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imaslutforremusandsirius · 3 years

Text

Tease

Wanted to try a male reader for once and i really enjoyed writing this :) One of my favs dare I say. Have fun!

Warning: 18+

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„You said you didn‘t want it!“ Sirius exclaimed, throwing his hands up in defense when you threw the empty chocolate pack at him.

„I was being polite!“ You protested, „Posh boys like you should know that!“

Sirius‘ eyes narrowed and he threw the pack at your head this time. „I am not a posh boy, fucker. You better fucking kiss my feet or I will-“

You tackled him with a cry, hitting his face repeatedly with a pillow. Your body jerked on top of his rhythmically, which either meant that he was laughing or chocking to death. And you really hoped it be the latter.

„Don‘t you fucking dare asshole! You promised not to bring it up!“

His next words came out muffled from underneath the soft fabric, which began to feel not so soft, considering that you were pressing pretty hard. Sirius started to panic and yelled out a „Help! Help! I‘m dying!“

You felt strong arms wrap around your stomach and drag you away from your murder mission.

„Let me go! He needs to die!“

James was laughing so hard at Sirius‘ horrified face that even he had trouble keeping you at bay.

„This is bullying! I‘ll tell Minnie! You fucking lutanic!“

„Minnie doesn‘t care about your sob story, she would be delighted to find out I killed you before she could with all of your missing homework!“

Sirius barreled towards you with a battle cry, but James threw you to the side, effectively blocking the tackle with his body. Sirius must have aimed to hurt you a little, because James fell down with an painfully loud thud.

„Bloody hell, Pads. That bloody hurt.“ James groaned, rubbing his ribs soothingly.

Sirius scrambled up and helped his friend off the ground, throwing you a dark look. You sneered at him, sitting down on the bed farthest away. James grinned at his friend, mouth opening to make fun of him.

„How could he hold you down like that? He‘s smaller than you!“

Sirius huffed, blushing a little with embarrassment and he turned away, presumably to hide his red cheeks. „He had an advantage. I was being strangled, mind you.“

„Strangled my ass“ you said under your breath and crossed your arms petulantly. „He made fun of me. Again!“

James raised a brow in amusement, eyes flickering towards you and you groaned when you saw his expression. Here we go.

„Is it about a certain wolf?“

Sirius turned around so fast you heard his ankles crack and moved to stand next to his friend, delighted to have him at his side and chuckled. Your scowl darkened and you got up, trying to push though your friends to leave.

„Fuck off, both of you. I‘m leaving.“

Sirius stopped laughing and raised his hands in defeat. „Oh come on, don‘t be ridiculous, we‘re only taking a piss mate.“

Your mouth fell open to hurl more curses at him when you saw Remus appear behind the two boys and clamped your mouth shut again. Fuck, was your hair alright? You secretly smoothed it over, glaring at James when he wiggled his brows suggestively.

„Alright, everyone?“ Remus asked, voice exhausted and he fell down next to you on the bed, sighing with relief when his aching joints didn‘t have to carry his weight anymore. The moon was taking a toll on him.

„Are you alright?“ Your voice came out worried and you stroked through his messy curls. Remus only let out a tired „Mhm“ as he sank down further into the mattress, pressing into your hand.

„Is it the moon?“

„Mhm.“

„Are you hurting already?“

Sirius chimed in from his bed. „I think it‘s safe to say that the old man is always hurting.“

You glared at him. „Shut up, Black. No one asked you.“

Sirius huffed and turned his back towards you with a dramatic toss of his dark hair, pulling his curtains closed.

This time James spoke up, peaking his head from the corner of the bathroom door. Some of his toothpaste spilled over when he opened his mouth and you grimaced at the disgusting sight. James and Sirius seemed to share one braincell. A part-time braincell, that was clearly rusty at this point from being so rarely used.

„Need anything?“

Remus jerked, clearing jostled awake from his little slumber and groaned in annoyance. „Peace and quiet. Oh wait, that‘s death.“

You couldn‘t help the snort that escaped you at his deadpanned tone and whacked him on the head. Remus cracked an eye open and smiled at your amusement. You schooled your expression and held your hand up in a mock salute.

„No one is dying. And if, then we‘ll do it together.“

There was a series of Amen‘s and you nodded in satisfaction, like a general who never liked being told no. Already dressed in your pajamas, or actually only your pajama pants, you crawled into your own bed, across from Remus‘. You wished that Remus would have clasped your wrist and made you stay, he did that sometimes, but alas it was just a wish. You had it bad for the boy, fingers still tingling with the feel of his hair. You thought about what it would be like to kiss him, to touch his scars and feel his breath on your face when you slept.

You huffed frustratedly when your brain forced stupid scenarios into your mind. Fuck, were they nice ones at that.

No, he isn‘t gay, brain! Fucking stop with the mental images!

Your brain decided to one up itself and showed you a very suggestive image of Remus on his knees, sucking your dick with such contentment it made your breath hitch.

Fuck.

Or Remus on his hands and knees, every little detail of his body on display, making such lovely keening noises you thought you had died for sure.

Oh fuck.

You opened you eyes instantly to stop the dirty thoughts of your best mate, mind you, and tried to calm your breathing. Apparently, meditation is a hoax, because no matter how many sheeps you counted or deep breaths you took, your brain was still convinced that Remus sucking you off was the hottest thing ever. And it is the hottest thing ever, you agreed. So did your raging boner.

Only this once.

Against your better judgement your hand trailed down your chest towards your pants, slipping under the waistband of your underwear. Your hand wrapped around your hard cock and imagined Remus on top of you, kissing your lips feverishly. Groaning and moaning into your mouth, telling you how good you feel around him. Telling you how long he had waited for this moment. Biting your lip you moved faster, stifling your groans when your palm spread your precum over the sensitive tip. You were so close, head thrown back in pleasure, fuck so close so clo-

„Shit sorry!“

Somehow you managed to pick up a shocked gasp through your trance and your eyes opened wide, jerking violently. And here he was, the source of your inescapable desire. Remus fucking Lupin. Who just caught you wanking. Your brain has meanwhile decided to pack its suitcase and piss off, because suddenly you couldn't produce a single clear sentence. It felt like being a baby all over again, not knowing how to use your voice or twists your tongue to get the right words out. Not that there was anything to say, you couldn’t just pretend like you weren’t touching yourself.So, you just stare at him like a moron, your hand still in your fucking pants. Slowly but surely you felt your face heat up and you didn't even dare to breathe loudly, too scared to scare Remus away.

His eyes were fixed on your hand, teeth biting his lip. Not knowing what to do, he apparently decided to just stand there. The curtains of your bed were gripped tightly in his fist, as if it were the only thing that kept him steady at the moment. The both of you stared at each other for a good minute, digesting the embarrassment of the situation until Remus climbed into your bed.

Wait.

Alarm bells rang shrill in your head, the nerve cells in your skull burst into panic.

Remus in your bed.

Crawling between your legs.

Your hand still in your pants.

What.

„Let me help?“ Remus‘ voice was raspy, slightly scared that you‘ll reject him. He was seated between your knees now, wringing his scarred hands nervously. It took you a few seconds to register what he had said as you blinked at him in mortification.

Remus hung his head, nodding to himself as if he had known that this would happen and moved away. Fuck, no come back. Brain! Say something!

Your brain was still hyperventilating however, so your legs decided to give you a hand, definitly under the order of your hard cock, which was already throbbing with excitement. You snap your legs shut, trapping Remus’ upper body between your thighs and pulled him on top of you. Not expecting the move, Remus fell forward and his lips smashed on yours.

Oh wow.

This was better than you expected. This exeeds all 638 fantasies you ever had of this moment. This was real.

You kissed for a while, both of you falling into each others arms to feel as close as possible, grinding your cocks on each other like horny teens. Which you were, to be precise. You moved your head to the side to break the kiss, grinning at Remus’ lust hazy expression and bucked your hips up again.

“I’ll have that help now, if you’re still offering...” You whispered, basking in the boyish grin of the wolf.

Moving to wipe your hand on your bedsheet to finally touch him, Remus caught your hand and brought it to his mouth. You whined quietly when you felt his tongue tickle your palm. Remus mmm‘d softly, a devilish glint twinkling in his bright eyes.

Lifting your hips, Remus pulled down your pants and you propped yourself up on your elbows to watch. Nothing in the world could keep your from branding the sight of Remus licking your cock into the depths of your mind.

Remus leaned in, mouthing at the skin of your stomach, inching closer to your weeping tip. He took his time, breathing your scent in deeply, his eyes closed.

„Come on Moony“ you urged, lifting your hips. Remus held you down, smirking up at you teasingly.

„Either you let me go in my own pace or you can suck it yourself.“

You immediately stilled and made a motion of locking your lips with an imaginary key. Remus chuckled soundlessly and you nearly, nearly, bucked your hips up again. His mouth was so hot and wet and god it was really Remus sucking your cock. The thought alone made you shudder and writhe under him, your hands burried in his curls. Remus may not know much about blowjobs, but he made up for it with his enthusiasm. His moan was just filthy, the way he looked at you through his eyelashes as if he just wanted to devour you, to break you into pieces.

“Oh Remus” you groaned into your fist, knuckles white from gripping his hair so tightly, “Wait ah fuck please wait!”

Remus rolled his eyes and pulled away, raising his brow at you. His facial expression was something akin to “How dare you interrupt me?”

You took deep breaths to hold yourself from cumming when he smeared the tip of your cock against his glistening lips, coating himself in your cum while he glared at you. This boy is sin.

“Wanna cum with you” you explained breathlessly, pulling him up to smash your lips on his. Remus groaned low in his throat when you sucked his lips, moving to straddle your lap. The rough fabric of his pants made you snort contemptuously and you tugged at the waistband, mumbling an annoyed “Off.”

Remus seemed to agree, with the way he nearly ripped the zipper clean off and finally he was naked. Not fully, but you let him be, knowing he’d be insecure about his scars. You’ll work on that next time. Next time.

Remus placed his hands on his thighs, letting you admire his body. His confidence shot up by the way your breathing got heavier and your cock twitched under his. Every millimeter of your skin is touching, both of you slowly rocking your cocks against the other. Your cum mixed and made it easier to move and you took them in your hands, a huge breath escaping your lips with the sudden rush of electricity. Remus quickly casted a silencing charm and gave into the pleasure, setting a fast pace by thrusting his cock in your fist.

“Fuck you feel so good” Remus groaned and squeezed your wrists, “I’ve wanted this for so long”

You nearly laughed by how ridiculously acurate your fantasies had been and gripped harder, crying out when Remus leaned down to bite your shoulder hard, leaving imprints of his teeth on your flesh.

“’M’not gonna la- oh Moony fuck” You were lost in your pleasure, already sensitive with your denied orgasm from before. Remus slapped your hand away and spit on your cocks, taking them in his hands this time. His pace was aggressive and impatient, hand unyielding and he rocked his hips as fast as he could.

“Want you to cum on my cock” Remus grunted, his other hand gripping your jaw to look into your eyes. His pupils were blown out, as if he was on a high. You felt him pulse against you, his eyes screwd shut and he came with a loud cry, making you tip over the edge as well. His hand kept going, thighs holding you down when you tried to squirm away.

Bringing his cum covered hand to his mouth, Remus gave it a tentative lick, eyes fluttering shut when his tongue wrapped around his fingers. You watched him hum around his hand and he gave you a satisfied smile, totally in bliss with your little session.

“This was fucking hot” Remus grinned and fell down next to you, blinking at you tiredly.

You bit your lip and mustered up enough courage to squeak out a “So you’re gay?”

Remus gave you a flat look. “I came on your cock didn’t I?”

You cleared your throat and laughed quietly. “Yeah. Yeah you did.” Your voice came out dreamy and you threw your leg over his middle.

And just like that you surrendered to your exhaustion, while Sirius and James were hysterical with exicetment. Their shared braincell was activated and currently made it its mission to come up with ways to catch you next time. Embarassing you was their thing after all.

#remus x male reader #remus lupin smut #remus lupin #remus lupin x male reader #marauders smut

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onceuponastory · 3 years

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boyfriend - bucky barnes x y/n

"I love everything about you girl, don't you understand? I love you from head to toe girl, but I hate your boyfriend" - boyfriend: lou bega yes mambo no. 5 lou bega

Plot: Bucky is in love with his best friend Y/N. But unfortunately, his best friend has a boyfriend, and Bucky hates his guts. Warnings: Alcohol, some violence (but no abuse) and a small mention of sex. Also a small spoiler for TFATWS finale - just Sam's new job. Notes: So, my first Bucky fic is here! I've loved this song for a long time, and I listened to it again last week, and this fic was born. I recommend you listen to the song, because it's so upbeat and catchy, and I've tried to reflect that in this fic by making it more funny than angsty...but there is some angst ;) Oh also, Lou keeps calling the girl darling in the song, which is definitely a thing Bucky would do I think.

Also this is at least 7k words, probably even more. So sit back, relax and enjoy!

As Bucky Barnes watches his best friend Y/N sing to herself as she moves around her apartment, he smiles. The two of them have been friends for almost two years by this point, and hang out together almost every day. And for almost two years, Bucky Barnes has been head over heels in love with her. He loves everything about her: her smile, how gorgeous she looks, her sunny disposition, the way she’s the only one who can cheer him up after a nightmare...and so on and so forth. Y/N comes and sits beside him on the couch, grinning. “What are you thinking about?” She asks.

“Oh nothing.” He lies. Of course, he knows he can’t tell her that he’s in love with her. Especially since he knows there’s no way she feels the same about him. Before Y/N can reply, there’s a knock at the door, and she springs up to answer it.

“Sean! Hey!” She grins, pecking him on the lips and leading him inside, her arm wrapped around his waist. “Bucky! You remember my boyfriend Sean, right?” She asks.

“Yes, I do. Hey Sean.” He gives him a small wave from his position on the couch, which Sean returns, before being led into the kitchen by Y/N. Once they’re out of sight, Bucky’s smile falls. Sean is the big reason why he can’t tell Y/N that he’s in love with her. He might not know much about love, given he’s over a hundred years old, but he does know that you can’t tell people things like that and destroy their happiness, even if he wishes it was him she was with. Everytime he’s around, or even when she talks about him, a big grin is present on her face. And it tears him apart inside. But despite how happy she is around him, and how he knows that her happiness is all that matters, Bucky can’t stand Sean at all.

It’s not even just because he’s dating the girl he’s been in love with from the moment he met her. Bucky just...gets bad vibes from him, and doesn’t trust him as far as he can throw him (which, considering his metal arm, is quite far actually). He can’t explain why he dislikes him so much, he just does. And because of that, he refuses to get to know Sean any more than he has to, despite Y/N’s wishes for them to both get along. He knows it breaks her heart, but he can’t help it. He got through the last eighty or so years of his life trusting only himself, and isn’t about to stop now. But, his distrust of Sean for no reason is still confusing to him, so he decides he has to get to the bottom of it.

So, as soon as he can, Bucky visits another friend of his and Y/N’s.

~*~*~*~*~

“No, I cannot send Red Wing after her boyfriend to spy on him. Are you insane?! I thought all that mindless killing and spy stuff was behind you?” Sam asks.

“Okay first of all, ouch, and secondly, it is. I just hate HIM. I don’t trust him one bit.”

“Well...is he hurting her? Do you think she’s in danger?” Mulling it over, Bucky shakes his head.

“No. I just....think he’s weird and gross. He just...I don’t know! I just don’t like him Sam, is that really a big issue?!”

“It is when you’re trying to send The Avengers after him! And besides, if she’s not being hurt, there’s nothing we can do.” Huffing, Bucky rolls his eyes. “Why don’t you just spend time with him?” Sam asks. “I mean, you don’t like him, but Y/N has clearly got her heart set on this man, so there’s got to be something you’re missing. Maybe that robot brain of yours needs re-working.”

“Well, he did ask if I wanted to hang out, maybe get some coffee together a few weeks ago. And it’d make Y/N happy if we hung out more...” He trails off, and Sam starts nodding.

“See! You’re right! And after all, as long as Y/N’s happy, that’s all that matters...right Bucky?” Bucky is silent for a while, and Sam almost makes another crack at how he can hear the gears turning in his robot brain, but Bucky soon speaks up.

“Okay, I’ll do it.” Sam starts grinning. “But I uh...I’ll need some moral support there. Some help...guy to guy, you know.” Sam’s grin immediately disappears.

“Ohhh no. No no no. I am not getting dragged into this. Whatever’s between you and this dude is your business. I want no part of this.”

“Come on Sam! Please?!” Bucky asks. “That way you can see that it’s not just all in my head. I’m not wrong, I promise. You can trust my judgement.”

“Ah yes, because your judgement has been so great before...” Sam mumbles, but Bucky doesn’t respond to that.

“And after all, I think it’s an important part of my therapy, you know, making new friends and all that. I’m sure both the doc and Y/N will be pleased to hear that.” Sam shakes his head.

“I don’t care, I’m still not getting dragged into this.”

~*~*~*~*~

“I hate you.” Sam whispers, glaring at Bucky from across the Starbucks table. Bucky ignores him, and stares out the window, looking for Sean. “I cannot believe you dragged me into this.” Sam continues to complain.

“Shut up Sam.” Bucky orders, continuing to stare out the window.

“Oh, you’re going to be like that? You know Bucky, it’s really rude-“ Bucky suddenly sits up straighter, seeing Sean walking through the door.

“Shut up Sam.”

“Hey! You don’t- ouch!” Sam gasps as Bucky’s foot makes a connection with his ankle in an attempt to shut him up. “Thank god his foot’s not made of vibranium...” Sam hisses.

“Sean! Over here!” Bucky calls, waving him over as Sam rubs his ankle, continuing to glare at Bucky. Sean heads over to the table and sits down, greeting Bucky with a smile and a hello. Then he notices Sam beside him.

“Oh my god, hi! You’re Sam, right? It’s really nice to meet you. I’m a big fan of Captain America.” He gasps, holding out his hand, which Sam shakes, clearly happy with the attention. Bucky suppresses a groan, knowing Sam will not shut up about this, and will think Sean is great, no matter what he says. “Gotta admit, I didn’t expect to have you join us, but I’m glad you’re here.”

“Yeah, well...I was in the neighbourhood, so.....Bucky invited me to join you both.” Sam lies, giving Bucky a hard stare.

“Well I’m glad you’re here. Both of you. You seem to know her really well, so I’m glad to hang out with you both.” Sean grins, ignoring or failing to notice the tension between Sam and Bucky. “She talks about you both a lot, actually.”

“Oh she does? You know, she talks about you a lot too. It’s nice to finally meet you man.” The pair turn their eyes to Bucky, who still hasn’t said anything, and continues fixing his gaze on Sean.

“Um, hi Bucky. It’s nice to see you again. How have you been?” Sean asks, suddenly looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here.

“Good.” Bucky responds, continuing his staring. Sean’s face flushes.

“Does he uh...does he always stare like this?” Sean whispers to Sam, clearly loud enough for Bucky to hear.

“Yup. All the time. I wouldn’t worry about it too much. He does it to me too. It means he likes you.” Sam lies. Sean starts smiling.

“Oh, it does? That’s good then! Right, I’ll get the drinks then. What are you guys having?” He asks, heading up to the counter after both pass on their orders. As soon as he’s out of earshot, Sam rounds on Bucky.

“What the hell is wrong with you? You’re going to frighten the poor guy to death.” Sam hisses.

“Well, he’s weird right? Something’s off with him. He just doesn't seem genuine.” Bucky fires back. Sam frowns.

“No! He’s been nothing but polite, and you’re staring at him like you’re in Winter Soldier kill mode. Wait, you’re not actually in that...mode are you? You’re not gonna hurt him, right Bucky?”

“Depends how the rest of this goes.” Bucky keeps a close eye on Sean as he waits for the drinks to be made. But so far, Sean seems to be doing nothing wrong or weird, and for a split second, Bucky wonders if he’s the one in the wrong, and that he’s just misguided. That is however, until Sean notices a pretty auburn haired woman is in front of him in line, and Bucky thinks he notices him look down towards her butt. Okay he’s definitely looking at her butt. His gaze lingers for a little while, and Bucky feels the rage building up in him. How could he disrespect Y/N like that? A girl just as beautiful, actually more beautiful than the one in front of him, and yet he disrespects her like this? “See?! He just started staring at her ass!” Bucky hisses, and Sam glances up from his phone, looking over.

“I don’t see anything.” He shrugs, going back to his phone. Bucky huffs.

“Are you serious? You barely looked! And that’s not an okay thing for him to do! I’m going to say something.”

“No. No you aren’t.” Sam orders. “You have no way to tell if that’s even what he did. And even if it was, you are not confronting him in a public Starbucks. Remember what happened last time everyone saw you fighting people?” He asks, and Bucky is immediately reminded of his face all over the news when people thought he killed King T’Chaka, and during the bar fight in Madripoor, when everyone was filming him, ready to post about how dangerous he was all over the internet. Even though he hates to admit it, Sam is right. Making this whole thing public was not a good choice. ...That doesn’t mean he can’t do it in private though. “Listen Bucky, I don’t get why you hate this guy so much, and sure, if he’s really rude or gross, I’d get it. But I’m telling you, I just don’t see it. And in the nicest way, I think you’re just grasping at straws here.” For a second, Bucky considers launching Sam’s phone across the room, and making him look at Sean so he could see what he does, but decides that’s probably not the best thing to do. Stay low and all that. “Now. We’re going to have a nice coffee with Sean, and you’re not going to antagonise him. Right Bucky?” Bucky shakes his head. There was no way in hell he’s going to agree with that. Sam sighs.

“Why are you being like this? Y/N is someone I care about a lot, and I know you care about her too, so why won’t you listen to me and trust me on this?!” Bucky asks, and Sam raises an eyebrow.

“Of course I care about her Buck, but I think you’re going too far with this, and I’m worried it’s going to hurt her in the long run. Trust me on this. This kind of thing never ends well.” Bucky scoffs, and is about to say that he’s not going too far at all, and if Sam just listened and watched, he’d understand where he was coming from. But before he can open his mouth, Sean comes back, carrying a tray with their drinks and some snacks.

“Hey, sorry about your wait. It took longer than expected. I know you guys didn’t ask for them, but I got some cakes too. Y/N told me that you guys love them, so I thought I’d get them too.” He laughs awkwardly, still clearly intimidated by Bucky.

“You did? Well thank you Sean. Isn’t that nice Bucky?” Sam asks, giving Bucky a look.

“Thanks.” Bucky hisses, glaring down at the cake pop on the tray. Sean starts smiling. He’s right, he does like them...just when Y/N buys them for him though. And even though Sam was right about not confronting him in public, that doesn’t mean Bucky has to eat the cake. “I’m not hungry though.” Sean’s face falls, and Sam sighs, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, well...you can eat it later, right?” Sean asks.

“Mhm.” Bucky gives a tiny nod, making Sean look even more scared. Noticing this look and trying desperately to avoid the impending catastrophe, Sam starts up a conversation with Sean, whilst Bucky drinks his coffee and pipes up every so often with a grunt or a nod.

After a while, mostly filled with conversations between Sam and Sean and complete silence from Bucky, Sam gets up to go to the toilet. As he leaves, Sam gives Bucky a look, clearly pleading with him not to launch Sean through the window while he’s away. Bucky rolls his eyes and gestures for Sam to just go, which he does..whilst keeping his eyes on them the entire way there.

“So...” Sean trails off, laughing awkwardly.

”Let me get one thing clear.” Bucky says, and Sean audibly gulps, clearly startled. Bucky leans forward, and Sean immediately looks like he’s about to shit himself in fear. “Y/N means a lot to me. And if you do ANYTHING to hurt her, you will have me to deal with. You understand?” He hisses. Sean nods, still looking startled. “Say it.”

“Y-Yes Bucky...” He stammers out.

“Good. And let me tell you. Don’t think you can just...stare at other girls without repercussions. It wont end well, trust me.”

“But I didn’t...” He begins, and Bucky gives him another glare. He can see the guilt written all over his face. “Anyway. As long as you remember that, that’s all that matters.” He leans back into his seat, and takes another sip of his coffee. The pair sit in silence until Sam returns.

“Hey guys, I didn’t miss much did I? You’re both okay, right?”

“Yup.” Bucky and Sean say at the same time. Sam looks surprised by this, but smiles, clearly happy that Sean hasn’t been launched through the Starbucks window, even though that’s still what Bucky wanted to do.

~*~*~*~*~

After the trio are finished in Starbucks, they stand outside to say their goodbyes. Well. Two of them do at least. “Well, bye guys, it was uh...nice to see you both.” Sean forces a smile, clearly trying to not anger Bucky even more.

“Yeah it was fun! Hopefully we can do this again.” Sam grins, clearly not noticing the awkwardness between them both, or ignoring it. Sean grimaces, and walks away from the pair. Sam waves him off.

“I don’t get why you like him so much.” Bucky sighs, starting to walk back towards his apartment, closely accompanied by Sam, who’s still grinning.

“At first I didn’t understand why you don’t like him, but I think I do now. I realised it when I was in the bathroom.”

“Well, that is where you do most of your thinking.” Bucky counters, rolling his eyes. He already told him why he didn’t like Sean. In his eyes, there wasn’t much else to think about. Sam ignores the dig, and continues:

“It’s because you have a crush on Y/N, isn’t it?” Bucky stops in his tracks, turning towards Sam.

“Uh no, I don’t. Who says I do?!” Bucky lies. Sam’s grin grows even wider.

“Oh yes you DO Bucky. I can’t believe I didn’t notice it before. It’s SO obvious!” Even though he tries desperately to stop it, Bucky feels his cheeks flush. Sam picks up on this immediately. “Ha! I knew it! You like her. I mean, I should’ve noticed sooner, with the way you look at her, and the way you speak about her.”

“Sam, can you shut up?” Bucky hisses. “Please.” Sam’s face softens. “Yes..I like her. I think she’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, and I’m so glad to be her friend. But that is NOT why I hate Sean. I don’t care who Y/N is with, as long as she’s happy and they treat her well, and I'm worried he isn't going to.” Bucky feels his heart sink as he says that he doesn’t care who she’s with. Of course, he wants it to be him more than anything...but life doesn’t always work out like that. After all, it had treated him so shittily in the past, there’s no way it would also give him the girl of his dreams. Bucky had learned a long time ago that his dreams weren’t meant to come true. But despite that, if he was destined to just be Y/N’s friend, that was okay with him.

“I’m sorry Bucky.” Sam says, sounding genuine. He reaches over and gives Bucky a pat on the back. “For what it’s worth, despite me not seeing Sean the way you do, your support and love for Y/N is really admirable, and shows how good a guy you are. I hope you find love and happiness with someone, even if it’s not with Y/N.”

“Thanks Sam.” Bucky gives a soft smile. He knows he doesn’t deserve it, but it was still nice to hear. The pair resume walking towards Bucky’s apartment.

“I will say though, you gotta work on your anger issues.”

“I don’t have anger issues.”

“...Yeah you do. I saw the way you looked at him. Anyway, I know the best way to do that...video games at your place.”

“Why is it always my place?”

“It’s nice, and you have better games than I do. I have Y/N to thank for that.” Sam walks on ahead, and Bucky rolls his eyes. Even though Sam sometimes gets on his nerves, he’s still incredibly glad to have him as a friend. Even when he eats all the food in his fridge.

~*~*~*~*~

The duo soon arrive at Bucky’s apartment, and are midway through a game of Mario Kart when they’re interrupted by the sound of banging on Bucky’s door. Pausing the game, Sam and Bucky exchange a cautious look as they slowly move towards the door, not wanting to be surprised by something that could be The Avengers’ newest threat. That is however, until a voice sounds through the door:

“JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES, I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE!” Y/N calls. “I NEED TO TALK TO YOU.”

“Ooh, full name. You’re fucked.” Sam says, clearly trying not to laugh. Bucky glares at him, before steeling himself and opening the door. Y/N stands there, her arms folded and a glare on her face. “Oh she looks like you when she glares.” Sam whispers loud enough for just Bucky to hear.

“Um...hey Y/N.” Bucky gives her a small wave.

“Don’t ‘hey Y/N’ me asshole. I need to talk to you.” She orders, walking into the apartment. “Oh, hi Sam. Can I speak to Bucky please? Alone?” She asks, almost hissing the words.

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Sam responds, holding his hands up in surrender and leaving the room, taking a bowl of M&Ms with him. As soon as the door clicks shut behind Sam, Y/N unleashes her anger on Bucky.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” She asks. For a second, Bucky almost responds with ‘many, many things’ but he realises that might be the wrong thing to say. Y/N does not look like she can handle jokes right now. “Sean told me about your coffee date. I know you’re not the best person with socialising but GOD Bucky, are you even trying to be civil to him?”

“Doll, listen...” Bucky begins, but she cuts him off.

“Nope. Nuh uh. You do not get to call me that right now. And I’m not even finished speaking.” Bucky takes the hint and shuts up. “Everytime he speaks, or even breathes, you look like you want to wring his neck!”

“No I don’t!”

“Yes you do! I’ve seen it! And not even that, you THREATENED HIM!”

“Hey, I’m just being protective of you!” Bucky defends, trying not to feel bad. This is their first fight...ever, and he hates it. Especially because he’s trying to protect Y/N, and she just won’t listen.

“That’s not being protective! That’s being weird and creepy!”

“Exactly what I said!” Sam calls from the other room.

“Thanks Sam.” Bucky and Y/N say in unison. They both look at each other, the argument the last thing on their minds. “...Jinx.” Bucky whispers, smiling. For a second, a smile creeps its way onto Y/N’s face, and Bucky feels hopeful that they can have a civil conversation. But then, Y/N clearly remembers where she is, and the smile falls.

“Bucky...please don’t do that. Please don’t.” She pleads. She looks sad to be fighting with him, and Bucky feels a pang in his chest. Both about their fight, and about what he needs to tell her.

“I’m sorry d-Y/N.” He quickly clarifies. He takes a seat on his couch, beckoning for her to join him, which she does. He takes her hands in his, gently running his thumb over her knuckles with his non metal hand. “It may seem like I’ve been too hard on Sean, but trust me, I do have my reasons.” Y/N frowns, and Bucky continues. “When we were out...I saw him staring at another girl. He definitely stared at her butt. And because I care about you, I wanted him to know that wasn’t acceptable, and if he hurts you, he’ll have to answer to me.” Y/N is silent for a few seconds, frowning as she takes it all in. Bucky waits patiently, waiting to support her when she needs it. Finally, she speaks.

“Oh my god...” She begins. But just as Bucky is about to comfort her, she finishes her sentence. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” She scoffs. Bucky starts frowning, and before he can speak, Y/N stands up, pulling her hands out of his grasp. “I can’t believe you Bucky. First you threaten my boyfriend, and now you stoop so low to make up lies about him! I know you don't like him, but even so, that's no excuse.”

“B-But I didn’t! I saw it!” Bucky stammers, quickly getting up.

“Oh you did, did you? Did you also see a unicorn? Did you see a flying pig? Come on Bucky, just tell me the truth. You didn’t see those things because they don’t exist. I know he wouldn’t do that to me.”

“...And you don’t trust me?” He asks.

“I thought I did, but I don’t know if I can anymore.” She replies. Bucky swears he feels his heart shatter in that moment. A mixture of anger and pain begin to build in his stomach, and he feels tears welling up in his eyes. “I know. Why don’t we ask Sam what he saw?” She asks, walking towards the room. Bucky gasps, trying to reach out and stop her.

“No...no you don’t have to.” Scoffing, she turns around.

“Why? Because he didn’t see it?” She asks. Instead of letting him answer, she opens the door to a startled Sam, still clutching the bowl. “Sam. Did you see what Bucky said he saw? Did Sean cheat on me with a girl in Starbucks?”

“Well, I personally didn’t see it, but-“

“And that’s all I need.” Y/N sighs. She turns back to Bucky, her eyes shimmering with tears. “Just...I don’t know what I can say to you.” She sniffles. “I thought you were my friend.”

“Doll, I am, I swear-“

“I SAID DON’T CALL ME THAT!” She snaps, tears spilling from her eyes. “I...I need to go. Sean’s waiting on me. Just. Leave us alone please. I can’t be friends with you if you can’t respect me and my relationship. If you want to apologise, you know where to find me.” She starts walking towards the front door.

“Wait.” Bucky gasps, and Y/N stops in her tracks. “Please believe me Y/N. I wouldn’t lie to you about this.” She stays silent. “Please Y/N.” Bucky repeats, moving closer towards her. When he sees he’s getting no response, he feels the anger rising. “I’m not apologising for being right!” He says louder than he expected to. Y/N sniffles again, and Bucky immediately regrets his tone.

“Well....I guess this is goodbye then.” Y/N says, and Bucky can hear her start to cry. ”Goodbye Bucky. Bye Sam.” Without another word, she opens the door of Bucky’s apartment and leaves, closing the door behind her.

Bucky stands there for what feels like an eternity, just staring at the door. Part of him knows he should run after her, but it feels like his feet are rooted to the ground. So instead, he stands there, waiting for the slim chance of her coming back. At this point, he doesn’t even care who’s right or wrong...he just wants to apologise to her and have her back in his life. As time goes on, he slowly starts to accept she’s not coming back. When he said he felt his heart shatter before, this feels like the tiny shards were stabbing him, and piercing every part of him. And despite everything Bucky has been through, the fights, the torture, the nightmares...this pain hurts more than anything he’s ever experienced in his life.

“Bucky...” He registers Sam’s voice from beside him, but can’t even say anything back to him. “Are you....are you alright?” Sam asks. Bucky can tell from his voice that he knows he’s asking a dumb question. How the hell could anyone be okay after an argument like that? But he knows that Sam’s a therapist, and that’s what they do. His own doc would do the same. But the question still made him realise that he is definitely not okay. A tear falls from his eyes and rolls down his cheek, and Bucky says the only thing he’s able to say.

“I’ve lost her forever Sam.”

~*~*~*~*~

In the weeks after his argument with Y/N, Bucky has become even more reclusive than he is usually. He barely leaves his apartment, only venturing outside to go to his appointments or to get food. Aside from seeing his doctor and occasionally replying to Sam’s texts, he has no other social interactions. Y/N was his everything: his best friend...actually, his only friend, and one of the only girls he’s ever loved. And now, she was gone. And it was like Bucky’s happiness and joy for life left with her. After all, she was usually the reason why he was happy. Well...the only reason.

But he doesn’t judge her for being upset at him. Bucky has started to blame himself for what happened. Maybe he had seen things that didn’t exist, or taken things the wrong way. All he wants to do is go over to Y/N’s apartment, apologise to her and get her back. He doesn’t even care about being with her, he just wants to be her friend again. Unfortunately, Bucky is far too scared to do it. The last time they saw each other was filled with so much pain and tears, he didn’t want to put them both through that again. That and he was terrified it wouldn’t work out, and that he’d never see her again. So instead, he did nothing. He felt horrible about it, but he knew it was the best option, and nobody else would get hurt.

However, one day, Bucky has decided he’s fed up with being stuck in his apartment, and chooses to go for a walk. Once he is outside, he walks towards the park. As he walks, he takes a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air and the sun on his skin. He just wishes Y/N was here with him. Memories flash through his mind of spending time with her, having picnics together, buying ice creams for each other, giving her piggy back rides, running for shelter in the rain, playing catch and almost hitting people in the face because he forgot about the true strength of his arm. The memories are full of laughter, and Bucky almost starts laughing as he remembers them. But then he remembers that they’re not friends anymore, and his smile fades. He continues walking, trying his best to ignore the guilt.

As he looks around, he looks up and sees a familiar face from across the park, stopping him in his tracks. Is that...Sean? It definitely looks like him. Bucky realises he’s finally been granted a second chance. All he has to do is go over there, apologise and then everything would be better again. But as he’s making his way over to him, Bucky realises he’s not alone. Sean is accompanied by a woman. A woman who definitely isn’t Y/N. Although the can feel anger rising within him, Bucky takes a deep breath. Maybe he got it wrong again, and this isn’t Sean, or the woman he’s with is a distant relative? Or a friend? ...And then Sean pulls her close, and kisses her on the lips. Okaaaay....maybe Sean somehow has an identical twin who just so happens to live in the same town as them, and who neither he nor Y/N have mentioned before? Bucky suddenly realises the pair are heading towards him, and he’ll have to hide, or risk being discovered.

Thankfully, even though Bucky is still trying to forget the time he spent as the Winter Soldier, he hasn’t forgotten the stealth that came with it. So, he manages to find a hiding spot. Unfortunately, the park isn’t the best and most stealthiest place to hide, especially not for a man with a metal arm. So, Bucky has to resort to turning away and using his jacket’s collar as a form of protection. Thankfully, neither notice him, and walk past him. As they do, he hears a part of their conversation:

“Sean! You’re so bad!” She laughs.

“Can you blame me? You’re just so gorgeous baby.” Bucky feels his fists clenching as the reality begins to sink in. He was right. Sean is cheating on Y/N. He’s cheating on his best friend and the girl he’s been in love with since they first met. Bucky almost runs after Sean and confronts him. But before he does, his mind pictures Y/N, sifting alone in her apartment, completely unaware of the truth. And he realises what he has to do. So he starts to run towards her apartment.

On the way there, all Bucky can think about is the heartbreak that will be on her face when he tells her the truth. It’s going to break both of their hearts, but he has to do it. Soon, he reaches her building, and heads up to her apartment. As he knocks, he hopes to every god that she’s not in, so he doesn’t have to break the bad news to her. But despite all his hopes, the door opens, and Y/N peeks out. A smile grows onto her face when she sees Bucky, which causes another pang at his heart. How can he do this to her?

“Bucky...hi.” She smiles. “I was wondering if you’d come round. I need to talk to you. I-“

“Y/N listen.” Bucky cuts her off. She looks at him, her eyes curious. Sighing, he continues. “I have to tell you something. I was just at the park, and I saw Sean with another girl.” Y/N scoffs, and almost cuts in, but Bucky continues. “Please, hear me out. I know you probably don’t believe me, but I did see it, I promise. And the way they spoke about each other....I’m so sorry.”

“Seriously Bucky? You’re doing this again?” She sighs. “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe you. I trust Sean. I know you don’t trust him, but I know him better than you do. He wouldn’t do this. You don’t need to lie about him.” Bucky feels himself deflate slightly at that. Why won’t she believe him? Okay, maybe the first time, it was unbelievable, but now?

“...That’s not it at all! I’m just trying to protect you!” Bucky says. Y/N looks at him, a sympathetic look in her eyes.

“Well, I appreciate it, but I really don’t need you to. Sean and I were talking and-“ Bucky groans. That’s just what he needed. “And maybe...I don’t know, you’re jealous? Or you’re upset that I’m not spending as much time with you? If you are that’s okay, I’d understand. You don’t have to make up these lies. Both Sean and I are willing to sit and chat with you about this if you want, or I can come with you to your next therapy appointment if that’s easier.”

“No.” Bucky shakes his head. “I’m not lying. Please...why won’t you believe me?”

“Because I love him, and he loves me. When I'm with him, I'm happy, and so is he. Why would he do anything to jeopardise that?” Bucky feels his heart break again. Especially because he knows Sean doesn’t love her as much as he says he does. “Look, why don’t you come in for some tea, or a beer?” She offers, standing aside for him. Close to tears again, Bucky shakes his head.

“I’m sorry Y/N. But I can’t. If you don’t want to hear the truth because you’re so in love, I..I guess I understand. But I can’t stay here and watch you both together, knowing the kind of person he is.” He reaches out and gently takes her hands in his. “If you need me, you know where to find me. If not...well, I guess this is goodbye.” He whispers. He can see her face fall, and he turns and walks away. Bucky manages to maintain a straight face until he reaches the elevator, and then...he lets the tears fall.

~*~*~*~*~

In the days after Bucky said goodbye to Y/N, he feels even worse than he did the first time. This time feels more final. Now he doesn’t venture out of his apartment at all. Sam has been trying his best to talk to him, and get him outside, but Bucky has been ignoring him. He knows he shouldn’t be ignoring his friend, especially after losing one already...but by this point, Bucky has decided that he might as well lose all his friends at this point. He just doesn’t care anymore.

One day, almost two weeks since Bucky said goodbye to Y/N, he gets up around the middle of the afternoon, ready to spend this day like any other. But he’s soon stopped by a knock on his door. “Go away Sam!” He calls. But the knocking continues. “I’m not answering the door!” But still, the knocking doesn't stop. Bucky huffs, and stomps towards the door, flinging it open. “Sam! I told you to leave me alo-....Oh.” There, stands Y/N, tears streaming down her face. Seeing her there, Bucky is silent for a while. Part of him is convinced he’s still dreaming, and almost pinches himself to check he isn’t. But before he can do that, Y/N speaks, her voice shaky.

“I owe you an apology.” Bucky stands aside, letting her in, which she gladly accepts. She sits on his couch, bringing her knees up to her face as Bucky closes the door.

“Do you uh..do you want something to drink? Or eat?” He offers. Y/N shakes her head, and Bucky sits down beside her. “What happened?” He asks, although he already has a feeling what it is.

“Well...you were right. He cheated on me. I uh...I came home from work early, and went over to his place to surprise him. I let myself in and...he was fucking some girl on the couch. Guess I got the surprise.” She sniffles again, before bursting into tears.

“Oh doll...” Bucky soothes. “Come here.” He opens his non metal arm, and she scoots over to him. He wraps his arm around her, pulling her into his chest, and holds her as she cries. Anger grows within him as she cries her eyes out. He’s going to kill him.

“I’m...I’m sorry Bucky. I just feel...so stupid! How could I have not believed you! You were just trying to tell me the truth...and I didn’t listen! I said you were a liar!” She wails, and Bucky rubs her back.

“No, no. It’s okay. You don’t have to apologise.”

“B-B-But I was so horrible to you, a-and condescending. I’m the worst friend ever!” She sniffles. Bucky knows his shirt is definitely drenched with tears by now, but he doesn’t care. All he cares about is making sure Y/N is happy.

“Y/N. It’s okay. Honestly. You were in love, and that’s totally understandable. I wouldn’t have believed me either.” She looks as if she doesn’t fully believe what he’s saying, but doesn’t say anything regardless. Instead, they both sit together, and Bucky gently rubs her back and down her arms, letting her cry out all her tears. “Tell you what. How about you stay over here tonight? I think there’s still some of your things here from when you last stayed over. I have a shirt I can give you if there isn’t. We can order some takeout, whatever you want, and we can play some video games...watch a movie, even one of those Disney ones you like so much.” Y/N smiles at that, and Bucky smiles with her. "There’s that smile I love so much. And tomorrow, I’ll go with you to his place, and we can grab your stuff. I can also kick his ass, or just stand around looking intimidating, whatever works.” Y/N lets out a loud laugh at that, making Bucky’s smile grow even wider. Hearing her laugh again is great.

“You are great at that, I have to admit.” She nods. Bucky winks. “Thanks Bucky. You’re the best. I don’t know what I did to deserve you in my life.” Bucky’s heart soars at that. It’s been a long time since someone told him that.

“You know doll, I ask myself the same question about you too.” He responds, making her smile. Before either can say anything though, there’s another knock at he door. Both look at each other, confused. “Sam? Is that you?” Bucky calls. They get their answer a few seconds later.

“Y/N? Are you in there? Let me in please!” Sean’s voice calls.

“Oh god, what is he doing here?” Y/N groans. Getting progressively angrier and protective, Bucky gets up off the couch, heading towards the door. Y/N gets up too, and Bucky gently moves her behind him for protection. Bucky opens the door, and Sean looks up, spotting Y/N behind Bucky.

“Oh of course. She ran to the cyborg.” He scoffs. Bucky can smell some alcohol on his breath. His body tenses.

“Sean, what the fuck?! Don’t speak to him like that! Especially not when you’re the one who I just caught cheating on me.” Y/N orders, but she’s ignored. Sean looks at Bucky’s angry face, and laughs.

“I should’ve known. I can’t believe you’re getting mad at me for cheating once. Look at the two of you! Maybe I should’ve kept my eyes on you both. Who’s to say you didn’t cheat on me with him, huh?” Bucky’s fists clench, and Sean picks up on this immediately. “Oh, look. What are you going to do to me, Winter Soldier? Are you going to kill me?” Bucky thinks it over for a moment, then laughs. Sean looks confused.

“I was thinking about it, but actually no, I won’t. I think I’ll let her handle it.” He smirks, standing aside to let Y/N step forward. She does...and immediately kicks Sean right in his balls, causing him to double over and groan in pain.

“You’re a fucking asshole. Bucky was right about you, and I should’ve listened to him instead of your dumb ass. Because of you, I almost lost one of the best things I've ever had in my life. And you only cheated on me once? Really? Somehow, I doubt that.” She hisses. “Tomorrow, I’m going to come and pick up my stuff, and you can come and get yours from mine. Whether it’ll all be intact or in the garbage, I don’t know. After that, you’re going to stay away from Bucky and I. Do you understand?” When he doesn’t reply fast enough, she kicks him in the leg, causing another groan. “Do you understand?!” She repeats, her voice angrier.

“Yes! Yes! I got it!” He says quickly. Y/N stands up straight again.

“Good. Now go back to whoever you were fucking on the couch, and leave us the fuck alone.” She orders, walking back into the apartment and slamming the door.

“Hey! That was great!” Bucky grins. “You sure showed him better than I ever could.”

“You really think so?” She asks, still slightly hyped on adrenaline. Bucky holds his arms out, pulling her into a tight hug.

“Yes! Of course I do!” He encourages, squeezing her even tighter. They stay like that for a while, until the pair suddenly realise just how close they are to each other. They awkwardly spring apart, and both blush. Even though Bucky likes being so close to her, and wishes it could be like that all the time...he also knows how weird it is to do that to his best friend, especially when she just found her boyfriend cheating on her. “Um...wanna order a pizza?” He asks, and Y/N nods.

~*~*~*~*~

Later that night, Bucky and Y/N lay side by side on Bucky’s couch, a large cheese pizza between their legs, and an half finished bottle of rosé on the floor beside the couch...mostly for Y/N. The opening song to Beauty and the Beast plays on the television in front of them. “Here’s where she meets Prince Charming, but she won’t discover that it’s him til chapter three....” Y/N sings to herself, and she looks over at Bucky as she does. A small smile plays on her lips, and she starts to giggle. Bucky raises an eyebrow, asking if everything is okay. “It’s uh...it’s dumb. Well, not dumb. I was being dumb.” Y/N speaks quickly, before giggling even more. Bucky looks confused, and she continues. “I probably shouldn’t say this until I’m sober, but I’ve had a rough day and I have to let this out. It’s been eating me up inside for the past few days, and this afternoon.”

Bucky pauses the movie, and turns to her. “Well that line kind of fits us! I mean....uh. I wasn’t being entirely honest with you at first. When Sean came over, and he said he should have kept his eyes on us, uh...” She takes a breath in an attempt to compose herself. “A few days ago, we had an argument about you...well, me and you.” She clarifies. “He was convinced that I liked you more than I liked him, and when I was on my way over here, I had a think about it, and....I think he’s maybe right.” Bucky almost feels his heart stop at that moment. She...likes him? Does she mean..in that way? Y/N continues. “I asked myself why I kept listening to him instead of you, and I realised...I wasn’t ever in love with him that much. But you...god Bucky, I’ve been in love with you since I met you. I just didn’t think you liked me in that way, so when a guy showed up who said he liked me, I kind of jumped at that and didn’t want to lose it, even when it’s obvious he didn’t love me. I was just so desperate to be loved, I blocked everything else out. And look where it got me.” She scoffs, finishes her glass of wine, and places it down. “I’m sorry Bucky. For everything.”

“You don’t have to apologise. I told you.” Bucky replies, still in shock she might like him back.

“I know, I know, but I do. And for what it’s worth, it’s okay if you don’t like me in that way. I just had to let it out. I’d understand if you don’t.” Without even responding, Bucky leans forward, and gently presses a kiss to her lips.

“Well...I do. I have for a long time.” He whispers. Y/N’s eyes go wide, and her cheeks flush.

“Oh...” She trails off. “Well, would you uh...would you like to go out with me sometime? On a date?” She asks. Bucky chuckles softly.

“I would love to. But first, can I ask you to do something for me?” Y/N nods. “Can you kiss me again?” He asks. Smiling, both lean forward, pressing a kiss to each other’s lips. Even though both have no idea where their relationship will go from here, they’re ready to face it together.

And this time, Bucky doesn’t hate her new boyfriend. At least...not too much.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky imagine #bucky fic #bucky x y/n #fanfiction #fanfic

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hargrove-mayfields · 3 years

Text

Day four of the Horror on Cherry Lane Challenge! Today’s prompt was Sunglasses!

Steve has a lot of secrets. Too many probably.

Most teenagers’ secrets are things like sleeping with the wrong people, smoking the cheap shit the jocks pass out, broken curfews and failing grades. He’s got all of those too, but Steve's secret runs much deeper than that.

His is the kind of secret that’d have men in black suits coming to take him away, or at this point, more than a decade after letting him go in the first place, putting a bullet in the back of his skull and calling it a day before any trouble comes up.

He’s been stuck in Hawkins all his life. Been fed the knowledge about the world off a silver spoon he didn’t ask for. His first five years of life are well forgotten to shock therapy and to the lab, where they intended to use him and the rest of the kids like him as weapons. Pawns in their big game of life.

But Steve was different. He could turn his powers off, make them undetectable by the machines they hooked him up to. They thought he was just a failure, so after so long, they wiped his brain with their very own cocktail of drugs and just let him go. Adopted him out to a middle aged dink couple who wouldn’t run their mouths about where their little bundle of joy came from as long as their pockets were lined with enough hush money, and that was that.

It didn’t take long for them to realize though, that he wasn’t as normal as they had been convinced he was. Not even knowing he was doing anything wrong, little Stevie would have outbursts, or small tantrums as momma always tried to convince everyone who told her Steve was too much for her to handle.

These weren’t just normal crying fits though. Anyone who got near him would be just as sad or scared or frustrated as he was. A single sob from that boy had enough power to crack the foundations of the family home.

Most kids when they have a cranky morning will get on the nerves of their parents, but Steve could disrupt the whole neighborhood without even realizing it. And that was his power.

They didn’t have a name for it, really. The range of what he can do is too broad, too undefined by anything else. There was a telekinetic girl, a pyrokinetic he’s pretty sure is dead now. But Steve was just special. Part of what made it so easy to go under their radar was this, but it also made him a risk.

The only reason he wasn’t immediately reported and given back to the bad men was the power this frail boy carried. It scared Ruthie and John, and they decided that they’d rather face the men at that lab again than a seven year old who could accidentally destroy them with his emotions.

So they kept him, and certainly kept their distance. They forced him into a little mold of how to behave properly and made him take pills to weaken his powers. They send him to behavioral therapy and make him act like he’s not a failed government experiment. A fact which he only learned a couple of years ago after his pills worked a little too well at messing with his memory that he forgot to take them, and memories came flooding back.

For the same reasons, Steve’s bored of being careful. Bored of following all the rules and being passive, just pretending he’s like everyone else so mommy and daddy dearest are safe. He starts getting a little riskier, testing what he can do, since this is the first time he’s ever really had control over his ability. He finds a link with other people and their emotions, something of an empathy power, but he doesn’t get far in his research, because his plan very quickly goes to shit when Billy Hargrove rolls into town.

Where to begin with Billy. That boy makes him feel all sorts of things he never even considered. The very first day he showed his unimpressed (but very impressive) face at Hawkins high, Steve cracks his windshield. Oops.

He was able to tap into that control and tone it down, but that reserve dwindled the more he’s around Billy, and from there it just spirals. Bending the basketball hoop on accident, exploding light fixtures, giving everyone in the school headaches. It gets to the point where Steve has to come to terms with the fact that he had a crush on Billy, and that he has to do something to get it back under his control before somebody gets hurt.

That and he doesn’t want to get caught now. He just got back into the swing of using his powers before Billy interrupted his calm. Going back there, or whatever else might happen, is the last thing he wants for himself.

He settles for a pair of ray bans.

It’s stupid, but when Steve was still young and all but popping his mommas brains every single time he cried, she was desperate to find a way to get him to stop. She started to notice he’d concentrate hard on one thing and another would happen, staring at a lamp until it shattered, looking into her face until her ears started to ring and pop. So she does what she can to break that subconscious focus. Puts a barrier between him and all that he’s hurting. A plastic, race car themed barrier, but it does its job, and it worked every time until they got him on meds. So now that he’s old enough not to just tear the damn things right off his face, he figures it’s worth a shot.

Because nothing had made him this emotional, this out of control since the day he found out the truth about his past. Billy is special, and the very last thing he wants is to lose control and hurt him.

He still feels like a dope walking into the school with a pair of shades on. Everyone starts to stare in that way he tries not to let remind him of the lab and the doctors standing in circles around him, prodding and waiting for a reaction. Steve thinks wearing sunglass inside is the least weird thing to happen in the halls of a highschool if Tina can come in with a perm high enough to touch the ceiling, but whatever. He’ll get over it.

The fact that nothing’s exploded from how on edge he is, mostly from wondering if his momma’s trick will work and not because of their judgement, is a very good sign.

Boldly, he decides to put it to the ultimate test, and approaches Billy.

In his head, he’s so focused on just going to talk to Billy, he has nothing planned to say to him, but he thinks he would’ve forgotten anyways, what with the lazy smile Billy flashes him when he notices him approaching.

Steve’s gaze quickly darts past Billy to check for damage to anything, the racing in his chest from just a look like that typically enough to at least crack a window. Maybe he’s not as confident about this as he thought, or maybe Billy’s just really good at making him flustered.

Doesn’t matter, because he’s at the other boys locker before he has time to process what he’s doing, “Lookin’ for somethin’ Harrington?”

“Oh, yeah, I was just checking for uh, my fans. Yeah, they follow me around everywhere, you know?” It’s bullshit, and it sounds more than dumb coming out of Steve’s mouth, but it makes Billy laugh, real low and raspy and that’s a win in his book.

“That what the little disguise is for?” Billy hums and taps his temple, clearly referring to the sun glasses perched on Steve’s nose.

“Oh these? No, I uh, wear these ‘cause of the uh.. because I wanna sleep in class and down want the teachers to know?” His answer comes as more of a question than anything, so he’s grateful when Billy seems to be more interested in his excuse than the subject at hand.

“Pfft, yeah right. I’ve heard you sleepin’ on the basketball bus. Ain’t no way your snoring doesn’t get you caught before your eyes do.”

Steve just waves him off, laughs with Billy even if his heart isn’t in it.

Billy closes his locker door, switching the subject as the scenery switches. It’s all a distraction to Steve, but he forces himself to look Billy in the face as the other boy asks him, “Seriously though dude, you okay? It ain’t like you to switch up your look. You’re not hiding anythin’ under the shades are you?”

“Nah. Just been thinking, I’m not the King because I’m not cool anymore, right? So I’m tryin’ to look a little more.. interesting.” Steve’s not a very quick or good liar, despite the military guarded secret that is himself and the little black number seven carved into his arm, and he can tell Billy doesn’t buy it.

He’s a good sport though, throwing an arm around Steve’s shoulders and assuring him with a little jostle, “Aw, Stevie, you're cool in my book. At least as long as you quit comin’ up with reasons not to hang with me, yeah?”

“Yeah, I- alright. I can do that. Sorry for flaking so much though. Didn’t realize until you said something.”

“S’Cool. Just meet me at the quarry after dark and it’ll make up for it.” Billy offers, obviously trying to play up the coolness neither of them apparently actually have, and Steve can’t help but call him on it. “It gets dark at like, four-thirty, five o’clock anymore?”

“Fine. Meet me at nine, pretty boy.” Billy smirks, dropping his voice to add knowingly, “And lose the shades. I think you’re much more interesting without ‘em.”

#CherryLangeChallenge #harringrove #billy x steve #steve harrington #billy hargrove #experiment! steve #ej writer #story by ej!#this is a mess but that’s okay #I have two midterms tomorrow and can’t be bothered with cleaning this up again

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kookicat · 3 years

Text

A Gift of Telling & Trust

Nate's words fade away and for a moment, they're all quiet, absorbing the story. There's a sheen in Sophie's eyes that looks suspiciously like tears, and Parker has curled into Hardison's side, resting her head on his shoulder. He's got one arm around her, thumb rubbing absent circles on her side.

Eliot clears his throat, feeling just a little self conscious, and downs the last of his long neck before he speaks. "Before… Before my Mom died," he starts, voice soft, reflective, because it's been a while since he dug up the memories, and he's not sure how they're going to make him feel. "I was twelve, Erin was ten. Mom had been wanting a puppy for a couple of years, and one of my friend's farm dogs was having a litter." He smiles at the memory and glances up, seeing everyone's eyes on him. He's not sure why, but it feels comfortable, and he feels the smile get a bit bigger. "They were seven weeks old on Christmas eve, all bitty black and white things. Only one girl, and we picked her and snuck her in the house. We'd saved up our allowance to buy food and such. She slept on my bed, and we put a bow on her and took her downstairs at the crack of dawn." He pauses, accepting a fresh bottle from Hardison, giving the label a quick check to make sure the other man isn't slipping him one of his weird brews. He's not sure he'll ever cleanse his senses of the last one- pumpkin spice and mint, for christsakes, but the bottle is one of his favourites and he twists the top off.

"What happened?" Parker asks, because she's an instant gratification sorta girl, but they're all still watching him, waiting for the end of the story.

"Well Mom fell instantly in love," he says, lip quirking into a smile, "Dad took some convincing, threatened to take the belt to me but I'm pretty sure he was smitten too."

The end of the story isn't so happy, and he's not sure he wants to tell it and break the spell. "They were inseparable. Mom named her Dodie."

"101 Dalmatians? I loved that book." Sophie asks, and he glances at her, nodding.

"What happened to her?" Parker leans forward to poke him and he bats her hand away, gently.

Part of him wants to lie and tell them a happy ending, but life doesn't work that way. "She was in the truck with my Mom when a drunk driver ran them off the road. They hit a tree. Both killed instantly," he says, and his voice only cracks a little.

It's a hard memory, but he's mostly made his peace with it. It's nice, too, to be able to remember his family and share that with his new one.

Sophie presses her hand against his arm. "I'm sorry, Eliot. I had no idea."

He covers her hand with his own, for a beat. "It's okay. Thank you."

Another memory sneaks in, one he'd all but forgotten about and he laughs, earning startled looks from the others that only make him laugh harder. It takes him a second to get control and he's pretty sure they think it's the start of a hysterical breakdown.

"I'm fine," he says, and waves his hand. "Just remembered something. My fourteenth birthday, Dad decided I was finally old enough to learn how to use the grill. Bought a big rack of ribs. Damn dog stole them from the counter. We spent half an hour chasing her around the yard but every time we got close, she'd manage to escape. I'd never seen my Dad so mad." He laughs again, then takes a swig of his beer, content to settle back into silence and just enjoy the memory.

They spend an agreeable hour, just trading bullshit stories about past jobs before they decide to call it a night.

He wakes up the next morning, more hungover than he'd ever admit, to find a black and white puppy staring at him from the other side of his bed. "What the hell?" he says and blinks, rubbing his eyes, convinced he's seeing things until a wet nose unerringly finds this side of his neck. He rolls out of bed, scooping the puppy up and heading to his living room, trying to ignore the soft brown eyes staring at him.

Just as he suspected, Parker is sleeping on his couch. The bigger surprise is that Hardison is curled up in the recliner in the corner, one arm draped over his face to block out the mid morning light. He's pretty sure it was Hardison's idea to break out the tequila. He's also pretty sure that they killed the bottle between them.

"Parker," Eliot says, trying to sound serious. It's a lot harder to do with a puppy trying to lick his face. "Parker!"

She jerks awake, and he blinks, feeling a little bad about that. "What?" she mutters, shoving her hair out of her face and stretching like a cat, all liquid grace.

"What's this?" Eliot asks, with what he feels is commendable patience, especially considering the marching band that's doing laps of his brain.

"That's a puppy," Parker says, like he's being slow.

"Yes, I know that," Eliot says through his teeth. "Why was she in my bed?" The puppy lays her head on his chest and sighs and he knows that if this gets out, he's going to have to blow up an orphanage or something to maintain his reputation.

"Because she wouldn't stay on the couch," Parker says and throws a cushion at Hardison.

The hacker jerks awake, flailing and the puppy barks. "I don't think she liked that," Hardison mutters.

"Why do I have a puppy?" Eliot asks, absently stroking the dog's head, surprised by how soft and fine her fur is. It's like silk against his skin and it feels nice. He's always liked dogs, but with the life he's lived, he's never had the chance to own one.

"Because they were going to kill her at the pound because no one had adopted her!" Parker says, just as Hardison blurts "Parker made me do it!"

Eliot rubs his face with his free hand. He's pretty sure he doesn't want to know the full story. He's also pretty sure he can't keep the puppy, no matter how darn cute she is. "Please tell me you didn't steal the puppy," he mutters and turns towards the kitchen, needing coffee and food.

He sets the puppy down, watching her as she sniffs her way around his kitchen, clearly looking for something. "You hungry, pup?" he says, and opens the fridge, pulling out a bit of roast chicken and almost losing his fingers to sharp puppy teeth. "Guess that's a yes."

He takes out the rest of the chicken, chopping it into smaller chunks before dumping it into a dish- though not one of his good ones, thank you very much-- and putting it on the floor with a bowl of water.

"We're sorry," Parker says, leaning on the door frame. "A puppy is a huge commitment and we should have checked first."

Eliot pulls the eggs from the fridge. "Have you been talking to Sophie?" he asks and sets a frying pan on to heat.

"Yes." Parker stoops, picking the puppy up and stroking her. "She did say a dog would be good for you."

Hardison joins Parker, reaching over to fuss the puppy. "I found a rescue that'll take her and make sure she gets a good home. We can drop her off later today."

The thought of handing the puppy over to someone else sends an unexpected pang through him. "You checked them properly?" Eliot asks, adding pre chopped peppers to the eggs.

"Have you met me?" Hardison says, voice full of only mostly faked offence. "Excuse you. Of course I checked them properly."

"Make some damn coffee," Eliot grouses at the other man. He's pretty sure they all know the damn puppy isn't going to any rescue. He has to admit, some nights it would be nice to come home to some non judgemental company.

"She's so cute," Parker says, sneaking a look at Eliot under her lashes. "Maybe I'll keep her."

Parker is proficient at many things, including keeping Parker alive but he's seen what she does to house plants and the thought of her being responsible for a living creature sends a stab of alarm through Eliot. Hardison is sharing the same thought, if the look in his face is any indication.

"Fine," Eliot snaps and portions the eggs with more force than strictly necessary. "She can stay here!"

He knows he's been caught neatly in a trap when Parker turns to Hardison, grinning. "Told you," she says and ducks when Eliot throws a dish towel at her head.

#leverage #eliot spencer #fanfic #parker #fanfiction #alec hardison #eliot gets a puppy

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aknosde · 3 years

Text

Amicus Certus in re Incerta Cernitur

The first installment of my Reyna Swap AU, Alea Iacta Est // Percy Jackson & Reyna Avilla Ramírez Arellano // Hurt - Comfort // roughly two or three days post-Tartarus // tw vomiting & tw implied/referenced past child sexual assault // light swearing // 3.4k

(hey, @specific-dreamer, i started writing it :))

ao3

—————

Reyna exits her bed smoothly, flicking on the lamp as she goes. At night, when her cabin feels too dark and too small, the light is one of her only wards against her stiff spine and the shake of her shoulders. She ghosts her hands through her closet, searching for something thick and substantial, like the light and the reassuring click of the lock as she opens her door.

The floor of the quarter deck is cold under her bare feet, but the polished wood is soothing in its smoothness. She tugs on her sweatshirt against the cool temperature that accompanies flying far above the warm Mediterranean. Someone must have screwed with the thermostat last night–tonight–otherwise it would be compensating for the chill in the air.

It doesn’t affect the rest of the ship. The wood doesn’t contract or expand under the temperature, the boat doesn’t creak. It’s immune to the cold air and warm water in that way. She can’t quite decide if the silence that accompanies it is comforting or not as she descends to the main deck.

All of the lights are on down here, the rooms devoid of people. She knows that the lights of the lower deck will be off, because Leo sleeps down in the engine room, but the main deck is no man's land at this time of night. Someone has swept the floors, and with the lights on and undisturbed by organic shadow, this level seems more like a model of a ship than somewhere where people live. When the feeling turns from interesting to uncanny she finishes her route to the galley.

Though the galley is less of a galley, straight and narrow, than an actual kitchen you would find in a home. It’s large, even though Leo claims it’s unnecessary given his plate technology, and rather comfortable. A counter winds around the room, a large refrigerator with people’s personal food labeled, an oven and stove, and lastly, the sink: her destination.

She’s almost to the kitchen island before she sees Percy, sitting on the counter, looking for all the world as if he is a fixture of the kitchen itself. She doesn’t freeze when she sees him–she’s better than that–but she does let herself take stock of him, one leg hanging off the counter and his other knee propped under his chin, holding his head up.

His eyes look irritated, bags underneath that more closely resemble bruises, and a few pieces of hair are falling into his eyes, but he doesn’t do more than glance her way as she crosses to the sink next to him, so she leaves him be. Percy’s always been… observant. She could tell by the way he looked at her as she dropped from the Argo’s rope ladder. But since Tartarus he’s gotten quieter. Before, it used to just be a thing about him, not speaking unless he had something to say. Now it’s more obvious, like something or someone is keeping him.

She fills her glass of water and leans against the island, staring at the fridge.

She and Jason had had their own kitchen, as praetors. It was in the Principa, tucked out of the way, cold blue-greys and aggressively modern appliances. It reminded her of her childhood kitchen in that way. Cleanly impersonal–it more closely resembled an office break room. She and Jason barely used it, but still, they tucked their s’more supplies into a corner cupboard, and occasionally they would find each other there, making tea during late nights and early mornings.

The Argo kitchen is nicer, filled with warm colors and the smell of cinnamon. Percy cooks in here, she knows, though she has never seen him at it. When she had woken up that first morning after the disaster in New Rome there had been conchas on the counter. Leo, for all his initial grumbling, took to cooking in here while Percy and Annabeth were gone. His own little way of grieving, she thinks, taking a sip of water.

Percy lurches as if the ship has, uncharacteristically uncoordinated in his urgency. She straightens immediately as he twists off the counter and onto his feet. His forearms come down hard on the ledge of the counter, bracketing himself, and then he retches into the sink.

Strings of hair hang in his face as he does, she can now see that they are separated by sweat, and before she knows what she’s doing she’s across the aisle and holding his hair back and gives him the privacy of looking away, tucking away loose strands of hair. It’s deceptively soft, even with charred and patchy places here and there, and curlier than Leo’s. Memories of Hylla rage strong as she twists it around her finger, leaving no chance of it falling in the way again, the grey streak resembling a swirl.

Reyna can practically feel Hylla’s hands in her hair, her body sprawled against the wall of their cabin, head in a bucket. Hylla’s body, pressed against one side of her back, not overbearing, just a reminder that she was there now. On good nights they would end up in their bed before Reyna fell asleep, talking until Reyna’s brain could come back home. Hylla would twist Reyna’s hair into braids more beautiful and pure than Reyna could ever imagine being, and Reyna would complain about the smell of the bucket until Hylla got up to throw the contents overboard.

“Better your lunch than yourself,” Hylla sometimes joked upon her return, in that way people do when they are living through horrible things, doing horrible things, having horrible things thrust upon them. The memory burns now that Reyna isn’t there. She can’t find the humor in the joke now, only the threat of the first mate holding Reyna by the hair and threatening to make her walk the plank if she didn’t stop crying.

She couldn’t stop, but he didn’t seem to understand that, he just held her wrists until Hylla was there, in his cabin, talking with her voice smooth in a way it had never been before the Queen Anne’s Revenge. She talked until Reyna was allowed to leave, until the door shut with her still inside.

That was the night Blackbeard and his crew decided Reyna wasn’t worth it, a night she would forever be thankful for. Reyna couldn’t recover as fast as Hylla, she couldn’t put up with as much, she was wrecked after each encounter, and that night she would be thankful for it, and the day after, and the next, until she and Hylla were running the ship and she never had to think about it again.

Percy pants against the sink, signaling that he is done, and she takes a step back, suddenly uncomfortable and anxious for something to do.

She decides on giving him her glass of water–gods know he needs it more than she does–and watches him down the whole thing greedily. An air of clarity seems to blow through him, clearing his eyes and fixing his posture. Maybe that is the magic of a child of Poseidon. Water: an instant cure to all ailments.

“Thank you,” he says with a gasp as he finishes drinking. He wipes some vomit off a corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, frowning before he rinses it off in the sink. Reyna nods serenely in response, no judgement.

It’s a wrestle with herself, to decide if she wants to ask what has him puking his guts out. The fine line she always walks is taunting her, telling her not to alienate people, telling her that knowledge is power. The voice sounds suspiciously like Michelle, which only makes her prickle further. It’s a moot point, regardless. She can remember sitting with Thalia, legs swinging over the edge of a bridge, “I loved him to pieces, Reyna, but that asshole wouldn’t tell me he was hurt unless I pinned him down and threatened to zap his eyebrows off.” She’s going to ask.

“Are you okay?” They are hollow words, because none of them are, and she knows his answer.

“I’m fine,” And then a second later he is over the sink again, all of the water coming right back up.

She takes a place behind him, Hylla’s place, holding his hair back and drawing on his back with her other hand. She can feel his muscles clench each time more of his stomach empties, takes in his breathy swears, traces the letters on the back of his New Rome hoodie. She thinks it might have been hers at one point. It swallows him.

He pulls back, eventually, putting space between them. She lets him have it, but sticks to her spot, crossing her arms.

“Want to try that again?”

He breathes raggedly, head hung. “I can’t–” he lifts a hand to gesture to himself vaguely, but rests it swiftly, looking like he regrets the action. “I haven’t been able to keep food down. Since we got back. It’s too rich. Too much. I was stupid, forgetting how that worked,” he explains, reading the pull of her brow. “Forgot how it felt, too,” he adds, quietly.

She flicks the sink on, letting his remnants wash down the drain, and looks at him thoughtfully. He’s too tired to notice, or maybe to care. His knuckles white out on the edge of the counter, pulsing no doubt in tandem with his stomach. One of his legs begins to quake and she nudges it with her knee. He shifts.

“Is there a reason you’re camped out in here and not the bathroom?”

His breathing, slow and steady, a trained pattern, is interrupted by a faint chuckle. “Thought I wouldn’t run into no one. It’s not working out, clearly.”

He sits back on the counter gently, already clutching his stomach again. “I’ll get over it soon. Just a couple more days. I just–need to make sure I don’t tear my stomach lining.” His words come spaced out and slow, working between his breaths.

“Annabeth?” she asks, unable to mask concern, or maybe uninterested in doing so.

“Got over it,” he answers swiftly. It almost sounds like he is going to say more, but he doesn’t, and she lets it drop in favor of watching him. When he gulps she’s already by his side.

This time bile is the only thing that comes up. He hacks, searching for more, but all that's left is acid. She’s supporting almost his entire weight with one arm. A twitch of worry makes her muscles tense, alien to any type of worry she experienced while he and Annabeth were in the pits of hell. This is immediate, intimate, not abstract. Like seeing Jason’s face dripping gold.

Percy’s whole body shudders, head so deep in the sink she thinks he might be able to touch the sick and the porcelain with his nose if he were to go any further, but the spell seems to have stopped. His arms shake against the counter, and before he can follow through with getting his own vomit plastered across his face she uses her hold on his hair to gently tilt his head towards her.

His eyes are almost completely unfocused, squinting against the kitchen lighting behind her. His water lines have released their tears, finally surmounting the amount of control he had been maintaining. He looks utterly wrecked, and not in the deranged and semi-wild way he had been fresh out of the Doors of Death.

She switches her arm from propping him up to wrapping it around him, keeping him from falling back against the sink and grunting between his weight and his condition. His limbs are loose with relief, now. Almost limp. She orients him until he’s pressed against her hip, utterly malleable under her hands. An odd sense of warmth seems to travel up her arms and into her heart as he slots against her. From what she’s seen, from what she knows, Percy is not one to be controlled. He rebels against it, particularly resistant to anyone who is not a peer, or better yet, a friend. Yet here he is, letting her move his body for him.

It’s something she could never imagine herself doing; willingly handing herself over like this. But with the warmth is a new desire, a spark of hope that one day she will grow with people until she can let them take care of her like this.

“Let’s get you to the med bay,” she says.

“No.” It comes quiet and breathy, and then again with urgency, “No. Annabeth likes to take inventory there when she can’t sleep. Not the med bay.”

Avoiding the med bay on account of Annabeth is a stupid decision, but she reminds herself that Percy cares more about other people than he does himself. He doesn’t want Annabeth to be worried, Reyna thinks, to keep his problems to himself, and though that is not always the best plan, it’s not the worst. Reyna recognizes the necessity of keeping your shit to yourself. Percy might be one of the only people she knows that understands that and deserves it, so she just sighs.

“Okay.” She hooks her other arm under his, making sure he’s steady, and lowers him to the floor. “We’ll just set up camp here.”

He presses the back of his head against the cabinets, hands groping the cool stone floor, and then lets himself tip fully onto it. No complaints. Apparently he likes the change in location. She grabs a dish towel, folding it up and sliding it under his head, and a bowl, if he needs to give up his internal organs while she’s gone and can’t quite make it to the sink. With a shove of his shoulder he turns on his side, loosely grabbing his stomach and making her feel safe in the fact that he can’t choke on his own vomit.

She feels funny when she stands again, brushing her hands against her pant legs. She’s never taken care of someone like this before, never had to. She and Jason were there for each other during their fair share of unfortunate situations, but she never had to watch him like this; curled up on the ground, shaking, weak. She wonders if he was ever caught like this, in the bathroom across the hall. If he had ever wanted to ask her for help.

Annabeth isn’t in the med bay when Reyna goes to scrounge up some anti-nausea medication, and she isn’t coming down the stairs when Reyna makes her way back to the kitchen. Percy’s in the same spot, though. She supposes that counts for something as she sits next to his head, reading the directions on the back of the box.

It’s generic, a syrupy red that reminds her of fake blood in old horror movies. Percy coughs as it goes down, making a face and muttering something about cherry flavoring and scented markers.

When she’s sure he’s not going to up chuck the medicine, which would be a type of irony she is not ready for, she goes searching for something he can eat. The stores on the Argo II are significantly better than that of the Queen Anne’s Revenge, and greatly aided by the presence of a fridge, but she ends up with a packet of pedialyte powder she remembers seeing Percy use during their first week on the Argo. It’s orange, which she can respect as it’s the best artificial flavor.

Percy groans while she’s stirring it, and before she knows it she’s sitting by his side, letting him press his face into her leg. Her body seems to know what to do, even if she doesn’t, and she’s grateful for it.

“Would you rather rehydrate or take more medication?”

He groans again, nose brushing her thigh, and says, “Both.”

“Disregard the instructions?”

He hums against her leg, whispering her resolve into the ground, because she doesn’t argue. It doesn’t hurt that she couldn’t decide either, or that she has always been good at knowing when to break the rules.

“Whatever repercussions there are to this, it’s your fault,” she says instead, already measuring another dose.

He downs it like a shot and with a grimace, even though he is still laying on the floor. It manages to wring a snort out of her, as does the way he remarks that the straw she put in the pedialyte looks like a worm: “Which I’ll allow only because you chose blue; the best color.”

He fumbles in and out of consciousness, mind half addled, and she thinks she’s found a cheat code to becoming his friend. With his sharp eyes half closed and his height stolen by his horizontal position on the floor, too tired to keep his body wired and slurping through a straw because the energy to sit up seems like a far flung concept, he’s easy to see and even easier to like.

“You made the good shit,” he half slurs as he takes another sip.

“Yeah?”

“Grew up on this stuff,” he says by way of explanation. “It was free at my first school, low income and what not. Wanted to make sure we had enough calories to suffer through the school day. Picked it up at food banks, too.”

She hums, pretending he hasn’t just revealed something that she doubts he’s told anyone else. “Kept it around for the taste?”

“Malnourished after Lupa, just a bit,” he says arching his neck in discomfort before taking another sip. “I made sure to pick some up while we were still in the states. ‘Beth knows I like it though. I think she already bought some.”

“Yeah.” Reyna can vaguely remember something along those lines, sitting with Annabeth and going over supply lists for the ship. She’d been rambling and scatterbrained, which Reyna now knew was her default state.

He switches subjects after that, nothing sticking for long. It’s an interesting contrast to the Percy that she’s met. She wonders if he was like ths as a kid, or maybe it was longer than that. Maybe it was until they were swapped, maybe it was until Tartarus and she just never got the chance to see.

“You’re talkative when half your guts are down the drain,” she tells him, after listening to him ramble about the Knicks for a couple minutes.

“Blame my state.”

“I am, dumbass.”

“So rude,” he says in Spanish, sounding like her neighbors in Puerto Rico, getting together under the shade during the heat of the day, complaining about their daughters. “What’re you doing here anyway,” he asks, “Why aren’t you nice and cozy in your bed.”

“Obviously sitting on the floor with you is superior.”

He coughs out a laugh, there. Weak, but she can feel his amusement from the crinkle of his eyes before he sobers. “Really, why?”

“Nightmare.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Want to talk about Tartarus?” she snaps, because no, she does not want to talk about her historical issues with boats, or how she’s thinking of Jason, out there escorting a forty foot statue in an attempt to stop yet another war.

“Sorry,” Percy whispers, pulling his head back a bit.

“No, I’m sorry.” She’s supposed to be better than this. She’s supposed to be a leader, which does not include letting her frustrations out on others, no matter the time of day–or night. “That was unprofessional of me.”

He snorts. “We’re lying on the kitchen floor and I’m wearing Black panther pajama pants. Trust me, you don’t have to be professional here… And I’m sorry–for asking.”

“It’s alright,” she ends up saying, mostly thinking that he’s right. She’s about to tell him so when she notices that his eyes have slipped closed. “Let's get you to bed.”

“I’m not gonna sleep,” he grumbles.

“Well if I get you some more magic potion can you lie to me?”

He smiles at that, one side of his mouth going up farther than the other, like in almost every photo she saw of him during her months at Camp Half-Blood. “If you, Reyna Ramírez Allreano, get me more orange pedialyte, I will absolutely fall asleep as soon as I’m in my bed.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

#percy jackson #reyna avila ramirez arellano #reyna ramirez arellano #its been a while since i posted something for pjo #pjo #pjo fanfic #hoo fanfic #hoo #alea iacta est #Reyna!Swap au #chart writes #fic: Amicus Certus in re Incerta Cernitur #riordanverse #anyways I'm pretty happy with this and if you want some explanations or clarifications you can ask me or look at my final notes on ao3!#i already have another one in the works! it just needs to be beta read

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havenoffandoms · 3 years

Note

and “So why do I have to punch that guy?” if u wanna write abt it pls geralt x fem!reader

This one is longer, but it’s also angsty. I hope you enjoy it, nonnie.

Warnings: angst, canon-typical violence (someone gets punched), swearing, degrading insults (start under the cut), toxic masculine behaviour (not from Geralt), but fear not, there is a happy ending.

Prompt: 36. “So why do I have to punch that guy?”

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You have always been a little… well, you don’t like to use the term “odd”, because that implies that you’re in some way abnormal to everyone else. The entire village may think that you’re a bit strange, but that really shouldn’t colour your own perception of yourself. You’re unique, you’re one of a kind, and you’re different from all the other narrow-minded people in your village. So what? A little diversity never hurt anyone.

It turns out that your neighbours don’t like diversity. You found a way to deal with their judgement and their disapproving looks. It certainly didn’t stop you from attending the farmer’s market or visiting the local inn and at least trying to mingle. You can deal with the hushed whispers that follow you everywhere, you don’t mind the way people suddenly stop talking when you appear, and you certainly don’t pay any attention to the glares the elderly village women shot your way.

You aren’t looking for their approval, but the fact that you started, ahem, being involved with a certain witcher didn’t make things easier for you. When you first met Geralt, he was just passing through the village hoping to find a blacksmith to repair his sword. It turns out that the alderman had been looking for a witcher to get rid of the many wolf packs prowling the nearby forest, and attacking the farmers’ livestock. The entire village had been asked to pitch in to pay for the witcher’s services. You weren’t aware of the presence of a witcher that day, since you somehow managed to get lost in the woods yourself.

Geralt saved you from a very horrid death that day. You can’t imagine being mauled by a pack of wolves being all that terribly pleasant.

One thing led to another. Geralt saved you, so you welcomed him into your home, offered him a warm meal and refreshing ale, let him sleep in your guest room on a decently comfortable straw mattress. You didn’t have much to offer, but to a witcher, it was the very definition of luxury to not sleep under the stars for one night. So, you decided that Geralt could stay for as long as he needed… or wanted.

He stayed for a whole week before you two parted, and since then, he makes sure to stop by your village every year at least once.

This year, Geralt surprised you by dropping by for the second time in the span of two months. You’re happy to have him back, to the point where you simply don’t want him to leave anymore. But you know that the call of the Path will eventually take your witcher away from you. Until then, you’ll make sure to spoil him as much as you can, with good food, strong drinks, and a warm bed which you two now have taken to sharing.

Your trip to the farmer’s market is about as uneventful as it gets. You left Geralt to sleep in while you go fetch some food for breakfast. You know just how much he loves scrambled eggs in the morning, but his visit took you by surprise, and you had just freshly run out of eggs that you could use. While you’re out, you decide to buy some meat as well (the butcher’s son likes you, though, and he’s one of the rare ones not to sneer at you when you interact with him). You make sure to purchase locally grown fruit and vegetables too. It’s all shaping to be a very uneventful morning.

Until you make your way home again, and get stopped on the way by a group of men who have been following you since you left the market. You try to walk past them, but they crowd you and stare at you with lecherous sneers plastered on their faces.

“Well, well, lads,” a young man you recognise as the innkeeper’s son speaks first, “what do we have here? The witcher’s whore, completely unguarded. You know, I heard a rumour that the mutant was seen around your house late at night last night…”

“It’s none of your business just who is seen around my house, Thomas!”

You turn around, intent on getting away from these men as fast as you can, but Thomas is quicker and snatches your arm, whirling you around until you’re staring into his cruel eyes. His breath stinks of alcohol.

“Now, now. You really ought to be nicer to us, whore!”

“Let me go,” you hiss, making sure to maintain eye contact and not let Thomas see just how scared you are, “let me go, or I’ll cry for help, and I guarantee you don’t want the witcher having to come to my rescue and beat the living hell out of you!”

“Awfully bad mouth you got on ya,” Thomas’ mocking tone sends chills coursing through your body, “but that’s to be expected from a whore.”

“So why do I have to punch that guy?” a rough baritone voice suddenly echoes behind you. Relief washes over you when you recognise Geralt’s voice. Thomas’ hold on your arm tightens, and when he turns to face Geralt, he twists your arm in the process, pulling a pained yelp from you and causing you to drop your basket.

“He called me a witcher’s whore!” you cry out, your voice trembling as you fight back the tears that threaten to well up in your eyes and run down your cheeks. You see Geralt appraise the three men before him, but to your relief, he isn’t carrying his swords. You’d much rather avoid a bloodshed, not because you care about what happens to Thomas, but because you don’t want Geralt to be stoned out of the village (and out of your life).

“That’s certainly more than a good enough reason to punch him, then.”

Before Thomas’ brain can catch onto what’s happening, Geralt’s fist collides with his jaw, and a resounding crack follows where the witcher probably broke a bone. In his pain, Thomas let’s go of your hand long enough for you to run to Geralt’s side and hide behind his larger frame, a place from which you can watch as Thomas spits blood and howls in pain. Geralt is staring at the other two men, who look torn between helping their friend or running from the witcher.

“Anything else you’d like to add to that statement?” Geralt asks Thomas, taking several threatening steps forward as he does so. A pleased smirk graces your lips as you watch Thomas scramble to his feet and run, quickly followed by his friends. “No, I didn’t think so.”

“Thank you for saving me,” you throw yourself at Geralt, and in your relief, you finally let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Your hand! How’s your ha-”

“Don’t you worry about that, dove,” Geralt tells you, his voice now much softer as he cradles your cheek in both his strong hands, forcing you to look into his kind eyes. “Are you hurt?”

“He twisted my arm, but nothing major. Shaken, that’s about it.” You look forlornly at your now spoilt purchases. The eggs broke when you dropped your basket, and the meat is scattered all over the sandy path. “And there goes your breakfast and our dinner.”

“I’ll hunt us something for dinner, dove, don’t worry. In the meantime, let’s skip breakfast and get packing.”

“Packing?” you parrot back incredulously, “where are we going?”

Geralt rests his forehead against yours and huffs impatiently.

“I don’t want you to stay here a minute longer, and soon the villagers will demand that I leave anyway for hurting that boy. I’m taking you to Kaer Morhen with me.”

Kaer Morhen, the famed witcher’s keep, Geralt’s home. You’d heard stories of the place, but you never thought you’d ever get an invitation, and you certainly didn’t want to impose your presence either. But Geralt sounds so genuine, and the pleading gaze he shoots you tells you just how much he wants you to agree to this plan.

It’s not like there’s anything holding you back in this village, anyway. “We should get packing then before there’s a mob at my door.”

The next couple of months were probably the happiest of your life as you travelled the Path with Geralt, met his family and spent all winter cosied up to him in the witcher’s castle. For the first time in years, you finally feel like you belong.

#geralt #geralt z rivii #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x y/n #geralt x you #the witcher x reader #the witcher x y/n #the witcher x you #angst #havenwrites #request

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ladyvader23 · 3 years

Text

The Lost Saber

Set in the Dad Vader Chronicles Universe, this short is dedicated to @silvereddaye as a belated birthday present! Silver is such a great friend. She works so hard for her Star Wars server, and she’s so talented. Her art is beautiful, and I have the privilege of playing D&D with her, where she has one of the coolest characters ever! She’s just so awesome and I wanted to write something for her and the idea of Leia stealing Vader’s saber just...seemed entertaining enough for that very occasion. I hope you enjoy Silver!

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Vader did his best not to panic. How many places could his lightsaber be, after all? He was certain he’d had it on his belt when he’d returned home the night before. He was certain he’d had it when he tucked the twins in bed. Leia had, after all, asked him about it, and he’d explained its properties as a weapon and companion in battle. It was an odd choice of a bedtime story, he had to admit, but she’d seemed satisfied afterwards and didn’t complain when he told her to sleep.

Then he’d seen it in his meditation chamber that morning, and he distinctly remembered grabbing it...but now he was in the Imperial Palace and it was gone.

And the Emperor was watching him expectantly, a disobedient moff shaking in his boots as he awaited judgement.

The plan was to scare him before killing him by igniting his saber and casually and slowly moving towards him, letting the tip of his saber singe the ground. Then he’d stab him and let the man die a slow and painful death.

But there was no saber on his belt.

“Have you lost something, Lord Vader?” On the surface, Palpatine’s voice was as benevolent as ever, but there was an edge of annoyance there. Vader didn’t need the Force to tell him that.

Vader didn’t answer. Memories of all the times he’d lost his saber as Anakin flooded his mind, memories full of Obi-Wan giving him long admonishments and lectures that...he’d basically given Leia the night before. What kind of father was he, if he couldn’t even follow what he’d told Leia? Already he could picture both of the twins losing their lightsabers and when he brought it up, they’d point out that he’d lost his and--

He crushed the man’s windpipe and he dropped to the floor.

“That was not what we decided.” There was definite venom in the Emperor’s tone.

“The wait for punishment had the same effect.” Vader pointed out.

The Emperor scoffed and waved him away, irritated. “Come back when you are prepared for your job.”

Vader didn’t argue, and he was grateful that he didn’t have to explain the embarrassing situation further as he strode out of the throne room.

Where could it have gone?

He racked his brain, trying to remember what he might have done that would have required him setting it down. He couldn’t think of any, beyond briefly stopping by Captain Piett’s office to have a word with him. Had he set it down there? He didn’t know why he would have…

His comm rang and without thinking, he picked it up. “I am busy, this had better be an emergency.” He snarled, assuming it was an idiotic officer with news on Rebel movements.

“Um. Hi, this is Miss Kengall, Leia’s teacher?”

Vader stopped in the middle of the ornate palace hallway. He paid no mind to the guards side-eyeing him from where they stood. “Is something wrong?” Already his mind conjured up a million things that could have happened--most of them caused directly by Leia. But if someone had threatened her and he was without his lightsaber...though he technically didn’t need the saber to protect his children...

This day couldn’t get any worse.

“Well,” Vader’s jaw clenched. This woman didn’t know how to get to the point, did she? “Leia...um. She’s got your lightsaber.”

He stopped cold.

“It was show and tell. She wanted to show your--oh, stars, she’s turned it on--”

He heard the whoom of a lightsaber waving around, along with children exclaiming in wonder.

An image of Leia chopping a limb off of a child, or worse, entered his mind. While he’d dismembered plenty of people with a saber, it somehow was very different when the one wielding the weapon was a five year old.

“I am on my way.” He turned the comm off before the teacher could protest and began hurrying as quickly as he could towards his speeder.

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

When he arrived at the school, he found Leia waiting for him in the principal's office. Apparently, her teacher was at least competent enough to get her to hand over the weapon, because it sat on top of the principal’s desk.

“Ah. Lord Vader.” A short, portly, balding man greeted as he entered the office. “I was just explaining why--”

“Leave.” He growled as he glared at Leia. He watched her sink into the too-big seat, as though that would spare her from his wrath.

“But...it’s my off--”

Vader stretched out a hand. The man flinched, but rather than strangling the idiotic man in front of his daughter, he called the saber to his grip.

“...Very well.” The principal attempted to sound calm as he stood. “I’ll...I’ll leave you to it.”

Vader waited until the man was gone and the door had firmly closed before he took a few steps forward. The office was small, so it only took him two steps before he was towering over his daughter.

He didn’t even know where to begin. It was pure luck that no one had been injured because of her foolish actions. She refused to meet his eyes, too, which told him she knew she was in big trouble.

“What have I told you about asking for permission before taking things that are not yours?”

That seemed like a reasonable place to start, even though taking a lightsaber was far more serious than her taking one of her brother's toys.

Leia squirmed in her seat. “I...I have to pee--”

“You do not. Answer my question. Now.”

He had never harmed his children. They were far too precious. But he had no qualms about using the vocorecorder in his helmet to its full intended effect when the time called for it.

“...I need to ask.”

“Why?”

Leia squirmed more. “Because it’s not nice.”

He hadn’t ever explained it that way. He was a Sith, he did not care for niceties, but he supposed it worked. “And why else?”

“Because it’s against the law and I’m not allowed to break the law till you say so.”

That was the reason he’d always given when explaining why stealing was wrong.

“And did I say so?”

“No.”

“Then you should not have taken my lightsaber.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “What you took from me is very serious, Leia. You could have hurt or killed one of your friends. You are too young for such violence.”

“I just wanted to have the coolest show and tell.” Leia mumbled.

“I could have assisted you with finding something far less dangerous.” He paused as a thought occurred to him. He hadn’t actually ever shown Luke or Leia what a lightsaber could do. There had been no reason to. They were too young to accompany him anywhere that would have shown them how dangerous it was, and he doubted any of their cartoons portrayed lightsabers.

“Leia. I want you to watch closely.” He said, igniting the blade. As the hum filled the room, she reluctantly looked up.

Just as he turned and sliced through the principal's desk with ease.

She jumped, staring wide eyed as the metal desk collapsed, the edges where he sliced through melting. He turned the saber off and motioned. “One day you will learn to wield your own saber, but without proper training, you could have done this to one of your friends or your teacher. Do you want to do this to them?”

Leia was still staring wide-eyed at the desk as she vigorously shook her head.

“Do you understand why I am so angry with you for taking my lightsaber?”

She nodded.

“Explain it back to me.”

She finally tore her eyes away from the desk, huffing as she did so. She never liked it when he made her prove that she understood, but she also knew he would not give in until she’d done it. “I could have hurt someone.”

“And you could have hurt yourself.” Carefully, he knelt down to her level. It was more difficult than usual, given the room’s small size and the chopped desk in the middle of it, but he managed. Barely. He reached up and cupped her cheek. “One day I will teach you to use your own. I promise. But for now, I do not wish to see you hurt because you didn’t listen to me. Do you understand?”

Tears welled in Leia’s eyes and she nodded before throwing her arms around his neck.

He was still angry...but it subsided slightly with her little arms around his neck, and he patted her back soothingly.

“You are grounded for the foreseeable future. No holovision. No friends. Not until you can prove that you’re responsible again.” He told her as she pulled away.

She pouted and held up two fingers. “Two days.”

“This is not a negotiation.” He pointed at her. “Prove you are responsible and we will revisit the matter of privileges.” He paused. “And I’m sure you are likely suspended from school as well. You will have plenty of time to think on the meaning of responsibility in the meantime by writing a letter of apology to your teacher.”

Her pout deepened into a scowl, but she knew when he was unswayable.

He stood and clipped his saber back to the belt where it belonged. “Get your things. We are leaving.” He told her as he motioned with his hand and the door to the office opened.

Where the principal stood, waiting.

“I...ah, assume Miss Leia understands what she did was wrong?” The man nervously asked as Vader approached, blocking his view of the office within.

“I have dealt with it.” Vader answered simply. “How long will she be suspended?”

The man swallowed nervously. “I...that won’t be necessary--”

Vader took one threatening step forward and shoved his finger into the man’s chest. “I do not care for your fear of me. You will discipline my children the same as you would any other. How many days would you suspend a child for such an infraction?”

He watched the man pale. “Uh...I, uh...thr--three days?”

Vader’s gaze narrowed. That seemed lenient for a child who’d brought a weapon to school. He leaned forward until he was practically in the man’s face. “You are certain?”

The man shrinked away from him. “...A-a week, but it was really--”

By then, Leia had emerged from the office, her pink princess backpack slung over her shoulders. Vader stepped away from the man and placed a guiding hand on his daughter’s back. “She will see you next week, then.”

Without another word, he guided Leia past the school secretary droid and to the front office door.

He did not miss the principal gasping, “What happened to my desk?” before they left.

#darth vader #leia organa #dad vader series #leia and vader #star wars #fanfic #my own writing

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nctwd127 · 3 years

Text

What Could Have Been?

Part Four. (Smut)

Several weeks later.

After what happened with Ten, you decided you didn’t want to mourn the loss of someone close to your heart anymore. You just wanted to move on and put all of that behind you.

So you decided it was the perfect time to indulge in your feelings for Johnny.

Ever since the breakup, you spent a lot of time talking to each other. Whether it was over text or phone calls, it was a constant thing. From morning to night.

At work, you worked with him the most because you did everything you could to do so. And even though he would never admit it, he did too.

The people around you were starting to notice the little things that kind of hinted that there was something more going on between the two of you.

They noticed the loud giggles, the handsy moments, the longing stares from across the room. The twinkle in your eyes and the playful smirks. Some have even accidently passed by when you were having flirty interactions.

But everyone had doubts because they all knew Johnny and what he was like. It would have been out of his character to get involved with someone at work, especially so publicly.

While everyone was in doubt, Johnny and you were having a great time together.

The first time you had him over again, he was really just there as a friend. Nothing more happened besides a light make out session for a couple of minutes.

You spent most of the time talking and getting to know each other more. He really opened up to you about his past and the history he had with girls.

Johnny felt like he could really trust you, he had no reason to think otherwise. And because of that, he really opened up to you. He told you his struggles in life, the ones he had before he even got where he was now.

He also told you the struggles he was going through at the moment and how hard everything has been on him. The pressure of being present for the fans and everyone around him was really draining him.

He almost felt like he had no escape right now. But you, you made everything just a bit better. You listened with no judgement, with no expectations of Johnny from Nct.

Because to you, he wasn’t Johnny from a famous boy band. He was just Johnny, a sweet kind hearted guy from Chicago who you wanted to get to know more of.

Slowly but surely you were getting there.

The third time Johnny came around, things were different. The energy and the vibes weren’t the same. There was something tense in the air, you could feel it radiating off your bodies.

You drank and watched a movie like always, at least you started too. But the feelings were too strong to ignore.

Before you knew it, you were straddling Johnny shirtless on the couch yet again, much like the first time. Hands were touching everything and anything they could reach, squeezing what they could. His shirt came off not too long after yours.

His face was buried in your chest, sucking on your boobs as hard as he could. His tongue played with your nipples as he pushed you more into his mouth.

Your nails were digging into his shoulder blades scared you were going to break skin but the pleasure was too much. You grinded yourself down on him harder feeling everything he had to offer.

“Johnny.” You moaned, throwing your head back, letting the passion consume you.

With his mouth still on your breast, sucking away and licking with need, his hands slide down your back into your underwear, groping your thick skin.

He pushed you down harder on his crotch, wanting to feel more of you, so much more. You moved with his body, with what he wanted.

“Let’s take this to my room.” You whispered in his ear.

Johnny pulled away from you and looked you in the eyes, “If we pass that door (Y/N), I am going to devour you whole. So make sure that is what you want.”

“Ravish me Johnny, I beg you.”

And just like that, you went from being on the couch in the living room to being thrown on your bed with Johnny climbing in between your legs without missing a beat.

Once that door was crossed, all hell broke loose and you saw a side of that man that will have your mouth water every time you think about him from now on.

Tongues were deep in each other mouth’s trying to savor every taste possible, teeth were knocking into each other at the force your lips were meeting. Hands were mixed together trying to unbutton pants.

You were fumbling around with his belt when he pinned your hands with his own above your head and pulled away from your mouth.

“We’re very eager for more, aren’t we?” He teased softly biting your earlobe.

You tried hard to keep your breath elevated to not give away just how much you wanted this to happen, how much you wanted him but it was very much not working.

Johnny heard your light panting and chuckled seductively in your ear, “Don’t worry baby girl, I’ll give you what you want.”

He sat up letting go of your hands, checking out your semi-naked body with his lip caught between his teeth, his eyes eating you whole.

The wild things that were running through his mind made him excited beyond his control, he could feel his fingertips itch with the need to feel you, to touch you. He wanted all of you.

Johnny looked you in the eyes and placed his hand on your cheek, “But not yet, there’s so much I want to do to you first.” He traced his finger from your lips down to your chest, to your stomach, to the waistband of your shorts.

He ripped off your shorts and laid down in between your legs just enough for him to be face to face with your aching core. You could feel his soft breath on your skin, goosebumps breaking out all over your body.

You were fully exposed to him for him to do anything and everything he desired with your naked being. The air was heavy and your mind was clouded with lust.

In the one breath, your legs were thrown over his shoulders and his face was buried in the depths of you pussy, savoring all the juices that were dripping off your hot skin.

His tongue licked up your folds, his nose rubbing against your nub for a split second, “Mmm, exactly what I thought you’d taste like.”

You shadowed his hands as his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips. Heavy breathing and soft moans were leaving your mouth needing more.

“More Johnny, please” You begged pushing his head deeper into your core.

One of his hands left your hips and moved down to penetrate your walls. One finger went in first to feel you out but you still felt empty.

You hurriedly begged him for more, it wasn’t enough.

He slipped another finger inside, pumping them slowly just to tease you. He wanted to keep hearing you beg for him, it was doing wonders for his dominate side.

“Stop teasing Johnny.”

Your tone sounded very order like despite your heavy breathing. Something in Johnny flipped like a switch, no one gave him orders, especially not in the bedroom.

“What did you say?” Johnny seized all actions and hovered over you causing a small whine to escape your lips.

When you started, the look in his eyes were filled with hunger but now, there was a fire burning behind them. A part of you felt like you were supposed to feel scared maybe, if not a little worried.

But that wasn’t case. You weren’t exactly sure what risk you were running here but you wanted to find out. If he wanted to tear you from limb to limb right now, you would let him.

“I told you to stop teasing.”

For a second you swore his eyes turned pitch black before they went back to their normal color. Excitement began to radiate off your bodies when one of his hands wrapped around your neck tightly.

“You do not tell me what to do (Y/N). I tell you what to do and you listen.”

Fuck, your body was experiencing a heat you have never felt before, with anybody. You wanted him badly, all of him and everything he had to offer.

Without warning, Johnny shoved three fingers into your aching pussy. His speed now was nothing compared to what he was doing earlier.

Your hands wrapped around his wrist with massive strength, trying to stop your body from shaking off the bed. There was sounds that wanted to escape your throat but they couldn’t. Your vision was turning white

Words were being spoken to you but they were barely audible, your brain was mush and could not make sense of anything going on around you.

Johnny tightened his grip around your neck harder and forced you to focus on him, “Is this what you wanted? You wanted me to finger fuck you this hard?”

“Look at me.” he ordered, burying his fingers deeper in you and curling them right at your sweet spot, his thumb rubbing circles on your nub.

He wanted you to ride his fingers while you came, he wanted you to feel everything inch of his fingers.

“I’m gon-” You moaned, throwing your head back into the pillows with pure pleasure, your nails digging into his skin. Your legs were trying hard to close around his hand before he pushed them open with his elbow.

Your body couldn’t hold it any longer, you shook uncontrollably and let go. You gushed of sweet relief, there was an ache in your throat and you were sure you were screaming his name but just couldn’t hear yourself.

After what felt forever, the wave of pleasure finally faded and your body went completely limp. Your nails no longer dug into Johnny’s skin, your eyelids couldn’t stay open, and your breathing was decreasing.

Johnny got off the bed to get a cloth to wipe his hands and to clean you up a bit. While doing so, he was gentle and you laid with your eyes still closed.

Once he was done, he threw the cloth to the side and then kissed your cheek, “You haven’t said anything since you squirted everywhere, you okay?”

You laughed and nodded yes, not having any real energy to use your voice. You finally opened your eyes to look at Johnny in the eyes.

He had a smirk plastered on his face, feeling overly satisfied that he had you this drained from only fingering you. He couldn’t wait to see how you’d be after he was fully done with you.

“You think you can handle more or you want to tap out here?” Johnny asked, tracing his finger down your neck.

With your voice raspy and a smirk on your lips, you answered, “Fuck me Johnny. Fuck me hard.”

What Could Have Been?

Hey guys! Sorry for the long wait on this chapter, I've just been dealing a lot this last month. But hopefully I'll have this whole month to get back to where I was before.

Really hope you enjoy this chapter!

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drawlfoy · 4 years

Text

Mirror, Mirror Finale P.2

masterlist request guidelines

pairing: draco x ravenclaw reader

request: yes very highly requested lol

summary: despite never speaking before, y/n has a big crush on draco malfoy, a particularly broody and obnoxious slytherin. what will happen when they finally have to start associating? and what if they run into a certain mirror that shows you what you truly desire?

warnings: cursing!

a/n: so ik i said this was gonna be out later this week but i love you guys too much! here it is...the final part of mirror, mirror! it’s weird to finally finish a series like this but ohhhh boy here we are

taglist: @theres-a-dog-outside-omg @mey-rapp @kaibie @blackpinkdolan @the-wiener-soldierrrrr @sugarbby99 @gruffle1 @missmulti @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop

word count: 2.1k

“About time you got off your arse.”

“Hello to you too, Rena,” Y/N sighed as she dropped her satchel on her bed. Her roommate watched, bemused, as she began to unpack her things.

“How are you?” she asked, her voice noticeably softer. “I really missed you. We were all worried sick, you know.”

Y/N snorted, tossing her wrinkled robes on the bed and making a mental note to spell them neat later. “I do know. Madame Pomfrey was going to kill me for how many times she had to tell you to leave me and let me rest.”

Rena’s eyes sparkled.

“I’m fine, thank you,” said Y/N. “I missed you too.”

The two sat in silence for a bit as the cold afternoon breeze wafted into their room, carrying the smell of fresh snow in.

“So, anything exciting happen? Did anyone tell you anything….interesting?”

“No.” Y/N was about to turn back to her work before she caught the mischievous expression on Rena’s face. “What? Why?”

“Nothing,” she sang. “I’m just wondering. I have to catch up with my best friend, you know. It’s been forever.”

“It’s been the whole of four days.”

“It’s been forever,” she restated, jumping up and spinning Y/N around (who couldn’t help but allow a slow grin to spread across her face).

“I was going crazy in there.” Y/N’s voice was considerably more serious. “I never told you, but--” she chose to ignore the look of anticipation written all over Rena’s face, “--Malfoy talked to me. And he was so nice to me, it was we--”

“That COWARD!”

The outburst started Y/N, who dropped her things on the floor in shock. “I’m sorry? Rena, what happened?”

“I can’t tell you,” said Rena, her tone dutiful and mournful. “It’s not my place. Anyways, what did that loser do?”

“Er,” began Y/N, “I don’t know how much of it was real or if it was because I was on pain potion, but he and I--I don’t know, flirted? There was a lot of banter, and before he knew it he pulled me off the ground--”

“You were on the ground?”

“--he pulled me off the ground and picked the gravel out of my palms.” Y/N swallowed as she recounted the instance. She’d never seen him look so soft before. “He said he had something he wanted to tell me, and his voice got all strange.”

“And then?”

“And then Madame Pomfrey came to yell at me and basically--oh god, Rena, she basically told him that I dreamt of him!”

Rena snorted with laughter. “Shit, dude. I don’t think you should worry, though. You’d think any bloke with half a brain would’ve figured out that you were obsessed with him by now.”

“Shut up.” Y/N’s face was hot. “Anyways, I haven’t seen him since. I’d prefer if we could stop talking about this.”

“Sure, sure.” She took in a breath. “Wait, what about rounds? Don’t you still have to see him?”

“No. Flitwick told me I’m off. At least until next month.” If she sped through the thought, it didn’t hurt as much.

“Ending of a chapter, huh? How are you feeling about that?”

Y/N sighed. “Honestly, Rena, I love you, you know I do, but I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Okay? It’s over.”

If her words carried any deeper meaning to Rena, she didn’t show it. “Lighten up, girly. Maybe it’s not.”

“All I’ve done is make a fool of myself,” lamented Y/N, throwing her empty satchel in the closet and collapsing onto her bed. “I’m just going to go back to what everything was before. This hasn’t changed anything. Now, Rena, I have a Potions exam to study for.”

“Whatever floats your boat.”

Her interactions with Draco were few and far between in the following weeks. Sometimes she caught a few glimpses of a pale blonde head of hair as she walked down the halls to her classes, but nothing concrete, nothing even close to the amount of interaction they had while she was still bound to her rounds.

It was certainly a punch in the gut--after all, she did spend a good portion of her academic career thirsting over him--but the sensible part of her knew that this was for the better. Her schoolwork became her top priority again, just like it had been the years before she was assigned to be his partner.

So, given this pattern of communication, it was fair to say that Y/N was completely and utterly flabbergasted when she saw Draco waiting by the entry of her common room at 11pm one night.

“Can I help you?” she asked as she shifted the books in her satchel to be secured over her shoulder.

“Yes, actually,” he said smoothly, not tripping over his words in the slightest. “I have rounds tonight.”

“I’m aware.” She hoped that he couldn’t hear her heart pounding the way that it was.

“And I’m out of Wide-eye potion.”

“That really sucks,” Y/N said as she held up her hand on the door of the common room, uttering the riddle’s answer under her breath before she stepped in.

“Wait!” His voice turned her around--it was pleading, almost desperate. “I have an exam tomorrow. No one in Slytherin has any. Snape would kick my arse for waking him up now. I know you have some left over since you never finished the rounds, and I--I understand if you don’t want to but it doesn’t have a very good shelf life anyways and I was hoping you’d...that you’d be alright with giving it to me.”

She paused, completely stunned. The most hopeful part of her wondered if he had made this up, but she squelched this with a force that nearly knocked the wind out of her. “Fine. Come with me, you must be freezing outside.”

Y/N wasn’t wrong--the weather had taken a turn in the past few days to be bitterly cold--but it wasn’t like she’d object seeing him for any longer. She mentally cursed herself for being so weak-willed.

Draco looked pleasantly surprised at the suggestion and stepped into the common room with her, following her up until she reached the base of the stairs. “I’ll wait here.”

“If you’re comfortable,” she began, “I’d honestly prefer if you came with me. I don’t want to explain to anyone why I let you into our common room unsupervised.”

He looked like his mind was buffering the information for a second, standing with a glazed look in his eyes before he sucked in a breath and became the picture of confidence once again. “Want me in your room that bad?”

Yes.

“You wish.”

He scoffed as they climbed the stairs, Y/N a few steps above him. She thought that if she maintained the space he wouldn’t see how hard she was shaking and wondered where Rena was. Studying with Hermione like she told her she was? She hoped.

Y/N stopped in front of her door at the very end of the hall, decorated with a banner that had their names displayed in glittering bronze letters that moved in the light. “Ok. You can come in with me if you want--it might be a couple minutes since I don’t quite remember where it is.”

He looked amused with himself as she got out her wand and attempted to unlock her door with the specialized charm she and Rena had decided upon. Mortifyingly enough, her hand was too shaky to execute it.

“Hey, hey,” Draco tutted, holding his hand out. It enveloped hers and held her wand still as she muttered the incantation, unlocking the door and swinging it open.

“Er...thanks,” she said. His hand was still over hers.

Y/N broke the eye contact to dart through the door to a thankfully dark and empty room--if Rena had seen that, she never would’ve let her hear the end of that--and began rifling through her drawers as Draco shut the door and examined her room.

“You’re flustered,” he noted as she tipped over one of her candlesticks and just barely managed to catch it. “Is everything okay? Trouble in paradise, little Ravenclaw?”

“Like you care.” Y/N shut the desk drawer with an audible BANG. “And don’t call me that. Rowena Ravenclaw is rolling in her grave hearing you infantilize her good name like that.”

Draco laughed from his stance by her door--a sound that she hated to admit that she really missed. “I take back what I said. You certainly sound like yourself.”

Y/N’s fingers finally closed around the last bottle of Wide-Eye, which was quickly tossed to Draco. “Happy now?”

He sent her a strangely weak smile as he slipped the vial into his pocket, no doubt silk lined and expensive. “Sure. So this is goodbye? Actually?”

“I think...I think so.”

Y/N had moved closer to him so only about a foot stood between them, a distance that felt like a mile from where she stood.

This is goodbye.

Draco was making a motion to turn around and open the door when Y/N experienced the most severe lapse of judgement in the entirety of her 17 years.

She sprung forward, her fingers curling around the satiny soft fabric of his tie and pulling. Her motion was rough enough that he jolted forward, his eyes wide with surprise as Y/N closed in and pressed her lips to his in a very chaste and ungraceful movement.

The split second that it took for her to realize the consequences of her actions was enough for her to let go completely and jump away, apologies readily falling out of her mouth in disjointed and clumsy collections.

“I’m so sorry...Oh my god...I have no idea what got into me...Draco, I--”

Before she could finish, his hands were already cupping her face, his frame bent down the slightest so he could be more level with her. And he was--oh--he was kissing her, actually properly this time, without the tense closed-offness of her first attempt.

When Y/N imagined what it was like to kiss Draco Malfoy, she didn’t imagine him to be so soft. Or warm. Or gentle, or pliant, or whatever other good things he was to her as he snaked her arms around her and held her tight to him.

His kisses turned feverish, almost desperate as he turned her so she was pressed up between him and the wall. Everywhere his hands touched felt charged with electricity and energy, and as his hands traveled up and down her spine she decided that this must be what it’s like to die of happiness.

“Draco,” she managed in between kisses, pulling away for air for just a moment and sliding back down so her feet touched the floor again. “Can we talk? About this?”

“Thanks,” he responded, his eyes glittering with endearment. “I almost forgot you were a Ravenclaw.”

“Shut up.”

He grinned but made no effort to step away from her, instead choosing to drag his fingers up and down the side of her exposed neck. “What’s there to talk about? I like you, you like me, there’s nothing we need to do to complicate this further.”

“You...you what?”

“Yes, genius, what else did you think I was planning on telling you that day in the courtyard,” Draco said. “I’ve been avoiding you because I thought you were over me. That was horribly embarrassing, you know. Had to nurse my ego for weeks before I could garner up the courage to speak to you again.” He stopped to gently press the pad of his thumb into the little dimple she had in her left cheek, smiling uncontrollably as he moved his hand back to cup her face.

“How was I supposed to know that?” argued Y/N.

“Isn’t this supposed to be the smart house?” he teased.

She slapped his shoulder. “Don’t make me decide I don’t like you anymore.”

“Oh, so you admit it?”

“Admit what?”

“That you like me?”

“I’m going to scream.”

“Just from kissing me? Wow, I must be good.”

“I mean it!”

“So do I!”

Y/N gazed up at the boy in front of her for a few beats, admiring how the moonlight bounced off the silvery strands of his hair and how his smile reached every corner of his face.

“I take back what I said,” she told him.

“Oh, and what is that?”

“This isn’t goodbye.”

He smiled again, leaning in close so his lips barely brushed her ear. “No. No, it isn’t.”

#draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #dracotok #draco #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco x y/n #draco x oc #draco malfoy x y/n #draco x you #draco malfoy x oc #draco malfoy x you

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babbushka · 3 years

Text

Burnt Bridges and Goodnight Kisses

Flip Zimmerman x Reader x Kylo Ren

5k, cw: ANGST (severe depression, grief, mentions of the war, Flip going away to war, hurt/comfort)

(A/N: This is much more melancholy than my usual sort of writing, so I completely understand if it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. No pressure at all to read, I’ve just been Going Through It, and needed to get the sads out of my system. I won’t be tagging anyone because of the subject matter, but I hope that if you read it, it’s cathartic in some way.)

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

It’s a sunny day, and Kylo’s at the shop. Elbow deep in the engine of a motorcycle for a customer that doesn’t deserve it, he huffs and puffs around a cigarette to keep the nerves in his skull from going on the fritz. They’ve got the windows open, too good of a day to be completely holed up in the garage, they’ve got the front door open too.

When a shadow falls over the engine, in the shape of a tall man with broad shoulders, Kylo doesn’t bother looking up to greet him. He’s sure it’s the customer, and he wasn’t supposed to be there until three – it’s not even a quarter past noon, who the fuck does this guy think he is?

Against his better judgement, Kylo squints into the backlit silhouette of the man before him, and his brain takes a moment to process what the fuck he’s looking at. The face is familiar, the stature even more so…but this, that couldn’t be…was it really?

“Flip?”

He’s bald, hair shaved down as close to his skull as they were able to get it. His face is bare too. It’s the first time Kylo’s ever seen Flip without his goatee. The man in front of him is Flip, but it’s wrong, it’s not the Flip he knows. Could be a twin brother for all Kylo fuckin’ knows, but that’s not his Flip.

Until this not-Flip sighs, and his shoulders sag in the way that Kylo has seen too many times for it to be refutable, and the not-Flip becomes Flip and Kylo’s stomach clenches, because what the fuck have they done to him?

“Don’t laugh.” Flip says, still standing there in front of Kylo, blocking the sunlight. He’s got his arms at his sides, hands fidgeting. His thumb rubs against the inside of his wedding ring, and it’s only then that Kylo takes in what he’s wearing.

Instead of the flannel and jeans and those cowboy boots of his, Flip’s in a matching green number with black combats on, and he’s bald and clean shaven and that means it’s really happening.

Kylo’s going to be sick.

He doesn’t laugh.

He can barely muster anything at all as he stands up, only able to choke out a pitiful, “Are you…?”

“Yeah.” Flip knows what he asking, knows that he’s asking if Flip’s leaving. There’s a hardness in Flip’s eyes that didn’t used to be there, and the room spins around Kylo.

“I’m sorry.” Is all Kylo can manage, hating himself for not being better at this. He never was good, at this, at the whole talking thing, communication. You had always teased him for that, teased the both of them.

Flip wasn’t very good at it either.

“I uh,” Flip makes an automatic move to scratch at his goatee, but then aborts the mission halfway through when he realizes that there’s nothing to scratch. Kylo wonders when he got that scar on his chin, how it happened. “I came here to say goodbye and...to ask a favor.”

“Anything.” Kylo finds himself breathing around his cigarette. Flip watches the movement, and almost without thinking, Kylo passes Flip the zippo lighter that he keeps in his pocket. Flip accepts it gratefully, lights up a camel and mulls over it in his lungs for a moment or two.

“I need you to take care of her for me.” He says quietly, on the exhale.

“Flip —” Kylo’s eyes widen, his stomach dropping. He has to brace himself, because this can’t be happening, it has to be a dream, some fucked up nightmare. He pinches himself hard on the muscle of his arm, certain that he’ll wake up with your body sandwiched between the two of them but the more he pinches himself the more frantic he starts to get.

“I mean it, Kylo.” Flip steps out of the light, walks around the bike that’s separated their bodies, puts his hands on Kylo’s shoulders and steadies him. Flip’s always been the one to steady the two of you, what the fuck is he going to do without him? “I...I need her to be okay, understand? I need to know she’ll be okay. When I’m gone.”

“You know that she won’t be.” Kylo blinks back tears, furiously denies ever letting them well up in his eyes. He’s not sure what he’s feeling, devastation or red hot anger. He’s not sure it isn’t both, as he clenches his jaw and his hands shake, “Has she seen you like this yet?”

“No.” Flip’s voice is quiet quiet quiet and it freaks Kylo the fuck out, how can a man so quiet go off to fight in such a loud war? Flip sighs, he looks tired already, exhausted. “I said goodbye before getting the cut, I didn’t want her to have this be the last memory she might have of me. Wanted her to remember me the way I always looked.”

“You’re talking like you’re not coming back.” He settles on angry, his voice starting to raise, his cheeks starting to grow hot.

“I don’t know if I will.” Flip responds with a tight pain constricting the back of his voice that has Kylo shouting, has him starting to make a scene.

“Shut the fuck up —!” Kylo throws the wrench he’s holding, throws it hard enough to shatter the one fucking window they left closed, everyone in the garage looking at him.

Flip does the thing he’s always been so good at doing, grounding Kylo. He drags Kylo into a hug, tight and firm and sturdy. Flip’s always been so fucking sturdy, steady. Kylo hates him for going away, he hates him.

“Kylo you have to listen to me. This war is fucked up, and nasty, and some boys don’t come back. Most of us won’t. I’m going to do my goddamn best to come home but there’s a chance I don’t.” Flip tries, but Kylo doesn’t want to hear it, he doesn’t want any of this.

“No you listen to me!” Wrenching out of Flip’s grip, the tears have starting to sting hotter now, and Kylo almost wants to hit him, wants to knock some sense into him as his vision blurs around wetness on his lashes. “You’re not allowed to fucking die over there, okay? You’re not. You can’t.”

“Will you do it?” Flip closes his own eyes, still not having gotten an answer from Kylo.

Kylo’s heart begins to pound, begins to thud dangerously loud in his chest. He can’t say yes, he doesn’t want to say yes, because the second he says yes then Flip will leave. If Kylo can just keep him here, maybe if Flip misses the bus to the airport, maybe if Flip misses his flight he won’t have to go overseas and can stay.

“She doesn’t love me the way she loves you.” Kylo admits, and it’s an admission that hurts. He’s known it for a long time, he’s known it ever since the day you chose him after that boxing match all those years ago. It still fucking hurts.

“But she loves you.” Flip licks his lips, starting to get desperate in his own right, starting to grow tense when he scowls, “Don’t you love her?”

“Don’t you?” Kylo shoots back, rage coming in full force again, a dangerous and nauseating see-saw. Everyone has cleared out of the garage by now, it’s just the two of them. Somewhere in the back of Kylo’s mind he can hear the door clicking shut, everyone giving them privacy, and so Kylo starts shouting again. “She’s your fucking wife! Don’t you love her enough to not go?”

At the insinuation that Flip could be something other than completely devoted to you, he grabs Kylo by the collar of his black-tshirt, shoves him back against a wall, shoves him hard. Flip’s face is two inches away from Kylo’s, and Kylo wants to kiss him so badly that he could cry. Maybe he is crying. If he is, Flip doesn’t say anything, he only bares his teeth in a snarl.

“Look! I’m sorry that I’m not the son of a senator who could afford to put me through college so I could sit around and fucking tinker in a garage all day. I got drafted I didn’t sign up for this fucking war, I don’t want to fucking go, and I don’t appreciate you making it sound that way.” Flip snaps, shouting back, face shaking from it.

Kylo sees it then, the terror, the sheer and utter fucking terror in Flip’s eyes. Something about that, something makes him break, and suddenly Kylo’s doubled over, hands on his knees, trying to hold himself up with the force of his own fear; because if Flip – sturdy reliable formidable Flip – is afraid, then who among them wouldn’t be?

“I’m sorry.” Kylo cries, and Flip holds him, even though Flip’s crying now too.

“Will you take care of her for me?” Flip asks again, and Kylo’s still not willing to give him the yes, not yet, just a few more minutes.

“What exactly does that mean?” Kylo demands, vision going spotty as he tries to get a grip on himself. He can feel his sinuses going, and he sniffles and sniffles and sniffles until he just fucking wipes his nose with the sleeve of his tank-top, not giving a shit anymore.

“Just...keep her safe. Make sure she’s okay, happy. Love her.” Flip says it so quietly that Kylo thinks he’s imagined it.

“Love her?” He presses, and the two of them look at each other, really looking. Kylo frowns for a minute, before he catches Flip’s real meaning, and he’s afraid he’s going to be sick all over again, this time with shame – because he’s wished for that before, wished that he could have you all to himself late late at night when he was sure no one was listening.

He never meant like this, he doesn’t want it like this.

“If she wants to.” Flip nods in confirmation, “I’m not going to make her suffer and be starved of touch just because I’m gone fighting for Uncle Sam.”

“And what happens when you come back?” Kylo emphasizes on the when, not an if, because he has to believe that Flip’s coming back. He has to, it’s going to break everyone in this fucking town if Flip doesn’t come back.

“We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.” Flip decides, as the clock strikes one-o’clock. When Flip looks from the clock, back to Kylo, there’s an urgency in his voice as he asks, “Will you do it?”

That’s it, Kylo thinks, he can’t drag it out any longer.

“Yeah, I’ll do it.” Kylo whispers. He looks down, watches as one of his tears lands on his reflection in the mirror shine of Flip’s boots. He hates them.

With that, Flip’s done what he’s come here for, and there’s nothing left. There’s nothing left but for him to hand back the zippo lighter that Kylo had handed to him, so he does, and Kylo takes it even though his fingers have gone numb.

Flip’s walking away then, and Kylo watches him go, watches him for a minute or two before he’s sprinting out of the garage and into the sunlight, the dizzying bright yellow golden sunlight. It bathes everything in a glow that it doesn’t deserve, the world doesn’t deserve to be so beautiful when it’s taking Flip away.

Kylo sprints, a desperate last ditch effort, asking for something he doesn’t even know he needs, using a name he’s never called Flip before, shouting out, “Phil?!”

Flip stops walking, turns to face Kylo, only to get tackled by the biker in a hug so fierce and tight that it makes Flip grunt. Flip holds him back, the two men clinging to one another in broad daylight, right there in the driveway in front of the shop, out in the open, sun washing all around them.

“She’s not the only one who loves you.” Kylo whispers, face shaking, eyes flicking down to Flip’s lips for a split second.

Flip grabs Kylo by the face, a hand on his jaw, and crashes his mouth against Kylo’s. Their eyes close, and for a moment, Kylo can pretend they’re back at the big house up in the mountain, or in the little motel a town over, or even on Kylo’s own couch. But they aren’t, because you’re not here with them, and the reason you’re not here is because he’s leaving.

Something cold presses into Kylo’s palm – it’s the zippo. They break the kiss, and now there’s tears in Flip’s eyes too. Kylo can only wonder what the conversation must have been between you and him. If Flip’s crying in front of Kylo, Kylo can only imagine he had a nervous fucking breakdown in front of you.

Kylo pushes the zippo back into Flip’s hand and before he watches Flip walk down the sidewalk, headed towards a bus that will head towards a plane that will head overseas, Kylo tells him to, “Give it back to me when you come home.”

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

That had been a week ago.

He feels shitty about it, about the whole thing. He should have gone to you that same day, right after work. He should have gotten on his motorcycle and driven to your house and held you like he knows you need.

He hadn’t done any of that. Instead, when the work day had ended, and that customer picked up the fucking bike, Kylo went home. Maybe…Kylo didn’t know. Maybe he thought he could pretend everything was alright. That it was normal. Going home after work just like any other day.

When Friday comes around the calendar again, Kylo has almost forgotten that Flip’s gone. He had almost forgotten, until he started getting dressed for Shabbos dinner, and then remembered that there wasn’t going to be a Shabbos dinner with Flip for a long long time. And when he checks the calendar, he realizes it’s been a week since Flip left, and he hadn’t checked on you.

So he’s furiously ripping through the streets, half-dressed and terrified of the state he’ll find you in, blowing red lights and cutting around cars like the asshole he is, hating himself for not even so much as giving you a fucking call. The trip up the mountain is the same as it always is, but it’s different at the same time, different because he keeps expecting to see Flip pass him in that truck of his and it doesn’t happen.

The truck is under a tarp, when he finally makes it to your drive-way, the mailbox is filled with letters that you haven’t brought in. That’s not a good sign, none of this is a good sign.

There’s leaves on the porch, they crunch under Kylo’s heavy footfalls as he makes his way up to the front door. Knocking once, twice, three times in the little pattern that’s all his, Kylo tries not to chew his lip until it bleeds.

“Sweets? it’s me. Can I come in?” Kylo stands outside the front door, tries jiggling the handle. It’s locked, no give.

Kylo knocks again, this time a little harder, even goes so far as to ring the doorbell.

“Y/N?” He calls, this time a little louder.

Still no answer from you, and he begins to panic. Your car is in the driveway so he knows that you should be home, you should be. You didn’t like to go for walks by yourself in the woods, always worried about mountain lions, always teased Flip that one day he was going to get eaten. They used to tease you for your fears. Kylo wonders if Flip getting drafted had ever been one of them.

Kylo breaks into the house, breaks the window on the side of the house that he knows leads into the living room. He doesn’t break the glass, just the latch that keeps it locked, and manages to shove himself through the small square opening, crawling through the space headfirst, toppling onto his chest as he pushes himself into the living room.

“Fuck.” He sucks in a breath when he sees how much of a mess the place has become.

It looks like everything that was once on a bookshelf, table, credenza, desk or counter has been shoved to the floor. There’s boxes all around the living room, stacks and stacks of case files, of clothing. It smells like camels, there’s one smoldering still in a little ashtray on the coffee table. It doesn’t look like it’s been smoked once, just simply left to burn steadily, the ash long and undisturbed.

You’re on the couch, face tucked against the cushions, facing away from him. Despite it being bright outside, the living room is pitch black, all the shades drawn.

“Oh sweetheart.” Kylo sighs softly, as he very gently so as to not scare you, sits down on the floor next to the couch.

He switches on the little lamp on the side table, and you wince against the light, curling in on yourself. Kylo begins to rub soothing circles to your side, and you let out a shuddering sob, something wordless that catches in your throat. Kylo hates himself for not coming to see you sooner, he wonders how long you’ve been here, how long you’ve been on the couch like this.

“I know baby, I know. I’m here.” Kylo whispers, before trying to coax you up. It’s telling that you let yourself be manhandled without much resistance, too out of it to care. It breaks Kylo’s heart, he’s never seen you like this, not even when you were sitting by his bedside in the hospital after the big crash. A stab of guilt rings through him; you had sat by his bedside every night for a month then, and it had been a full week since he had even called you. “Baby we gotta get you put together, okay? C’mon.”

Kylo swallows the guilt, and stands, guiding you up up up with him. The moment you’re on your two feet, your arms cling to Kylo, your face shoving itself into his neck. Kylo just holds you, kisses the top of your head, tries not to wrinkle his nose at how your hair is in desperate need of a wash.

“I — what day is it?” You shiver around a hiccupped sob, red hot sorrow branding his throat.

“Friday.” Kylo responds, wondering what day you think it is.

“Oh, shit.” Is all you say, and that’s all that Kylo needs to hear.

“C’mon, we’re going to shower.” He tells you, but when you try and take a step forward it’s hard for you to stand up without his help. He makes the mistake of not supporting your weight and you go teetering over to the side, stumbling out from under yourself like you’ve forgotten how to use your legs. Kylo catches you, holds you close close close, deciding, “Fuck — okay, bathtub instead.”

You sit in the dark, in the bathroom. Kylo goes to turn the light on but you panic and stop his hand, not wanting him to see you, the state of you. You don’t say it, but Kylo thinks you’re more afraid of you seeing yourself. He doesn’t say it either, but the both of you know it. Kylo keeps the light off.

He sits behind you in the bathtub, your face away from him, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them. You brush your teeth, and Kylo doesn’t even care when you spit the toothpaste out.

Carefully, gently, he washes your hair, uses all the products you’re too sad to even think about right now. Carefully, gently, he listens to your sighs as he washes your back, your arms and legs, soapy hands sudsing up the water. Carefully, gently, he cradles your body as you lean back against him, his legs bracketing your sides.

He tries not to scream.

You try too, but you fail.

He’s got his arms wrapped around your chest as your head thunks back against his shoulder and you wail wail wail. Your body shakes and trembles until you have no more tears, until the water’s run cold, until you let out a sigh that sounds like you’re done. Kylo unplugs the drain.

The two of you sit in the tub for a long time still, long after the tub has drained. You’re both too scared to stand, unsure if your knees will hold you up.

Kylo doesn’t know how much later it is when the two of you get up and get dressed. Kylo ties the sash of your robe tight enough but not too tight. He puts himself in a pair of sleep clothes that he’s left at your house for impromptu sleepovers like this, even though this isn’t nearly as happy of an occasion as the sleepovers usually are.

When the two of you are dressed, he takes you by the hand to your bed, tucks you in. It’s bright, in the bedroom, the late afternoon sun dipping behind the mountains. It’s golden hour, Kylo realizes, and once again everything is too bright. In the sunlight your face looks…awful. You look like you’ve been crying for a week straight, and Kylo knows it’s because you have been.

Your stomach rumbles, and you look sheepish about it, which worries Kylo. Everything about this worries Kylo.

“When’s the last time you ate something?” He asks, not accusatory, just concerned.

“I don’t know.” You shake your head, voice just barely above a whisper. Your hair is wet, and in the moonlight, he can see your eyes shining.

Your stomach growls again.

“I’m going to order something from the deli.” Kylo announces, and you nod, a small good sign.

Kylo knows your order like the back of his hand, always brings you over a big hero when he passes the deli, likes to bring you and Flip things. It’s only after he hangs the phone up that he realizes he ordered Flip’s hero too, wonders what the fuck he’s going to do with that.

Flip’s sandwich has extra pickles.

Neither of you like pickles.

You burst into tears then, because you’ve just realized it too, and your face is buried in your hands now, and Kylo feels like he’s going to scream. Maybe he does, this time. Maybe he takes one of the pillows on Flip’s side of the bed and shoves his face into it and screams. He doesn’t know, he’s so out of his fucking depth.

Not for the first time, shame bubbles up inside Kylo’s chest. He remembers an argument that he had once had with Flip about his late undercover nights, how you had been so worried about the danger he puts himself into when he goes out like that. Kylo remembers shouting red in the face, veins popping out of his neck, that if you had picked Kylo, if you had been Kylo’s girl instead, if you had married Kylo instead, then maybe you wouldn’t be so worried all the time.

He remembers Flip throwing it back in his face that you hadn’t. You hadn’t picked him, and Kylo had to deal with it. Kylo had been bitter for a long time about that, he thinks. He’s not so sure now though, he’s not sure now what would have happened. There isn’t a man alive who loves you more than Flip, and not a woman who loves Flip more than you. Kylo sees that now.

You had picked Flip, and now Flip is gone, and Kylo is filled with shame, and you’re miserable.

“I’m sorry.” You’re crying crying crying, and Kylo doesn’t even know what you could possibly be sorry for, when all of this is his fault.

“Don’t you dare,” Kylo shakes his head, pulls you against his body because you’re shivering, and you’ve always teased Kylo for being so warm. “Hey, hey look at me. Don’t you dare apologize.”

“I just miss him so much.” There’s a tremor in your voice, and your pitch goes higher and higher that way it does when you’re starting to spiral, as you shake harder and harder, “He’s out there alone, and god knows what he’s doing, if he’s okay, if he’s going to come back — fuck what the fuck do we do if he doesn’t come back? How do we live without him?”

“He’s okay.” Kylo cuts you off, because that’s a line of thinking he hasn’t even let himself go down yet, and he can’t deal with that, not right now. So instead he wills it, he puts it out into the universe, “I promise. You have to breathe, stop holding your breath.”

You shudder out a breath, not realizing you’d been holding it until he said something.

“You can’t know that.” Your chin wobbles, and Kylo envelops you, smothers you with love. He’s not sure it’s the right thing to do, but he hopes that if he just…if he just holds you tight enough, it’ll be okay.

“I do though, I do know. I promise you, he’s going to come back. I’ll go over there and get him myself, if I have to.” Kylo tries to joke, but it falls flat.

You’ve stopped crying, at the very least.

Kylo doesn’t let himself think about how he’s going to keep this up for as long as he might have to. It’s only been a week, but what happens when you’re still sad a year from now? What happens when Flip isn’t back in two? What happens if he really doesn’t come back at all? How do you move on when your entire world is built around the one person you love more than anything?

Kylo doesn’t have you the same way that Flip gets to have you, but at least Kylo gets to have you in some way. At least you weren’t taken from him and put on a plane, taken far away, not knowing if you’ll ever return. How does anyone ever recover from that?

They don’t, he supposes.

But he can’t think about that that, not now. Especially because you’re turned towards him, and for the first time Kylo sees something other than misery in your eyes.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” You ask, voice soft, apprehensive and hopeful.

“I’ll stay with you as long as you need me.” Kylo promises, knowing that at the very least this is one promise he can keep.

“Will you kiss me?” You whisper, and Kylo’s heart breaks. You never used to ask before, would just pucker your pretty lips and smile at him and he’d give you one without thinking.

You pucker your pretty lips now, but there’s no smile, and Kylo’s heart breaks. He presses his lips to yours, and the sigh that pours out from your chest has Kylo guilty all over again – he knows for a fact that Flip kisses you at least a dozen times a day, and because Flip was gone, because Kylo was too terrified to do anything about it, you’d gone a whole week without them.

The kiss isn’t heated in a passionate sense, it’s longing, yearning. Kylo’s mouth opens and his tongue slides against yours, tastes the minty toothpaste that lingers there. You wrap your arms around his neck, and Kylo wraps his arms around your middle, and you kiss and kiss and kiss one another, until your breathing evens out and you’re no longer taking those shuddering shivering gasping breaths.

“He asked me to, you know…” Kylo smears the words against your mouth, smudges them with his lips, making them all fuzzy.

“Yeah?” You raise an eyebrow, knowing what he means.

“Yeah. If you want.” Kylo swallows around a lump in his throat, unsure of whether he wants you to want it or not.

“I don’t think I do.” You say, hushed hushed hushed like he can hear you, like someone is listening, “It doesn’t feel right without him.”

“I know. I just thought I’d mention it.” Kylo finds himself relieved, he doesn’t know why. He does, but he doesn’t want to say it. He doesn’t want to say how much he misses Flip too.

“I’m sorry.” You say again, and Kylo shakes his head, telling you not to be with another small kiss. This one feels closer to normal, and even though there’s food on the way, you’re starting to fall asleep. Kylo wonders if you’d been awake this whole time, waiting and waiting for a goodnight kiss. Your grip on him begins to loosen as you mumble out, “You’ll stay?”

“I’ll stay.” He promises, and this too is another one he can keep.

He doesn’t know how many others there will be, but he knows that at the very least, this is one that he can keep. You fall asleep in his arms, your hair on the pillow, shining in the last of the sunlight. Kylo lets one of his big scarred tattooed hands rub against your back, and he begins to hum out a little tune. Something soft, gentle under his breath, hoping that wherever you are in dreamland, the music will soothe you.

And if, when the delivery guy leaves the food out on the porch some time later, when Kylo extracts himself from your arms to bring the heroes inside and pay the kid, if he brings Flip’s hero into the kitchen and eats it so he can start getting used to the taste of pickles so that you’ll have someone to give yours to, then that’s his business.

And if, when he strikes up a cigarette and finds that he’s missing his zippo, wishing he had it back again, wishing he had Flip back again, wishing and wishing and wishing, wishing so hard that you must hear it upstairs because you come down to hold his hand and rest your head on his shoulder as he lets big fat tears slip down his cheeks, well.

Kylo decides he’ll burn that bridge when he gets to it.

#kylo ren x reader #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman x reader x kylo ren #angst #modern kylo ren #yes this is set in the personal au lol #but its also just a regular ol angsty fic too #adam driver fanfic #adcu #my writing

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buckysboobs · 3 years

Text

Damaged Finds Damaged

chapter 1

warnings: none

There was tension building up in the room, with alarmed eyes and nervous smiles being exchanged. Damon was stood towards the back, arms crossed, the flames lighting up in the fireplace casting yellowish hues over the side of his face.

"No." he stated, hinting at it being the end of the conversation.

"What do you mean 'no'? Bonnie's still stuck there with some guy who tried to kill you guys and apparently sucks the magic out of people, we can't just leave her there!" Jeremy stood up to make a move towards the older Salvatore.

Stefan held him back, "That won't be necessary. We'll find a way."

"This doesn't feel right guys," Elena cried, shaking her head. "We need to get her out of there, who knows what kind of a person Kai is, what if he kills her before we can—"

"Quick to judge people, are we?" Sarah, (who had always been on the receiving side of the gang's poor judgement) decided to butt in, raising an eyebrow at her. She glanced at Damon. "From the sounds of it, he had many opportunities to kill you and Bonnie when you two were stuck in that prison but he didn't, so I think she'll be fine. She's smart. And if he's been all alone, he wouldn't want to lose the only company he has."

"Stubborn ol' Sarah coming to the rescue with her condescending remarks." Damon commented, gulping down a glass of Bourbon. "We don't need advice from a hybrid."

"Oh really?" Sarah snapped, getting up from the couch and turning to the door. "Well in that case i'll just take myself and my advice somewhere else-"

Stefan blinked tiredly and looked at Elena for help. They'd be luckier if they had Sarah as an ally rather than an enemy.

"Sarah please!" Elena called out.

The hybrid stopped, chuckled and went back to her seat on the couch, but not before throwing Damon a dirty look, receiving an eye roll in return.

"So what is this Gemini Coven thing? It can help us, right?" Jeremy asked hopefully, awaiting answers. Before Damon could open his mouth, Stefan spoke up, exasperated.

"It's nothing, guys. It does not exist. I searched all over Portland for it but all I came across was empty land."

"Let's try again, then." said Sarah.

"It's not that simple." Stefan replied.

"Guys—" Elena tried to interfere. Jeremy looked back at forth along with the conversation when Damon decided to speak up.

"Yes it is." He said. "Now that Elena mentioned it, I don't want to leave Bon-Bon with that maniac." Damon was the kind of person who would do anything against what Sarah had to say because he's petty, and he doesn't like her that much. If Sarah thought Bonnie will be fine, he believed she'll be the opposite. He pointed at Sarah, "You, me, Stefan and Alaric. We're going to Portland."

"Where we'll find nothing." Stefan sighed.

"Don't be so negative, Stefan." Elena said, tucking her hair behind her ear.

|||

They found nothing.

They walked into the empty, green land, Damon's hopeful eyes turning slightly hopeless again as Sarah walked past him and gazed across the ground.

"Like I said 3000 miles ago, it's not here." Stefan said, walking right up to her. "Can we go home now, please."

Damon dropped the bag he was carrying and Alaric spoke up, "You know what, check the GPS again. Just because we don't see anything doesn't mean it does not exist."

Damon's coping mechanism was sarcasm, which is why he tried to tease Stefan to ease the tension.

"Not unlike Caroline's feelings for Stefan." he said.

Sarah, who had been quiet for the majority of the time they spent together, snorted at his comment.

Stefan sighed, done with those remarks. "Hilarious, keep 'em coming."

Damon pulled out Miss Cuddles and did a passable imitation of a high pitched voice, wringing the teddy's stuffed arms. "Oh no, is Stefan feeling sensitive for ruining his friendship with Caroline?"

Stefan glared at him as he continued, "She really liked him and he broke her heart."

Sarah was thinking when she heard Alaric add "See, Stefan? Even the bear knew."

She held back a chuckle when Damon went on in his squeaky voice, "I saw that coming from a mile away and my brain is made of cotton—"

A thought crossed her mind "Guys I think something's—"

"Gimme that." Stefan snapped at the same time, grabbing the Miss Cuddles from him and kicking it hard. It flew across the sky and before they knew it, there was a house right before them.

"—cloaked." Sarah finished, shrugging as she looked back at them. "Well atleast we're not going back empty handed."

Damon happily skipped past her and stood on the porch as he picked up the teddy bear. "Miss Cuddles, one. Invisible creepy mansion, zero."

Alaric, Stefan and Sarah exchanged shocked glances and made their way towards the door.

"Did Miss Cuddles just help us reveal something that I missed?" Stefan asked, looking down at the teddy bear in Damon's possession.

Sarah clicks her tongue, "I should have known." When they responded with a puzzled expression, she gestured towards the teddy again, "She sent this back with her magic in it."

"Wait, Jo did tell me something about how she stored away her magic in some object." Alaric mused, snatching Miss Cuddles from Damon.

"But why would she send it back?" Stefan wondered.

Damon looked at them with a grim expression, "To prevent Kai from getting out."

"Damn. He must be really brutal, huh." Sarah commented, trying to get past the door when she was blocked by an invisible barrier.

"We gotta be invited in." Damon said, banging his hand against the barrier. "Which means the owner of this house is still alive."

Sarah looked at Alaric, "Looks like it's your time to shine."

With a sigh, Alaric walked in.

|||

"Jo lived here." He stated, passing them a couple of photographs and newspaper articles. "We have baby pictures, pictures of Jo as a kid, as a teenager.." Alaric shuffled through them one by one with trembling hands.

"Hold on a second." Damon jumped in all of a sudden, "Rewind." He grabbed a photograph from the pile and held it in front of them, "This is Kai from planet 1994."

It was a picture of the said boy and Jo together wearing red christmas sweaters, their faces beaming at the camera.

"He's cute." Sarah commented, earning an eye roll from Damon.

"Does this mean Jo is Kai's sister?" Stefan asked, and Alaric examined the rest of the photographs, looking for more evidence.

"Either that or they both have a thing for Cosby sweaters." Damon replied.

They heard a voice call out "Didn't realize I had guests."

They all turned back to see a skinny man with grey hair and stubble walking towards them. "You've met Kai?"

Damon's mouth twisted, "Met him? Watched him die. Watched him come back to life. Why, you know him?"

The man looked at them one by one, his gaze on Sarah lingering longer. He chuckled, "He's my son."

He extended his hand out, "I'm Joshua Parker."

Damon shook his hand without a moment of hesitation. "Damon Salvatore."

Joshua nodded, "Invisique."

"What the hell just happened?" Damon heard Stefan cry, and he turned around to see his companions shuffling around.

"What's up with you guys?"

"They can't see you anymore, Damon." Joshua said and Damon gave him a questioning look, "Which means they also can't see this."

Next thing Damon knew, he had earned himself an aneurysm and was crying out in pain before things went black.

|||

Around half an hour passed by and they still couldn't see another sign of the house. Stefan was on the call with Elena and Alaric was questioning Jo about Kai. Sarah was listening to both their conversations with vamp hearing.

From what she had gathered, Elena was trying to tell some random guy that she was a vampire, and Alaric was asking Jo about the ascendant which she actually had with her all along. Her dad was a coven leader who couldn't let Kai out no matter what, and was willing to 'retaliate' if things went south. Her evil twin is a murderer who killed almost his whole family, and was stuck in the prison world 1994 as punishment. They really had travelled 3000 miles for nothing, and Damon's life was probably in danger. Which she didn't worry about much, if she was honest.

She jumped slightly when she heard Jo let out a yelp, followed by a few thumps and bangs. Alaric asked what was going on, worry striking his voice. Stefan and Sarah both walked up to him.

"Jo? Jo what's going on?!"

Next thing they heard was Elena's voice on the other side of the phone, "It's her dad, he—he's trying to kill her!"

"What do we do?!" Alaric said, "How do we stop him?"

"We can't see the house and i'm not invited in," Stefan added, "Jo invite us in—"

"Come in! Come in!" She cried in pain, followed by more coughs. She sounded like she was choking.

"We still can't see the house!" Sarah said. Elena carried the message and she heard Jo's throaty voice respond, "Ask them if they see an old tree stump in the yard!"

It was right there and they ran towards it, shuffling through the pile of dried leaves before Alaric pulled out a knife.

"What's this?" Sarah wondered.

"This is probably Jo's version of Miss Cuddles." Alaric replied.

Stefan grabbed it and shot it right across the empty land, where it stabbed into the wooden porch pillar.

Next thing they know, Stefan was saving Damon from the grasp of Mr. Joshua Parker who thought it was incredibly normal to vanish into thin air.

"I did not sign up for this."

|||

"So Papa Kai just tried scrambling my brain like an egg and you three are looking like someone shoved a stick up your ass?" Damon said, walking towards the car. "I did not get undressed at the airport for this."

"Jo had the ascendant all along." Stefan told him.

"It was 5 minutes away from home. And we travelled 3000 miles. How fun." Sarah wailed, walking up behind them. "This was so useless."

"Stop complaining." Damon said, rolling his eyes at her again.

Jesus Christ, she thought. "You were literally complaining 30 seconds ago."

"Stop fighting, you two." Alaric jumped in, "Now there is obviously no way we're getting the ascendant or letting her brother out—"

"We could just kill him if he escapes!" Damon argued.

"No, Damon." Alaric snapped, "I'm not letting another maniac kill my girlfriend."

"Girlfriend? You've been on like, 3 dates—"

"Shut up, Damon." Sarah and Stefan said in unison.

Damon however, didn't listen and decided to compel Alaric into stealing the ascendant.

"It's gonna come bite you in the ass." Sarah had told him, and he had flipped her off. Stefan had let him go with a disappointed shake of his head and that thing he did where his lips squeezed into a thin line to portray his disapproval.

Little did they know Kai was already out.

____________________

some of you really liked the prologue so here's the first chapter! please let me know if you like it heheheh.

#kai parker #kai parker imagine #kai parker x oc #kai parker smut #kai parker x reader #the vampire diaries #damon salvatore #damon salvatore smut #stefan salvatore #the vampire diaries fanfic

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phantompearlsalt · 3 years

Text

Sour Cherry, Chapter 17

Preview AND the real deal in one day? I’m on a roll 😎 But in all seriousness: super happy I could share this (more or less) on time with everyone! I’ve started working on a side project I’ll share more about tomorrow so I’m still figuring out my writing schedule. Also promise I’ll respond to all asks this week as well! As always, feel free to check out this chapter on AO3 and know that I adore all kudos, comments, asks, etc. You all make this journey such a gift ❤️

These days, things somehow felt slow and exciting at the same time — it was odd. There was so much at stake and all of it lay within the borders of Republic City. In a few weeks time, Kuvira’s spirit cannon would reach completion and the army would be on its way to claim all that remained to consecrate the Empire.

Although you still find yourself caught up the more bureaucratic aspects of the work — paperwork, meetings, more paperwork — it feels like you can almost touch the weight of anticipation that hangs in the air. Nothing else slows down but everyone appears to hold a collective breath as Baatar works on the final touches of the machine.

Today in particular, you decide to take a trip to engineering. Kuvira is nowhere to be found so you assume she’s off in some pressing meeting with her sergeants. Perhaps strategizing for the City’s response and especially the Avatar’s. Given the scope of the army’s proposed attack, you can’t possibly imagine anyone, not even Korra, withstanding such magnitude of force.

You feel a slight twinge in your chest at the thought of what lies ahead. You think of Bolin, Varrick, and Zhu Li. You wonder whether Raiko will willingly submit to Kuvira and spare the damages that will transpire if he doesn’t.

But at this point, you know better than that. If the United Republic had wanted to end things peacefully, Kuvira would have already reached an accord with them. It was clear no one was willing to budge so you could only hope that the damages would be as minimal as possible.

You stroll into the warehouse, following the sharp sounds of electricity and metal clanking together. A number of privates salute you as you walk past and you offer them reassuring smiles. “At ease, privates,” you chuckle. Despite how much time has passed, you’ll never grow accustomed to the way people interact with you for being both Kuvira’s significant other and a critical role in her Inner Circle.

Baatar recognizes your voice and he looks down from the platform several feet above you. He calls your name excitedly and you can’t help but grin. Admittedly you’ve never been too fond of the man (even back in Zaofu) but you would be wrong to deny all of the incredible work he’s put into bringing the army this far along. Plus, he’s done his best to get on your good side once it became clear his chances with Kuvira were effectively eliminated.

“How’re things going up there?” you call out.

“They’re going,” Baatar responds, somewhat disillusioned. Your brow furrows together and you cross your arms.

“What’s the matter? You don’t sound too pleased,” you remark.

“I can’t seem to make the connection between the cannon and the suit’s body...each piece functions properly on its own but the wiring simply won’t synthesize everything together,” he explains.

“Hm...I’m not sure how much help I could be but could I come check it out at least? If anything it’ll be a good way for me to admire all your handiwork,” you say.

Baatar smiles halfheartedly and sighs. “I suppose. Perhaps there’s something you might notice that I haven’t been able to. Five straight hours can do that to someone,” he admits, leaning over to press the yellow button that unfolds a metal staircase.

Once it lands on the floor with a soft clink, you leap onto it and head up until you’re within an arm’s length from Baatar. Being much closer to him you can see the lines of exhaustion etched below his eyes. His hair is gelled down neatly, though some strands of it fall along his temples where it sticks to a thin film of perspiration.

“Baatar...have you seriously been working on this for five hours straight?” you ask.

He appears confused by the question and purses his lips. “Of course I have. What else would I be working on?” he replies.

“I understand but...you should take a break soon. At least a half hour or something,” you recommend. He vehemently shakes his head in protest.

“Absolutely not. Kuvira wouldn’t allow it and with good reason. Every moment wasted on anything other than this machine is more time lost to take Republic City for the Empire. I will not be the reason everything we’ve worked for is lost,” he states.

You stay quiet, watching him worriedly before you release a soft sigh. You always knew Baatar to be...a deeply passionate man since joining Kuvira. From what you had pieced together during your conversations with her, you learned that he grew up in his father’s shadow. He was always praised as the mirror image of the older Baatar, with an aptitude for design and engineering.

When he joined Kuvira, it was probably the first time in his life that something was entirely his own. Not an addition to his father’s work, not a continuation of everything so many people expected of him. What he created was novel, powerful, and completely his own.

Understandably, he had grown so invested in this final display of his autonomy and innovation that any potential threat to it was unfathomable.

“It’s alright, I understand,” you reassure him, stepping forward and tentatively resting your hand on his forearm. You feel him tense beneath you and you wish he hadn’t because now it feels even more awkward. You’ve never felt the urge to offer him any sort of comfort until now but then he relaxes and you can slide your hand away without feeling too uncomfortable.

“So!” you exclaim, hoping to break the odd tension. “You said you were having trouble connecting the cannon to the rest of the suit?”

“Indeed,” Baatar sighs. He peers into gaping machinery, sifting through thick cords of wiring and metal. “I’ve checked for any and all missing pieces and there isn’t a single thing out of place. I wonder if you’d be able to see anything I might be missing.”

You chew on your lower lip, growing nervous at the prospect of going anywhere near the obviously complicated technology. The chances of you damaging anything are close to none...though they aren’t quite zero.

Nevertheless, you lean forward just an inch to gaze upon the convoluted maze coiled within the massive platinum encasements. None of it makes sense to you and you feel foolish even bothering to check.

Even so, you angle your hand forward and throw Bataar a questioning look. He nods and you start carefully pushing aside the cords in hopes of seeing, well, something.

At the exact moment you feel an indentation in one of the metal fibers, you hear the echo of footsteps below and the sound of Kuvira’s voice. You mean to pull away in excitement but the hem of your sleeve gets caught.

Grumbling, you manage to pull it away but not before feeling a sensation pulse through your body that’s lightning hot and stinging all the same. The pain concentrates in your arm for a split second and your eyes are forced closed.

The only thing you’re aware of is the muffled sound of shouting around you beneath your own screaming before your head crashes against something cold and hard and your vision fades into complete darkness.

---

“This could have been so much worse, Baatar. Do you have any idea how much worse this could have been?”

The voice sounds distant, almost warped, as if it were coming from another room. Wait...are you in a room? It feels still and quiet so you assume you are.

Your eyes are sealed shut and it feels like your brain is trying to push out of your skull. When you try to twitch your fingers, a searing pain shoots up your left arm and a pained sound gets caught in your throat.

Okay. So no moving yet.

You inhale slowly and wince at the sharp ache in your ribs and your chest. Other than that, nothing hurts too bad if you stay relatively still so you focus on maintaining a careful breath.

As you start to grow accustomed to the aches and pains, you let your eyelids flutter open. Well, flutter almost seems too glamorous to describe the heavy feeling when you peel them apart. It feels like you’ve had them shut for weeks.

You try not to move your head around too much as you scan your surroundings, realizing you’re back in the tent you share with Kuvira. The lanterns have been blown out so you assume it’s nighttime until you hear the voices again.

“Kuvira, I apologize profusely for my lapse in judgement. I should have known better than to—”

“You’re right. You should have known better and you didn’t. Baatar, I expect nothing but the utmost professionalism from you and now is not the time to make such potentially fatal errors.”

Though you can’t see anything, you clearly envision what poor Baatar’s face must look like: crumpled in defeat and tight with regret. You want to get up and reassure him you’re okay, though you aren’t really sure what happened in the first place.

Instead, you clear your throat and before you can even open your mouth, Kuvira’s voice whispers something rushedly before she bends the door open and steps inside. You expect to see Baatar join her but she enters alone, sliding it shut and preventing anyone else from entering.

“You’re awake,” Kuvira sighs, rushing over to you and kneeling at your side. Her hands hover over your arm, unsure, and it catches you off guard. Kuvira’s self-assurance rarely falters — when it does, it’s a cause for concern.

“I am,” you affirm, attempting a soft grin before you try to push yourself up. As your left arm protests in agony, you realize it’s been bandaged with multiple layers of thick gauze. Kuvira notices your confused expression and her face grows grim.

“What happened?” you ask. Kuvira stares at your arm for a few moments in thick silence, almost as if her capacity to speak had been plucked from her throat the instant you broached the subject.

“There was a damaged piece of armored cable,” she eventually says. “Between the wiring and what little spirit energy was being transmitted from the suit’s core, it was exposed enough to deliver a shock that knocked you out for hours.”

Ah. So that explained the bandaged arm and why everything else seared in a dull, muted ache.

“Hours? That’s better than what I thought,” you joked. “I could’ve sworn I was out for weeks!” You attempt to laugh but Kuvira finally looks up at you and her expression is so grave it effectively shuts down whatever attempt you make to lighten the situation.

“You could have been,” she hisses. “Had you gotten any closer to that damaged material who knows what could have—I don’t know what I—”

“Kuvira,” you interrupt. Her eyes slide shut and she grips the bedsheet tight, closing her fist over the material with a force that would break anything else if it were more solid. You manage to lift yourself up with your good arm and once you’re upright, you press your palm against her cheek.

“I’m okay, really I am,” you reassure her. “It’s probably just some bruising here and there. Plus my arm will be good in no time, you’ll see.”

“I know that, it’s just…” Kuvira’s voice trails off for a few moments before she can continue. She swallows hard and exhales shakily. “I walked in exactly as it happened and...it looked like you were gone. I heard you scream and when you went quiet, your body hit the ground and I could’ve sworn you...you weren’t there anymore.”

“I’m here now, Kuvira,” you murmur, dragging your thumb over her cheekbone in that way she loves but has never actually verbalized. You maintain a slow pace until you feel Kuvira melt into your touch, her features softening.

“I’m right here with you, alright?” you tell her. “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. I’m going to be okay and I promise I’ll be more careful. Now why don’t we go on a walk and maybe grab some tea?”

“No,” Kuvira responds quickly. “You stay here and I’ll bring you whatever you need. Besides, it’s late and you should be resting anyway. We’ll spend the night in the tent and see how you’re feeling tomorrow. Just...wait here.”

She leans forward to press her lips against your temple, staying there for a moment, confirming to herself that you’re really alive, and then breaks away with a reluctant stride. You sigh but smile inwardly, leaning back and hoping you get better soon so Kuvira will feel more at ease.

---

True to form, you recover within the span of a few days from the worst of it all. You take it easy in the days immediately succeeding the accident, even finding some spare time to meet with Baatar and assure him there’s no bad blood. He can’t find it in himself to accept forgiveness, though frankly you don’t blame any of it on him. You make it a point to eat the occasional meal with him when time permits...something you never envisioned doing mere months ago.

Character development indeed.

Though your arm takes longer to heal, you get back to work within three days time, albeit with slightly less mobility. Nevertheless, you approach your assignments with the same level of attention and detail as you would any other time.

However, the one thing that remains the same is Kuvira’s unwillingness to stay away from you for longer than thirty minute intervals.

Ever since the accident, she stays by your side almost nonstop except when she’s called away for business that doesn’t involve you. A hand on your waist when you lift yourself off a chair, her arms circling you as you get out of bed, her fingers guiding you towards an exit when there are too many people nearby.

Today, you’re filing away the last of the latest shipment updates from Yi. You sigh and Kuvira looks up from across the room. “Are you alright? Are you in pain?” she asks worriedly.

You bite your lip with hopes that it’ll stop you from rolling your eyes as you shake your head. “I’m fine, Kuvira,” you respond. “Head’s just feeling loaded from all these files. I think I’m going to close out for the day.”

“Of course. Let me take you to our quarters,” Kuvira replies, shoving away whatever she was working on and making her way towards you. She offers you her hand which you take, not without some exasperation.

“I can get there on my own, you know,” you remind her, hoping you don’t come off as too abrasive. Luckily it seems to go over her head because Kuvira is too preoccupied with making sure your knee doesn’t smash against the desk or that the wall doesn’t touch any other part of your body.

“Of course I know that but I won’t let you,” Kuvira says simply. And with that, she guides you back to the tent with one arm wrapped around your waist, her hand digging softly into your side. The guards look on with a mix of sympathetic glances and the occasional teasing grin. You grimace in response and do your best to ignore them, affronted that they’ve become so bold.

You reach the tent and you aren’t sure what look Kuvira gives the guards because they quickly scramble away (or as good as one can scramble in a bulky mech suit) so she can bend the door open. She steps in first, letting you lean on her arm to lift you up the two steps.

“Here, let’s get you into bed,” she murmurs, leading you towards the mattress and releasing your hand as you sit down.

“Kuvira…” You start to say but something in her face makes you stop. You’re tempted to tell her to ease up, that you’re fine and she’s worrying over nothing but you remind yourself what you would’ve felt in her place. You’ve seen Kuvira come close to death too many times and the thought nearly destroyed you.

So you keep quiet because you know she’s not actually being domineering. You hold her hand between both of yours and bring it to your lips, sliding the glove off so you can press your mouth against her bare skin.

“Don’t leave, Kuvira,” you murmur. “Can you...can you stay with me?”

“Of course,” Kuvira whispers, her face losing some of its tension as she sits to your side. She watches you intently and you can’t tell what she’s looking for. Perhaps some indication of pain? Discomfort?

The tent is quiet for some time and when Kuvira breaks the silence her voice is unusually hesitant. “I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable lately,” she sighs. You look at her and her expression is unreadable.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“I’m afraid I’ve been rather...overbearing for the past few days. I know you’d never say it outright but I imagine it’s been difficult for you to deal with,” she explains. “I hope you understand why I’ve done it though.”

She adds that last sentence almost as if to reassure herself that her behavior is warranted which, frankly, it absolutely is and it pains you to think she doesn’t believe that.

You press closer to her until your thighs touch, lifting your hand to tilt her face towards yours and cupping your fingers around her jaw.

“Of course I understand, Kuvira. It’s absolutely fine. I can’t expect you to recover from something so frightening in such a short amount of time. I’m sorry if I gave the impression that you had to,” you apologize.

Kuvira exhales sharply and her lips curl into a faint smile. “Never. If anything you’ve been extremely patient for someone who’s had their partner doting on them for almost every waking hour,” she chuckles.

You grin and lean forward until the tip of your nose brushes against Kuvira’s. “Well I can’t say it hasn’t been kind of sweet having the Great Uniter at my beck and call,” you respond slyly.

“But don’t you always?” Kuvira asks, closing the gap between your faces just enough for her lips to nearly graze over your own.

“I suppose you’d think so,” you giggle. “Clearly you’ve been more...zealous as of late, haven’t you?”

Kuvira hums while she slides the other glove off her hand, lifting her fingers until they wrap around the back of your neck. The caress of warm skin produces a thrill that courses all the way down your spine. “May I kiss you?” she whispers and her breath tickles the skin below your ear.

“Please,” you respond, bridging the space that separates you and finally bringing her supple mouth against yours. The kiss is tentative and chaste, so similar to the ones you would share in the early days of your relationship. Kuvira’s hand stays still on your skin, mirroring the carefulness of her mouth, so evidently displaying her anxiety of moving too abruptly for fear of harming you in some way.

So you decide to encourage her further, parting your lips and letting the tip of your tongue playfully brush against hers. Kuvira gasps and jerks backward, her face already tinted a lovely shade of red. It’s an unusual look for her but one that you relish for its rarity.

“What’s the matter? Too much?” you ask. The inquiry comes out sounding much more playful than you’d intended.

“I, um. I guess I didn’t expect that. I thought you would want to take things slow for now,” she elaborates. Kuvira is normally so composed, hyper-aware of every sound and movement she makes especially when she’s being closely observed, which is why you’re pleasantly surprised to see the way her throat clenches as she swallows.

“I’ll take things slow if that’s what you want. Is that what you want, Kuvira?” you ask innocently, lifting your eyebrows and removing your hands from her body. “Do you just want me to kiss you nice and slow...not deeper and harder until you feel your heart pounding against your chest? Not until you start kissing my neck and moving your hand lower and lower...just enough to feel how wet—”

Much to your delight, you’re swiftly cut off when Kuvira seals her mouth over yours again, the force of it strong enough to push you back an inch. You make a pleased sound in your throat and finally throw your arms around her neck, readjusting until you can swing your legs over her thighs and rest upon her lap.

Kuvira’s hands drift mindlessly over your sides, not quite touching but not too far off either. You grow exasperated so you tug on them and wrap them around your hips, grinding downwards so she can feel the growing heat between your legs. How desperately you’ve wanted this for days now.

She moans softly against your mouth and her patience wears thin within moments. Between the havoc you wreak on her lips and the canting motion of your body against her thighs, she eventually cradles you against her arm before placing you onto the mattress on your back.

You gasp in pleasant surprise once she hovers over you. She carries her weight with even greater caution, overly cognizant of potentially pressing down too hard and hurting you.

“What happened to taking it slow?” you tease breathlessly, hovering your fingers over the metal plates on her shoulder. She notices right away and knocks them off with quick work of her hands. They’re tossed onto the ground with a resounding clash.

“I think you should be asking yourself that question,” she responds, leaning down until her lips dance across your neck. “What was that you were mentioning earlier?” she whispers against you, dragging her tongue along the skin that isn’t covered by your uniform.

Your body instantly arches upward, feeling Kuvira’s breasts press against your chest. Between the accident and how busy everything already was before that, it had been weeks since you’ve been with her like this.

Therefore it’s no surprise that your body responds accordingly.

“Now don’t tell me you’ve gone all soft on me,” Kuvira says, pushing away the collar of your uniform and carefully sinking her teeth into the flesh at the base of your neck. You’re at a total loss for words, the sounds and syllables dissipating with each brush of Kuvira’s mouth on your body.

“Because that would be such a shame. I do love it when you make me work for it,” she sighs. Her hands, firm yet careful nonetheless, drift downwards until one rests over your hip. Even through the layers of fabric, her touch produces a sensation like fire that spreads from the point of contact all the way to each bit of muscle and nerve.

“But you also love it when I’m completely at your mercy, don’t you?” you shoot back, rather proud that your voice isn’t as weak as you expected it to be. Kuvira cocks an eyebrow and removes her mouth from your neck. You mourn the loss momentarily but keep going.

“You can’t deny it, Kuvira,” you continue, your eyes widening with glee. “I’ve seen the look in your eyes when you have me all tied up, completely and utterly at your disposal for whatever you desire. Haven’t you missed that? The way I’m completely helpless when you bind me up and all I can do is wait to see what you’ll do next.”

“It sounds like you’ve been thinking about this for some time,” Kuvira exhales, already short of breath.

“Oh I certainly have. And given how you can barely get through an entire sentence without gasping for air, I’d say you’re quite a fan of the prospect yourself,” you murmur.

“Are you sure? You’re not in any pain at all? I don’t want to hurt you,” Kuvira says quietly, the lustful look on her face morphing into one of concern.

You nod assuredly and shyly press your lips to hers again. “Yes, I’m absolutely sure. We’ve got our word, remember? I’ll let you know if I need you to stop.”

Kuvira nods against your touch and moves her hand to the back of your neck once more, this time undoing the buttons that hold the article together and lifting your arms to pull it away. The fabric bunches up around your bandaged forearm and though the gauze isn’t as thick anymore, it’s enough to make you both pause.

You bite back the laughter flooding your mouth and Kuvira looks vaguely irritated. Nevertheless, she approaches the minor hiccup with her usual, unhurried maneuvers until it slides away and you’re only covered by a soft undershirt.

The scars beneath the gauze start throbbing a bit but you manage to keep the worst at bay. It’s nothing too bad — nothing worth paying much attention to.

Kuvira spends the next few moments showering kisses, bites, and caresses over every inch of skin she can reach with her mouth. She takes you apart with slow and intentional movements until all you can do is lay frenzied with desire beneath her ministrations and attempt to hold back the pathetically desperate sounds that fall from your lips.

She begins to lift up the undershirt until it glides over and off your head and falls to the ground, along with the growing heap of Kuvira’s clothes mixed with your own. She keeps your arms high above your head, sliding her fingers over your skin and pauses. When she stops, you realize your eyes have been shut so you snap them open and look down at her impatiently.

“Don’t you worry...I’ve got exactly what you’ve been waiting for,” she murmurs. Kuvira lifts her hands and starts to coil her fingers. You hear the sharp sound of metal sliding against metal and then you see two silver strips emerging from her abandoned uniform. They float menacingly above your bodies, gradually curling into crescent shapes that hover over your wrists.

“I think it’s about time,” Kuvira whispers. Not a moment is wasted between the time she utters those words and the sensation of frigid metal clasping around your wrists, pulling your arms together and holding you down tight.

You’re met with an immediate burst of exhilaration and you ride it for about five seconds before it’s overridden with a growing feeling of discomfort that spreads under your bandages. You do your best to ignore it and instead focus on Kuvira moving downwards until she reaches the hem of your trousers.

“Now let’s see just how much you’ve wanted this,” she purrs against your hip, clipping her teeth over the edge of the fabric and using it to guide her hands as they slide it off. She’s soon met with the throbbing heat nestled between your thighs and you sigh in shameless pleasure.

As delicious as it feels, the pain in your arm only intensifies with each passing moment. You attempt to zero in on Kuvira’s mouth brushing against your bare hip, your thigh, the feeling of her lips hovering over the wet fabric of your underwear. It becomes overwhelming — the tension of wanting more but feeling your arm quiver with increasing pain.

“May I?” Kuvira asks, hooking her finger over the thin fabric and hinting at tearing it off. You murmur a quivering “yes” and hope she can’t sense the discomfort in your voice. She promptly removes them, dragging them down your legs and pressing her face against the crease where your hip meets your thigh.

It’s such an unbearable union of tender and carnal that it makes your body jerk hard against the restraints. The material digs into your injury just enough to make you cry out in distress.

“Silver, Kuvira! Silver,” you grunt through gritted teeth. Kuvira immediately breaks away and bends the metal strips off from your arms. They land on the floor with a harsh sound that makes you flinch.

“What do you need? What should I do?” she asks calmly. It would almost startle you how quickly she manages to shift tonalities but right now, it brings you a comfort you didn’t realize you needed.

“My arm...it-it stings,” you mumble, carrying it down until it rests on your abdomen. “I just need a second. Maybe that healing salve?”

“Of course. Stay still, alright? I’ve kept it in my desk,” Kuvira reassures, leaning down to press a kiss against your forehead and leaping off the bed. She throws a spare bed sheet over her body as she strides across the room, shuffling through a drawer until she finds the salve and a sealed green pouch.

She kneels on the bed and slides her arm around your bare back to help lift you up with little pressure. Once you’re upright, she gingerly takes your injured arm between her hands and begins to unfold the gauze.

The skin that emerges is marred with a thin layer of scarred flesh, much less angry than how it appeared just last week. Kuvira uncovers the glass jar and scoops a portion of the salve onto two fingers that she presses against the wound.

It feels awful at first, almost exacerbating the pain, but it gradually melts into a refreshing coolness that numbs the discomfort. You hiss a bit at the beginning and Kuvira lifts her hand away.

“Is it too much?” she murmurs. “I’m not pressing down too hard, am I?”

You shake your head adamantly. “No, not at all,” you respond. “You’re totally fine. Just stung at first. It feels good now, I promise.”

Kuvira nods in understanding, rubbing the last of the substance onto your skin and pulling open the small pouch. She pulls out a long strip of gauze that she untangles and starts folding over your arm, sealing the salve’s properties against the scars.

She moves smoothly, indicative of one who has done this many times before. You wonder how often she had tended to others’ wounds as a guard in Zaofu.

“You’re all set,” she affirms once she ties it all together. She rests her hand over her handiwork, stroking her thumb over the material and looking up at you concernedly. “What else do you need?”

“I hate to say it but I think you were right,” you chuckle. “I think...I just want to sleep now. Do you, uh...do you mind, er—holding me?”

Kuvira’s face brightens even in the darkness of the tent and she nods, guiding your bodies back down to the bed so she can curl her body around yours, mindful of where your injured arm rests. Your legs tangle with hers as Kuvira tugs a thick blanket over your shoulders, bringing you closer to her chest until your forehead touches her collarbone.

The silence is comfortable, soothing. Exactly what you need. But you can’t shake the slight degree of embarrassment that clings to your thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything,” Kuvira murmurs. “I know you want to...and I understand. I won’t scold you for it but just know you don’t have to. I’m glad you told me. That’s what we do, right? Honesty.”

You nod against her and swallow. “You’re right...I appreciate it,” you respond. And though you don’t exchange any more words for what remains of the evening before you fall asleep, you lose yourself in the calming silence that follows. Kuvira’s hands float up and down your back and your shoulders, guiding you into a dreamless sleep that welcomes you with warmth and safety.

#sour cherry #kuvira/reader #kuvira x reader #kuvira legend of korra #kuvira lok #avatar lok #x reader #reader insert #minor accident #protective!kuvira #remember this is NOT a spicy chapter!!!#just like...a hint of spice...some hot cheetos dust if you will

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heresathreebee · 3 years

Text

That G-D Ring of Yours

High Fidelity’s Robyn Brooks X Female reader

Summary: You seek comfort from your neighbor Rob

Masterlist

There's probably gonna be a part 2

Word count: 2.5k words

Warning(s): +15 | implied cheating, internalized homophobia, heterosexism, author and Rob swearing, no hate to polyamorists but major hate to bad faith players, shameless self insert, no beta, barely edited, long as fuck I'm so sorry

Author's note: I'm having anxiety for no discernable reason and my brain has decided this is ideal fuel for a fic, so please enjoy. EDIT: ha ha yeah still anxious but we're doing stuff about it

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"-- And she just touched my hand by accident and I just felt this– this spark between us…"

It was so sweet how he was talking about it. Or at least it would be were this not your fiancé explaining how he had been seeing another person behind your back. Had you rushed into things with him? Gotten hitched after three months because of familial pressure to settle down and start your family? Quite possibly.

But it didn't make that stabbing in your gut hurt any less.

You had been a little gung-ho from date number 1, but he had been right there with you the whole time. Date number 2 happened the following weekend and then you just kept seeing each other more and more until before you knew it you had been introduced to each other's extended families and announced your engagement on Valentine's Day.

You started to suspect something was amiss on Sunday, when you were braiding your hair on the bed and he had gone to take a shower. He accidentally set his phone screen aside with a text chat still open. Thinking nothing of it (he had already told you he was talking to Mark about getting drinks tonight), you looked at the name and saw it belonged to a woman you had never heard of before. Your immediate reaction was 'she must be a new coworker or a cousin,' but then you glanced again and saw the text conversation mirrored the same kind of ‘sentiments’ he texts you.

The dirt burned into your brain for eternity:

You had looked away then. You were actually not going to say anything at all to him that night– had planned to bring it up after Tuesday dinner with your auntie's family, but something came up. It turns out that Jessabelle also frequented the same Starbucks as you (and she's your age, not a teen like you worried). You can't even find it in you to be mad at her since it seemed like she had no idea who you were when she showed you the picture of her date at a baseball game. You tried not to puke as you asked for her number and to send her that picture "for her contact profile."

You hadn't heard a word your fiance had said since the beginning of the phone call and you cut him off with some excuse you barely remember. You tossed your phone carelessly onto the couch and laid back on the cushions in defeat. What now?

You weren't really a drinker or a smoker, and you didn't exactly have friends who would be supportive right now. You could hear them now, your family too– asking you what you did wrong, telling you to just forgive him or how to get even, or simply saying 'well what do you expect? Boys will be boys.'

Maybe… no, you definitely need to get this off your chest before you do something stupid like pretend to forget about it. You had a bad habit of that because you tend to fall fast and hard. Perhaps your neighbor could give you some advice.

Thank the Lord for fire escapes. Rob lived on the floor beneath you, always playing something good from her huge collection of vinyl records. You've told her at least a hundred times before if she played nothing but Phil Collins for the rest of eternity, you could die happy. You crossed your fingers and hoped you weren't being weird or invading her privacy.

Thankfully, she seemed to be expecting you. She even motioned that the latch was undone and waved you inside. Ok the second wine glass made your face grow hot.

"I'm not interrupting am I?"

Rob gave you a warm smile. "I could hear you pacing around your kitchen for about an hour. Was about to come and get you actually."

She pressed the glass into your hand and you made an effort not to grimace. Rob liked her drinks cheap and strong and she never held back. You tried a sip just to be polite, and she snorted at the face you pulled.

"That's right, you like that sweet stuff. What's it called again?"

"Stella Rosa," you mumbled, grateful when she takes the glass back and hands you a water to replace it.

"Favorite flavor," she asked looking at her phone.

"Uh… the peach and the rosé. They're all pretty good, not gonna lie."

"OK, take this, grab a blanket from the hall closet, and tell me what's going on."

You curled up on Rob's couch and put your feet up. There were piles of records all over the place, empty beer cans and a pizza box or two on the coffee table. Your neighbor tapped away at her phone screen before silencing it and slipping it in her back pocket. She gave you a minute or two to speak up, sipping her drink like you two had all night. Which actually you did as you did not want to see your fiancé right now.

You felt two fingers gently tap your forehead. "Come on, dreamer, tell me what's going on in that head of yours."

You swallow the lump in your throat. "I feel a little over dramatic saying my life is about to fall apart."

Rob raised her eyebrows at you. "Damn, OK."

You rush to correct yourself– explain your weird sentiment in more detail but you end up just vomiting words until your voice is hoarse.

"I mean– like– like it's not falling apart per say or whatever– I… the rest of my life is fine its just my relationship that's screwed. Which I guess I'm more worried about because it's gonna screw up all my other relationships for a while too– dang it, let me start over–"

"Babe! Slow down. Breathe." Rob switched drinks with you and against your better judgement you took a sip. Oddly enough it did calm you down. "So… it's your fiancé, right? What did he do?"

You stared at her trying to unscramble your thoughts. "He… I found out he was kind of... dating another person. After I found out, he tried to explain that he didn't think I would mind–"

Rob barked, "let me guess: he didn't think you were exclusive? Pull the Main Chick, Side Chick schtick? Tried to claim 'polyamory' after he got caught?"

Two and two clicked together at last. "Yeah… yeah, he did!," you scoffed, "and it's not like it didn't ever come up in conversation: we spent our third date talking out our, like, sexualities and fantasies and fetishes and shit. If he was polyamorous, wh- why wouldn't he have brought it up then?"

"That is so fucked."

You took a deeper draft of her wine, coughing before setting it aside. Up until now, you've been numb. Now there's this wave of anger boiling up to the surface and you hear yourself getting louder. Rob doesn't flinch but she does give you this look of empathy unlike anything you've seen before.

"If he– if he would have just asked me, I would have told him it was fine. My family does shit like that all the time: nobody bats an eye! If he really thought I wouldn't mind, he wouldn't have been so freaking sneaky about it. He literally lied, Robyn!"

You whipped around and for a brief moment you knew you looked crazy. "He said he was going out for drinks with his guy friend, but he was making plans to go to a baseball game with a girl I've never heard of! If he really thought I wouldn't mind, or if he 'thought I would understand,' then why would go out of his way to lie about who he was with?"

Someone buzzed Rob's door and she left you on the couch momentarily, coming back quickly with two bottles of your favorite wine. "Damn girl, these are kinda bougie: Peach or Rosé?"

"I--"you choked, "Robyn you didn't have to–"

"Peach it is!" She unscrewed the caps and handed you the whole freaking bottle of white, downing the last of her merlot and getting a fresh glass for you.

You felt a little guilty she had spent money on you. But then again it had been her choice. If she didn't want you there, Rob wouldn't have let you in in the first place. Maybe you were just a tinsy bit worried you shouldn't be here.

You and Rob took a break from talking to put on music and get a little tipsy. It came much easier with the help of the Stella Rosa, though Rob initially complained it was 5.5%, she did get accustomed to the sweetness pretty fast, and after consuming half the bottle, realized it was a little easier to get carried away with a drink like this. She admitted it was her first time trying rosé and now she was hooked. Eventually you started talking again, just spilling your guts out with no filter anymore.

"I really think I just hate myself," you said cuddling the cool glassware. "When I found out, I wasn't even thinking of it as a betrayal of my trust– it felt like I was trying to come to terms with it so I could continue with the relationship. Not because it would make me happy but because… I don't know… it's what everybody else wants me to do. They don't even know about it and I was fully prepared not to tell them even though they'd want me to marry him whether they knew or not."

Rob barked a laugh of surprise. "Doh-K!"

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing…" she said, "keep going."

You stared off into the middle distance and leaned into her side. She was a tiny bit warm despite her lithe figure. Made you want to throw your blanket over her shoulders and share your greater warmth.

So you did (you're not great at acting out your desires but this is nice!)

"It's just easier," the words left your mouth unbidden, "I don't even know what that means, but it's true. I don't want to marry him anymore but I don't want to break it off. Not marrying Fiancé means disappointing my family. It means having to find an entire new man to marry sooner rather than later because I'm already 'behind' and lowering my already low expectations.

"It's not gonna make me happy, but I just think it's easier to keep this wedding going because at least I won't have to find somebody new who might not be as good for me just because I didn't want him. Another man won't make me happy so there's no reason to drop him... except that I don't want him."

Rob's brow furrowed. "Are you saying it's easier for you to please your family than it is to be happy?"

"Yes? I– no, I– … I don't know," you sigh. "I guess you could say my priorities are a little… mismanaged."

"Sure, you could say that." Rob wrapped her arms around your shoulders and you inhaled the scent of her soap and cigarettes. "What if you tried… like… not doing that anymore...? You just said you do whatever your family wants you to do. So, just like do what makes you happy for a change."

It really does sound so simple the way she puts it, doesn't it? Why are you doing this to yourself? You're not dependent on them for money or security or happiness for that matter. So... why has your whole life been centered around pleasing them?

"I think… I think I've never really sat down and thought about what makes me happy," you admitted. "I think it's just been that way forever and I might have been too scared to try anything else."

Rob hummed. "Are you still scared now?"

Are you? You look into her eyes and ask yourself a question that has never crossed your mind with such depth. You used to be scared– but what is it about your happiness that you are so afraid of? OK, let’s start a little simpler: what are things that make you happy?

“I like…” you swallowed, trying to break down the barriers you’ve built years and years ago. “I like… coffee. I like… short skirts. I like… girls– I like… my job. I like… music. I think I’d enjoy camping, you know, some day…”

Your words… these things seemed so arbitrary and trivial. But in your house, these things cause dissent. “My family has an opinion about everything. There’s no right way to live in all of their eyes, but I think I figured out a way to get past it. Keep my head down and do what’s expected of me. Graduate college, get a respectable job, find a man to marry, drop the job and become a mother. Just… don’t make waves. It seemed better because the cousins who didn’t or couldn’t… well they became the butt of every joke at the family dinner. Lisa had one miscarriage so she was a ‘failure’ and Don never dated girls so he was gay and that was ‘bad,’ but grandma Zelda did everything a good Christian woman could do and they still gossiped about her behind her back…

“And I just… I just let their ignorance control me for my entire life.” God, you could cry right now, but somehow it just felt too good to say it outloud. “That.. that is so fucked.”

Robyn snorted, and you turned to her as if you’d forgotten she was there. There it was again, that sympathy. Not pity, she did not burden you with tears of her own or try to be angry for you. She just listened and understood. You twisted the diamond encrusted ring on your finger and stared at her. You felt it, that feeling in your heart. No one else had given you that look, like she could really see you.

“You’re not going back to Fiancé, are you?” Her question was equal parts worrisome and hopeful and you already knew the answer in your heart.

“No.”

And that was it. Decision made. Actually easier than you'd thought. Maybe not down the road but it felt good for now. There's the telling your fiancé it's over, the moving out, the public announcement, the inevitable feeling of failure, your family, god, his family too. Untangling your lives would be long and hard. You're not sure if you have that level of commitment and motivation in you but fuck it. Problems for tomorrow.

You rest your head on Rob's shoulder and hope your not pushing any boundaries. She doesn't stop you though, in fact she snuggles you deeper into her. You get the feeling she's been here before though your not sure which side or how bad it was for her.

"I like you way more in the few times I've met you than any man I've ever dated," you heard yourself say. "I'm sure that means something but I'm too tired to decide anymore. No tonight at least."

Rob chuckled. "I like you too, sugar."

If you made it this far, hi 💛 appreciate you, leave me a comment! Or just comment "💛"

#Rob Brooks x Female reader #high fidelity rob brooks #three bees writing #rob brooks x reader #black reader insert #I just think about her sometimes #🐝🐝🐝✒#angst?

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