the promise he made to his father, never to see you again. It was a deal he’d made before storming back to his room in a bout of angry tears that persisted for the entirety of the night. He doesn’t believe he’d cried over anything at all quite like this. But you’ve etched yourself in every part of him so much so it’s made it impossible to deny the profound love he feels for you. He could only last three weeks without you once your final school year had started again, barely that, his lingering stares only increasing his longing for you until he cracked.

He’s pulled from his thoughts by the feeling of you twisting the ring around his finger, the cold silver band sending a shiver up his arm. It’s a habit you’ve picked up, he hadn’t been sure of where it came from, but you did it. Much like the way you often button and unbutton the cuffs of his dress shirts; he can’t remember how many he’s had to replace because they eventually fall off.

Regardless, he doesn’t mind the habit, but the very ring you’re playing with is one he’s grown to dislike considerably. The swirling metallic snake only reminds him of his father, his family, and the mistakes he’s made up to this point. Most notably, what it’s put you through. He’ll get another ring for you to twirl, but he cannot bear wearing this one a moment longer.

He slips it off his finger and stands to his feet abruptly, walking over to the waters edge.

“What are you doing?” You ask curiously, getting up and wandering to his side. You watch as he examines the ring, running his thumb over the silver snake curling across the front.

He lifts his hand and throws the ring, watching as it bounces once across the shimmering water before disappearing with a small splash. His lip curled up in anger as he grabbed his tie, hastily plucking the matching house pin from the black fabric and throwing it with more vigor. It goes farther than the last, though the action does very little to release the animosity towards his father.

“Draco stop,” you say, grabbing his arm and turning him to face you. It wasn’t until the water calmed again that he looked at you again. His chest heaved slightly, cheeks tinged a soft pink as he stares down at you.

Tears line his eyes as he stands before you. “I don’t want to stop. I want to rid myself of everything that has to do with this place.”

“Would you just calm down? For me?” You ask quietly, offering a patient smile as you grabbed his hands gingerly. “Being angry and upset isn’t making matters any better, Draco. You’re only souring your mood.”

You reach up and wipe a frustrated tear before it could fully roll down his flushed cheek, your thumb tracing over it in a way that set him at ease almost immediately. He closes his eyes as he finds himself leaning into your touch, trying to focus on the warmth of your hand on his skin rather than the anger pressing insistently within his chest.

You have a way of doing that, he realizes. He feels you could take any situation, no matter how miserable, and make it brighter. You could take his sorrows and change them to utter happiness. Perhaps that’s why he was so attached to you. You’d always be there to keep him from sinking, it didn’t take much effort on your end. He could get through anything if you were there to pull him through it.

“How are you so care free? About all this?” He asks once he’s calmed down a bit, both intrigued and envious as he brushes your hair behind your ear. The tips of his fingers trace down your neck, grasping the green tie dangling from it softly as he sighs, his hand running down your arm until it envelops your own tenderly.

You smile up at him, the contours of his face becoming more apparent the lower the sun sets in the sky. “I’ve spent the entirety of my life under scrutiny for my family’s choice one way or another,” you start, brushing the blonde strand away that dipped in his eyes. “It grows tiring after a while, and you learn to tune it out.”

His crease between his brows deepens slightly as you wrap your arms around his neck, his arms quick to hold you close to him with the intention of keeping you there for a long while.

“Words only hurt you if you allow them to, Draco. It’s not always going to be easy, but it’s true,” you say, reaching up to smooth the worry between his dark brows before your hand slides down to rest on his chest, the other tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. “I’m scared for the future, I think we all are. But I want to focus on what’s here right now. With you.”

A soft smile pulls at the corner of his mouth as he pulls you closer, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, another to your jaw, and perhaps the softest just below your ear. Your perfume was sweet and enchanting as it flooded his senses and left him lingering there for a few fleeting moments, his remaining anger subsiding completely.

“Tell me we’ll be okay,” he asks, barely just above a whisper. His reluctantly pulls away from the crook of your neck, pale blue eyes bouncing around every inch of your face in search of doubt.

You smile sweetly at him, gaze flickering up to his eyes before you lean on your toes and press your lips on his, gentle yet firm as your hands settle on his cheeks. Any traces of tension he had left dissolves in that very moment, his arms caging you tightly against him as your shirt crinkles under his grip. It’s as if nothing else mattered, and to him nothing ever mattered more than you. When you parted, he chased after your lips for another kiss, soft yet full of love as he smiled softly.

“We’ll be okay.”

—

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #harry potter fic

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xxdragonwriterxx · 3 years

Note

Hi! how about one where Levi and his fem s/o sleep together for the first time and reader finds out that Levi sleep talking about how much he loves her and that he's very lucky to have her in his life. The next morning when they wake up reader teases him about it and he's very embarassed? Thank you so much, I’m sorry for my bad English. I love you❤️

A/N: Hello anon! 💕Thank you so much for requesting, this idea just had my heart melting and I loved it because I sleep talk all the time (when I actually manage to sleep) so it was fun to write based on experience (curtesy of my sis & friends telling me about my sleep talk endeavors). I’m sorry it’s taken so long for me to get it out to you, my ADHD has been really out of control lately. I really struggle with it sometimes, so I hope I didn’t keep you waiting for too long. I’ve also been having horrible migraines on and off for the past couple days so that’s what the beginning of the story was inspired by 😅. Thank you so much for your patience, I really appreciate it. Also your english is absolutely fine, love! I hope this is what you were looking for! ❤️

🐉Song Recommendation: “The Ghost on the Shore” By: Lord Huron” 🐉

~~~

🔥Woman of My Dreams 🔥

(Y/N) knew she was supposed to be working, helping Captain Levi with his massive load of paperwork, but she couldn’t focus for the life of her, too distracted by the pained look on her captain’s face. He must’ve felt her watching him, because he glanced up at her, his eyes distant and slightly glazed but narrowed, silently telling her to get back to work. She scowled at him and turned her gaze back to the stack of proposals in her lap, chewing on the end of her pen as she attempted to refocus on the words in front of her. Despite her best efforts, her mind kept straying back to the raven-haired man at his desk, his occasional grunts and annoyed sighs alerting her to his struggle.

(Y/N) was always in awe of her boyfriend’s work ethic, constantly left wondering how someone with so much stress could still manage to push forward. He never seemed to fail at anything he tried, and he constantly pushed his mind and body to the limits, foregoing the need for rest and food in favor of getting everything done in one night. But while that part of her would always be proud of him and his ability to do so much, another part of her hated it. She hated how he’d sacrifice his own health for the sake of others, pushing himself until his body nearly shut down. Tonight, was one of those nights.

She knew Levi had a horrendous migraine. He was usually prone to the headaches that seemed to crack the skull open, but this one seemed particularly awful. He was constantly massaging his forehead and his eyes were unfocused and filled with pain. Tiny whimpers and groans would occasionally escape him, showing her just how much it was affecting him. Levi was usually able to push through the pain and suffer in silence, but this migraine of his seemed intent on making him as miserable as possible. He hadn’t finished more than two pages of work since they had started, and it was clear he was nearing his breaking point.

Knowing his preference for powering through the pain, (Y/N) usually left him to his own devices when he had a migraine like this, trying to make his life easier in more subtle ways like bringing him tea and helping him with more paperwork than usual, but this time, she refused to ignore it. It was clear he was too stubborn to admit he needed to rest and someone had to look after him and make sure he didn’t kill himself.

Setting the remaining reports off to the side, (Y/N) stood from his couch and made her way over to her lover. Before he could react, (Y/N) leaned over and snatched the pen he held from his grasp, throwing it behind her so it could land randomly somewhere in the office.

“(Y/N)! What the hell?” Levi snapped, his voice raspy and filled with exhaustion.

“I’m tired of watching you work yourself to the bone. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

Levi shook his head, “(Y/N), I’m fine.”

(Y/N) crossed her arms, “Like hell you are. Now, stop being stubborn and step away from the desk.”

“Don’t forget who you’re talking to, (Y/N),” Levi said darkly with a huff. “I am still your captain.”

“Well you won’t be anymore if you overwork yourself to death,” (Y/N) retorted. “And don’t forget who you’re talking to. I’m your girlfriend, which means it’s my job to worry about your wellbeing, especially if you refuse to do it yourself.”

Levi glared at her, but he was secretly touched by her sentiment. It had taken him a while to get used to the feeling of being loved and cared for, but once he had, he had grown greedy for it. He never showed it, still uncomfortable at the idea of being vulnerable around others, even his own lover, but he would always love how she doted on him, how she made him feel like he was worth something. That if he died, he wouldn’t just be mourned because humanity had lost its strongest soldier. He would be missed, remembered for the man he was rather than just how society had painted him to be. His eyes roved over her usually kind face, now twisted into a frown as she glared right back at him, refusing to back down without getting him the rest he needed. He honestly didn’t know why he was being so stubborn, he knew she was right, but he still struggled to accept her help, almost feeling weak for succumbing to something as trivial as a migraine.

As if she could read his mind, her gaze softened and she let out a gentle sigh. Moving around his desk to stand behind him, she leaned down and laid her hands on his shoulders, squeezing and massaging the muscles with her firm fingers. Levi was embarrassed by how quickly he reacted to her touch, immediately leaning back into her grip. His head lolled against the back of his chair and his eyes closed in bliss, temporarily ignoring the blistering pain in his head.

“Feel good?”

Levi hummed.

“See? Accepting help doesn’t make you any less of a man. Getting the rest and relaxation your body needs doesn’t make you weak by any means. Everyone needs the proper energy to take care of themselves, you especially. You’re too important to lose, especially to something as pointless as self neglect. So please stop working tonight, for me.”

Levi was silent for a moment, fighting with himself over the urge to finish his work anyway or fall victim once again to your undeniable charms as well as the insistent demands of his own body. Just as he was about to open his mouth, ready to attempt one last refute, a fresh wave of pain washed over him, making him gasp. A hand flew to his head, his teeth gritted in pain as his very skull seemed to throb. Through the haze, he vaguely felt (Y/N)’s hands tighten on his shoulders and knew there was no way he was going to get out of this. Once she had made up her mind about something, there was no changing it.

For once, Levi didn’t fight it when (Y/N) guided him to stand from his chair, biting his tongue to keep from gasping in pain as the sudden movement made his head split. He stumbled and started to fall, only to be caught by his lover, the strong woman bearing his entire weight as if he were nothing but a feather. A light blush made its way to his cheeks despite the pain that was starting to make his vision blur. He knew he shouldn’t be shocked, she was in his Special Operations squad for a reason, but she never failed to impress him with her unexpected strength. (Y/N) walked slowly and carefully, making sure to avoid jostling him as she made her way to his bedroom. Nudging the door open, (Y/N) picked her way over to his bedside and pulled the sheets back before gently easing him onto the mattress, ignoring his protests when she began stripping him of his uniform.

His blush got a little darker as she worked on removing his clothes. Their relationship wasn’t new, but it hadn’t been very long either, and they still hadn’t crossed the boundary of physical intimacy yet. He knew she had no ill intent, but it still didn’t stop him from feeling relatively shy at the thought of her seeing him without his uniform.

(Y/N) felt butterflies in her stomach with each article she removed, but she shoved down her embarrassment and awe at his breathtaking form and focused on making him as comfortable as possible. She stopped once he was finally stripped to his boxers and neatly folded his uniform to place on the lone chair in the corner of his room, knowing it would bother him all night if it was thrown around half-hazardly.

Levi’s soft groan of pain brought her back to his bedside, and she quickly shimmied the blankets out from under his legs so she could throw them over his body, taking the extra time to tuck him in as comfortably as possible. As soon as he was nestled beneath the soft blankets, (Y/N) moved to his bathroom to get him some water, holding the glass to his lips for a few sips to help lessen some of the pressure in his head. Finally, she left to grab a small bucket to place beside him just in case he had to vomit in the middle of the night, knowing it might be difficult for him to reach the bathroom if he was dizzy and disoriented.

Placing her hands on her hips, (Y/N) surveyed her work, nodding once she was satisfied with his set up. Flashing him a sweet smile, (Y/N) turned for his bedroom door, her eyes soft and full of love as she watched him.

“Goodnight, Levi, I hope you feel better,” She said, opening the door and stepping through it.

“(Y/N).”

(Y/N) paused, her hand on the edge of the door as she peered back around to look at him, “Yes?”

“Stay with me. Please?” Levi asked, the blush on his cheeks getting even darker as he averted his gaze.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened in shock. She and Levi had been dating for nearly six months and yet he had never asked her something like this. She knew they were going at a slow pace, she knew Levi struggled with expressing his emotions, but she had always been content to go at whatever pace he was comfortable with, knowing he was still very new to the idea of a relationship. It had taken him several weeks for him to even get to the point of treating her differently than the other soldiers on his squad.

She had never doubted his love for her, even when her friends had seemed skeptical in the beginning. She could see it in his eyes, but it had taken him a long time to be able to express those hidden feelings physically and vocally. She didn’t mind, she was fine with being patient and had waited for him to come to her, allowing him to have the time he needed to find his words and indulge in discovering his own love language. It was fun in a way, a little adventure between the two of them. It made every new sign of affection from him mean so much more than normal; every head pat, every kiss, every hug, making her feel as if she had just conquered the world.

It was because of those experiences that she was able to understand the importance of this moment. Her shy, reclusive, severely touch-starved boyfriend asking her to share his bed with him, exposing that vulnerability to her, albeit innocently, was a huge step in a new direction for him.

The thought made her nervous, not wanting to impose on his personal space or make him uncomfortable with her, but it also filled her with immense pride. He trusted her and only her to be around him when he was at his most vulnerable.

Swallowing her anxiety, (Y/N) nodded and shut the door again. Picking her way across the room, she quietly maneuvered her way to his bedside and slid beneath the covers beside him, trying to make as little noise and movement as possible to avoid causing more pain to his head.

Levi grunted a little as he shifted onto his side, facing away from her while she reached over to the bedside table to diffuse the lantern flame, bathing the room in darkness. Levi felt (Y/N) shift until she was laying on her side, facing his broad back, the covers pulled up to her shoulders.

“Goodnight Levi,” (Y/N) murmured.

“Mmm, goodnight,” Levi muttered, the pain in his head coupled with her soothing presence making him drowsier than normal.

(Y/N) smiled when she felt Levi fall asleep, his light snores and gentle breathing filling the otherwise silent air. She was glad he was finally getting some rest, but she knew she would be up for a while. She had had insomnia for as long as she could remember and knew it would be a long time before her brain would shut up long enough for her to get some rest. It was that shared trait between her and the Captain that had allowed her to get close to him in the first place, late night talks with tea leading to moonlit confessions on the roof of their headquarters.

(Y/N)’s smile widened at the memory, and how uncharacteristically nervous the normally stoic Captain had been when he had turned to her that fateful night and practically spat his feelings at her. She knew how hard it had been for him to admit them to her, and she had a small inclination to say that Erwin and Hanji may have been the ones to force him to do it, but that just made the memory all the more special to her. It showed her that he really did care for her, that he was willing to lower his carefully structured walls and bare his battered heart for her alone. It was why it didn’t bother her that he didn’t shower her with compliments. It was why she was never disheartened by his lack of physical or vocal affection.

She’d be lying if she claimed she didn’t get a little lonely sometimes, and she couldn’t say she didn’t sometimes wish he could call her beautiful without hesitation, but she didn’t let it get to her. She loved him, and she knew he loved her, so she’d wait for however long it took for him to grow comfortable around her, even if that meant she had to reel back her own feelings for a while.

Closing her eyes, (Y/N) was trying to coax sleep to take her when a sudden quiet murmur made her open them again. She waited, wondering if she had imagined the noise, when she suddenly heard it again. It was soft, and very quiet, but it was no doubt the voice of her lover, muttering something. She knew there was no way he was talking to her, he would’ve spoken louder than that if he was.

The thought made her stifle a surprised giggle as she suddenly realized that Levi was talking in his sleep. She knew he’d be embarrassed if he found out she was listening, but she couldn’t help herself, her ears straining to try to catch some of the words. Silence settled over the room once more for a moment, nothing but the distant sound of the wind blowing outside filling the air, but soon enough, the murmurs started back up again, more recognizable words spilling from his lips the longer he talked to himself.

“No…, that’s not…mmm.”

“S-Stop that!”

“Mmph, no… I’m not...”

(Y/N) stifled another laugh as Levi started getting feisty in his sleep, turning to face her with a slight frown marring his features. His eyes were still firmly shut, confirming that he was indeed sleep talking, but the argument he was having with some unknown person in his head seemed to only be getting more intense.

“That’s not true!” Levi suddenly shouted, his voice raspy and muffled by his pillow.

“What’s not true, Levi?” (Y/N) whispered, deciding to tease him a bit. She knew he would probably be annoyed later, but this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, she wasn��t about to pass it up.

“That’s not true.” Levi said again, his voice lowering in volume but hardening in tone, “Of course I show affection!”

(Y/N) brought a hand to her mouth and bit her knuckle, trying to keep her giggles from waking him up, “Oh, really? When do you usually show affection?”

Levi’s frown deepened and his jaw tightened, “I show affection when I’m with (Y/N).”

(Y/N) blinked, not expecting her name to come up in this midnight conversation. Lowering her hand from her lips, (Y/N) sat up to rest on her elbows, her eyes sparkling as she looked down at her sleeping lover.

“How do you show (Y/N) affection?” she asked, curious to see what he would say.

Levi let out a quiet, defeated sigh, his frown disappearing into an expression that looked unexpectedly like guilt.

“Listen, Hanji, I…” Levi trailed off for a while, the air thick with (Y/N)’s curiosity. So, it was Hanji he was talking to in whatever dream he was having. The thought spiked her curiosity even further, making her heart pound in her chest. It wasn’t uncommon that Levi would be annoyed with Hanji, so the argument at the beginning of his dream made sense, but he almost never talked about his relationship with anyone but Erwin, not trusting the energetic scientist to keep from teasing him and spreading rumors about them. She knew they were together of course, that was impossible to hide from her, but he always denied her details whenever she asked.

“Shit… I… I can’t believe I’m about to do this…” Levi muttered, a slight scowl reappearing on his features.

“Do what?” (Y/N) whispered.

Levi took a deep breath, his fingers curling around the edge of the sheets to squeeze in his fist, as if he was being forced to do something unpleasant, “Hanji, I need your help.”

(Y/N) had to fight to hold back a genuinely shocked gasp. Even when he was just dreaming, she had never imagined in her entire life that she would hear that sentence come out of his mouth. She suddenly wondered if she was the one dreaming, and this was just some elaborate scene her brain had made up.

“Um, sure, Levi, what do you need help with?”

A deep breath rattled from the depths of his chest, “How do I... show (Y/N) proper affection?”

“What do you mean?” (Y/N) asked breathlessly.

Levi grunted in his sleep, his knees rising beneath the sheets to curl against his stomach. “Do I really have to explain it, Hanji?”

“Yes.”

“Fine, you idiot,” Levi grumbled, “I just… I just don’t know how to show her how much she means to me. I’m so fucking lucky to have her. She’s been so patient, so amazing, never complaining about my inability to be romantic, but I’m tired of being unable to be there for her. I’m tired of looking around at the other couples around us and seeing how loving they are, only to know that I can’t do the same for her. I’ve had enough of treating her like a normal cadet on my squad. She deserves so much more than that, she is so much more than that. She shows me every single day that I am loved and cared for, and it makes me sick that I struggle to do the same.”

(Y/N) had her hand back over her mouth again, this time to stifle her sobs instead of her chuckles. Her eyes were lined with silver as she gazed down at the love of her life, her heart thundering pleasantly in her chest. While it was true that she had never had a problem with waiting for him to get more comfortable with her, she couldn’t deny the feelings of elation she was feeling with every word that poured from his mouth. It didn’t matter that he was asleep, it didn’t matter that he didn’t even know he was talking to her. All that mattered was that he was finally saying the things she had secretly burned to hear for months.

Levi sighed, “I just love her so damn much. She’s the woman of my dreams, and I don’t think I can go one more day without her knowing that…”

Swallowing the sob that threatened to crawl past her lips, (Y/N) brushed his raven bangs to the side and leaned down to give him a sweet kiss on the forehead.

“Believe me, Levi. She knows.”

The small smile that appeared on his face made it impossible for (Y/N) to hold her tears back this time, the warm, salty liquid sliding down her cheeks to land with soft taps on her pillow. Despite the fact that his eyes were still closed, (Y/N) gave him a watery smile of her own and reached over to wrap an arm around his waist, pulling herself closer to his warm chest and curling into his body.

“I love you too, Levi,” she murmured before closing her eyes, the smile still on her face as she fell asleep easily for the first time in years.

____________________

Levi could feel himself slowly being dragged back into consciousness, but for the first time since he was a little boy, he didn’t want to wake up to the slightly more bearable hell of the day. Usually, what little sleep he got was riddled with nightmares, screams of his comrades as they either begged him to save them or blamed him for their early deaths. He was usually plagued with dark, bloody thoughts and visuals that made him wake in a cold sweat, his stomach swirling so violently he was occasionally reduced to emptying the remnants of his dinner in the middle of the night. He never enjoyed being tired or facing the titans day after day, but at least the real world kept him busy with training and paperwork, keeping his demons at bay.

But today felt different. He felt warm, comfortable, as if the sun’s rays were cuddling him in a warm nest. He felt content and unafraid of closing his eyes for the first time in years. A part of him was suspicious of the change, tempted to open his eyes and find out what was making him feel so comfortable, but the bigger part of him didn’t want to leave this unexpected bliss so soon, afraid that opening his eyes would chase away the feeling before he could truly relish in it.

He sighed through his nose, nuzzling his pillow in an attempt to coax his mind back into the warm embrace of sleep when a sudden movement against his bare chest made his eyes snap open, ready to rip someone to shreds. His stinging words immediately died on his tongue when his silver gaze snapped to the (h/c) haired lump nestled against his skin. Ah, that explained why he had slept so well, even with a migraine, which had thankfully disappeared overnight.

Levi couldn’t help the smile that curled at the edges of his lips, the look in his eyes softening as he watched his love sleep against him. An innocent, giddy sense of wonder filled him at the sight of her, his heart pounding in his chest. He had never had a woman fall asleep against him before, many people finding him too cold and standoffish to find comfort in him. But here she was, the most gorgeous woman in the world, cuddled up against him as if he were a warm pillow, her hair splayed out over his chest like tangled silk.

She was so fucking beautiful. He couldn’t get her out of his head. The past few months had been the best he had ever had, his life now full of love and happiness and soft laughter. As he stared at her, his heart about to burst out of his chest, Levi couldn’t help but reach out to her, his fingers brushing her cheeks ever so softly, making his skin tingle with how soft she was.

His hand immediately drew back when she scrunched her nose cutely, her eyes squeezing shut as her mouth opened in a wide yawn. A part of him felt sorry for waking her, but as she opened her glittering (e/c) eyes to look up at him, the other part of him felt more satisfied at seeing her cute expression.

“Good morning,” (Y/N) mumbled, her sleepy, raspy voice sending a jolt of something electric down his spine.

“Morning,” Levi said, unaware that his own deep, husky morning voice was making (Y/N)’s stomach flutter with early morning butterflies.

“Sleep well?” (Y/N) asked.

“Surprisingly, yes,” Levi said, moving his arms from around her body so he could stretch them above his head with a satisfying crack.

“It sure sounded like it.”

Her comment made him pause and glance at her, the mischievous look in her eye making a wave of nervousness course through him.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” (Y/N) purred, causing his anxiety to spike, “I was just unaware that you talk in your sleep.”

Levi froze. He talked in his sleep!? He didn’t know he did that! He supposed it was normal for him to not remember the event, and he had never slept beside another person in his life, aside from his mother when he was a toddler, so it made sense that he had been unaware of this unexpected habit, but that didn’t erase the anxiety that swirled in his gut.

“O-Oh?” Levi asked softly, cursing his stutter.

“Mm hm,” (Y/N) said, her smile only widening as she watched his reaction, her eyes glittering playfully.

“Um, what did I say? It better not have been something stupid,” Levi muttered, trying to fight the blush that threatened to rise to his cheeks. He almost didn’t want to know, but with the way she was smiling at him, it looked as if he had said some revealing things.

“Well, you were arguing with Hanji for most of it,” (Y/N) said, watching with a deviant smile as her boyfriend relaxed, an obvious expression of relief on his face.

“Tch, I do that when I’m awake, idiot.”

“You also said you were head over heels in love with Eren Jaeger.”

(Y/N) couldn’t hold back her laugh when Levi started choking on his own breath, his sharp inhale of shock getting caught in his throat.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” (Y/N) said with a cackle, smirking even more at the dirty glare he threw her as he coughed, “It was a joke, I promise!”

“Fucking hell, brat…” Levi muttered, covering his face with his arm.

“You did call me the woman of your dreams, though,” (Y/N) said quietly once her giggles had subsided, a light blush dusting her cheeks despite herself as she recalled the wonderful memory.

Levi didn’t choke this time, but his eyes did go wide, his lips parting in shock. He knew she was being serious. Immediately, Levi was filled with a confusing blend of joy and horror, happiness that he had finally gotten the chance to tell her his true feelings about her, even in sleep, and horror that she had found out in the way she did, while he was unconscious and having an argument with Four Eyes about god knows what. Levi couldn’t fight the blush that rose to his cheeks, his skin stained red as embarrassment washed over him.

He didn’t know what to say. He was floundering, trying to think of something, anything to either confirm his sentiment or try to divert the conversation, but nothing was coming to mind. His brain was blank, nothing but the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears overwhelming his senses. Suddenly, a soft hand grasped his wrist, gently tugging on his arm until he had removed it from covering the silver eyes she loved so much. Leaning over him, her eyes were glazed with unshed tears as she locked her gaze with his, showing him all of the emotions she couldn’t put into words before leaning down to kiss him.

He unintentionally let out a groan when her lips met his, his tongue immediately reaching out to dance with hers as they tasted each other, slow and sweet and loving. When they finally parted, both of them gasping for breath and smiling as if they had just found the way to world peace, Levi saw that a few tears had escaped to stain (Y/N)’s cheeks.

“I love you, Levi Ackerman. I love you for you and all of your little quirks, and I always will.”

Levi felt himself get choked up, but he swallowed past the lump in his throat, focused on making the goddess in his arms feel the same way she made him feel.

“I l-love you too, (Y/N), y-you really are the woman of my d-dreams.”

Levi hated that he stuttered, but he let out a sigh of relief as he finally managed to push the words past his lips. (Y/N) choked out a joyful sob as pride filled her chest like a roaring lion, making her skin glow as if she were something from a fairytale, taking Levi’s breath away. Sitting up, Levi met her half way for another soul-searing kiss, his heart calling out her name as he allowed himself to relax with the kiss, melting into her affection as if he were dipping into a warm sauna, his heart throbbing for the woman who was his entire world.

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sgtjbbhasmyheart · 3 years

Text

Drunk Texting Is(n’t) Bad for Your Health- Chapter Seven

Series Summary: Talk about your unconventional meet-cute! Bucky receives a text by mistake requesting he prove he’s not Reader’s sister. The easy dialogue between Reader and Bucky sparks a natural friendship, but could it lead to more? Bucky still deems himself unworthy of any form of affection or love. Reader is hellbent to prove him wrong. With the help of some (meddling) friends along the way, Bucky may get his happily-ever-after after all.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2684

Warnings: ANGST, bad language words

A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you for all your love and support for this series! Everyone who has liked or reblogged this week after week means the world to me!

A/N 2: I split their date into 2 parts because I wanted to give perspective from both sides. Enjoy Bucky’s POV first!

DO NOT copy or replicate without my permission.

An anxiousness bubbled up inside Bucky as he and (Y/N) stepped out of her office building and onto the crowded Manhattan sidewalk. It was five o’clock, meaning every other yuppie in New York was trying to get somewhere as well. Walking shoulder to shoulder with her felt like a feat in itself. Everyone around them seemed to be heading in the opposite direction, and they were fighting against the current like a pair of spawning salmon swimming upstream.

With his size and stature, most passers-by gave Bucky a wide berth. But with (Y/N), they didn’t. They jostled her like a small boat caught at sea during a storm; they gave her no mind in their rudeness. She fought to stay astride him as businessmen shouldered past her like a runningback fighting to make it to the endzone.

A feeling of protectiveness washed over him. Longing to whisk (Y/N) away from her place on the dirty cement increased with every step. The defensive surge fizzing right below the surface wanted him to tuck her into his side and glower at anyone who dreamed of coming close.

Bucky couldn’t, of course. He had to play it as if they’d only met a few days ago, no matter how much he wanted to. Instead, he grasped her empty hand and led her through the swarm of fellow New Yorkers.

(Y/N)’s hand was warm inside his, and the very thought of him touching her made his pulse quicken. The reaction wasn’t unpleasant. Though, it fuzzily reminded him of his teenage years. He was nearly one hundred years old! He shouldn’t be acting like a lovesick fool.

But here he was- swooning over a girl like he was fifteen again.

Bucky felt a yanking on his arm as (Y/N) pulled him from the stream of rushing bodies. Unmoving, at the edge of the rush, he found it was easier to breathe again. The fretfulness bled away once they were standing still.

He peered around, questioning why they’d stopped. Wedged between two high-rise buildings was a squat cafe. The shop’s window front beamed onto the footpath like the mecca it was, calling bystanders in from the street. Above the green striped awning over the entrance spelled out Deja Brew in colorful, blocky letters. Bucky chuckled at the play on words.

Towing the door open, (Y/N) tugged him in further.

Stepping inside the brightly lit coffee shop, Bucky was blanketed by the overpowering scent of fresh coffee grounds. It was potent, hanging thick in the air. Taking a deep breath in, he was transported back to a rickety kitchen and a second-hand table, where he and Steve would take their morning coffee and breakfast. The smell reminded him of simpler times. Times before all the trouble Hydra had caused. He let go of a nostalgic sigh.

“Right?” (Y/N) asked, standing at his side. He’d nearly forgotten she was there. “I love it here. It always feels like coming home.”

Bucky grinned down at (Y/N), understanding how she felt. The exposed brick walls, the tidy, destressed floors, and the primary colors being strewn about the space gave him a sense of sentimentality.

“I come in here several times a week,” she explained. “Not just because it’s convenient, but it reminds me of growing up.”

Bucky nodded in agreement, taking in the warm atmosphere of the quaint shop. “I get that.”

The pair strolled up to the counter and, presumably, the barista taking orders. Without looking in their direction, the young man in an apron spoke in a monotone, “Welcome to Deja Brew. What can I get started for you?”

A smile slowly crawled across (Y/N)’s lips. “Hey, Bryson. Didn’t know you were working tonight?”

Bryson’s head whipped up so fast; Bucky thought it might detach from his shoulders. His cheeks dimpled, and the corners of his striking green eyes crinkled into a bright smile. “Hey, beautiful!” Bryson beamed. “I’m doing a double--covering for Kari. I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”

“You know me,” (Y/N) said with a tinkling laugh. “Just can’t stay away.” Bryson replied with his own laughter.

A flare of jealousy twisted unexpectedly in Bucky’s gut. Was (Y/N) flirting?

Bucky supposed he could consider Bryson classically handsome. He was taller than Bucky with short, sandy brown hair and broad shoulders. His muscular frame filled out the black polo shirt he wore, but he wasn’t overly bulky- like he played baseball in college. There was a smattering of light freckles over his high cheekbones and straight nose. And eyelashes to rival Steve’s.

Was this his competition?

Bucky grumbled to himself and gritted his teeth as he watched the two giggle over some inside joke. There was an envious gnawing behind his ribcage as Bryson leaned onto his elbows over the countertop, inching closer to (Y/N). That was his girl!

Without warning, like a shaken soda bottle, his voice exploded from his mouth, dripping annoyance, “I’ll take a medium Americano, a chocolate croissant, and whatever the lady is having.”

Shocked back into the present by Bucky’s gruff words, Bryson shot upright. His startled green eyes shifted from (Y/N) to Bucky and back again. Bucky could barely contain his eye-roll as the other man feigned busyness after being caught slacking. It was apparent Bryson only had eyes for (Y/N), or he would have noticed she wasn’t alone, despite Bucky standing mere centimeters away from her.

Possessiveness tingled at Bucky’s fingertips, and the compulsion to wrap his arm around (Y/N)’s waist was strong. He wanted so badly to reach out and pull her close. Show this punk who she belonged to.

Regardless of his feelings, though, Bucky had no claim over (Y/N). He’d known her as Bucky for a scant three days. He imagined she’d known Bryson a lot longer. He couldn’t profess his desire to be hers in such a short time, no matter the urgency. It would come off as weird and controlling.

So, he resolved to bite the inside of his cheek and grin and bear it. He could bide his time, right? He’d waited seventy years. What’s another seventy more?

Bucky cringed internally at the thought of waiting.

“(Y/N), you know this guy?” Bryson inquired, acting as if he’d finally grown a pair, with a bite to his words.

Bucky’s pulse fluttered as (Y/N) turned to face him, a smile on her lips and something sparkling in her eyes. “I do,” she said. “He’s my date.” She grinned bigger with a cute scrunch to her nose as she said date.

Bryson’s eyes widened in alarm, then quickly narrowed in suspicion as he observed the flowers (Y/N) held. Bucky wondered, momentarily, if he was the first guy (Y/N) had ever brought into the shop. Was Bryson just as jealous as he was?

It wasn’t until he saw the almost imperceivable head tilt to get (Y/N) to step away from Bucky’s side did he realize what Bryson’s genuine concern was about.

(Y/N)’s brow furrowed in confusion as she took a stride to her right.

In a hushed whisper, Bryson asked, “You know who he is, right?” Bucky’s super-hearing picked up every word.

(Y/N) unsuccessfully tried to blink away her uncertainty, causing her eyebrows to pinch together further. “Who exactly is he, Bryson?” (Y/N) pondered, an edge of irritation leaking into her speech. She crossed her arms over her chest, drawing her sweater tighter around her body.

Bucky could hear it in her voice. (Y/N) knew precisely what Bryson had meant and was trying to draw it out of him.

“You know,” Bryson said, not even trying to whisper anymore. “He’s that guy.”

(Y/N) cocked her head to the side a fraction. “You mean the guy who the US government exonerated for any and all crimes he may have committed as The Winter Soldier? You mean that guy?” (Y/N) deadpanned, uncrossing her arms. Bryson stared at her blankly.

“What about the guy who got drafted into a war unwillingly?” (Y/N) continued. “Or the one captured by the enemy and experimented on against his will?” Her hands curled into fists as the tension in her body rose. Bryson’s eye contact suddenly became very jumpy, unable to focus on her now and for a good reason.

“How about the guy who fell from a train- survived- and had his arm barbarically amputated?”

Bucky watched (Y/N)’s hands tighten further, blanching her knuckles of any color. He shuffled forward, ready to jump in if need be. Although, she was doing a good job holding her own.

“Don’t forget about that one guy who was tortured and abused, brainwashed, and forced to commit unspeakable atrocities for over seventy years, all in the name of a cult,” (Y/N) stated, pressing her palms flat against the countertop and ducking her head, trying to catch Bryson’s eye. His face flushed visibly in embarrassment.

“In case you aren’t caught up on your current events, Bryson, that guy’s name is Bucky Barnes,” (Y/N) spit sardonically.

Bryson raised his eyes at this, and the look on his face darkened. “Regardless of whether he was brainwashed or not, he’s an Avenger,” Bryson sneered, his gaze sliding to Bucky. “And that makes him dangerous.”

What the hell was this guy’s problem? Bucky wondered, wanting to wipe the smirk off his smug face.

(Y/N) let out a humorless huff of a laugh. Her lips spread into a thin line. “No more dangerous than the possibility of being struck by lightning or getting hit by a subway train.”

Bucky chuckled inwardly as Bryson flexed his jaw in frustration. (Y/N) was really getting to him.

Bryson’s expression morphed into something more sinister. “I mean, are you really going to take the word of some ‘expert’ from a third-world country that he won’t turn into a murder-bot again?” The air-quotes in his tone punctuated the contempt he undeniably felt.

Anger blossomed in Bucky’s chest at the degrading mention of the Princess of Wakanda. He owed everything to Shuri. If it weren’t for her, he definitely wouldn’t be in New York right now but on the run again. Shuri saved his life.

Bucky took a step toward the counter, intending to do something, anything to shut this jackass up. Instead, (Y/N) placed a calming hand to his sternum, stopping him from doing anything rash. The look of disdain on Bryson’s face amplified the longer (Y/N)’s touch lingered on his body, and that was equally as satisfying as causing this prick bodily harm.

“While your concern is unwarranted,” (Y/N) assured, “it’s also unwanted. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

She gazed up into Bucky’s blue eyes fondly; a charming smile curled at her lips. “Besides, I don’t think he’d hurt a fly now.”

“It’s your funeral,” Bryson mumbled under his breath. (Y/N) didn’t catch it, or she paid it no mind.

The affection Bucky felt for (Y/N) at that moment swelled exponentially. He was in love with her, he realized. It was no longer just a crush.

No one, other than Steve, had ever championed for him as openly or as forcefully as she had just then. The adoration accumulating in his heart felt like it would erupt at any minute. She made him want to believe in love again. She made him think he might be worthy of that love someday.

He’d have to find a way to earn it, somehow.

Staring into her beautiful face and seeing compassion and empathy made him want to press his lips to hers. He still couldn’t believe she’d found him on accident. It was all so serendipitous.

There was one crucial roadblock obstructing his path to happiness, though. One he couldn’t possibly ignore for much longer without consequences— figuring out how to tell (Y/N) he and James were the same. But how?

Until then, he’d enjoy the ride.

“Hey, Bryson,” (Y/N) vocalized, her timbre a saccharine sweet. “I’ll take a medium iced mocha with extra whip and a white chocolate raspberry scone as well.” She winked at Bucky.

A scoff came from low in the pastry case causing Bucky and (Y/N) to titter in laughter.

“Wow. That was-” Bucky started, trying to find the words to explain how her coming to his defense made him feel.

(Y/N)’s pupils dilated, the gravity of the situation sinking in. “Oh, my God!” she said in a near panic. “I’m so sorry!”

Bucky smiled at her warmly. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.” He brushed a stray hair from her cheek delicately, his fingers dallying along the soft skin. The palm of his hand settled just below her ear, on the side of her neck. His thumb bobbed up and down with every clench and unclenching of her jaw.

“You must be so sick of hearing the same argument over and over again. People deciding your guilt or innocence based on first glances,” (Y/N) murmured, finally dropping her hand from his chest.

Bucky wondered if she could feel the pounding of his heart through all the layers of clothes he was wearing. “It’s nice to have a cheerleader, for once,” he answered honestly.

The corner of (Y/N)’s mouth quirked up. “I’ll always be in your corner, Bucky.”

His stomach dipped at her words’ implications. He whole-heartedly believed she would. “Thank you.”

(Y/N) shrugged in response. Over her bouncing shoulder, Bucky caught a glimpse of Bryson scowling at the two of them from his spot at the espresso machine. Bile churned in his belly. Bryson was turning into a nuisance, like a mosquito at a summer barbeque.

Bucky brought the hand at (Y/N)’s neck down to her upper arm and rubbed it gently. “Why don’t you find us a seat. I’ll finish up here,” he said, giving her a lopsided grin. She returned the gesture and nodded her head in acquiescence, sweeping past him.

Bucky followed her movements through the coffeehouse as she picked a cushioned bistro set positioned near the front windows. The waning light of the day cascaded through the clear glass, highlighting her delicate, feminine features. She was breathtaking.

Turning to face the dreadful barista, the grin on Bucky’s lips faded into a frown.

Bryson set their order down roughly on the register counter and proceeded to punch in the items on the touchscreen. He remained silent, mulishly waiting for payment. The death glare he wore seemed to be permanently etched into his features now.

Bucky could tell he was seething; the vein in his forehead throbbed with every beat of his pulse. Instead of engaging, though, Bucky smirked and slid a twenty-dollar bill toward the other man.

Bryson angrily scooped up the money. He bent his head closer to Bucky, gnashing his teeth. “If you hurt a single hair on her head, I will burn you to the ground,” he taunted, reaching into the till for change and tossing it on the counter.

Bucky’s expression never faltered. His exterior remained composed, cool as a cucumber. Inside, he raged like a bull seeing the color red. He wanted nothing more than to mop the floor with this asshole’s face. Alternatively, he gathered the littered change and dumped it all into the tip jar sitting beside the register. He stared Bryson dead in the face, a ghost of a smile still clinging to his mouth. “And if I ever hear of you treating (Y/N) with the blatant disrespect you showed her today…” Bucky paused, his voice calm and controlled. He leaned forward, pushing in closer to Bryson’s ear. “They’ll never find your body.”

The joy he felt coursing through his body as Bryson’s eyes stretched to the size of saucers and his Adam’s apple wobbled as he gulped in fear was indescribable.

Bucky gathered their drinks and pastries, pivoting towards the table where (Y/N) sat. He shouted over his shoulder as he walked away, “Have a good day, Bryson!”

Chapter Six (Part 2) | Chapter Eight

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mintymiknow · 3 years

Text

Trust Fall - ch. 1 | Lee Minho

summary | character profiles | masterlist

Pairing: Lee Minho/Lee Know x Reader

Summary: When you walk away from something that essentially ruined you, you don’t expect to have anything to do with it anymore. But it would seem like the universe had other plans for you, and you find yourself with no choice but to face the nightmare again.

Genre: Secret agent/spy au, romance, angst, action

Word count: Approx. 5.6k

Warnings for this chapter: Mentions of blood, implied human experimentation in labs, descriptions of said experimentations, descriptions of medical operations, implied trauma

A/N: My new series is here! I don’t think it’s going to be as good or as hit has Scintilla, but I’m writing this ‘cause I want to, and I am excited! Please note that I’m not fully knowledgeable in the area of secret agent stuff and medical/science fields, but I hope you still enjoy reading this series. I can’t wait for everything to take place! Hehe as usual, I’d appreciate feedback, and if you have any comments, questions, etc., feel free to send in an ask!

“Yeah, so don’t forget to eat your meals and take your medicine when the nurses tell you to,” you laugh, looking at a patient with a playfully stern expression, “especially if you want to get better sooner.”

The elder patient laughs, leaning back on the hospital bed, “Yes, Doc, you got it. I promise to.”

“Good.” you grin, nodding your head approvingly, “I believe Dr. Kang will be checking up on you in the next few hours. Rest well, Mr. Lim.”

The elder nods with an airy chuckle before turning his attention back to the drama currently playing on TV. You bow politely before grabbing your clipboard and quietly exiting the patient’s room. While walking down the hospital hallway of this particular wing, you hear a familiar voice call out to you.

“Hey, y/n!”

You turn around with an amused grin, shaking your head, “Dr. Kang, aren’t we prohibited from shouting in the hospital?”

The male doctor makes an “oops” face before chuckling softly, hands in his medical coat’s pocket, “Right, sorry about that, Dr. Song.”

“So, how can I help you? I have another appointment in a bit.” you smile.

Dr. Kang - or Hyunbin as you call him - grins likewise, waving his hand in a carefree manner, “Nothing, just wanted to say hi since I bumped into you after like...weeks of both of us being busy. Go along now...wouldn’t want your patient getting angry over your late arrival.”

“You’re clingy.” you joke before laughing, “I’ll get going then. See you around, Hyunbin.”

The male playfully scoffs before waving his hand dismissively just as a nurse calls for his attention over some medical records. “See ya, y/n.” he hums, turning on his heel to walk away.

You smile before going about your way as well, hearing your heels click on the glossy floors as you walk to another department of the hospital to meet with a consulting patient.

And after that, you are called in for an emergency operation, so you end up running in said heels, pretty much aware that you’d probably end up with sore feet afterwards.

Hours pass by until you complete a very stressful yet successful operation. Your crisp, white shirt was replaced by the hospital’s mint green scrubs, stained with blood and bodily fluids. Your heels left somewhere in the locker room as your white clogs are essentially red now. Your neck feels like it’s about to break from leaning and craning it to focus on the operation, eyes strained like they would seal shut any second now.

But you knew that.

You knew that it was part of the job. Was it bothersome? Maybe, but that was just one slight inconvenience in the process of saving lives. That was why you became a professional in the medical and science field in the first place - to save lives. No, you definitely could not save every single person you came across. But you would definitely do your utmost best.

Especially when there were certain...blood stains you needed to wash off from your hands.

The more people you saved in Gongjak Medical Hospital, the more the blood on your hands washed off, little by little. Hopefully.

Unconsciously, you stare down at your gloved hands, eyes taking in the way the blood either dries or swirls into a distorted pattern. You see blood everyday - you’re a doctor, of course you would. And it was nothing new or something to be disgusted about because you were used to it. But right now, you felt like throwing up, the metallic scent and gruesome color clinging to your own hands too much to bear. This has never happened before, so you aren’t sure why it was happening today. You feel like the empty operation room spins around, ready to make you collapse until a nurse’s voice catches your attention.

“Dr. Song, the patient has been moved to a room and Dr. Choi is overseeing right now. We’ll have this room cleaned, so you may take it easy. Thank you for today’s operation.”

“I see, thank you too.” you nod, faking a calm smile despite the shaking of your hands, “I’ll get going then.”

And so you spend the next few hours rotating around consultation appointments and check-ups on patients. By the time it’s past 12 midnight, you prepare to head back to your home.

You drive in silence, eyes exhausted as they keep focused on the driveway that leads to a house that is not too large but not that small either. That’s one thing you were thankful for; your parents chose to live in a house surrounded by trees in a more private area of the city with only so much residents and houses. Some say it was for the rich - and maybe it was true - but it was definitely more peaceful and safe. Peace and quiet was what you needed after tedious days.

And safe was what you needed when you felt like something or someone haunts you every single day.

You drag yourself across the living room, dumping your bag on the couch as you make your way to the kitchen. An eerie and somewhat unsettling aura mixes in the air, but you choose to ignore it in favor of drinking a glass of cold water. You place the glass down on the counter before leaning on the table’s surface, head craning down as you get lost in your dark thoughts once again. It was always lonely at home without your parents, and you weren’t going to lie; admittedly, there were times you felt afraid to even step foot into any inch in this lonesome household.

But again, a different air filled the place right now, and it somehow sent shivers down your spine. Maybe you needed a bath, so you slowly make your way to your bedroom. However, as you reach the second floor, you notice that the door to your study room was left slightly open - you always made it a point to leave it shut.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you tiptoe and stop in front of the door, grabbing the knob and slowly pulling it closed. However, just before it can click, a deep voice breaks the silence.

“Dr. Song y/n.”

You freeze, your blood running cold as a voice is heard in the dark study room.

“Dr. Song, we aren’t here to harm you. Come inside.”

We?

Your body moves on its own, pushing the door back to reveal your study, illuminated by nothing but the moonlight seeping in through the curtains. Once the door is fully opened, you vaguely register three figures standing by your desk. Most people would scream or scramble to call the cops. You? Nope. You didn’t know why either. Maybe these strangers were the cause of you feeling like someone was always watching you.

With crossed arms, you nod your head towards the stranger’s direction, “What is it? How do you know me? Who are you?”

One of the figures switches your lamp on, revealing his face - sharp eyes and a sharp jaw but an overall youthful and young disposition. He then speaks up, “We need you to come with us.”

“Clearly, strangers telling me to go with them is the most normal thing to happen.” you say, eyebrows furrowed.

Another figure notes your displeasure as he tilts his head to the side. Long, beautiful hair and plump lips - a beautiful man who could be mistaken as a model. “We know, but we’ve been ordered to come and talk to you about it.” he says calmly, his confident smile quite difficult to decipher.

You stand, arms still crossed and face still stern as the three figures observe you. The third figure takes one step forward. He’s more buff and definitely looks scarier, dark eyes cast in shadows with the cap he wears. “I’ll cut to the chase, Dr. Song. We’re agents from SKZ, and I don’t think I need to explain what SKZ is. Am I right?”

As soon as those words leave the male’s lips, you visibly tense, jaw clenched and eyes sharpened. You glare at the three agents, gritting your teeth, “Tell Jung Hyunseo to leave me out of whatever affairs SKZ has.”

The sharp-eyed male shakes his head, “I’m afraid Jung Hyunseo himself wants you to come with us, Dr. Song. He particularly said it was to be you no matter what.”

“What does SKZ want now?” you hiss, “I left for a reason, and I’m not going back. I think I made that quite clear to your authorities.”

The buff agent sighs, “I don’t know what bad blood you have with SKZ, and I can’t tell you exactly why we need you back right now, but everything will be explained if you just come with us.”

“Cut the crap.” you scoff with a belittling smile, “I’m not going anywhere. Case closed.”

“It’s a matter of life and death, Dr. Song.” the buff male says firmly, “It’s for a cause that could save many.”

“Hmm.” you snarkily laugh, “Now, I’ve heard that one before. Sorry, agents. I’m not going. Give Jung Hyunseo my regards.”

The agent who switched on the lights tries to step forward, opening his mouth to speak, but the buff one holds him back. With one look, the sharp-eyed agent nods his head in understanding, stepping back. The buff agent turns to the long haired one with the same look in his eyes.

The long haired male then walks towards you, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “Best you come with us now, Dr. Song. Mr. Jung won’t take no for an answer on this matter, and I’m afraid he’ll send that agent for you.”

You gently push him back with your hand on his chest, “He can try. Now, leave.”

The buff agent sighs and gestures for the two to follow him. As they walk past you, the buff agent whispers into your ear, “Try not to be too feisty when the next agent comes. He doesn’t play that nicely.”

“Neither do I,” you start, levelling his sharp gaze, “especially if he pushes it.”

The male smirks in the most subtle way so it’s barely noticeable, “I see.”

With that, the agents leave. You don’t even know how they got in, so you don’t know how they’d leave. Either way, you couldn’t bring yourself to care, not when the adrenaline fades away and your hands are now shaking.

Seconds later, you briskly walk to your bathroom, locking the door as you ready your bathtub in a frenzied hurry. You lower yourself into the water, allowing the warm liquid to envelope your body in an attempt to relax. Dead silence fills the room with the faint sloshing of water with your minimal movements.

SKZ.

You squeeze your eyes shut as if the name of that organization would be erased from your mind forever. But it does the opposite, taking you back to a time you never wanted to remember.

The sounds of agonizing screams and groans filled your ears as if you were witnessing a horror movie come to life. The smell of rotten corpses and smoke filled your nose, clouding your senses like pollution dirtying the world. You can only stare as a person slammed his hand onto the glass wall, desperately wailing and screaming for you to help him.

The pure horror that filled your veins caused you to freeze in place, bile building up within. The person’s skin started to melt and rot away, revealing things you’d see in your medical classes back then - except this was in a much more gruesome and violent context.

As the person let out one last cry, his eyes rolled back with foam frothing in his mouth. You hated how you’re only able to look away just as it finished. Every inch of your skin was covered in goosebumps, hands shaking and heart pounding. The sounds of other scientists and doctors discussing things were mere whispers despite being next to you.

“That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Write that observation down so we can do something about it.”

“This effect is quite interesting and may prove to be useful.”

You cleared your throat and faced the group of scientists with angry eyes. “You need to stop these experiments now!” you yelled, “You are taking too many lives!”

One scientist rolled his eyes, “Dr. Song, have you forgotten your place? Why you’re here?”

You slammed your hand on the table, “I’m here because I’ve been forced to! I didn’t want this!”

With that, you turn on your heel, keen on talking to the authorities about what you’ve witnessed for the past week. However, as soon as your hand is hovering above the lab’s door access, one scientist grabbed your wrist and twisted harshly, throwing you to the marbled floor. You grimaced at the pain in your ankle and leg, glaring at the scientist as a result.

The scientist threatened to hit you before smirking and laughing, “If you so much as say a word about this to anyone outside this lab, you and your family are joining the test subjects. Got it?”

“And don’t bother being sneaky.” another scientist laughed, “We’ll find out one way or another. Now get up and run some tests on the vials over there. No results within the day, we test on another subject. Quickly now.”

You swallowed the anger bubbling inside you, forcing yourself to get up to grab the said vials. As the group of scientists continue to murmur amongst themselves, you went to the other side of the lab to run whatever tests on the greenish-blue liquid inside the vials. You realized that your hands were still a bit shaky, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes.

You became a doctor to save lives, not take them.

So when it all became too much - when all you could hear at night was the screams and cries of suffering, you knew you had to do something. It was all still a bit of a blur - or perhaps you just did not want to recall the details - but you somehow remember the day you decided to speak up.

The day gunshots were fired in the lab, explosions here and there. Fighting and more unnecessary death. Some scientists captured and some escaped. You sitting on the lab floor with an empty expression, blood dripping down your face and black smoky soot smudging your skin. An agent you didn’t know or have never seen holding you in his arms, whispering that it was going to be ok as Jung Hyunseo angrily ordered the others to search for the escaped “traitors”.

Days later, you resigned. Jung Hyunseo felt sorry and allowed you to do so, helping you go back to a more “normal life” outside SKZ. He spoke to Gongjak Medical Hospital’s director, using his authority and status as a government agency’s head to give his recommendation for you to work there. Seoul’s top hospital instantly welcomed you as a doctor there, and you prayed it stayed that way.

No matter what, you were never going to so much as glance at SKZ headquarters or even speak about the secret organization.

Your phone, sitting on a small stool next to the bathtub, rang with a text notification, successfully snapping you out of your trip down memory lane. You glance at it, vaguely reading the text from Hyunbin saying “I forgot to text you earlier but...Mr. Lim ate all his food for dinner. Did you scold him again? Hahaha”.

You ignore the text, hugging your legs to your chest as you rest your head on your knees. The water in the tub is no longer warm, and you aren’t sure if it’s water from your hair or tears that are trickling down, but you let your sobs echo across the bathroom either way. Maybe you’d forget everything if you did.

You knew the answer to that.

Meanwhile, back in SKZ’s headquarters, the three agents return and head to one of the lounge areas, plopping onto the couch with heavy sighs. A dimpled agent looks up from his book and smiles sympathetically, “How bad was it?”

“Chan,” the buff agent starts, “it wasn’t bad...she’s just...difficult. I would have used force if it were up to me, but Mr. Jung didn’t want that.”

“What Changbin said. And she’s a bit hostile. Like Minho on his bad days?” the long haired agent whines.

“Hwang Hyunjin.” Minho glares, shaking his head before returning to the book in his hands.

The sharp-eyed agent shrugs, “Either way, she was really adamant on not coming with us. It’s either she’s scared, suspicious or hates SKZ so much...and I wouldn’t know why. Maybe it’s all of the above.”

A freckled agent - Felix - laughs and speaks, “Jeongin, why didn’t you use your charms?”

“Charms? I’m not the seducer, Hyunjin is.” Jeongin states.

“I don’t think Dr. Song is the type to get seduced…” Hyunjin thinks to himself, trailing off.

Another agent with dark brown hair - Seungmin - hums as he leans back on another couch, “Does Mr. Jung know?”

“Yeah, we told him.” Changbin explains, “He...he’s going to send Minho next.”

Minho grimaces, the irritation on his face evident, “Shouldn’t Chan go first or something? Maybe someone nice and sweet and calm would work.”

Chan slings an arm around the other male, laughing, “Or maybe some force needs to be used.”

Minho looks at him with an eyebrow raised, and Chan sighs with a smile, “Ok, not violent force but...someone strong and stubborn.”

“Bang Chan, are you calling me stubborn?” Minho fake gasps.

“You kinda are.” Seungmin points out with a laugh.

The agent with a sharp nose and sparkly eyes groans and leans his head back on the couch, “I am not a babysitter, I’m a field agent. I don’t have the time to deal with a whiney woman who doesn’t want to be here in the first place.”

An agent with round cheeks shrugs, “Mr. Jung seems to know Dr. Song very well and has her in high regard. We must really need her here.”

Jeongin agrees, nodding his head, “Jisung has a point. And we need her soon.”

“Maybe she’ll come if she finally sees Minho’s face. He is handsome and sexy. Who would say no to him?”

“Damn it, Hyunjin - ”

“Anyway,” Changbin interrupts, “I warned Dr. Song to just...comply; not to push Minho’s buttons because we know what he’s capable of and all.”

“I’m not going to kill her.” Minho sighs, rubbing his temples.

Changbin laughs, “No, no. I mean...your whole ‘cut the crap’ attitude. We know you’re most probably going to get irritated with her and might end up fighting or something.”

Minho hums as if he was agreeing, pouting his bottom lip in thought. Chan chuckles, shaking his head, “Maybe you should try being a gentleman with her.”

Minho shakes his head as well. “That isn’t going to work with her, if Changbin, Hyunjin and Jeongin’s encounter is anything to go by.” the agent states, “Might just irritate her more. Look at Seungmin. He’s cranky a lot. Maybe doctors are like that.”

“Minho…” Seungmin sighs, but Jisung and Felix only laugh.

“Well, Minho doesn’t take mission or task failures too well, so I’m sure Dr. Song will be here in no time!” Chan pipes in, earning a chorus of agreements from the other agents.

Minho makes a small nod before sighing. He prays you actually listen and come with him without much trouble.

The next day, you drive yourself to the hospital for another day of work. Things go on normally, and you put on a smile when meeting with your patients. You even laugh and crack jokes with other patients while you visit them in their rooms. You give the little children hugs whenever their parents ask them to thank you for your time; a nice contrast to what happened last night.

But once it’s your lunch break, you sit at one of the hospital’s cafeteria tables, blankly staring into space as you eat your lunch. You don’t even notice the person sitting in front of you until he laughs and says, “You don’t look so good, y/n.”

You snap your eyes up and nearly choke on your food. Swallowing and clearing your throat, you softly chuckle and say, “What makes you say that?”

Hyunbin smiles, leaning forward with a playfully serious expression, “Your face just looks way more exhausted today. And I don’t know...I just feel like something’s bothering you. Didn’t sleep well last night?”

“As expected from one of Gongjak’s best doctors.” you tease, looking at your food with a melancholic expression, “But we’re always going to be exhausted. Part of being a doctor, right?”

The male doctor nods, “I know, but...you are ok, aren’t you?”

You nod, offering a slightly wider smile, “Perfectly.”

The male grins in satisfaction with your answer, leaning back on his chair to talk about his “cute little patients” running around and laughing when they get lollipops after their check-ups. You listen to him share stories, but somewhere along the line, your mind drifts off. To where, you aren’t sure, but it’s definitely not as cute and happy as Hyunbin’s stories.

When the day ends, you’re more than relieved to come home without mysterious agents appearing anywhere in your house. Maybe they’d leave you alone now.

And the next day also goes by smoothly as you work in the hospital. Sure, you had two operations to handle - and one of them nearly went south, but thankfully it didn’t - but nonetheless, it was a smooth and average day for you, and it was as if you forgot all about what happened with the agents the other night.

You wave to Hyunbin before leaving the hospital, laughing as he jokes with a “don’t fall asleep while driving!”. And thankfully, you don’t do that, making it back home quickly and safely.

The stillness that welcomes you once you enter the house is a bit eerie, but it doesn’t seem to bother you that much; after all, it was a bit chilly-weathered recently. You take a nice, quick warm bath before deciding you wanted a midnight snack since you didn’t get to eat dinner courtesy of the two back-to-back emergency operations you had to perform. After slipping into your nightgown and a fluffy robe to keep you warm, you go down to the kitchen.

While preparing a cup of coffee and preparing a quick sandwich, you hear faint rustling somewhere in the house. You don’t own any pets, and your neighbors hardly visited, so the first thought that enters your mind is that the agents are back. It isn’t dread or fear that fills your veins - it’s anger and frustration. You scoff angrily, glancing at the coffee maker and sandwich on the plate before making quick steps towards your study room. Harshly pushing the door open and switching on the lights, you scan the room.

But no one is there.

You look behind your desk and shelves, but still no sign of people. Maybe Hyunbin was right and you were just more tired than usual; maybe your mind was playing tricks. Sighing, you shut the door and resume your business in the kitchen, needing that cup of coffee much more now.

Once the coffee is done brewing, you take the mug and plate in your hands, making your way to your bedroom. Coming home at midnight or past midnight was always accompanied by a cold silence that resulted from all your other neighbors being asleep. But that was probably better than a bustling city filled with horns and drunk people shouting after a night in the club.

You sit on your bed, letting yourself release a deep breath as soon as your body comes into contact with the soft sheets. You munch into your sandwich, absentmindedly letting your gaze drift to the window. The sky is a beautiful shade of blue-violet mixed with inky black, silvery-white stars twinkling here and there. You find yourself smiling at the view; when was the last time you actually stopped to admire something? To actually feel safe and calm? To feel like you were finally free?

You take a sip of coffee and muse on about everything that has happened since you left SKZ; it’s been two years, and you were more than satisfied with working on Gongjak Medical Hospital. Surely, the things that happened in SKZ made you less trusting, but you had one or two friends - including Hyunbin - that you deeply trusted.

But despite that, the trauma still lingered. And you knew more than anyone that you truly would never be free.

You put your coffee cup down on the bedside table, getting up to bring the sandwich plate to the kitchen. However, as soon as your eyes are set on the door, you see a figure leaning against it, arms crossed as he stares - or glares - at you. You sigh, tugging on your robe tighter, “Did Jung Hyunseo send you?”

The figure doesn’t make any sign of expression unlike the previous agents; instead, he remains stone-faced as he pushes himself off the door. “Agent Seo said you’d be difficult. Can we not do that tonight? Things like these aren’t exactly in my job description.” he sighs.

“Then maybe Agent Seo made it clear that I don’t want to comply.” you say sharply.

The male’s eyes narrow in the slightest, and you don’t miss the darkness in them. He has a different aura compared to the other three. With the dim light of your lamp, you can see that he had sharp features - handsome, if you would, but definitely had a sharper and more daunting presence. Cold and steely.

“Yes, he did.” the male starts, putting on a bored act as he adjusts the buttons on his dress shirt’s sleeves, “But I’m here to make sure you don’t say ‘no’ again.”

“SKZ can’t force me against my will, even if they are some organization or agency.” you point out, irritation rising once more, “I have my rights.”

The agent huffs, crossing his arms again, “Listen, Dr. Song. I don’t want to be here, yet here I am. Mr. Jung personally requested your presence. You seem like a smart person, judging by how he holds you with such high regard, so can you at least hear him out?”

You roll your eyes, picking the plate from your bedside table. You slip your slippers on and ignore the agent, opting to head for the door yourself. You reach past him to hold onto the door knob, twisting it and pulling the door open as best as you can. Unlike Changbin, this agent refused to budge or leave. In fact, he grabs your wrist quite strongly and slams the door shut; the loud bang startles you in the slightest, causing your eyes to widen despite your urge not to. No, you refuse to show any sign of uneasiness.

The agent grabs the plate from you while still holding onto your wrist tightly. “Please do not test me, Dr. Song. My colleagues wanted to make sure I don’t hurt you, and I personally don’t do such things, so please, don’t push it.”

“Would you hurt me?” you challenge, levelling the male’s glare with sharp eyes, “Because I’m not as weak as you think.”

A lie. A complete and utter lie. Yes, you were strong-willed, but emotionally, mentally and physically strong? No. You were smart, but you were anything but strong. You believed you were weak. You refuse to face the past and move on from it. That’s what makes you weak, you thought.

“Wow.” the agent smirks, “Dr. Song, I don’t want to hurt you if I don’t need to. You aren’t a target; you’re the mission.”

With the last sentence, he grips your wrist just a bit tighter. Infuriated, you grit your teeth and harshly yank your arm away from him, quickly turning on your heel to run and grab your phone from the bed. Who were you going to call? Hyunbin? The hospital director? The police? You didn’t know, but you surely wanted this agent out of your sight.

You grabbed your phone to dial whoever’s number, but just as your finger is about to press the contacts app, the agent is in front of you, taking the phone in his hand and tossing it to the carpeted floor with a dull thud. You stare at him in mixed anger and disbelief, opening your mouth to shout some insult. However, a yelp is what comes out of your mouth instead because the agent tangles one of his legs with yours, tugging at your ankle to trip you.

With the momentum, you fall to your bed behind, back landing on the mattress with the agent above you, one hand still gripping your wrist. You have no fighting experience, and clearly engaging in a fight with someone who was trained seemed like the worst possible choice of action. Yet you did.

Without hesitation, you swing your free arm in a sorry attempt to slap the agent, but he easily catches your wrist with his other hand, now pinning your own hands above your head. You look up at the agent with a gaze burning with anger. “What fucked up crap has SKZ gotten themselves into this time?” you hiss, on the verge of raising your voice, “Why do they need me?”

Despite your outburst, the agent remains emotionless, disposition composed and collected much to your dismay. “You’ll find out if you come with me, Dr. Song.” he responds calmly, raising an eyebrow, “I don’t want to knock you out to do that.”

You try to wriggle your hands out of his grip and kick with your legs, but the agent holds your wrists tighter and pins your hips down with his own. His facial expression is still quite blank, but the furrow in his eyebrows tells you he is mildly - or maybe very - exasperated already. “Knock me out? Enlighten me how.” you spit out.

“You’re the doctor, Dr. Song. I’m sure you’re knowledgeable on gases that could do that. Or…” the agent remains expressionless, but there’s a haughty color in his eyes as he brings a hand to your cheek, gently caressing with his knuckles, “...I could hit you, which is what I do to our targets, but as I’ve said, I personally don’t want to do that.”

You can only stare at the male, eyebrows knit together in an upset manner as all the fight and anger in your body dissolves, tensed muscles weakening as the unfavorable position you’re in finally registers in your mind. When the agent blinks, you vaguely take note of his long eyelashes, a delicate contrast to his sharp and strong features.

“What will it be, Dr. Song?” he whispers, breath mingling with yours.

You shut your eyes, deflating as you sigh, “Fine. But if I hear what Jung Hyunseo has to say and I don’t like it, I have the right to refuse to assist SKZ.”

“Hmm, I’m afraid not.” the agent finally lets go of your wrists and clambers off of you, fixing and tucking in his dress shirt into his slacks, “If you refuse or run away, Mr. Jung will persistently send agent after agent for you until you fully return or help SKZ.”

“And once I help? Once I’m finished? Will SKZ finally and genuinely let me go and live?”

“Yes, Dr. Song.”

“Shit, fine. This is the last, I swear.”

You could have kept saying “no” in all honesty, but the prospect of an agent coming into your house - or worse, directly kidnapping or abducting you by force - was not something you wanted to think about; that would just make your life more miserable.

The agent lets you get dressed in your bathroom for privacy, but he waits in your room to make sure you don’t sneak out or run from him. Afterwards, he tells you to quickly follow him, which you do because you don’t really have a choice. Once in the black car with tinted windows, you sink into the passenger’s seat, a very big frown on your face as you look outside at the city lights. The agent himself is quiet as well, focused on driving rather quickly.

The buzzing silence in the car is then interrupted when his phone rings; he accepts the call with the speakers on so you could technically hear the voice of the person speaking: Jung Hyunseo, no doubt.

“Agent Lee, what’s the update?”

The male agent doesn’t take his eyes off the road as he answers, “She’s with me, sir.”

“I knew I could count on you.” Hyunseo chuckles lightly, “Thank you, Minho. See you back in HQ.”

When the call ends, and Minho stops the car as the traffic light turns red, he cranes his neck to face you, expression still annoyingly vague and basically emotionless. “Please do behave once we’re in HQ.” he says, “You may hate SKZ, but we all expect you to adhere to the rules, alright, doctor?”

You don’t even have the desire to respond, rolling your eyes as Minho breaks eye contact to focus on the road as the traffic light turns green.

Two years away from SKZ, and here you were, being dragged back into the place you desperately wanted to get away from.

Lee Minho.

You’d remember that agent’s name. Whether you went willingly or not, you had a feeling Lee Minho, on Jung Hyunseo’s command, would find one way or another to bring you back, and that was what affected you the most.

It was going to be his fault you were back.

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