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viviennes-tears · 2 years

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Are you following me Mr Hiddleston? Margot and Marcus| The date - cut scene

18+ blog: It is YOUR responsibility, as a reader, to think about the content that you consume at your own discretion.

A/N: Similarly to the last scene, this scene involves Margot's sex life, which obviously was pretty much nonexistent and got cut from the original storyline. Although it was something that I was constantly trying to work around and figure out how to add it into the story...I just didn't know how to make it work, but at least I'm sharing it with you all now.

Summary: Margot agreed to go out on a date with Marcus to his utter surprise. Yet their evening turned out to be a success, considering everything that Jeff her stalker had put her through, and the fear that coursed through her veins still. However, after their date ended Margot couldn't fall asleep, so she turned to her friend for comfort.

Warnings: Fear of the dark, vulnerability, mentions of a stalker, light smut and fluff

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Marcus was still shocked...in disbelief that Margot had actually agreed to go on a date with him, despite how hesitant he was when he tried to ask her the question. And yet, she in fact ended up finishing the question for him by agreeing instantly to his half asked question. Of course he told Zac shortly thereafter, not that he looked at all happy for him, which pissed him off and rightfully so too. Although Zac did try to explain, tried to cover up his true feelings about the date by warning him to at least be cautious around her, while adding the fact she's still very vulnerable and perhaps a little fragile too. Marcus simply laughed at Zac's warning after all he wasn't naive nor was he oblivious to Margot's situation either. Not that his laugh was very reassuring to Zac.

When the time arrived for the date Margot had borrowed a red dress from Elouise for the occasion. It was an easier choice than having to drag herself through endless shops on the high-street with all the Christmas shoppers. Anyway her final choice actually turned out to be simple, but with a bit of skin showing too, as it has a thigh high slit and just below the collarbone neckline. Although once she had the dress on she did have second thoughts about it, however, her time seemed to have run out as Marcus entered her shared bedroom.

"Wow, you look...sensational!" Marcus said, as he peered at her reflection in the mirror from a few steps behind her.

"Thank you...you look very handsome too!" Margot replied with a half smile as she turned around to face him.

Marcus soon closed the distance and held out his arm to her, which she took slowly but willingly. Then he escorted her downstairs where they put on their coats then he escorted her outside to his car. The darkness around them once they were outside caused Margot's body to become a little rigged and she felt a little on edge. He couldn't blame her, the constant fear that Jeff subjected her to was still very much present and at times unbearable. However his reassuring smile helped a great deal, because she knew deep down that she was safe with him, and with her brain reminding her that Jeff was behind bars too. It really was just down to the matter of time when she'd be comfortable again with being outside in the dark.

It wasn't long until they arrived at the pub that they frequently went to with the others. Albeit, for a first time date with Marcus it wasn't anywhere fancy like it had been with Tom, or even the extravagant hotel restaurants that Charlie took her to. In fact right now it was perfect, it was familiar and less nerve wracking, especially compared to how it could have been if it were somewhere else.

As they sat in their booth they chatted away just like the friends they are. Actually for a while Margot even forgot the fact that this was a date and not just a normal friend's hangout. Nevertheless the reality of the evening soon reared its head, as Marcus turned on his flirtatious behaviour and his constant need to touch her hand. Then again ever since Margot has known Marcus he'd been flirty with her, so you'd think it would be the norm, but no in actuality it reminded her that this was a real date. Despite his unreciprocated feelings she had said yes to their date and she still couldn't understand it fully, she couldn't understand why she agreed to go out with him. Perhaps she needed something good to happen, something different with someone?

Margot managed to shake off her insecurities about where this date may inevitably take them for the time being, and she focused on the here and now the best she could. It was easier this way.

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In the end their evening was a success. Thank God for alcohol, right? Neither of them were drunk, but Margot had a nice buzz going and Marcus only had half a pint, because he was driving after all.

As they stood on the doorstep of their student accommodation, Marcus tucked a loose strand of Margot's hair behind her ear. The simple gesture momentarily caused Margot to close her eyes and she leaned into his touch, as he then cupped her cheek in his hand, and he stroked her cheek with his thumb. It was a little comfort in the darkness and it had been a while since she felt a caress so soft against her cheek. But he just had to prolong their moment a little longer. So he lent down slightly, with his eyes now closed too and captured her lips with his. There was nothing urgent about the kiss, it was light, gentle and one sided.

"I enjoyed your company tonight, Mags. And thanks for giving me that chance to take you out." Marcus said softly after their lips parted.

"You're welcome," was all Margot could say, once her eyes were opening again and his own looking back at hers.

That then became Marcus' cue to open the door and let them in due to the cold wind deciding to pick too. Besides, being inside felt much better as the warmth hit them instantly and they were able to shed their coats. Then like the gentlemen Marcus was, he escorted Margot upstairs to her bedroom, followed by him kissing her knuckles and wishing her a good night, before he headed back downstairs for his bedroom. After Margot was left alone she sat down on the edge of her bed. It felt strange being there with only Marcus for company, whilst everybody else had travelled back home to see their families. Even so she felt grateful for his company because it was better than being completely alone at Christmas.

Eventually Margot stood back up and got changed into a thick comfy jumper and a pair of joggers. She also put Elouise's dress back up on its hanger in her wardrobe, before brushing her teeth and settling down in bed. However, Margot's alcohol buzz was still faintly there and the ceiling wasn't at all that interesting, as she stared up at it in the dim lighting. A heavy sigh briefly filled the silence, but the added softness of Marcel the plush monkey couldn't comfort her. Usually he did provide her with some comfort like a security blanket, yet for some unknown reason this time she did not feel any comfort from him.

When the uninteresting ceiling became too dull for Margot's tastes she slid out of bed and left Marcel behind. She then ventured downstairs and knocked on Marcus' bedroom door. Clearly he was still awake too as she could see the light shining under the door from the dark hallway. Besides, she didn't have to wait long for him to answer the door.

"Mags, you okay?" Marcus asked with concern.

"Yeah...just-I can't sleep. C-can I come in?" Margot replied and nervously fiddled with the hem of her jumper.

"Sure, come on in!" He said and stepped aside to allow her entry. He closed the door behind her and then followed her further into his bedroom. "Make yourself comfortable." He added as he patted his bed then sat down himself.

Margot took a deep breath before she sat down next to him and they just sat there a while in a comfortable enough silence. Although she wouldn't look at him or anywhere really apart from looking down at the floor. "I had a good time tonight too. Sorry-sorry I didn't say it before now." She said quietly, eventually, but still without looking at him.

"Don't be...I'm glad though." Marcus said, as he hooked two of his fingers under chin and got her to look up at him. "You've had a rough time of late and I only want to make you happy Mags. We all do." He smiled at her.

"I know." She whispered and tried to smile back.

"So why can't you sleep?" She could only shrug at his question as it turns out.

Marcus sighed then pulled Margot up to the head of his bed. She lay her head down on his shoulder as he sat there with her and he rubbed small circles on her lower back. It was a trick that most of them used to help sooth her when she was feeling down. Although she didn't appear to be having a downward spiral or anything of the sort, but she felt comforted nonetheless, and he was glad she came to him.

After a couple more minutes as Marcus continued to rub small circles on her lower back, he kissed the top of her head, and he felt her fist bunch up in his own jumper. Then for whatever unspoken reason he kissed her head again, then he kissed her temple and then he kissed her cheek. His lips caused Margot to look up at him from where she lay her head on his shoulder. A more genuine smile graced her lips as if in thanks for his comforting side. In fact her smile made his heart swell, because it was beautiful, she is beautiful to him in every way. Albeit he couldn't resist kissing her on the lips again, so he did just that. Only this time the kiss wasn't one sided, as Margot kissed him back this time. Her hand also reached up and around his neck after disentangling it from his jumper, and her fingers scratched at the small hairs on the back of his neck. The feeling of her fingers made him moan into the kiss and he allowed his lips to part further. Of course she was quick on the uptake and her tongue dove into his mouth. Their tongues battled it for a while and his other hand held onto her waist.

When they pulled back to breathe she moved his hand from her waist up to her chest. She'd forgone wearing a bra and this excited Marcus greatly. He began to knead her breast through her jumper and he kissed the side of her neck. His lips on her had her eyes rolling back and her breath hitched when his hand ventured underneath her jumper. Kneading her breast again and rubbing his thumb over her nipple and then he gave the other one the same treatment. It didn't take long for her nipples to turn into hardened peaks and she began to breathe properly again when he finally removed his hand.

Against all the odds that were against Marcus he took his chances and decided to pleasure her further. He wanted her to forget about Tom and to only think of him.

Marcus then slowly removed Margot's clothes and gently pushed her down onto her back. Next he began to explore her body with his hands and kissed every inch until he reached her navel. Her body even squirmed underneath him as he kissed her, which had a big effect on him too, his groin was hard and confined within his trousers.

After a short while Marcus got off the bed and hastily undressed himself as Margot watched him. As it turned out he was a lot more jacked than she realised and he certainly wasn't small down there either. Although he was quick to rejoin her on the bed and he slowly parted her legs as he kept his eyes on hers. Followed by his fingers teasing her folds and rubbing her clit until she was slick enough to take him. As he lined himself up with her entrance she gripped onto his forearms and braced herself as he bottomed out. He gave her a moment to adjust to him before he began to slowly rock hips into her. He was being so gentle, his eyes full of love and he kept giving her tender kisses as he moved.

However his caring side became too overwhelming for Margot and the intermittency made her feel as though she was being suffocated. It had been a very long time since she'd been in bed with someone and Marcus shouldn't have been the first one after so long to take her to bed. After a few more slow rocks of his hips Margot began to silently cry, her body shaking and not in a good way. Marcus stopped instantly mid thrust and brushed hair away from her forehead.

He felt terrible for making her cry and he slid out of her before wiping away her tears. She allowed him to rock her back and forth as she couldn't remain silent for much longer. Her silent cries turned into loud sobs. She made a mistake. Marcus was her friend, she didn't love him and she shouldn't have allowed it to get this far.

Tom Hiddleston Masterlist

Source: @viviennes-tears

#are you following me mr hiddleston #fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston #hiddles #HIDDLESTONERS #betrayal #Harold Pinter #charlie cox #zawe ashton #margot foster #the date - cut scene #viviennes-tears

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weepingvoidpenguin · 3 years

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One of Your Favorites

Jealous Bucky x Reader

Summary: You have an objective. Get Rumlow to confess. Simple enough, right? No. Aside from his usual condescending attitude towards you, Bucky has made it extremely apparent that he doesn’t think you’re capable of - well, anything, but especially not handling Rumlow. And yet, he is the biggest challenge of this entire ordeal.

Warning: T R I G G E R WARNING!! ATTEMPTED SA, DRUGS, language, light smut. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO NOT READ IF SA WILL TRIGGER YOU.

Word Count: 8.3k

“We have good intel stating he’s working as a double agent for HYDRA. Selling information, exploiting tactics, even going so far as to tell them where we’ll be and when.” Natasha scanned the room, making sure she had everyone’s attention during the briefing.

You slouched back in your swivel chair and twisted to-and-fro slightly with your hands gripping the arm rests on either side. It took all of your willpower to act engrossed in her words. And you meant every single drop. You’d been paying attention, sure, but the only issue was the dominating presence two seats to your right and directly in your line of sight to Natasha. You rolled your chair to the left to clear the path for the third time, only for him to block your way without missing a beat. The growl that left your mouth was nearly involuntary. Nearly.

How long would this man act like a child? Despite his graceful and seemingly unsuspecting movements, you were fully aware his placement was intentional. This was not the first, nor did you doubt that it would be the last, time that Bucky acted impudently toward you. Frankly, you’d grown bored of his behavior. It was the same thing everyday. He would act a nuisance during the briefings, speak over you whenever he had the chance, steal the limelight from you and invalidate any concerns or thoughts you shared. The whole charade grew tiring and he had been dancing on thin ice for months now.

You averted your gaze from burning holes through the freshly washed, brown locks and switched your attention back up to the redhead. Thankfully, too, because you managed to catch the end of her sentence just as she locked eyes with you.

“And that’s why Y/N is going to be the one to extract the information from him,” she finished.

You blinked, “Wait, what?”

Bucky straightened his posture and threw a quick glance your way, “Yeah, what? She’s got no heat, couldn’t toast marshmallows if we gave her all day. She shouldn’t lead this, she wouldn’t know how,”

“Well, tonight might be a good time to start learning, then,” Steve chimed in, throwing a wink your way. You smiled and appreciated his aid, not because you needed it but because at this point, you were seething and if you opened your mouth to defend yourself this meeting would go south, quickly. Luckily, Steve always believed you were capable of a great deal of things and knew you strove for more experience so any opportunity to lead or expand was one he thought you should take.

“Besides,” Tony spoke up, twirling a platinum pen between his fingers from across the table, “our little double-agent has always had the hots for Y/N so unless you’re gonna be the one to bat your eyelashes at him and get him alone in a room, Mr. Barnes, we have to use his own flaws against him.” He turned to face you and held up a hand, “Not to say that liking you is a flaw, you’re great Hot-Stuff but exploiting him is our best option indefinitely,”

“Do I have to seduce him?” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest and raising a brow towards Nat, trying your damned hardest to avoid the unmistakable glare the brown-haired super soldier was sending your way.

“The only thing you have to do is extract any information on him that you can. Get him a little drunk, catch him in a slip-up or two, take note of any inconsistent stories and be on your merry way,” she reassured, “How you manage to do that is up to you,”

“Ooh, extortion,” Clint chirped up from the far back corner, his hands rubbing together maliciously around an arrow he pulled from his sheathe, something you noticed he did a lot when he was uninterested; be it a person, mission, or conversation.

“No. Not extortion,” Steve shut it down and you chuckled at how Clint’s countenance fell into one of disappointment.

“Not yet anyway,” Natasha mumbled and you sighed as she walked around the room and handed each of you a folder with your individual objectives inside.

“But he’s such a pervert,” you grumbled.

“All the easier,”

The rest of the day was drudged with Nat while she taught the pertinence of body language (both yours and theirs), verbal ruses, and overall ensnarement. You bat your eyelashes until you were certain you would catch enough wind to fly away, smirked enough that your cheeks began to ache and raised your eyebrows ‘til you felt the impending wrinkles on your forehead. By the end of the drill you weren’t sure you were even going to make it to the company party from the migraine creeping its way on.

“How’s the bait coming along?” His voice alone caused you to roll your eyes but you paid no mind while you rubbed at your temples and stood up alongside Natasha.

“She’s not gonna be able to lie to me any time soon but she can flirt her way to whatever she wants,”

“Benefits of targeting a narcissistic misogynist, they don’t think anyone can fool them.” Tony belted as he sauntered into the room with strawberries, offering them out to you while he munched on one.

“She’ll still mess it up,” Bucky countered, “Make someone else do it,”

You plucked the fruit off Tony’s tray and examined it, trying to figure out whether you were going to consume it or use it as a weapon.

“I really appreciate your words of encouragement, James. Unfortunately, they’re not wanted, nor are they needed.” You bit into the fruit and glided towards the door, looking over your shoulder at the super soldier, “So unless you actually have something to contribute, I suggest you stay the hell out of my way while I get the job done,”

Nat walked out behind you and handed you a tiny, skin-colored device meant to conceal itself and you placed it in your ear.

“The conversation is gonna be recorded so we can catch any inconsistencies. We’ll all be able to hear what you’re saying so tread on delicate waters but don’t be afraid to shake mountains if you have to,”

You nodded and opened your door for her to enter your room knowing she’d want to help you get ready for the event. Natasha, shocking as it turns out, enjoys company while preparing for events. She would much prefer to be surrounded by people than be alone. You never had gall to ask her why that is. Or maybe you respected her too much to ask.

An hour had passed, maybe two, but you enjoyed the silence between you both. There was no need to fill the empty quiet when it was so comfortable and welcoming. You two spoke without words at times and that was probably your favorite personal skill. Eventually, there came a knock on your door and you opened to find Wanda with her flat iron and make-up bag in tow. It’d long since been decided that your room was the gathering center.

Wanda helped you finish touching up your outfit and you waited on your bed while they finished getting ready. Nat occasionally quizzed you on certain situations and how you should act depending on the tones and moods of the conversation. You tried to explain that you didn’t have difficulty reading a room but Nat tested you all the same.

“And if he puts his hand on your thigh?” She called out from your bathroom.

“Then he loses it,” you practically sang in response.

You were met with a flying hairbrush and laughed at the onslaught.

“You’re not the only one with that mentality,” Wanda called out as well, her iron glossing over thin strands of hair.

“Nat knows I can handle myself.” You sat up on the bed and went over to your closet to collect your favorite pair of shoes to go along with the formal attire Nat selected for tonight. “What a coincidence that we happen to have a company party the same night we have to extract information,” you hollered over your shoulder, moving aside terribly worn shoes while you scoured for the pair you had in mind.

“This objective has been in the works for weeks now,” Nat released the tendril of hair from around the barrel and pinned it to her head so it could cool.

“Wow, thanks for the heads up, then.” You gripped the desired pair and placed them beside your nightstand for later.

“The plan wasn’t solid until we knew for a fact that Rumlow was coming. It’s a company party so it’s not mandatory but once he heard you were making an appearance, it didn’t take very much persuading,”

You rolled your eyes and plopped back down on your mattress, “He’s so annoying, I doubt I can hold much of a conversation with him,”

“Take a shot or two to ease your nerves, if he sees you drinking it’ll put him at ease too. He’ll be more inclined to drink,” Natasha recommended. “But don’t act too out of character. If you were always curt and short with him and suddenly you start acting over-friendly, he may get suspicious. He’s an idiot but he’s a paranoid one,”

You nodded, taking a mental note to have a half-empty bottle in your grasp when Rumlow arrives. If he thinks you’ve already been drinking, he might also consider catching up.

“Y/N? Not uptight for once?” Wanda sarcastically questioned. “I can’t picture it,”

“Oh, fuck off,” you grumbled and in turn received laughter from the two girls. “Besides, of all of us I’m by far the least uptight. Barnes takes the cake for that one,”

There was a beat of silence that you didn’t register before you were met with a response.

“Ya know, he’s not as bad as you paint him out to be.” Nat unpinned the curl from her head and moved on to the next section, “He’s got some serious loyalty and always willing to volunteer first for everything,”

You lifted your head to stare at her reflection through the mirror, “What are you talking about? He’s annoying and irate and lacks a filter,”

“Mmm, irate isn’t the word I would use,” Wanda countered, looking over to Natasha.

Nat shook her head in response, “I’d lean more towards . . . over-protective,”

“Much better,” Wanda agreed.

You squinted your eyes at their image and felt the corners of your lips turn downwards, “Over-protective? Since when are you two defending Barnes?”

“We’re not defending him, per say.” Wanda glanced over to Nat, “We’re just trying to give you a fresh perspective,”

“You could give me a brand new pair of eyes and I’d still see him the same,” you retorted, now leaning on your elbows due to the strain on your neck.

They ignored the comment, “And he’s only annoying to you,”

“You’re telling me he doesn’t annoy you at all?” You asked, an eyebrow raised.

“More like . . . he doesn’t go out of his way to mess with us.” Nat applied a nude color onto her lips.

“So you agree that he goes out of his way to irritate me,” you stated rather than asked.

“That’s been made very apparent,” Wanda responded. “But you have to wonder why,”

You huffed a little and sprawled back out on the bed just to result in staring at the ceiling above. If you looked hard enough your mind would create pictures from the chaos of the cracks and shapes began to form. Sometimes, when the night lay still and life seemed to dwindle at the edges of your reality, you could swear a familiar face fashioned together and your imagination ran wild with the images you’d see. Some that brought a warmth to your cheeks even now.

You shot up out of bed and shook the memories from your vision. Ugh. He haunts you even when he’s not actively tormenting you. How he’s managed to crawl his way so deeply within your skin you had no idea but you fought for control of your thoughts whenever you caught them slipping into that hellhole.

“Or slipping into euphoria,” Wanda chimed in.

“Wanda!” You scolded, crossing your arms, “Euphoria my ass,”

“Yeah, he thinks so too,” she continued and you chucked the abandoned hairbrush back their way.

“Stay out of my head,” you jokingly sniped at her but was met with a low chuckle.

“I didn’t even have to be in your head to know what you were thinking of,” Nat defended and caught your weapon of choice.

“Are you guys done yet?” You rolled your eyes and stretched yourself out before swiping up the pair of heels you’d chosen and sliding them onto your feet.

“Why? Are you in a hurry to see a certain someone?” Natasha teased and Wanda let out an eruption of laughter.

“All right, I’m done.” You made a beeline for the door and threw it open, “Lock up when you’re finished!” You bellowed over your shoulder and made your way to the top floor of the building where all the parties are typically held.

You didn’t run into anyone on the way up and you used that time to calm yourself, prying inch by inch away from the invasive thoughts that called for you in the darkest hours of the night. But, then again, maybe those tormenting thoughts weren’t that bad? You mean, he certainly IS handsome, very much so actually. And he has the most knee-wobbling smirk you’d ever come to know, not to mention those little tricks he does with his knives always manage to entrance you. God, did he know how to use a knife.

On more than one occasion had you caught yourself staring at how his hands encapsulated the hilt of the blade. How they clenched and relaxed, drawing out some of the more prominent veins on one of the extremities; of course, you were even more so enticed by the hand he hid as well. You’d imagined what it felt like to have such strong hands grip onto your thighs and coax you into spreading them open with just a few teasing touches here and there. You couldn’t fathom the front you’d put up would last very long, he was stellar at pulling reactions from you. He’d see you break under his caresses and he’d degrade you like he always did but this time it’d emit a different response from you, one that made you whimper and shake. At that, he’d probably call you a good girl, he definitely seems the type to switch between degradation and praise, and would press his mouth up just where you wanted it the most. You’d try your hardest to be quiet but damn the way that tongue moved against you and the way he’d pull you harder against his face at each sound of pleasure you let slip past your lips. He’d enjoy it, too. Eyes closed as he devours you, he likes to put on a show for you to watch. Give you a memory that’ll slick your thighs later that night if he hadn’t fucked you into a coma by then. He’d make you watch him and if you dared to close your eyes you’d earn a firm, cold smack on your ass. He knows you like when he uses temperature play. He growls a little too, he can’t help his innate behavior. Then, just as the accumulation is coming to its apex he’d pull away abruptly and kiss you straight on your mouth so you can taste yourself and that’d earn him another whimper which would result in another smack that leads to that cold metal trailing its way to your core and just as he pushes the tip of his finger inside-

You cough and straighten your posture as the elevator door opens. When had you leaned up against the back wall of the elevator? Oh Gods, you could feel the slick at the apex of your thighs and you squeezed them together as inconspicuously as you could in fear that you were producing a . . . scent that would be rather difficult to conceal. But the slick only grew worse when you locked eyes with the person stepping into the elevator.

Fuck.

“That’s what you chose to wear?” He asked, a certain venom in his tone that immediately calmed the ache in your heat.

“And what would you have me wear instead, Barnes?” You quipped back, your body facing forward as he took his place beside you in the cramped space.

There was a beat of silence. Then another. “Not that,” he responded.

“Well I’ll make sure to ask you next time since you have such impeccable taste,” you retorted, your eyes yet to abandon the sight of the closing doors.

You weren’t sure of all the effects of the Super Soldier Serum that had been injected into Bucky and all that it heightened but you prayed to any God that would listen that his hearing wasn’t one of those things. You were too preoccupied with attempting to settle the hot pulse beating between your legs to worry about how loud your discomfort came across.

“What do you look so nervous about?” Bucky’s gruff voice prodded. “You can’t possibly be nervous about the mission considering how big-headed you are,”

You took a deep, long breath and held it to soothe you. Had you not been so previously preoccupied, you’d have given him hell for the insult. “I’m not nervous about that,” you sniped and rested back against the cool wall to satiate your burning skin before lifting your gaze to him only to find him already examining you.

“Of course not, I just said that,” he retorted, bringing a gloved hand to his face to rub along his jaw, “there’s obviously nothing for you to worry about,”

You scoffed, “And why is that, Barnes?” Cue the dramatic crossing of your arms.

“You’re smarter than Rumlow and significantly better trained. Overall, he really doesn’t hold a candle to your ability,” He paused for a second, his whole frame tensing until he remembered to relax, “But that’s not really saying much considering it’s Rumlow,”

You hadn’t noticed you raised your eyebrows until you felt your face fall, “Ah, there he is. You had me worried there for a second, Barnes. Thought you might actually try something new and display common decency for once,”

A corner of his mouth turned up subtly and he shook his head. You trailed your gaze down to his hidden hand and stared long enough to burn a hole through the fabric.

“If something’s bothering you, Dollface, go ahead and speak up,”

You weren’t sure what possessed you to say anything, especially knowing how touchy the subject was for him but the words left your mouth anyway, “I don’t know why you insist on hiding yourself,”

He lurched his head back, your statement seeming to have a physical affect on the man and you mentally slapped yourself for saying anything.

“I’m not hiding myself,”

“But you are,” you interrupted, your thoughts coming out in pools of candor, “you aren’t your hand. You aren’t your past. You are you. Presently. You’re not the Winter Soldier anymore. That’s not even the same hand you had back then. It’s not tainted and neither are you. I say drop the gloves,”

“And why would I care about what you say?” He growled, his eyebrows furrowed together and his neck tight in potential restraint.

The elevator dinged and you looked towards the opening doors, “You don’t have to but they don’t look right with your suit either.” You walked through the exit and sauntered over to the others who had already gotten the party started, leaving Bucky dumb-founded behind you. “I need a shot,”

“Already ready,” Tony quipped up, holding the small glass in the air for everyone to behold before bringing his cheek to yours in mock welcoming, “This’ll up your tolerance for the next hour, try to get all your drinking done within that time-frame,”

You pulled away with a warm smile after faux kissing his cheek, “Finally!” you displayed and threw the liquid back in one swift motion, your face scrunching together against your will.

“Yeah, she’s got a kick to her,” he mumbled and handed you a fruity drink to chase it down with.

You went around and said hi to everyone as you recognized most of those present. You made small chatter with those lesser known and drank the liquid in your hand significantly quicker than you’d like to. You excused yourself after you finished the drink and walked over to the bar, scanning the room as you were handed another glass. No Rumlow in sight.

You headed towards the foosball table and gripped the handles after setting the beverage down on the counter beside you. You flinched as a reflection of light caught your eye and at first you thought your glass was the source. Until your eyes fixated on the reflection’s actual origin. To your far right, and up a few steps you found Bucky conversing with Steve, a dull light emitting from his hand. Not a glove in sight.

“So, where’s your boyfriend?” Sam inquired when he filled the opposing spot.

You rolled your eyes, “Bucky’s not my boyfriend,”

“Bucky?” Sam’s tone chirped up teasingly, a knowing look wearing on his face.

Your grip tightened around the handles and you slowly pulled away to throw the little white ball through the circle, your hands immediately twisting the miniscule players around. Your eyes shot back and forth, your sight never leaving the darting sphere. Sam still managed to win the first point.

“Ha!” He shouted in triumph, bringing his finger up as if to scold you, “Don’t think you got away with that comment either, Y/N,”

“What comment?” you questioned and gulped most of your drink before slamming it back down on the table.

You heard your earpiece come to life with quiet static and you tried to keep your face masked. Rumlow had entered. Not a surprise either, the party was finally starting to pick up now.

Sam threw the ball in and you turned the players meticulously this time, brute strength hadn’t helped you earlier so maybe you should take it slow. Steve made his way over to the table and threw his drink back, the liquid trickling down the side of his face before he wiped it away. Sam won the second point.

“I play winner,” Tony chimed, standing beside Steve.

You made a point to catch up and now you two were tied at three each.

“Best out of five?” You proposed, quirking an eyebrow at Sam.

“If you didn’t want to play anymore you could’ve just said that,” he teased and you smirked at him as Tony made a subtle show of handing you another drink and you finished your second. “Loser takes two shots?”

“Deal.” You nodded, knowing you didn’t have much of a choice as a small crowd began to form around you two. Rumlow amongst them.

Your jaw dropped when Sam shot the ball directly into your goal as soon as he’d let the ball go.

“What the fuck?” You shouted, “No fair! That doesn’t count!”

Thor erupted in laughter to your right and you blinked slowly, staring at the gargantuan man.

“It most certainly does,” Sam shouted back, his grin practically touching his ears.

“Sam, take it easy on her,” Bucky muttered from beside him, quickly averting his gaze from yours and his expression loosened, “The brat hates losing,”

“Brat?” You snarled.

Bucky took a swig of his beer, watching you the entire time and you reeled back the fire beginning to form in your chest just to bring your drink up to your lips and chug the entire thing down. You handed it over to Tony who left to replace it.

“Last point,” Sam stated, “It’s not too late to quit now,”

You shook your head and blinked away the feign distortion you were supposed to have. “Just play the ball,”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he teased and threw the ball in.

You wanted to win. Desperately. But you had a character to play tonight and she was supposed to be drunk. So you hit your hand against the corner of the table just as Sam happened to make the winning point. You grumbled and threw him a glare when Tony broke through the crowd.

“Coming through,” he shouted, handing two small glasses to you while you gripped your knuckles in pain. “Noooo, you’re not getting out of taking these. C’mon, take your punishment,”

“Yes, Daddy,” you grumbled and cringed at your own words when the realization hit you. Whatever. You were supposed to be drunk, anyway.

“Daddy?” Tony quipped and pulled the drinks back towards himself, “Maybe you should be cut off,”

“What?” You argued, leaning slightly on the table with your hand and snatching the drinks from Tony’s hold, effectively spilling some on yourself. “See?” You lifted up the half empty shot glass, “This barely counts as a shot,”

“I’ll get her a new one,” Rumlow offered and disappeared before anyone could argue.

“She really doesn’t need another-” Bucky tried to interject and take the shots from you but you twisted around and chugged down the one full glass.

Water.

You looked up at Tony and his smirk was barely noticeable. But you could tell. Bucky nearly ripped the other drink from you but Tony blocked his path and you exaggerated your next drink as Rumlow broke back into the crowd, shot in tow.

“Here.” Rumlow’s calloused hand held the drink up above you and you stared at him with a questioning look. “Open,” he ordered and the fire burning in your chest fought to destroy everything in its vicinity. You bit your lip in refrain but tossed your head back and opened your mouth.

Static broke over your earpiece. Don’t drink that! Wanda’s voice erupted.

Your eyes widened as the liquid made its way down but you coughed hard to stop whatever you could.

Why? Steve’s voice came through right after.

You choked on the liquid and shut your eyes at the way it burned its way down. You reached your hand out to grab someone’s drink to ease the burning and grasped a tall glass and tossed it back. The burning didn’t ease up and you felt a hand rest on your back.

“Are you okay?” Rumlow’s voice rang out and your skin nearly recoiled from the contact, “How about we get you some water?”

You looked up at him when the burning subsided minimally and nodded your head, letting him lead the way to the bar. He parted the crowd and someone took step right behind you to follow when the presence suddenly died out abruptly. You turned around to check who it had been and found no one.

Why? Steve asked again.

Where’s Wanda? Bruce broke through.

You lifted your head and flitted your gaze around the room until you found the familiar Sokovian on the couch, laying down with her eyes closed. You pulled away from Rumlow but his grip on your hand tightened and his steps grew in haste. You whirled your head to yell at him but the way the room swayed with the movement cause you to shut your mouth in surprise.

Didn’t Tony say you would have a higher tolerance?

“Couch...” you muttered, pointing over your shoulder just in case your target was curious enough to ask but the message was delivered.

Rumlow hoisted you up onto the bar stool and stood on your open side, using his body to keep you from falling over. Or to cage you in.

“I don’t feel good,” You rested an elbow on the countertop and held your head up.

“I can’t imagine you would. You’ve been chugging those drinks like they’re water.” Despite that, Rumlow motioned to the bartender and asked for two more.

You giggled and your head lulled forward with the action. You let Rumlow catch you from tumbling over. Why did your body feel so heavy? Not to mention the way everything around you dazed about. You couldn’t catch a single action, let alone attempt to read Rumlow’s body language. But you did happen to notice the way his eyes searched the room before coming back to you.

“You okay?” You rested your forearm against his chest and pushed slightly to allow yourself a better view of his face.

A small smirk, “Am I okay? What about you?”

You smacked your lips and brought the ice cold glass to your lips. That’s not water. “I’m doing reeaalllyy good,” you drawled.

Rumlow chuckled and pushed you deeper into the chair, “I can tell.” He took a sip, his attention never faltering from your body, “Just be sure to pace yourself from here on out,”

You made a show of cocking your head to the side and letting a smile sprawl onto your face as you studied him.

“What?” he questioned, a curious lift in his brow.

You shook your head gently and kept your gaze on him over the brim of your glass, “You’re just . . . not what I was expecting,”

“And what were you expecting?”

Don’t forget to bat your eyelashes. “Worse,”

“Sorry to disappoint,” he jeered, his attention once again cast throughout the room before centering back on you.

You followed his action but quickly came to the conclusion that moving any pace faster than a sloth was going to make you nauseous and you could barely keep a thought together. Your stomach began to rise in your chest and the fear seized your throat shut. Why couldn’t you hold onto a thought for longer than a second? It was like you were aware of your lack of consciousness but could do nothing about it because any thought or bout of panic phased through just as soon as it arrived.

“What are you so tense for, Rumlow? You know you’re not currently on the clock, right?” You teased, your head leaning on your shoulder as you spoke.

He brought his drink up to his lips and finished it off in three gulps, “I’m not tense. It’s just hard to turn it off sometimes,”

You nodded slowly and pushed your drink towards him, “Relax. You know everyone here,”

He shook his head and placed your drink back in front of you before asking for another beer.

“And two shots!” You shouted to the bartender, throwing two of your fingers high up and instantly regretting how fast you’d done it.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” He asked you, a side smirk beginning to form.

You placed your finger over your lips and hushed, “Shh, I won’t tell if you don’t.” You dragged your lower lip down and his eyes fixated to commit the scene to memory. “Besides, I always feel dumb if I’m the only one drunk,”

He motioned to the rest of the party, “Believe me, Sugar, you’re not the only one enjoying yourself,”

“But are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Enjoying yourself?”

Your skin crawled when he placed his rough hand on your barren thigh, “Absolutely,”

Don’t forget what you’re here for. Don’t let the objective slip. Gods, how the fuck were you supposed to retain anything when you were so sleepy? And why was it so warm?

“Hot,” you mumbled, fishing around in your glass for an ice cube to rub on your face.

“Thank you,”

You threw your head back in laughter and nearly earned yourself an up-close and personal view of the floor had Rumlow not wrapped an arm around your waist and held you steady. Once he was certain you weren’t going to toss yourself onto the ground, he parted your legs and stood between them to keep you rooted to your seat.

All the movement had you spinning and you white-knuckled Rumlow’s cotton shirt to keep yourself grounded to something, anything. Red warning lights were firing up in your chest and you tensed with the way your body buckled to the panic coursing through you. Your heart pounded in your ears and danced across your skin, lighting it on fire and making the room too stuffy to bear. Please, no. Not now. Focus. Snap out of it. Come back, stay back. Your breathing hitched and you looked down at the sensation crawling its way up higher on your thigh. Too hot. Everything was too hot, if you didn’t get out of this now you would never-

“Vision!” You cheered, happy to see your friend.

The presence on your thigh recoiled slightly.

“I’m taking Wanda to her room, seems she’s had a bit too much to drink,” Vision informed and you’d only just then noticed the body in his hold.

“Wanda!” You smiled, admiring her peaceful features as she slept in his arms. You poked at her cheek then jerked your gaze back up to Vision. “What? Wanda doesn’t drink,”

She’s not acting, Sam’s voice erupted in your ear and you flinched at the sound.

Vision’s eyes went from you to Rumlow then back to you slowly, “Y/N . . . are you okay?”

You beamed at him and slowly brought up your thumb. “Good,” you responded.

You followed Vision’s gaze back up to Rumlow and smiled at the agent beside you. You guess he’s kind of cute. In a strange, unsettling way.

“She’s had a lot to drink, so we’re just trying to slow down the pace. Aren’t we, Y/N?” Rumlow looked down at you.

You nodded fervently, “Yup!”

Vision hesitated but knew he didn’t pose much of a threat with Wanda in his arms unconscious, so he quirked a smile and walked towards the hall.

Someone get to Y/N, something’s not right, Vision ordered and you lifted your head up to find him. You could have sworn he just left.

“Here.” Rumlow handed you a glass, “Drink this, it’ll cool you down,”

You stared at the glass in his hold and looked up at him, “You drink it first,” you slurred, holding your finger up at him.

He cocked his head to the side but took a swig of the drink and you watched it go down his throat. You shrugged and grabbed at it.

Do not drink that, Nat ordered from somewhere and you looked around in wonder at who she was yelling to.

Bucky, Sit down! Steve growled.

Like hell, responded a voice you knew all too well.

Your smile grew and you looked through the crowd, “Bucky!” You feverishly called, completely expecting to see him before you. Rumlow’s head lifted instantly, his eyes scouring the area.

“I’ve got this, Pretty Boy,” Tony hastily spoke, “How ya doin’, Hot Stuff?” He interrogated and you reeled at the tone.

“Quite well, thank you,” you responded tenaciously and attempted to take a swig of the drink in your grasp.

Tony’s hand shot out and covered the top, slamming the cup back down on the counter and effectively getting the drink all over your dress.

“What the fuck?” You tried to shout but the words came out heavy and required too much energy to speak.

“You’ve had enough for tonight,”

“It’s just water,” Rumlow defended but Tony paid him no mind.

Your jaw dropped open and you glared at the older man. Who the hell did he think he was? Tony’s stare burned through your skull and despite your irritation, you couldn’t help but wonder why he was so pissed.

“Are you mad at me?” You drawled, lulling your head to the side.

“No,” he responded curtly.

“Am I being too loud or something?” You pushed. You couldn’t imagine you were any louder than any other drunken bastard at this party.

“No,”

Get her out of there or I swear to God I will, his voice hissed into your ear.

Your eyebrows rose slightly in excitement, “Mmm, Bucky,” you smiled and Tony nodded.

“’Mmm, Bucky’ is right. Wanna go see him?” Tony offered, sticking out his hand for you to take.

You fell forward into Rumlow’s chest but shook your head furiously none the less, “For what? So he can tell me I’m horrendous at my-”

Oh shit. Your job. The job.

If only your body didn’t feel so heavy and your mind so light.

You pushed off Rumlow’s chest and glared at Tony, “I can handle myself,” you insisted, a new sort of sober tone making its way through that caused him to do a once-over. “I know what I’m doing,”

“How many drinks have you had?” Tony challenged and you fell silent.

Then you felt a tap, and another and a few more.

“Six,” You said, hoping you’d counted right.

Tony, don’t you even fucking consider it, Bucky threatened.

“You could at least change, recuperate and then come back,” Tony offered and you sighed a breath of relief before nodding.

“Deal,” you agreed, “I’m hot anyway,”

Tony gave you one last glance before turning around and blending into the crowd on the other end of the room.

You looked up to Rumlow who’s gaze was still locked on the sea of people, “Don’t you wish you’d taken that shot now?” you tried to jeer, every last word bringing you deeper and deeper.

“Are they always that intense?” He questioned, not turning his attention to you.

“They can be over-bearing,” you admitted, hand grabbing the water from earlier and pressing it up against your forehead, “They consider me the baby so they’re always criticizing and suffocating until I just wished they’d disappear.” You took a gulp, “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the family and I like that I have a cause but . . . they don’t let me do anything. It’s exhausting,”

You let out a long breath and smeared the condensation from the glass onto your chest. Rumlow studied you then, not just your body but your reaction. He was watching how you dropped your shoulders at the confession and how you faced your back to them to block them out.

You plastered your torso on the countertop and tried to slow your heartrate down. You couldn’t be the only one here unfathomably hot.

“Why is it so fucking hot?” You questioned, fanning yourself weakly.

“There are a lot of people around,” Rumlow offered, “how about we go somewhere else? Tony did say you had to change,”

You peered up at him through half-lidded eyes and meekly groaned in compliance. “Fine,”

You lifted yourself away from the counter and gently placed your feet on the floor. You’d touched the ground faster than anticipated. Had the ground always been so close?

“Don’t worry, I gotcha.” Rumlow threw an arm around your waist and helped you trudge towards the elevator.

Where the hell are you going? Bucky yelled and the sound of shuffling could be heard from his end.

We can’t let you leave with Rumlow, Y/N. We’re not even sure you’re acting anymore, Sam stated.

Rumlow pressed the button when you couldn’t muster the strength to do it yourself. The level that your room was on lit up and the doors began closing. You thought you saw Rumlow wave at someone but the mock smile on his face didn’t make it seem like a warm good-bye.

Your legs had all but given out by the time the elevator reached your shared floor.

“Heavy,” you muttered, letting Rumlow carry your weight fully.

“I know, Sugar. We’re almost there,” he soothed and you conceded to the fatigue wearing you down.

Your head hung low and your arm dangled uselessly at your side. The familiar sound of your door sliding open caught your attention but you did nothing. You couldn’t.

“How . . . know . . . my room?” You questioned, each word causing you to pull from an empty well of energy.

“I’ve been here before.” Rumlow tossed you onto the bed and sprawled you out.

“Oh. Ok.” You tried to turn on to your side but strong hands gripped down onto your ankles.

Rumlow sighed and slipped the heels off your feet, examining the pair like he wanted to wear them. You extended your feet until you felt every muscle in your leg stretch to its capacity and let out a groan of pleasure at the release. Those shoes hurt so bad.

“You seem . . . intelligent, Y/N.” Rumlow dropped your shoes onto the floor and slithered to the side of your bed, standing beside it with his hands tucked into his pockets.

A bead of sweat trickled down your forehead, “Hot . . .” you croaked and he nodded.

“You’re right. It is getting kind of hot.” He brought a hand up to his neck and ripped off the tie hanging around it.

Get the fuck out of my way, a growl erupted in your ear.

We’re going with you, Buck, Steve responded before knocking something over.

“So, what I have a hard time understanding is. . . why you’re here?”

You groaned a weak ‘huh’ but even that didn’t sound right.

“You’re good at what you do, you finish every mission successfully and yet you’re underappreciated.” He took a seat at the foot of your bed and placed one of your legs into his lap, “Why do you allow them to treat you like that? We wouldn’t,”

The shuffling in your earpiece halted.

“We?”

He began to massage your calf and brought your knee up to his lips, peppering light kisses on it. “We could use someone with your skillset, babe. We’d take real good care of you,”

The shuffling started again.

Rumlow had made his way onto your thigh at this point and you let out an involuntary moan when he skimmed over a delicate part on your inner knee.

“Ya like that?” he questioned but didn’t wait for a response. He brought a hand up to his temple and grabbed the earpiece. You figured he just hadn’t taken it out from his earlier shift but when he pulled it apart, you understood why he always kept it on him.

“Flash . . . drive earpiece?” Your weak tone tilted a little. “W-why tell . . .”

“I figured I’d give you the option to leave since you seem so . . . suffocated. If you said yes tonight then I would remind you tomorrow. If you didn’t,” he chuckled, “well, you wouldn’t remember anyway.” His hands trailed to your mid-thigh and you squeaked. “I’m impressed though, I’ve never given anyone else as much as I’ve given you tonight. The drug usually works so quickly on others, but not you. It’s kind of hot, actually,”

Sick fuck, Natasha growled through a ragged breath.

The world around you was slow or maybe it was you that was slow? You couldn’t tell, honestly. But when Rumlow moved as if he could predict your actions before you could make them, you wondered whether you were moving at all.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon,” Rumlow sighed.

You shook your head, or thought you did but despite the way your body was live-wired, it remained still against all desire.

Fight. Move.

You managed to push your legs shut but his hand slithered between and spread them open similar to opening a door, but this required much less force.

“Kill,” You threatened and the sinister smile that crawled its way onto Rumlow’s face was vile enough to sink your heart into your stomach.

“Kill is fucking right.” Someone snarled and your door was ripped from its hinges.

Rumlow’s hand jerked away from your body and Bucky seized his open palm, intertwining their fingers and pushing Rumlow’s so far back that they touched the back of his own hand. The cracks were sickening onto themselves but had you not been so weak you would’ve turned from the sight altogether. You really couldn’t fathom how his fingers were still attached at all.

“Lay another hand on her and you won’t be able to use it again.” Bucky spit.

Despite Rumlow’s pain, the sinister smile remained sprawled on his face, “You should’ve heard the noises she made,”

Bucky’s grip tightened and the bones in his palm broke next, “I did,”

Natasha flew in right behind Barnes but completely dismissed the two and headed straight for you with a needle in hand. Your eyes shifted from the needle to Nat’s face and back again until she stabbed it into your upper arm. Ouch.

“Wha-”

“Shh,” Natasha hastily hushed, “Keep your strength, you should be back to normal soon,”

Steve came behind Nat and scooped you up to lead you out of the havoc going on in the room. Nat turned her focus to Bucky and reached over to grab the earpiece from Rumlow. Who knows if his nose will ever heal back normally. You held one finger in the air as Steve stepped over the splintered door.

“Goddamit, Y/N,” Steve huffed, jogging towards the elevator and pressing the floor that led to the infirmary.

“We won,” you croaked out, a small smile on your face and Steve shook his head.

“I’m never going to hear the end of this,”

Steve looked you up and down for bruises but couldn’t find any and you promised you weren’t lying to him when you told him Rumlow did not get very far in his ‘advances’ at all. You had to swear the mid-thigh was the worst that it came to.

Bruce was the one that took a few blood samples and made sure everything was reversing back to normal. Apparently, as soon as Rumlow took you to the bar Tony handed Banner the shot glass that Rumlow gave you and Banner ran analysis on it. The cure was pretty easy to find.

After being given strict orders to lie down for the next hour or so, it had been decided that Rumlow was to be turned in considering all the evidence required to make the arrest was in the flashdrive and everyone was to gather together for a ‘family night’. Whatever the hell that meant.

You were in the middle of debating which movie to pick with Steve when the infirmary doors flew open.

“Where is she?” Bucky nearly shouted upon seeing Bruce.

“That’s my cue.” Steve stood up just as Bucky rounded the corner, “If you need anything me and Banner will be right over there,”

You smiled and thanked him then turned your attention to the super-soldier who just arrived at the foot of your bed.

He didn’t say anything for a while, just looked at you. No, not really. Not at you but through you. A few painstakingly slow seconds went by that way.

“You owe me a new door,” you joked, a half-smile on your face.

“Are you okay?” He asked, finally registering your presence.

You nodded slowly, “I am,”

Then a few more seconds.

Bucky turned his gaze down to his hands, both of them barren and on display for the world to see, before shifting his weight between either foot, “Did he- did he touch you?”

“Not really. Just really liked my legs for some reason,” your attempt at another quip didn’t reach Bucky. He stared back up at you waiting for an answer, an honest one. You sighed, “The damage is more mental,” you admitted, now you were the one not able to look up, “I didn’t like being in this altered state of mind. It’s invasive and . . . scary. He could’ve done things, much worse things but it never got that far or that bad. It was more realizing that I wasn’t completely conscious or present and having that state of mind be taken advantage of, that mostly frightened me. Ya know?”

“More than anyone,” he answered immediately.

You looked back up towards him, finally making eye contact, “But I’m fine now, really. Just a little spooked. Steve wants to do a movie night tonight and I would actually prefer that over being alone.” Your eyes fixated on the way his hands clenched and unclenched on the bar by your feet, “If I’m alone then I’ll get stuck in my head about it. Besides, I consider this a hard victory with a few bumps in the road,”

He chuckled, lulling his head a bit, “You’re too stubborn for your own good,”

You shrugged, “Maybe. How’s Rumlow?”

Bucky hissed and moved over to the side of the bed where he took a seat, “He’s unconscious. And has a hand that he’ll never be able to use again. But other than that, he’s fine,”

You chuckled and Bucky watched how the laugh met your eyes. He liked that look on you. It was one of his favorites.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You questioned once it fell silent between you two again.

“You called me Bucky earlier,” he remembered.

You scoffed, “I call you Bucky all the time,”

“Not to my face,”

“Not to your face,” you agreed, a teasing smile dancing on your lips and Bucky had one that mirrored yours.

“It was nice. Hearing it, I mean,” he admitted and a wave of warmth made its way to your face.

“I see your hands are exposed,”

He looked down as though he weren’t aware that he’d taken off his own gloves, “These bad boys? A friend of mine reminded me that I’m not my past. I’m my present. Why hide my growth?”

You twiddled your thumbs together, “She sounds smart,”

Now he scoffed, “Oh, it wasn’t a girl, it was some old buddy of mine.” He quirked up a brow, “Unless the person being a girl would make you jealous because in that case it was most definitely a girl,”

You fought against the natural tug at the corners of your mouth, “Is she at least pretty?”

“Stunning,”

“Smart?”

“Genius,”

“Good at her job?”

“Amongst the best,”

“Then consider me jealous, Barnes,”

Bucky chuckled and you watched how the laugh met his eyes. You liked that look on him. It was one of your favorites.

1K notes · View notes

emerald-chaos · 3 years

Text

Daydream

**gif not mine! credit to the owner**

So, I couldn't help myself. This is a continuation of my previous Bucky fic Insomnia because I just really enjoyed the dynamic between Bucky and the reader. I had a lot of fun writing this part and I love building things up between the two of them. If you guys like this or are interested in seeing more - please let me know! I love talking with people and hearing their ideas and such.

Much love xo.

Pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 2079

Warnings: cursing, struggles with mental illness, mentions of sex (nothing entirely explicit but better safe than sorry), alcohol use, and really poorly written jokes lmao

Fingers threaded into hair.

Hot, opened-mouth kisses marking every surface of your neck.

Nails trailing down his back leaving raised, red lines in their wake.

“Oh my god,” you groaned as you let your head fall back and continued to rock your hips into the man in front of you.

Strong hands tighten their hold on your hips, sure to leave purplish-blue bruises for the morning.

“C’mon, baby,” he grunted, face buried in your neck as he helped your body to grind against his, “I got you. Let go, fuck, let go for me.”

A pair of slender fingers snapped in front of your line of sight, tearing you from your daydream and bringing you harshly back to reality.

“Hmm, what was that?” You blinked a few times before you turned your attention to the redhead who you, apparently, had been having a conversation with.

“Are you serious?” She laughed, “I’ve been talking for the past 10 minutes! I looked over and you had that far off, glossy look in your eyes. Not to mention you’re bleeding.”

A hand found its way to your lower lip and you realized she was right. You had been so lost in wet dreamland that you chewed a layer of skin off of your lip. You hoped she didn’t notice the heat rising in your face as you cleared your throat, grabbing a tissue from the coffee table.

“Sorry,” you muttered, pressing the tissue against your injured lip, “guess I got lost in thought.”

“Is it one of those flashbacks again?” She asked kindly, facial expression softening.

You nodded quickly, knowing fully well that the statement was a lie. Your gaze drifted over the woman’s shoulder to the subject of your previous thoughts. It would be easier to explain the common occurrence of your PTSD than it would be to explain that you were reminiscing on the hot, steamy, passionate sex you had the night before.

Bucky was situated across the room, leaning against the counter as he talked to Rogers and Wilson. The unfortunately tight, black, short-sleeve t-shirt he was wearing left nothing to the imagination. It accentuated every muscle of the body you had gotten to know so intimately not more than 10 hours ago. His muscular arms were crossed at his chest and he was sporting his signature scowl. Everything about the sight sent a shiver down your spine. You finally had a taste and you wanted more.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Your friend’s voice gained your attention once more.

A small smile found its way to your lips as you met her gaze again. Apart from Bucky, Nat had always been a good trauma buddy of yours. From the beginning she had been someone you felt like you could confide in and someone who would understand your troubles. Sometimes you wondered if a requirement of joining the avengers was to have a fucked up, tragic backstory.

“I’m okay, Nat.” You reassured, “Just got lost in my head again.”

“Whatever you say. Maybe the party tonight will help you get your mind off of things,” She mused as she pushed herself from the couch to stand up. She paused briefly before she turned to you again, “you are coming, right?”

“Yeah,” you snorted, “Tony actually threatened me if I didn’t go this time, so, I guess I have to.”

After the last party you skipped out on, Tony cornered you in the hallway and gave you quite the interrogation. Then he went on a spiel about how staying in your room all day and all night was bad for you and that if he didn’t know better he would think you weren’t appreciative of what he’d done for you and blah, blah, blah. Tony really was a good person underneath all that hair gel. All he wanted was to help you break out of your shell and give you the family he knew you were lacking. That didn’t mean he couldn’t be a pushy asshole.

“Good, I’ll see you there. I’m sure Barnes will too.” A devilish grin painted her lips as she watched your jaw drop. Before you had a chance to say anything she was off down the hallway.

Fuckin’ Natasha.

*******

A pile of clothes littered your bed as you slipped another dress over your form. Not once in your life had you ever been concerned about what you were wearing or what you looked like, but there was something about tonight that made you want to turn heads. Your eyes raked down your figure as you twisted from side to side, admiring the way the black dress hugged your body in all the right places. Not to mention the thigh high slit in the dress showed off probably the only body part you weren’t self-conscious about. Tony, being the theatrical and over the top man he was, once said that you shouldn’t show up to his parties if you weren’t dressed to court a royal or to bring a man to his knees. Guess you were shooting for the latter.

As you put the finishing touches on your look for the evening, you felt that familiar heavy feeling settling into your chest. Your body always had a tendency to go into fight or flight mode when you became too familiar with anything or anyone. It felt like every fiber in your body was screaming for you to retreat into sweats and stay in your room, to not allow yourself this opportunity to enjoy the people you’d grown so close to. You know what happens when you let people in.

Grief, trauma, coping - it made it really difficult to live a “normal” life. Everyday tasks are daunting, it can be next to impossible to have intimate friendships or relationships, and not to mention the intrusive thoughts that infect your mind on a daily, if not hourly, basis. Here you were, the happiest you’d been in years. You were finally in a place where you felt loved, comfortable, safe - and yet your mind was trying to self-sabotage again.

You took a moment to close your eyes and take several deep breaths. When you opened your eyes you locked eyes with your reflection in the mirror and made a pact with the girl staring back at you. The intrusive thoughts and self-doubt couldn’t continue to have a hold over you anymore. You gave yourself a small smirk and nod as you made the decision to throw caution to the wind and give the party a try. What’s the worst that could happen?

*******

Come to find out, the worst that could happen would be your competitive nature overcoming the rational, thinking part of your brain; which in turn would lead you to enter in a drinking contest. Thankfully a small portion of your pink, smooth brain was still functional enough to tell you when you’d reached your limit. Now you sat comfortably on the couch, legs tucked underneath you as you joyfully watched your friends argue.

“Dr. Banner, my friend, you are one of the most intelligent people I know. However, you are wrong.” Thor stated simply as he finished the rest of his drink.

“Thor, for the last time, water is not wet!” Bruce retorted, throwing his hands up in frustration.

You let out a loud snort before thinking, “Oh yeah, water. I should drink some water.”

Your feet planted themselves on the floor and slipped back into your pair of shoes. As you made your way to the kitchen you were pleasantly surprised by your balance and coordination, considering how much alcohol you’d consumed. Seems that drinking with Thor has done wonders for your tolerance.

While you were busy searching the refrigerator for a bottle of water, you were also oblivious to the soft sound of footsteps coming into the kitchen. After retrieving the beverage, you closed the door and turned to leave. Instead, you turned right into the chest of a figure that was definitely not there a moment ago. You yelped as you clutched a hand over your chest dramatically, your face filled with horror as though you’d just come face to face with the grim reaper.

“Jesus Christ, Barnes!” you scolded.

Bucky was holding his abdomen as he leaned back, consumed with laughter at your reaction. You huffed and wanted to be offended, but he looked so damn cute laughing that you couldn’t help but join him. You pushed his chest playfully and grumped as you hopped up to sit on the counter, opening the water to gulp about half of it down. Bucky couldn’t help but grin at your pouty state as he finished up his laughing fit.

“My apologies, sweets. Didn’t realize I’d be makin’ ya scream twice in one day.” He teased, grinning even wider as he did so.

Your jaw dropped at the comment, quickly looking around to make sure no one else was in the kitchen to hear what he had said. After seeing that the coast was clear you kicked your foot at him out of annoyance, only for his metal hand to catch it smoothly. The two of you locked eyes, motionless for a moment before he moved closer, sliding his hand from your ankle to your thigh. In the moment, you damned yourself for choosing this particular dress. The closer he got, the faster your breathing became. The contrast between his cold embrace and your flushed, warm skin sent a shiver down your spine. Abandoning the water bottle, you ran your hands up his abdomen and chest until they rested on his shoulders. Following a small nudge from his knee, you parted your legs to allow him space to stand between them. The heat in your face at an all time high as he pressed his flesh hand to your cheek.

“Haven’t been able to stop thinkin’ about you.” Bucky whispered as he stroked the apple of your cheek with his thumb. Each word that left his lips had you feeling way more intoxicated than any liquor you’d had all night.

As quickly as it started, his touch was gone and his back was turned as he opened the fridge. Before you had a chance to open your mouth to ask what the hell just happened, Tony was entering into the kitchen.

“Well, well, well. Surprised to see you here, Annie.” Tony beamed as he laid eyes on you.

Yes, Tony had nicknamed you after little orphan Annie. Yes, he also referred to himself lovingly as Daddy Warbucks. Yes, any person in their right mind would probably be offended, but you were just fucked up enough that you found it kind of hilarious.

“Wish I could say that it’s a pleasure, Tony.” You grumped back, upset that you’d been cockblocked and by Tony no less.

“Never lose that spunk, kid.” Tony winked as he turned to see Bucky retreating from the fridge with a beer in hand. “Inspector Gadget! Good to see you too.”

As much as you didn’t want to encourage him, you couldn’t help but laugh. Much to your dismay, Bucky simply raised his bottle to Tony as if to say “cheers” and padded out of the kitchen.

“He has such a way with words.” Tony teased as you rolled your eyes.

A sigh left your lips as you slipped off the counter and back onto the floor, muttering a “goodnight” before leaving the kitchen and heading back to your room. Although you wanted nothing more than to find Bucky and finish what he had started in the kitchen, you came to the conclusion that you were probably too drunk and definitely too tired.

Back in the comfort of your bedroom, you went about your normal nighttime routine. As you exited the bathroom, you couldn’t help but notice a piece of paper that had been slipped beneath your door. Grabbing the paper from the floor and plopping back onto your soft mattress, you opened it to read the note that was scribbled in black ink.

Never got the chance to tell you how gorgeous you looked tonight. Gotta say, I’m a big fan of that dress.

Sweet dreams.

- B.

When you finished the note, it felt as though you were floating on cloud 9. Even when you laid your head down and tried to welcome sleep, Bucky’s words were still replaying in your head over and over again - like they were lyrics to your new favorite song.

Turns out you were down for Bucky Barnes, and you were down bad.

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ulalumewitch · 3 years

Text

I’ve had this Elucien fic rolling around my brain for a while and decided to put it out there. No warnings with this one. Just angst and bits of hope for possible futures (I swear I write things other than angst all the time - haha).

Happy Sunday everyone!

Word count: 2,807

Themes: Angst/Hope

Choices

Lucien couldn’t believe it. He could not believe that another Winter Solstice ended in utter ruins because of his mate. Because of his godsdamned mate and he’d had enough. He would end it, and end it now.

“Elain!” He shouted at her retreating figure.

But she pulled the ruby red cloak tighter around her shoulders and quickened her steps. Fresh snow remained mostly untouched on small front lawns and sidewalks of Velaris as he ran from the front door of the Riverside Estate after Elain. Most families and friends likely hunkered down in their homes enjoying fires and brandies and gifts and laughter with no cause to go out walking as the last hours of Solstice crept by entering the darkest hours of night before the dawn.

The longest night of the year. The longest three years of his life. Three years of being both rejected and not rejected by his mate. And he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Would you stop,” he growled as they reached the gate, “You owe me one conversation.”

Elain stopped. Her spine snapped straight. She turned and glared at him, her eyes molten with pure hatred.

Lucien had chosen his words carefully. Tempers he could handle, he’d had enough practice over the centuries with a hot headed High Lord. He could handle master manipulators and sweet talkers. He could handle battle worn generals and courtiers of the most delicate constitution. He could handle gossipers and those genuinely interested in friendship.

But what he could not handle was nothing. He could not handle the looks that went right through him. The unanswered questions. The blank stares. The Solstice presents delicately placed to the side and left alone as if they didn’t exist at all.

“I owe you nothing. Leave me alone.”

“I won’t. You are my mate -“

“I don’t want to be your mate!”

“Then reject me and reject he bond!” Lucien yelled, his voice echoing through the silent night.

The stars glittered in the black sky, now completely clear after the fast moving snow clouds from earlier in the evening had dissipated. It brought just enough snow to coat the city white before moving on. As if the Mother heard every prayer from the younglings of Night Court for a white Solstice, and then granted their wish.

Elain’s nostrils flared and for a moment, the briefest moment, her eyes flashed an emotion he couldn’t quite place but had seen before. And it hit him. She’d possessed the same look of bewilderment when she’d still been sopping wet from the Cauldron’s waters, Nesta clawing at her sobbing. The look of knowing but not knowing.

“Reject it,” he rasped, the fight and fire receding slightly, “Reject it so that I can move on. You think I enjoy this? You think that any of this has made me feel good over the last three years?”

“I didn’t choose you. I didn’t choose any of this. I didn’t want any of this,” she cried.

Lucien took a breath. It was rare he lost control like this. He’d spent centuries honing his reactions and temperament to be the Fox and mold his features and behaviors into whatever he’d needed in order to ferret out information, or to keep his own secrets safe. But he couldn’t do that around her, his mate.

“I didn’t choose you either,” Lucien said.

She flinched, and looked away down the street. She crossed her arms and shivered. Her cheeks flushed a pink as if kissed by two rose petals and once again her beauty struck him like a slap across the face.

“I know you were in love with another male -“

“Stop it -“

“I know you hate being Fae. I know what you did to try and turn yourself human again -“

“I said stop it,” Elain growled through clenched teeth, “Stop it. Why are you doing this?”

“Because I can’t take it anymore,” Lucien stated, willing himself to be calm, to stop shouting.

He needed this conversation. They both did.

“You wouldn’t know this because you refuse to ever speak to me but I was in love once too,” Lucien said and took a step closer to her, “I was in love with a female and planned to marry her. And my - And the High Lord of Autumn had her killed in front of me and I couldn’t save her.”

Elain’s lips parted in a silent gasp. Her brow furrowed. For a moment he thought she might ask a question, but instead she closed her lips and looked down at he ground.

“I didn’t choose to live without her. I didn’t choose to run away to another Court and make a home there. I didn’t choose a life of intelligence work, books, sparring, warring, and everything in between. But we don’t always get a choice, Elain. What we can choose is what we do with the things that happen to us.”

Lucien paused but she remained silent. Because of course she would stay silent. Fine. Maybe it would be easier this way.

“I chose to deepen my friendship with Tamlin and to truly be a part of his Court and I made the best of it. I chose to continue my education of Courts and history and everything in between so that I could help keep the peace as much as possible. I chose to become trained as a warrior so that I could be as strong and prepared as possible for any situation. I chose those things to make the best of my life. I chose not to wallow in the what-could-have-beens for centuries because no one can survive that way.”

Lucien took another step towards her so that they were only a few inches apart. He could see Elain’s breathing had increased slightly. Her arms tightened across her chest. But she did not move away.

“I did not choose to be your mate, no one gets that choice,” Lucien whispered, “But we can choose, together, whether we want to reject this mating bond to try to lessen its effects as much as possible. It will never go away completely, but if we officially reject it then we can at least bury it and move on separately and away from each other.”

“Is that what you want?” Elain whispered, and she glanced up at him, her eyes somehow still sparkling as if the sun reflected in them.

Lucien’s heart ached. It was the first question she’d asked him since asking if he could hear her beat those years ago. And she’d been so broken then, he could barely breathe around the memory of seeing her in such a state. So he told her the truth.

“What I want is for you to talk with me and be honest with me,” he began carefully, “I want to know why the Cauldron and Mother saw fit to pair us together. Do you know that mates are equally matched and often so is their magic, their power?”

Elain glanced away and nodded. She shifted on her feet slightly.

“I’ve done some research on it.”

Lucien leaned closer to her and clasped his hands behind his back. He didn’t need her or those obnoxious bats, whom he knew lurked in the shadows, to think he would touch her. Overbearing babysitters the lot of them, even if their hearts were in the right place.

“No one knows what I’m about to tell you Elain. You could use the information against me and spread it to the Inner Circle, or anyone who might wish me harm, or you could tuck it away for private reflection. But I have much more magic and power than anyone thinks. I only let a very little bit show in the company of others. And since we are mates, I have a theory that you are the same. You only show a small bit of what you are actually capable of and have hidden the rest away. Your sisters are powerful, Elain, and I find it very hard to believe that you would be different. I also think that one of the reasons you are so unhappy is because it scares you. I could help you discover what you’re capable of - learn about it, grow with it, strengthen it, control it, and use it. You were not given a choice to become Fae and I am sorry that neither Tamlin nor I realized what was happening until it was too late. You have no idea how sorry I am. And I am sorry that you lost the love of your life in the process. I’m sorry.”

Elain stared at him. Stared and stared.

Lucien could scarcely breathe. His heart lurched forward in his chest, begging him to tug on the bond, to bring her nearer. To touch her. Kiss her. Love her.

But he forced the instinct down. Even though every beat of his heart echoed, my mate, he shut all of it down.

“There are options other than rejection,” he began slowly, “If you would like, Elain, we could discuss it, but it can’t only be me talking. And if I’m being honest, it kills me that I don’t know you. Feyre used to talk about you all the time at Spring Court when she lived there. And over the past three years I’ve gotten bits from her and Nesta, on the rare occasion I speak with her. But those are their perspectives. I would like to know first hand, about you.”

Elain looked away and cleared her throat, “What is it you want to know?”

Hope sparked in Lucien’s chest. He tightened his hands behind his back. Carefully. He had to tread so, so carefully.

“Well, for starters, I’ve always wondered if there is anything other than gardening you enjoy? What do you like? What are your passions? Your dreams? What makes you happy? Upset? Do you have any religious or spiritual beliefs? Do you enjoy sports? Do you have a favorite season? Hobbies? Preferred genre of music? Books? I want to know about you, Elain, and not from anyone else. I want to experience you. I want to know why the godsdamned universe decided why you and I should be together.”

Elain let out a breath that could have been a laugh or a huff of annoyance. He wasn’t sure which, and it killed him that he didn’t know his mate well enough to know which it was.

“I hate winter,” she whispered and looked up at the sky, “I hate the cold. I never want to be cold again. I’ve had enough of it after living in that godforsaken hovel all those years. Spring has always been my favorite season. Is … how is it there?”

Lucien frowned slightly, “Improving at a glacial pace.”

“I remember the night Azriel and Feyre came to rescue me at Hybern’s camp,” she whispered, her arms tightening around her, “And I remember Azriel holding on to me as I held on to that poor girl and watching in horror as those beast things closed in on my sister. I thought she was dead. And then Tamlin came out of no where and saved her. Saved us. I think of that quite a bit actually.”

Lucien stared at her. What the hell was he supposed to say to that?

“If he needs assistance with his gardens, I could help. I’m bored to tears in winter here and I don’t think the High Lord of Spring should have flagging gardens, do you?” Elain asked and met his eyes then.

Strength shone in them. Her chin tipped up slightly and Lucien lost his breath. A shiver ran along his spine as he realized his assumption on her untapped and hidden power had likely been correct. He did not stare into the eyes of a doe but a Wolf. Of course a godsdamned Wolf would would lurk under her skin. She was an Archeron sister after all.

“No, I don’t think so either. It might help Tam, to have his estate restored a bit,” Lucien suggested carefully, “If you ever wanted to get away from the cold of Velaris during winter, I could arrange it.”

Elain looked away again and whispered, “I’ve been so lonely. I don’t know what to do.”

Lucien frowned as pain wrapped around his heart, and realized with utter horror, it was not his pain but hers. Gods, had she been living with this?

“Elain,” Lucien murmured, “All I’m asking for is to share one meal. One conversation. I’m not suggesting we get mated or married or any of it. Hell, I’m not even asking for a date. I’m only asking for one conversation so that we can both maybe decide if rejecting the bond really is the best thing or if maybe, maybe, there might be something here worth exploring, growing, tending like one of your gardens. No expectations. Just …”

“Just time to decide what kind of choice we want to make with what the Cauldron gave us?” Elain offered quietly.

A breath he didn’t know he’d been holding rasped through his lips. His gold eye whirred. He blinked and golden light swirled around Elain hedged with blush pink and warm vermillion. She looked like a goddess inside the sun, and gods did he want to worship her. But was she worth worshiping? He desperately wanted to find out.

He blinked and his eye showed her as any one would see her once again. Lucien nodded his agreement.

Elain cleared her throat and looked down the street, “I didn’t eat. Did you?”

“Not much, those fools love their drink on holidays,” Lucien offered with a small laugh, “They’re a happy lot though aren’t they?”

Elain shrugged, “I suppose. Are you hungry?”

Warmth spread through his chest. Lucien allowed a smile to touch his lips.

“I could eat.”

“Do you think any of the restaurants are open?” Elain asked.

“You want to have this conversation now?” Lucien asked incredulously.

A smile bloomed across her face. Her rosy cheeks pinked further and he’d never wanted to kiss anyone so badly in his life before.

Elain released her arms and crooked an elbow to him. He stared at the offered arm. Was he dreaming?

“Well, Fox?” Elain asked, “Shall we?”

Lucien’s heart leapt in his chest. He closed the last few inches between them and looped his arm through hers. Suddenly, the weight of a thousand stones of grief and dejection lifted from his shoulders. His heart felt so light he could have wept.

“I know of one restaurant that will be open. It’s not the best, but it’s decent and within walking distance,” Lucien began, “And after this conversation, if you would like to have another - if we would both like to have another - then I can take you to my favorite restaurant. It is in the middle of the largest botanical gardens in all of Prythian.”

Elain raised an eyebrow, “In the middle of winter?”

Lucien grinned at her and winked, “It’s in Summer Court.”

She nodded, “I would like that, if,” and softly cleared her throat, “If we both decide we would like another conversation after tonight that is.”

Lucien nodded, “Very well, Lady Light. Are you cold?”

A small smile. An even smaller snicker.

“A little.”

“Give me your hand,” Lucien offered his free hand to her, palm up.

Elain stared at his open palm. Lucien felt a small lick of pride at how still she became, like a true Immortal creature, she’d mastered the art of preternatural stillness.

Then, she lightly rested her hand against his. Lucien maintained eye contact with her as he closed his fingers around her hand and touched the spark of fire within him. Elain gasped and her eyes widened.

“How did you do that?” She murmured, and a small laugh escaped her, “I’m positively toasty.”

Lucien’s heart fluttered but kept his tone airy, almost bored, “A small bit of magic for me. It’s a gift not everyone possesses. Not many know I can do it. Shall we eat? I’m rather hungry myself.”

Elain nodded, “I would like that, thank you.”

Lucien nodded and let go of her hand but tightened his arm still hooked around hers slightly. He didn’t bother to hide the widening of his smile as she gently squeezed back.

He sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Mother as they walked arm in arm down the street, their tracks the only pair as they made their way away from the High Lord and Lady’s Riverside estate and into Velaris.

Lucien didn’t know what choice she would make in the end. He didn’t know what choice he would make in the end. But at least, for now, there was a sun dawning to end the longest night of the year. And he’d never been happier to see its light.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

#elucien #acotar fanfiction #elain archeron #lucien #angst #possibility

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helloalycia · 3 years

Text

teenage dirtbag [four] // wanda maximoff

summary: Things finally explode between you and Nate, and Pietro decides to get to the bottom of whatever is going on between you and Wanda, though in usual Pietro fashion AKA not subtly at all

warning/s: none.

author's note: this is very beefy, i must admit, but i think you'll all enjoy the outcome 😂💘

Dinner with the Maximoffs wasn't as strange as I envisioned. Her parents were sweet and the twins did their best to make me feel comfortable. Wanda still seemed mildly frustrated whenever Pietro and I would talk though, and I figured she may have thought I was lying when I told her I didn't like him like that. I hoped that wasn't the case.

After dinner, Wanda took me upstairs to show me her bedroom. I'm not sure how to describe it other than it seemed so Wanda.

"I'm guessing red is your favourite colour," I said when I saw the hints of scarlet in her bedroom. On her walls, in her bedding, on her pillows. Just like her car and her jacket, they were all bright and very her.

"Great observation, Sherlock," she teased with a sly smile.

I returned the smile, sticking my tongue out at her playfully, before having a walk around and coming across her massive CD collection and CD player. Her music taste was actually quite similar to mine, which I definitely didn't expect. It just made her ten times more attractive to me which wasn't good, but oh well. I was here for a good time, not a long time. And my crush on Wanda Maximoff would surely be the death of me.

"D'you have any CDs at all?" she asked, joining my side when she noticed me staring at the shelf.

I crossed my arms, glancing at her. "Don't get me wrong. I'd love to collect them, but it's just so much easier to have Spotify, y'know?"

My intention wasn't to make her laugh, but God I was glad I did when her eyes crinkled and the sound rang around the room, making my heart pinch with adoration.

After giving me some of her pyjamas, the two of us got ready and brushed our teeth before I realised she wanted me to share bed with her.

"You wanna watch some TV before bed?" she asked, clearly not registering my hesitance to slide into her Queen-sized bed.

I swallowed hard. "S-sure."

She turned on the TV at the end of her bed as I slipped in beside her, still a bit rigid as I kept a fair distance from her.

"What you feeling? Comedy? Drama? Horror?"

"Anything is fine with me," I said, still tense.

She hummed in acknowledgement before leaning down on her pile of pillows behind her, edging closer to me. My heart was hammering in my chest as her hair tickled my arm from where she was laying.

"You comfortable?" she checked in, leaning backwards so her head was upside down to see me. "I have more pillows if you need them."

I offered her a small smile, hoping it disguised my nerves. "I'm good."

She nodded before flicking through the channels and eventually settling on reruns of The Office. It took time, but I eventually overcame my initial shock of sharing bed with the girl I had a major crush on and instead relaxed, getting comfortable under the covers.

After watching some TV, we called it a night and fell asleep quite quickly, the day taking its toll on us. For once, I wasn't panicking about doing something stupid. I simply fell asleep, trying to ignore the heat she emanated from beside me.

It was a peaceful night – her bed was super comfortable – and I woke up to the sound of Wanda moving about in her bedroom.

"Shoot, I'm sorry, did I wake you?" she asked when she saw me moving about under the blankets. I tried to blink away the sleep as she continued, "I was gonna wake you soon. School starts in an hour."

I rubbed my eyes, yawning, before sitting up and seeing she was practically already dressed. That meant she would have been up for a while, meaning she would have seen me fast asleep. God, I hated when people saw me sleeping. It always felt so weird.

"It's okay," I got out tiredly, before running a hand through my hair.

"You sleep well?" she asked, spinning around in her chair, her makeup half done. "I tried my very best not to use you as a teddy bear."

She was joking, but I felt my neck grow warm at the thought and damn, it was just way too early to be flustered.

"Yeah, I slept great," I settled, feeling her gaze on me. "Thanks again for having me over."

"Anytime," she said, and something told me it wasn't just a friendly response but that she actually meant it. Maybe it was the kind smile on her lips as she said so. "Just like last night, if you wanna use anything in the bathroom, go for it."

I gave her a thumbs up, taking a moment to wake myself up a little more, before heading to the bathroom to brush my teeth. When I returned to Wanda's room, I saw she'd already made the bed and had laid my clothes on top of it.

"I've got a shirt you can borrow," she said when I grabbed my jeans.

"Oh, I can just wear the same thing again, it's no biggie," I told her, already grabbing my shirt.

She pouted before grabbing a shirt from her closet. "Just hold on. You'll love it."

In no time, she came out from her closet and held out a Paramore tee shirt on a hanger towards me.

"I got it from the last concert I went to," she explained. "I thought you'd like it."

I couldn't help but smile at the thought. "Wow, Wanda. Really? You don't mind?"

She nodded, shaking the shirt as emphasis for me to take it. I did, having a look over it and smiling to myself.

"I'll wash it and give it back to you tomorrow," I promised, taking it off the hanger and holding it with my jeans. "Thanks."

"You can keep it," she said, scratching the back of her head apprehensively. "I've got loads."

"Oh, no, I can't do that," I began to deny, but she shook her head.

"It's fine, I'm giving it to you," she said, before smiling sweetly. "I'm sure you'll look better in it anyway."

Again with the warmth spreading up my neck...

"I doubt that," I quipped with a small smile.

"Go! Go get changed," she said, already pushing me towards the door. "I'll meet you downstairs for breakfast."

I snickered, letting her shove me into the hallway, before heading into the bathroom to get ready. The shirt was oversized, so there was no need to be worried it wouldn't fit. It was actually really nice, plus I liked it that extra bit more knowing Wanda gave it to me. Though I knew I wouldn't keep it. It was hers and she was just being nice.

When I finished making myself look presentable, I headed downstairs and found the twins at the kitchen counter, chatting between themselves. Their chatter ceased when I walked in, with Wanda biting her lip and looking me up and down with satisfaction.

"I was right," was all she said, making me nervous. "You do look better in it than me."

—

The day after that, I did as I said I would and returned Wanda's shirt to her, washed, folded and ironed. Knowing she wouldn't accept it without a fight, I left it in her bag when she wasn't looking during class.

I should have expected her to approach me at my locker afterwards.

"It was supposed to be a gift," she said, and I saw her pretty face reflected in the mirror hung inside my locker.

I turned around, already knowing what she was talking about.

"I told you I couldn't accept," I said politely, giving her a small smile. "I appreciate it though." She seemed disappointed which obviously didn't help with my feelings for her, so I took a leap and added, "Maybe I can get my own at their next concert. In the summer, right?"

She picked up on what I meant and smiled, stifling a laugh. Running a hand through her hair, she met my gaze and I found myself frozen in place as always, unable to look away. I wondered if she knew what she was doing when she did that, knew that she was giving me heart palpitations every time her lips turned into a playful smirk and dark eyes studied me curiously.

My eyes drifted to her lips subconsciously and she must have put on some lip balm or something, prior to finding me just now, as they looked shiny and pink and just so damn kissable. Nate was one lucky guy.

—

Having faced issues with Nate three times now (AKA the three times he happened to launch a football at my head), I'd figured I wouldn't be seeing the last of him. He was a dick, meaning he had a natural inclination to piss people off, particularly me. But I never thought he'd go for Y/BF/N.

We were chilling by our lockers, chatting about his film project, when his books suddenly got knocked out of his hands and he was shoved against the lockers. I straightened up when I saw it was Nate, looking pissed off as he had Y/BF/N's shirt bundled in his fist.

"What the hell are you doing?!" I shouted, trying to shove him off, but he merely pushed me back.

"This isn't your business," he said to me before glaring at Y/BF/N, who was quiet with panic. "You. You've been hanging around my girlfriend and I don't like it."

The colour drained from Y/BF/N's face as Nate slammed his hand to the lockers beside his head, startling him.

"I want you to stay the fuck away from Wanda!" he ordered, and students were starting to pick up on the fight that was clearly about to break out. "You fucking hear me, you nerd? Stay the fuck away!"

Poor Y/BF/N nodded his head, eyes avoiding Nate's. Meanwhile, I was angrier than Nate probably was. Y/BF/N had done nothing wrong. Maybe Nate had just seen Wanda hanging with me and because Y/BF/N was always with me, assumed the worst. Either way, this was no way to handle the situation and I was not gonna let this dick threaten my friend.

"Get the fuck away from him, Nate," I said through gritted teeth, glaring a hole into the side of his head.

Nate barely glanced my way. "I told you this isn't your business, honey."

"Five seconds," I said, standing behind him as a crowd began to form. "You've got five seconds or I'm gonna kick you."

He seemed to ignore me as he tightened his grip on Y/BF/N's shirt, only pissing me off more.

"Five," I began to count down, the grip on my books tightening with nerves and anger. "Four."

He still didn't look my way, just kept slapping Y/BF/N's face to scare him.

"Three, two, one," I said quickly, tired of giving him the benefit of the doubt.

Without waiting anymore, I kicked him between the legs with full force, watching as he instantly let go of Y/BF/N and doubled over. Everybody began to laugh, some making 'ooh' noises, but the consensus was clear – it definitely sucked to be Nate right now.

I tried not to laugh as I watched his face scrunch with pain, turning red. I was starting to appreciate my choice of wearing my doc marten boots today.

"No more balls for the guy who keeps throwing them at my fucking head," I got out, jaw clenching.

He looked up, his face crossing with realisation as he recognised me. In response, he glared in my direction, but it didn't faze me.

"Come on, Y/BF/N," I said, looking to my startled friend. "Let's go."

"What on Earth is going on over here?!" a teacher's voice rang out in the distance, and I groaned internally.

When I turned to leave, I heard Nate from behind me, grunting with dissatisfaction.

"Fuckin' dyke," he mumbled under his breath, and I paused, clenching my fists.

"Y/N, don't–" Y/BF/N tried to stop me, but I was too pissed to care.

I spun around and punched Nate square in the face, feeling good as his smirking face scrunched in pain and his back hit the lockers from the impact.

"Woah!" a teacher came out of nowhere, shoving herself between us and pushing me away from him. "What the hell is going on here?!"

I shook my hand to ease the pain on my knuckles, though the pain couldn't stop the grin on my lips as Nate raised his hands to his face, holding his busted nose. Students were going crazy, egged on by the potential fight, and for once, I didn't mind the attention. Nate had that coming for a while now.

"Everybody back to class! Now!" the teacher yelled, glaring all around her, before her eyes settled on Nate and I. "You two. Nurse's office now."

Nate glared at me behind his bloody nose and, once again, I tried not to laugh. Y/BF/N patted my back, amazement written on his face, before letting me leave with the teacher and an unusually silent Nate.

—

Kicking Nate in the groin and punching him in the face wasn't something I did to get attention, yet that's exactly what happened. Word of the incident spread around the school quite quickly, so much in fact that even students from other grades became aware of the situation and were approaching me to tell me how awesome I was. The whole thing was definitely strange, but I could tolerate it.

What I couldn't tolerate was having Chemistry after lunch and wondering if Wanda knew.

Would she hate me for punching her boyfriend? I wasn't sure. I just knew that when she walked into class and sat next to me, I felt everyone's eyes subtly watching us as if waiting for her to explode at me.

I'd been given an ice pack for my bruised hand after my visit to the nurse's office earlier whilst Nate had been treated for his broken nose (the fact that I'd broken it was hilarious to me, since I knew I wasn't even that strong). The principal had a very angry yell at us both in his office, neither of us willing to reveal the premise of our fight, before giving us detention every day after school for two weeks straight as punishment. Of course, Nate got his two weeks at a different time to mine for fear I'd punch him again (he definitely didn't like that, but he couldn't exactly say that to to principal).

I didn't bother using the ice pack in Chemistry for fear Wanda may ask what was up. I successfully managed to hide my hand and as a second surprise of the day, Wanda mentioned nothing about the incident. Not one thing about her boyfriend, about Y/BF/N, about any of it. I thought she might hint at it, trying to get me to bring it up. But she didn't which made me think she actually had no idea it even happened. Had anyone told her? Had he told her? Nah, probably not. His fragile masculinity probably caused him to change the story to something else so he didn't look like a wimp in front of his girlfriend.

Whatever it was, I was safe for now.

Thinking I'd got away with a confrontation from Wanda, I went about the rest of my day as usual. Well, that was until I was replacing some books in my locker at the end of the day and saw Wanda at her locker behind me, arguing with– yep, you guessed it. Nate.

Y/BF/N was collecting some books from his own locker beside me and we both exchanged looks as we saw the two lovebirds in a heated argument. Just when we were about to leave, someone cleared their throat from behind us, making us turn around.

Wanda was stood there, backpack hanging from her shoulder, beside Nate, who looked like he would rather be anywhere else but here.

"Hi," he started quietly, making Wanda clear her throat. He glanced at her before looking to Y/BF/N. "Look, man, I'm really sorry about earlier. I was wrong about what I said. We cool?"

I tried not to laugh at the way Nate was being forced to apologise by his girlfriend. Y/BF/N glanced to me with questioning eyes, so I simply shrugged.

"I guess...," he finally answered Nate, still a little awkward.

Nate nodded before looking to me. He still had his reservations, judging from the twitch in his expression, but for Wanda's sake, he kept his cool.

"I'm sorry for treating you badly," he said reluctantly. "With the football and just generally."

God, it was so hard not to laugh in his face right now. His nose had gauze taped to it and it made him look like an idiot. I fake coughed to disguise my smile, before meeting his gaze.

"It's, er, cool," I said, not in the mood to be an arsehole to him, even though he deserved it. I'd punched him – I think we were equal for now.

He nodded, before staying quiet. Glancing to Wanda, he waited for her to say something. She rolled her eyes and nodded for him to leave. When he was gone, she sighed tiredly.

"I only heard about what happened after Chem class," she said, mainly to me, a guilty expression on her lips. "I'm so sorry he acted like a jerk."

I chewed my lip, unsure what to say.

"It's okay, Y/N here took care of it," Y/BF/N said, smiling with amusement at me. Okay, well now she definitely knew.

"Yeah, sorry you felt you had to do that," she said with a grimace. "I guess he deserved it though."

"Kind of," I agreed, before noticing the regretful frown on her lips. "He apologised though. It's already happened. I kinda broke his nose... No point in dwelling on it."

She smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Yeah..." Her eyes fell to my bruised hand before lifting it gently. I winced at the ache, but let her hold it, studying the purple bruise painted across my knuckles. "That looks bad."

It felt good punching him though, but I wasn't about to say that since it was her boyfriend I was talking about.

"It's alright," I said dismissively, shrugging. "Nate kind of got it worse. I'll live."

The pad of her thumb stroked the bruise gently and I held my breath, the feeling of her hands holding mine sending shivers up my arm. Her eyes flickered to mine, softened with guilt, before she let go of my hand.

"I should head home," she said after a pause. "I'll see you both tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow," Y/BF/N said for both of us, sensing my loss of words.

Wanda held my gaze once more, eyes half lidded as they glanced down. Before I could even question what she was looking at, she waved goodbye and left.

"She's either starting to realise what a dick her boyfriend is or she's just really into you," Y/BF/N said, patting me on the back. "Maybe both, who knows?"

—

"You definitely cheated," I told Y/BF/N once we finished yet another round of air hockey. "Nobody wins six times in a row like that!"

He laughed at my expression. "Tell me, dear Y/N. How would I cheat? The concept of the game is simple, really. It's not my fault you're terrible."

I rolled my eyes lightheartedly. "Seventh time's the charm. C'mon."

He chuckled, about to put more money in the machine, before his eyes got distracted by something behind me. "Well, would you look at that. The Maximoff twins are here."

"Very funny," I said with a knowing look. "You can't throw me off like that. We've established I'm already terrible. Now c'mon. Let's go!"

"I wish I was joking," he said, shaking his head.

I scoffed, not believing him, and turned around to prove him wrong, but I was surprised when I saw Wanda and Pietro walking into the arcade we were in. They seemed to spot us instantly, waving in our direction before approaching us.

"Fancy seeing you here," Pietro teased with a smile as they stopped before us.

I cracked a smile as Y/BF/N joined my side. "We're hanging out. And you?"

Wrapping an arm around his sister's shoulder, he tugged Wanda close to him. "Sibling bonding time."

Wanda rolled her eyes at his childishness, but I could tell she found it endearing all the same.

"Well, if you want, you can hang with us," Y/BF/N offered, and we all looked to him, myself raising a brow his way. He seemed to sense my reluctance, it egging him on as he grinned at them. "Y/N doesn't mind. Do you, Y/N?"

I swallowed hard as I looked between the twins. "'Course not."

And that's how I found myself playing arcade games with the Maximoff twins that Saturday afternoon. It was actually pretty fun, with Pietro being as competitive as I was and Wanda being the sweetest loser with everything she played. It was so adorable, but I ended up letting her win some games of skee-ball just so I could see that cute nose scrunch of hers as she realised she'd won.

"You gonna let me win like that, too?" Pietro caught on as he took his sister's place in playing against me. He had a mischievous grin on his lips and I felt my mouth go dry at what he was implying.

"You wish," I said, playing it cool, though I wondered if he cared that I clearly let Wanda win. He wouldn't read into it, right?

Pietro took his go as he spoke. "So, I heard what happened with you and Nate at school last week."

I closed my eyes, cringing at the reminder. Pietro merely laughed.

"You kicked him super hard, right?" he asked excitedly. "I heard his face went so red with anger that you could fry an egg on it! And don't forget that punch, goddamn what I would pay to have seen that!"

"Pietro!" Wanda scolded from behind us as her and Y/BF/N played air hockey. "Don't be a tool!"

I felt my face heat up with embarrassment as Pietro continued to laugh. Y/BF/N joined in whilst Wanda tried to hide the smile dancing on her lips.

"You're not even together anymore," Pietro called to Wanda between laughter. Wait, did I hear that right?

"You and Nate broke up?" Y/BF/N asked with disbelief. "Our grade's 'it' couple broke up?"

Wanda ran a hand through her hair to distract from her flittering eyes. "He treated you horribly last week. Both of you." She glanced my way before looking at her shoes. "He was a jerk. It was long overdue... Also, I would have broken up with him there and then had I known what he'd said to you. I'm sorry he said what he did."

She stared at me with apologetic eyes and I wasn't sure what to say or do other than nod awkwardly and look away. The fact that she'd broken up with him put a smile on my face though.

"I just think it's awesome," Pietro admitted, before saluting playfully to me. "Thank you for your service. I knew you were awesome, but this is a whole new level."

I sighed, attempting to hide my smile, before straightening up to play. Pietro and I played some skee-ball before I decided to have a go at the claw machine. Wanda was at the one beside me, attempting to win herself a fluffy black cat plush toy. She'd had three goes before giving up, admitting to defeat.

"Typical Wanda," Pietro teased. "Giving up when the going gets tough."

She punched him in the arm, making him jump and rub it. That elicited a smile from her, making me laugh at their immaturity.

"How about Wanda and I go and get a table in the diner next door whilst you finish up winning whatever it is you're trying to win?" Y/BF/N asked, looking to me, as if assigning blame.

"I already told you, I'm not leaving this machine until I win at least one thing," I stated stubbornly.

"The amount of money you've put into the machine won't make up for whatever you win," Y/BF/N teased with amusement.

"Just go," I said, waving my hand dismissively. "I'll be there soon."

"I'll wait with her," Pietro said, resting a hand on my shoulder, making me shrug him off jokingly. "See you soon," he added with a laugh, to his sister and Y/BF/N.

When they left, I looked to Pietro with an amused smile. "I don't need you to look after me, y'know."

He shrugged and looked through the glass of the claw machine. "I know. But I stayed to give you some advice, princess."

"Oh, really? And what advice is that?" I asked, before putting some coins in the machine to have another go.

"People usually tend to win these things for people they like, right?" he asked, nodding to the plush toys in the machine.

"Or for themselves," I corrected with a curious smile. "Take Wanda for example. How badly did she want that cat?"

He crossed his arms, smiling with amusement. "You could win it for her, y'know."

"What?" I asked, half paying attention as I attempted to grab a teddy bear.

"Win the cat for my sister and give it to her?"

I ended up dropping the teddy from the claw as I looked to Pietro with shock. He laughed at my expression, leaning against the machine.

"You do like her, right? Otherwise this is awkward," he added as an afterthought, looking down and smiling to himself.

My jaw hung open. "I– er– I never really– I don't–"

"She must definitely like you," Pietro noted, glancing at me.

I licked my lips as I found my words. "Did she," I cleared my throat, "did she say something?"

"Well, no," he said, "but she looks like she wants to murder me every time I hang out with you."

"That's just a coincidence," I said, shaking my head and looking back to the machine. "She's not–" I thought about, before shaking my head again. "No."

I appreciated Pietro's help, but Wanda definitely didn't like me like that. She was just protective of her brother and friendly to me. It didn't mean anything.

"Look, you don't have to listen to me," he said, straightening up and looking at the machine as I slotted another coin in. "But you could give it a shot. See what happens."

I glanced at him, his blue eyes watching me knowingly, a matching smirk on his lips.

"Fine," I gave in, hoping it wouldn't backfire. "Let's see what happens..."

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #marvel imagine #marvel #mcu #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff au

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ren-therose · 3 years

Text

The Penthouse Plot

Sherlock X F!Reader (3.8k words)

Summary: Sherlock, John and Reader all go to a penthouse party to pick up some clues about their newest case. But Y/N and Sherlock are put in a compromising situation.

Warnings: smut 18+, semi-public sex, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), creampie, squirting, after care

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

“We are going to a party”

This was an incredibly abrupt statement from the detective who was still in pajamas at four in the afternoon, slouched down into the arm chair with the news paper covering his face. I couldn’t see his emotions, but I could tell that the idea had already been formulated, and he had not quite been excited out of it. His boredom was chronic, and it would often times only be soothed by myself to get him out of it.

The first time we met, I was sitting on a park bench in Paddington Street Gardens, not but two blocks away from his flat. As if drawn to the cigarette I was smoking, he walked up as casually as he could, coat turned up, and sat on the bench over from my left. I didn’t look, but I was aware that a tall, dark man was watching me as I tried to solve today's crossword in the paper.

He leaned closer, trying to take in the smoke for the nicotine high. With a slight glance his way, it was all I needed to take the cigarette from my mouth in my left hand, and casually rest it on the bench next to me. I blew out the smoke to the right side of my mouth though, purposefully keeping it from him, allowing my lips to guide the smoke in a stream to dissipate into the morning air. Still looking at the crossword, I began filling in 20 across, feeling a sense of intrigue and frustration emanating from the man next to me.

“It’s not diva, its aria,” a deep voice says. I smirk, not looking up to his face quite yet.

“No shit, Sherlock. 18 down is ‘erie’, so why would I put down diva?” I inquire, but before he could answer, I reply myself. “I was proving my hypothesis: is the detective next to me just trying to second-hand smoke, or is he actually paying attention to me? And the answer was both.”

He stands and comes to sit on my right side, not looking at me directly. The cigarette dangling from my lip wasn’t his main concern anymore.

“How quickly did you realize it is only an herbal cigarette Mr. Holmes?” I ask, erasing my trap from 20 across.

“As soon as I first looked at you. You have no stains on your fingers from the smoke, as well as no burns, which tells me you don’t smoke often. If you were a smoker, you would need at least a pack a day, and these tell-tale signs would be there. You don’t need to smoke because there isn’t an addiction. I presume you do it to attract men, though possibly women too, and to fit into the culture of London, as you are not from here. But you specifically looked up this park because you were looking for something or someone. I would presume it is me, considering you recognized me through my name” he says smuggly, finally looking at me. I didn’t know it then, but he later explained that he was shocked to see the prominence of my “subtle beauty”, and the way in which I held posture in every way that symbolized I was relaxed next to him. This of course was followed by the fact that I was so comfortable that I had gained a pound within the first year of knowing him.

“So you are as good as they say,” I reply, looking up into his clear blue eyes. Those eyes dart down to my lips where the cigarette is still being held by the moisture of my mouth. I remove it, holding out the cigarette between my fingers. “I can imagine it is worlds different from a regular cigarettes addictive effects, but the smell of smoke and the herbs inside might calm you,” I offer. He leans down and takes the cigarette in his mouth, inhaling deeply. I let go of the cigarette as he leans back and removes it. He exhales out, happy to have something other than CO2 leave his lungs.

“You could have phoned” he said nonchalantly. I closed the newspaper and turned my body slightly more towards him.

“No I couldn’t. This isn’t about a case or me looking for my parents or some shit. I needed you to listen. I am a doctor and I am looking for the topic of my next publication” I state. His eyes widen a bit, as he gives me a once over. I was quite young to have a doctorate, but the ambition I have was intriguing to him.

“Great, another doctor. And you must study some form of psychology right?” he implies.

I chuckle as I brush the hair behind my ear to look at him as I explain my credentials.

“BA in a social science and a minor in Women's Studies and Gender, just to make it easier on you. Two masters in something to do with policy and a knack for behavior trends across cultures. A PhD in…” I trail off to let him figure it out.

“International Relations. You couldn’t let go of the need to work abroad and help other. You also study the difference in human behaviors and how it can be interpreted and persuaded. It is why you are now living in London, after living in a southern European country, and I’m going to go with Italy” he responds.

I raise my eyebrow at him. “Italy was fun. I spent most of the time on the mainland with a friend and would visit their family in Sardinia”.

“He was gay wan’t he?”

“Not that he himself knew.”

The detective laughed. It was the beginning of a friendship, with many late nights, bad coffee and fighting. I lived in the basement of 221 Baker Street, after coming to a bargain price with Mrs. Hudson if I agreed to get rid of the black mold and redo the space for future renters. When I asked her why she was already thinking of future renters, she just smiled and told me Sherlock's door was open and I could just walk in.

Now, a year and a half later, I was in his flat, in my own night gown and robe, working on pot of tea to make a London foggy, one of Sherlocks favorite drinks I could make. I had told him that if he got to work in his pajamas, or just a sheet at times, then he couldn’t expect anything less of me. But his abrupt statement that we were going to a party had me do a double take.

“A party? Are we feeling like clubbing tonight Sherlock?” I tease.

“It is just a bit of field work. But I need you to come with as my date so that I am not bothered by lonely, sad women.”

“Ah yes. All the lonely, sad women will flock to the handsome, cocky detective for comfort and an inquisitive night,” I mock, bringing the tea to him.

“Isn’t that what you did?” He says without looking up.

Offended, I grab the paper from his hands and smack him on the head with it. He flinched, protecting his tea from me.

“Haven’t you figured it out by now? I’m here for John” I say, tossing the paper into his lap. Sherlocks mouth slightly gapes before he snaps it shut, looking behind me.

“I’m sorry, what did I just walk in on?” John says from the doorway. Sherlock turns red as I walk up to John, pulling my leg up on him, placing my hand on his cheek while giving him a lingering kiss on the other, maintaining eye contact with Sherlock. “Afternoon John,” I say with a flirtatious growl. He didn’t move since my dramatic act, and as I exited the apartment to get ready, I hear John exclaim “I could get used to that kind of welcome”. I laugh as I hear the paper get thrown at the doctor.

Two hours later, and a lot of fighting with a curling wand, I hear a knock at my door. I do a once-over of myself in the mirror. It was a high-end party, requiring a more put together look, and I was determined to look my best. In helping Sherlock and John, I realized that I rarely dressed up-practicality and professionalism is key.

I put my phone into my handbag, and slipped my feet into my black pointed stilettos. One more once-over in the mirror next to the door, and I unlatched the lock. As soon as I opened it, the detective couldn’t help but let his eyes wander. My hair was in loose curls around my face, and the dress, oh the dress, flattered my body in every way. It was a silk green dress, that hugged every curve. It was ruched in the sides, creating a tight draping across my abdomen. The fabric on my bust sat just below the tops of my breasts, and dropped to my off-the-shoulder sleeves. I was wearing a simple emerald necklace with matching earrings, and a ruby ring on my left hand. My legs were well accentuated, and the stilettos did wonders for my posture. Still, I was the same girl in pajamas at this now well suited man's place as I was now.

“You’re giving yourself away Detective,” I flirt, walking by him to climb the stairs to the front of the building. I make extra care to add a little movement as I climb, knowing he would be right behind me and very distracted. It was my favorite game to tease both of the boys, but especially Sherlock. It was always a game, and he loved games. As I exited the building, John was waiting for us outside, also dressed sharply. His eyes widened as I walked towards him.

“In the words of a great detective, ‘Your body betrays you’ John. It’s still me inside this get-up. Now where is the cab?” I ask.

“Umm...uh, there hasn’t been an available one yet...” he forces out.

London was busy on a Saturday night, and it could often be difficult to find a cab. Lucky for us, my dress is pretty reflective, and I was going to use that to my advantage. I stepped off the curb just slightly, jutting out my shoulder blades and putting my weight on one foot to give myself more shape. By the time I had raised my hand, two taxis pulled up. I heard a cough behind me, Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson both smirking at me.

“I’m sorry, did you have a better idea?” I shoot at them. I open the door for myself and climb into the cab. The two men clambered in after me.

The party was at a lovely high-rise in the middle of London. It looked to be a penthouse, but one grander than I had ever seen. As the three of us exited the elevator, we looked at each other once more, setting our plan in motion. John was to walk around and mingle, while Sherlock and I were to snoop about the place, looking for context clues. I grabbed a flute of champagne from one of the trays, and Sherlock and I began our promenade. We quickly realized that I was drawing a bit too much attention in my get-up and we would need to look around before people noticed we were gone. Our arms entwined, we strolled past the main crowd into a hallway, casually chatting the weather. The detectives hand was on my waist, holding tightly, as though I might leave his side. It was different than they way he usually grabbed my arm to move me around or out of the way of harm.

We were looking for the bedroom of our hosts place, though, it did not seem there was one here. The penthouse was more of a party pad then a living space, which lends more to our profile of him. We continued to walk, and came across a study. His hand slid off my waist as he entered the room. I stood outside with my drink, while Sherlock took note of every little detail there. As he came out of the room though, I heard footprints coming round the corner. I grabbed his arm and pulled him into the bathroom next to the study. As I pushed him in, our eyes searched each other for the next move that we hadn’t initially planned. Though we were going as a date, it was never really a date. Until now.

Grabbing the lapels of the detectives suit, I slammed my lips on his, pushing us both backwards onto the sink. Knowing that he was more recognizable. I spun him around so that my back was to the sink and his was to the door. I jumped on to the sink, hiking up my dress a little higher, so that I could hook one leg around his waist. Instinctively, his right hand went to my leg to hold it up, and his left hand was in my hair.

His lips. I had seen them a million times before, studying his face as he rambled about a case. While he was just a colleague and possibly a friend, there were a few times when I would fall asleep thinking about those lips. And here he was, kissing me on a bathroom sink at a party, with enough force to make me melt into it. My hand went to his hair, as he began to trail kisses down my neck, hiding his face in me so that his reflection could not be seen. My other hand was gripping his waist, trying not to slip into the sink itself. My shoe was dangling on my toes as our bodies continued to crash. We heard the door click open, and my eyes opened to see the host and his assistant wide-eyed at us.

“Occupied,” I panted, smiling with a small wave. The two quickly shut the door, their footprints receding down the hallway. As soon as it was quiet, Sherlock froze on my collarbone, neither of us moving for a moment. I removed my hand from his hair, trying to pat it back into place. He stood up, and looked down at me. My dress had ridden up further, and my black lace panties were definitely on display. So was the red in both of our faces. I glanced over his shoulder to look at the door, realizing that there was a lock on it. Sherlock didn’t look back. He kept his eyes on me.

He knew there was a lock. He wanted the situation. He wanted to get caught.

“Lock it” I demanded.

He took a few steps back and turned the button, locking the door. His eyes didn’t leave me. I was still propped up against the sink, both hands propped up behind me. My legs had still been open, and as his eyes raked over my body looked, I grew self-conscious and went to close them. But he stepped towards me, grabbing my lower thigh. I hesitantly opened myself back up for him. His hand moved up my thigh, while the other wrapped around my waist, drawing himself closer to me. I placed a hand on his chest, running it up until it was at the nape of his neck, playing with his soft, black curls. I gently tugged him toward me, and our lips attached once more. This time, it was more more sensual. Taking the time to just allow ourselves to feel one another. As he pulled away, I let out a small gasp as I felt his growing bulge against my clothed core.

He seized the opportunity to kiss me again, letting his tongue wander and explore my mouth, pulling me as close as I could be to him. He pushed himself against me, causing a soft moan to escape, as I involuntarily rolled against him. He smirked against my mouth, moving once more against me. I hissed, feeling myself grow wetter.

Sherlock pulled me off the sink, wrapping both of my legs around him before pinning me against the wall. I was sitting just on top of his cock, and the friction was even more frustrating. I grinded down on him, kissing his neck, while leaving small bites in between. I needed more though. I unwrapped my legs, and he lowered me to the ground. When he placed me down, I kissed him with passion while I started to undo his trousers. He walked backwards to the sink, leaning up against it, as I palmed him through his suit. His low groan made me quiver as I licked a long stripe up his neck to his ear, wear I softly bit the lobe. This drove him crazy.

Pants still undone, he whipped us around so that I was against the sink again. He pulled my dress up enough so that he could hook his fingers in the lace of my panties and pull them down. He lifted me up on to the sink to get them off of me. He worked them past my heels, and placed both of his hands on my thighs, rubbing circles into them with his thumb. His forehead was resting on mine and we were both breathing in sync. I opened my legs for him, as he traced his way between my legs. The violinist in him was showing, and he was going to work out the tension and boredom he had been feeling all day. His fingers came in contact with me, running through my folds. He went from my clit down to my opening, just toying with me. I let out a whimper as he placed his middle finger just barely inside of me. He slowly pushed his digit inside of me, causing a guttural groan to escape. I bucked into his hand, desperate for more. He pumped it casually, as if he had done this to me a million times and knew how I would react. He then slipped a second finger into me, causing me to emit another moan.

“Please Sherlock. No games,” was all I could manage.

He began to pump his fingers in a come-hither motion, curling them to hit my g-spot. I gasped with every movement, keeping as quiet as I could. He was working his way to get me as wet as I could be for him. I was starting to feel the tension in my stomach build when he placed his thumb on my clit and made sharp movements with it. I cried out, gripping his shoulders for support. I was going to need him soon if he wanted to me to finish with his cock inside me. But he kept pumping and rubbing, watching as my face conveyed every emotion he had ever made me feel. My arm wrapped around his neck, as I could barely keep myself up anymore.

“Sherlock, you-you’re gonna..m-make me..c-cum…” I stutter out. I am rocking against his hand, chasing what I can’t stop. This only urges him more, as he quickens his pace. Without warning, I cum all over his finger with a cry. But he doesn’t stop. He continues to work my pussy, until I gasp out “I’m...I’m gonna squirt”. He steps out from between my legs, his fingers not stopping. As he steps to the side, he leans in to my ear and finally says something.

“Show me”.

It was all it took for my orgasm to elongate itself, as I squirted on his hand. I couldn’t stop and was shaking, barely able to keep myself up. I almost crumpled backwards before he caught me. Once again, he was between my legs, his hands on my neck and waist. I reached for his painfully hard cock, pulling it from his pants. I started stroking him, causing his eyes to flutter close. I was still coming down from what he had done with just his fingers, but I needed his dick inside me. I looked up at him, and said something that I knew would only boost his ego, and he would probably use against me later.

“Mr. Holmes, I need you inside me, now”.

His eyes shot open, as I looked back at him with lust-blown eyes. My hand was still wrapped around his cock, slowly pumping him. He and his god-complex were completely enamoured with my new take of teasing him. I lined his cock at my entrance, but not before teasing him through my folds. Just that little movement caused goosebumps to erupt on my skin. As I put his tip in my entrance, he searched my eyes once more for the consent he needed. I pushed myself onto him a little, letting him know he could take me. He leaned in, pushing his length all the way into me. I let out a loud gasp, wrapping my arm around his neck once more, my other hand on his back. I was still throbbing from my previous orgasm, and I knew he could feel my warm pulse inside me. He slowly pulled out, and then quickly sheathed himself inside me again. Our pelvises were against each other and his gently movements drove me crazy. I let out a cry of ecstasy, letting my head roll back, exposing my neck. He kissed it gently, and then, lifted me off the counter and back against the wall. All I could do was struggle to remain quiet as he began quick thrusts deep into me, relentlessly hitting my sweet spot. He was open mouthed against my neck, breathing erratically as he continued to hold me up.

“You feel, s-so g-good,” I moaned, urging him to continue. He loved it when I complimented him, he had always been that way. But to be inside me as I told him how much I loved his cock, it was heaven for him. The guttural sounds from his throat proved to me that he felt the same.

“Y/n, I’m not gonna last much longer” he said, as though it would deter me. As he began to remove himself, I grabbed his face to look at me.

“I want you to cum inside, Detective,” I whisper, wrapping my legs tighter around him to prove my point.

His eyes widened searching my face as I was in taking all of him, bouncing on his dick in a penthouse bathroom, loving everything he did. Seeing what he could do to me, looking into my eyes as I stifled my moans, he began to stutter inside of me. I was on the edge too, and when his hot rope of cum shooted inside of me, my own orgasm exploded, milking him of the rest of his cum.

When we had both stilled, frozen with him still inside me, we could hear the party still going and the noise of London below us. He pulled his softening cock from me and as he did, our cum dripped down my thigh. My legs were incredibly weak, as he continued to hold me up. I reached for a hand towel to clean me up, but he beat me to it, wiping up and between my legs, careful not to cause pain from the sensitivity. He picked up my underwear that he had tossed on the ground somewhere, and helped me step back into it. I was still shaky if I bent my legs, but I knew he would hold me up. As we looked at each other, there was something new we both saw. Romance. The sexual chemistry that had been there was a response to the catalyst of romance.

Before we could discuss the aftermath of our actions though, there was a loud banging on the door. Smoothing out my dress just past the door, Sherlock opened it to find John, arms crossed, waiting outside.

“Are you shitting me Sherlock? You look like you just took a hit of something. Did you seriously lose Y/N at this party because you were trying to get hi…”

The door widened to reveal me, just behind Sherlock, makeup slightly down my fae, and both of our hair tousled. I smiled at John, knowing it wasn’t what he had expected. His jaw dropped, “Tha..you were,,,um...has this been long or...?” Dr. Watson stuttered.

“No John, that was the first time and it won’t be the last” he said, grabbing my arm and pulling me past him.

“Don’t be too jealous John,” I said with a wink.

John didn’t know what to say except, “Are we done here?”

Sherlock and I walked arm in arm down the hallway, casting back a look at John as if to say “What do you think?”

~~~~~~~~~~~

This was my first oneshot and was it trash? Yeah, maybe. So if you know me, no you don’t :)

Leave suggestions if you’d like, I’m writing smut I can’t find.

#sherlock #sherlock x reader #sherlock smut #sherlock bbc #benedict cumberbatch #cumberbitches

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tunafishprincess · 3 years

Text

Spirited Away Au Snippet

While the rest of the spirits were only just beginning to wake up, Deku was finishinghis last delivery for the evening. Or rather, he was supposed to. Transparent phantoms appeared in the periphery of his vision, alerting him of how much time had passed.

Just one more, he thought grimly, determined to complete the task.

This would have been so much easier if his body had not betrayed him this morning. It was doing that a lot more often as of late, much to his consternation.

He wasn’t stupid. Deku knew the consequences that came with eating food of the spirit realm. His changing body was a testament to that. The alternative was being forgotten (which Deku considered was the kiddy version adults use to explain disappearing into nothingness) and Deku quite preferred living, thank you very much.

The initial fear he held had long given way to exasperation with the situation. Heightened senses were alright. His increased appetite was manageable. The horns were itchy when they came in, but tolerable. He didn’t even see them most of the time, both hidden beneath curly locks.

He glared down at the culprit. It shifted restlessly, a perfect reflection of his mood.

A tail. A bloody tail. Waking up to the sight had been a shock. His balance, already a subject of jokes among the bathhouse workers, was greatly affected to the point that even walking took mental effort. Toshinori, bless him, helped cut some trousers for him to wear, but it still took him twice as long as normal to do his job, thanks in part to the tourists.

He swears the witch must have put a magical sign on his back. As the day dragged on more and more spirits popped out of the shadows to brush a hand or feather or claw down the serpentine limb as if he were some sort of luck charm. He knew river dragons were popular with spirits, but he never expected they would be coming to him.

The pearlescent scales seemed alive, shimmering under the sunset’s fading light. A trail of dark green fur ran down between them, ending at the tip with a ball of hair not unlike the one on his head. Deku buried his face in his hands. This was the worst.

Slimy cold fingers touched the base of his tail, shaking him out of his train of thought. Deku gave a full-body shudder, goosebumps riding up his arms. His face flushed, his tolerance of the nonconsensual touching reaching an all-time high. It reminded him too much of his last school’s bullies.

What could he do though? He worked for the bathhouse. The witch would have his head if he yelled at one of the guests. Sweat trickled down his brow as anxiety settled in his stomach. He could even be fired. He finally looked around, staring down at the perpetrator.

Oh sweet kami, it was a family of kappa. The biggest kappa, the one Deku presumed was the father, was gesturing for his younglings to come and touch the magical appendage like he were Disney character performer. The children were at least more bashful. In fact, they looked terrified. All of them did now, the father Kappa dropping his hold.

Well, well, well, he inwardly remarked, thought you could get away with it, didn’t you?

Alas, it was not he who scared them off, Deku soon discovered. Almost immediately he noticed a heavy shadow, its size increasing with every step its welder took. The family of Kappas froze, the oldest white as a sheet.

“Run along now,” a deep patronizing voice stated. “I suggest you don’t touch what’s not yours, otherwise, your luck might run out next time.”

The Kappas scampered off. They weren’t the only ones. Any lingering spirits suddenly found themselves busy, abandoning the street until he and the worst dragon he could have come across were the last ones left.

“Lord All Rivers in One,” Deku addressed coldly.

“Please, enough of the formality. Call me papa,” the dragon remarked, red eyes scanning the child up and down, his own tail swishing beneath the folds of his rich fabrics.

The boy pointedly chose to ignore the request. Instead, he stated plainly, “You didn’t have to do that. I can handle myself just fine.”

The man bent down. Even kneeling to one knee he towered over Deku. His claw-tipped fingers came to rest on his jaw. “Really now? Is that what ‘just fine’ is these days for you younglings?”

“None of your business. Anyways, I have work to do,” Deku stated, twirling around with his bag in hand. Sadly, his tail did not follow through with the movement. He tripped, falling face first and losing any remaining dignity he had.

Tears prickled his eyes. Stupid tail. Stupid dragon. He discreetly wiped them away as he got back up. Bag in hand, he tried to stomp off (albeit awkwardly).

“You know…” The dragon began. “I think I have a solution to this problem of yours.”

Deku stopped in his tracks. He tilted his head, suspicion in his guarded gaze. “Explain.”

He motioned for the boy, fangs peeking out from his widening smile. “Come here. You’ve been walking wrong all day today. It’s time you had some lessons.”

“Just tell me what I need to do.”

“It cannot be explained in mere words. If it could be I imagine that mutt would have helped you. But he can’t. I can.” His eyes glittered like rubies. “Let me assist you, from one dragon to another.”

“I’m not a dragon,” he grumbled but complied, too desperate to do otherwise.

A large warm hand pressed against his back, gently positioning him while the other rested on his sternum. “The tail of a dragon holds more weight than that of a mere wolf or other common beast. It is an extension of our being. Lean forward here, it will tire your back muscles for now but you’ll get used to it,” he explained.

“The weights gone,” the boy whispered.

“No, just redistributed,” All Rivers in One answered. “ Now, if you’re catching the tail on things or going down those crowded narrow streets, you’ll need to wrap it.”

He lifted a brow. “Wrap my tail? With what? Cloth?”

“No, no,” he barked a laugh, his tail lifting up from behind him. “Like this.” Within moments he wrapped the tail around his waist, fitting the end up and over like a sash.

That...was a pretty good idea actually. Deku copied the movement. It wasn’t as nice looking as the other’s, the young boy stuffing the end into his belt, but it did the job.

Deku bit on his bottom lip. All Rivers in One always seemed to have a hidden agenda but this time he had been relatively helpful. Maybe Deku was wrong about him? The dragon smirked; Deku frowned. Well, perhaps he wasn’t completely wrong about him.

Giving a deep bow of respect, he said, “Thank you, Lord All—Lord Shigaraki.” and left it at that, leaving for his last delivery before his night job at the bathhouse.

The dragon lord waved his hand at the disappearing figure. Once the dragonling was out of earshot, his smile stretched even larger, a soft purr leaving his mouth. The scant remaining good part of him wondered whether he should have told the boy only hatchlings tied their tails around their waists like that, but the vast majority of All Rivers in One relished seeing his little Stream acting childish instead of that boorish adult facade he tried to imitate.

It won’t last for much longer, he thought with a dark smile, getting up from the ground and turning into one of the alleys, back for his villa so he could finish preparations. The boy’s humanity was nearly gone. Sources told him the boy had already forgotten his last name. All lovely news in the dragon’s book.

The young hatchling’s days were numbered at that bathhouse. He would have both his wife and son in his arms soon enough. His tail flicked back and forth excitedly. He just had to be patient.

#dad for one #spirited away au #bnha au #mha au #all for one #izuku midoriya #fic snippet

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kmackatie · 3 years

Text

Originally asked by @jamieylnn on this post: "84, 102, or 119 for the intimacy prompts with Shadowgast". I got around to another one of them. It's less fluff and a bit more angsty, but this is where my brain went with it.

Thanks again to @mllekurtz for taking my spaghetti-thrown-at-a-wall mess and helping turn it into an actual coherent meal. <3

request a prompt here

84 - sky watching Shadowgast, post canon established relationship, canon compliant, 2108 words, cw: brief fatalistic thoughts

Caleb stepped onto the roof, hands tucked into the pockets of his linen pants, feet bare and hair untied. He found Essek in the middle of it, lying on his back and hovering a few inches off the ground, one hand held up as he seemed to map something in the stars above.

He paused, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, taking in the sight of moonlight against Essek’s skin. The shifting, gentle light was like a caress, catching on the smattering of freckles across Essek’s cheeks, the traces of silver still lined around his eyes, and glinted off the jewellery delicately clasped to his ears. He had come out here sometime while Caleb was bathing, the bedroom empty and the open window the only indication that he hadn’t teleported away completely.

They were in Emon, Caleb visiting Allura under the pretence of collaboration in magical education when really it was an excuse for Essek to spend some time investigating some interesting dunamantic pulls he had discovered in the jungles to the south of the capital. It had been three weeks of exploring, discovering, and relaxing in the way that Essek and Caleb do, days filled with academic pursuits while taking advantage of the fact that Essek didn’t have to hide, could just be Essek. They had their Tower, though it wasn’t used much, each more content to take the time to enjoy the open air and sky above them.

But, like all things, it had to come to an end. They lingered as much as they could, on the journey back to Emon. Had slowed down the pace, spending more time in the Tower than exploring outside of it, until they couldn’t justify the delay any further and Essek teleported them back to the house they had rented.

Essek’s easy smile had become strained during their dinner, as Caleb spoke of his students and the plans he had been toying with for the next semester, answers taking longer to come when Caleb would ask for his opinion. He could recognise the signs, having seen them before, but he knew that Essek would only talk about it when he was ready to.

He stepped forward, feet scuffing intentionally against the loose dirt and pebbles. One of Essek’s ears twitched, the only indication that he had heard Caleb’s arrival. Essek continued to stare up at the sky, hand pausing in its tracing before he pulled it back. His violet eyes were shining in the low light, the stars reflected back, an endless void that Caleb could lose himself in if he looked too long.

Pausing, Caleb debated for a long moment before he eased himself down onto the ground next to Essek, groaning slightly as his muscles protested the movement. He envied Essek’s ability to hover, the rough ground was not kind on his ageing body, but it was one trick he had never quite got the hang of every time Essek had tried to teach it to him.

He stared at the skyline of Emon, Allura’s tower in the distance, a beacon on the edge of the Cloudtop district, the few lights still lit up in the houses around them. It was still, quiet, and every bit of his focus was on monitoring the small movements of the drow next to him. The stuttering rise and fall of Essek’s chest, breath ragged and uneven, hand flicking through somatic gestures and arcane runes as if by habit, all while his eyes stared at the sky above, unblinking.

It was a long moment before Essek blinked and broke the silence, his voice rough and low.

“I miss the sky. This one… this one is different. It’s not Rosohna’s sky. I did not think— I should not miss it.”

“It is not that different—”

“Except it is,” Essek cut in, voice sharp. “Rosohna’s… it isn’t a perfect match for what would be in the sky above Wildemount. It’s based off the Bright Queen’s memory of what it once was, over thousands of years ago. The sky has changed since then.”

“I wasn’t aware of that,” Caleb admitted, drawing one knee up to his chest and wrapping an arm around it, eyes still focused on Essek’s face.

“No. You had no reason to be. You weren’t there for that long… and you had more pressing concerns.”

“Fjord never did see that ceremony.”

Essek laughed hollowly. “No, he did not.”

They fell back into silence, and there was a tension there now that wasn’t there earlier. A wariness to the way Essek’s shoulders hunched ever so slightly, as if he had to brace himself for whatever was said next.

And Caleb didn’t want to ask it, didn’t want to bring it up, but he knew that if he didn’t, then this would fester and he couldn’t bear anything being a reason for Essek to stay away.

“Do you regret it?” He saw Essek flinch, a barely perceptible motion that he would have missed, hadn’t he been looking for it. He clarified, “Not… not taking it. I mean— well. Us, the Nein. We threw your plans into disarray and Jester… and me. You would not be here if not for us, you wouldn’t have had suspicion placed on you.”

“There would have been suspicion on me eventually.”

“And Shadowhand Thelyss would have had a plan for that,” he pointed out with a rueful chuckle. “Or at least, the glimmer that we saw of Shadowhand Thelyss would have, and if he was anything like Bren, well… plans upon plans.”

There was a long beat before Essek replied.

“I would not change any step that I took that led me to you—”

“I don’t doubt you on that, meine Liebe, but—”

“I don’t say that for you,” Essek snapped, holding a finger up between them while his eyes didn’t move from the sky. “Just… just let me finish.”

Caleb merely nodded, biting his lip at his instinct to respond.

“I don’t say that for you. I say it because sometimes I need to remind myself of what I have gained. I don’t… it’s not regret. Or rather, I did not know quite how much it would bite. I did not anticipate the… the vastness of it, of displacement.”

Caleb got the sense that Essek wasn’t finished, so he said nothing, just waited and watched, hands itching to reach out, to comfort and hold.

“I miss home. Not… I know I have one with you. My towers, my laboratory. I did not expect to miss it quite so much. The eternal night, the easy access… this hiding. I hate it. I hate it.”

Essek scrubbed a hand across his eyes, and Caleb’s heart ached. He knew what it was like to not be able to return to a place that he wanted to, a weight that nobody who hadn’t experienced loss understood. He lifted a hand towards Essek, but before his fingers could connect Essek flinched back, turning away from Caleb.

“Essek, Liebling.”

“No— don’t,” Essek gasped, curling in on himself. He hunched over, still somehow hovering a few inches off the floor, shoulders raised. “Don’t give me your sympathy. I bought this bed and now I have to live in it.”

Caleb could not help the way his heart clenched at that, the fondness for the jumbled saying seeping through his own pain, his own realisation that this had been brewing for far longer than he had realised. He should have seen it. Should have realised that all the times Essek snapped recently weren’t just due to the exhaustion of being in the sun, that when Essek chose to trance before Caleb had fallen asleep he did so to avoid conversation, that the times he had tracked him down to the ninth floor, the moment of vacant expression before a smile kicked in was more than just troubling thoughts. Caleb had to swallow around the lump that had formed in his own throat. There was a sudden hollowness in his stomach as he realised how much the situation was affecting Essek.

It took a moment to realise the hollow gasping sound wasn’t coming from him, that despite the swirling storm of his own emotions, his shoulders weren’t shaking and he wasn’t falling apart.

Essek was.

Essek, who had tried to hide his worries from Caleb. Essek, who had to be coaxed to state what he needed and wanted on a good day. Essek, who could command and demand his way into any room but would barely make eye contact when he truly cared about the opinion of whoever he was talking to.

This was exactly why he hadn’t said anything, why he didn’t show it. He was as bad as Caleb in his determination to carry his own burdens.

But there was something Caleb had learned, that he had an advantage on Essek in learning, and that was that burdens were immensely easier to carry when shared.

Shoving away his own guilt, carefully, ever so carefully, Caleb inched forward and placed a hand on Essek’s back. He felt Essek tense under his hand, but this time he didn’t move away. Swallowing, Caleb took that as encouragement and shifted again, hand moving across Essek’s back until his arm was wrapped around Essek’s shoulders.

“Essek.”

Essek gasped, letting out a heartbreaking sob before leaning the tiniest bit into Caleb’s grasp.

Caleb just waited. Not demanding, and not expecting, just hoping that Essek would take the comfort offered.

Slowly, Essek turned to Caleb, fraction by fraction he shifted until his shoulder was against Caleb’s chest, his forehead tucked against Caleb, and he was sobbing into Caleb’s shirt. Caleb held him, hand moving in gentle, soothing circles on his back as he murmured in Zemnian, nonsense phrases and observations about everything he loved about Essek.

When he judged that Essek may have calmed, when the sobs became sniffles and Essek stopped clutching Caleb’s clothing like he would drown without the lifeline, Caleb leaned down and pressed a kiss into Essek’s soft curls.

He gently ran a thumb under each eye, drawing away what dampness he could as shining violet eyes blinked up at him.

“I’m so—”

“Shh, Liebling, it’s okay. There is nothing to apologise for.”

Essek’s eyes closed, as he let out a shuddering breath.

“It is okay to mourn what you had, Essek. It is okay to acknowledge what you have lost, even while you acknowledge what you have gained. One doesn’t cancel out the other. Looking back… it is not a bad thing.” He was saying it as much for Essek as he was for himself. They had always been similar, had always understood each other in a way that no one else did. It could be a crutch, could be their downfall, but instead it led to a partnership that was equal, that felt so right, like it was always meant to be. He wanted to be that support for Essek, the way Essek always was for him. “When we visited Blumenthal, and I said goodbye, you stood with me. In the T-Dock even, you would have helped me, without question. You have ever since, even when all I wanted to do was rewrite time so I could step back and do it all again.”

“It is not the same.” There was little conviction in Essek’s tone, it was barely a protest.

“No, it isn’t. But what I am saying is that it is okay to have dark days, to have days where it is all too much. That is why I am here. To remind you that you can do this, Essek. That it is worth it, that you are strong enough to get through it. And on the days where you aren’t, where you need quiet and to escape, I will be here to hold you.”

“You won’t always be here, when you’re teaching and I’m off… wherever.”

“We can both teleport, distance and time are meaningless with the right determination.”

Essek half laughed and half hiccuped, an odd choked off noise that Caleb had never heard him make before. A grin started to grow across his face as Essek looked taken aback at the noise, and it was far too cute for Caleb to let it go.

He leaned forward and kissed Essek, chapped lips pressing gently against carefully looked after ones. Drawing back, Caleb presses a second kiss to the tip of Essek’s nose, another between his eyes, his forehead.

“I love you,” murmured Essek.

Caleb smiled, shifting carefully to lie back, adjusting and holding Essek to his chest as he went.

“Come. Tell me about the differences in the stars.”

#shadowgast #critical role #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #critical role fanfic #cr: fanfic #the mighty nein #my writing #ficlet #writing prompt #non-sexual intimacy prompts #jamielynn #katie replies #ask katie

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m-aster-of-spinjitzu · 3 years

Text

the hues of an empty sky

Missing memories, or having two of them for one moment - not quite the same, but if there's one thing Jay's leant over the last few weeks, it's that literally nothing makes sense anymore.

Or, some Skybound aftermath, Zane actually expressing emotions about his memory switch being turned off for all those years, and what was supposed to be a 'they tell everyone about the erased timeline' fic, but it turned into a 'two characters who barely interact on screen talk at like one am in the morning, and don't actually tell the other what exactly they're alluding to the whole time' fic that I wrote at like one am-

Also yeah, I realized too late that they split up to look for Wu after s7, we’re just gonna pretend that they waited a few days or something, idk anymore tbh, lol.

(I also didn't have time to edit - so please tell me where the typos are? 😂💛)

Word count: 4539

Prompt: crying, from @ninjago-bingo 's warm board.

Trigger warnings: the main character has a panic attack, and squeezes their fingernails into their hands once or twice but I think that's it.

*facepalms* also, guys, i’m so stupid - i literally just realized that this freaking CHANGES TENSE HALFWAY OHMYGOSH I- i don’t think it’s super noticeable, but ugh, apologies to anyone who actually thought my writing was good lol-

---

It's cold.

Bitterly, freezing cold.

The biting chill of the air is a bit strange for this time of year, but, heck, that's nowhere near the craziest thing that's ever happened to him - not by a long shot.

He sighs, squinting at the stars dotted liberally against the black canvas of the sky.

Cole had once joked that one of them might be the remains of their golden weapons, after they'd hurled the burning mass into the sky - in another alternate timeline; one that only existed in the memories of a certain few.

Gosh - that seemed like such a long time ago.

Wouldn't it be nice to go back to that time, when he'd still thought that their powers were the coolest thing ever - instead of despising them for all the responsibility and sacrifice that came with them? When one of his biggest worries was whether the girl he had a crush on liked him back - not wondering if his friends would survive the night?

"I did not expect to find you awake at this hour, Jay."

Reflexivity, he jumps back, his mind twisting his friend's gentle voice into the- the djin's triumphant, accented one.

You're supposed to be a ninja. What good are you if your friends can still sneak up on you?

"Geez, warn a guy before you sneak up on him! I almost fell off the Bounty!"

"My apologies. I was... surprised to find you awake at this hour," Zane answers. "What are you doing?" "Couldn't sleep. It's too cold," he confesses, not entirely a lie. Ninjago wasn't 'that' far from the Sea of Sand, but he'd grown up in a much warmer area - unfortunately resulting in his practically nonexistent tolerance to the cold. That never failed to stop Kai from teasing him about it, though. He doesn't mention the pressing weight on his chest, almost tangible - or how it constantly makes him feel. Like he's being dragged through the darkness of an empty sky, spikes of fear making everything so freaking terrifying- "You?"

"I have been analyzing my memories of Pixal, in the hope that it may lead me to her whereabouts. However, all my efforts have proved... unsuccessful," Zane answers wearily, shifting his gaze to the sky.

Oh- oh. They'd all be so caught up in the chaos of the last few weeks - hey, it's not like any of them had asked the universe to permanently be out to get them! - that they'd forgotten Pixal was still offline.

"Hey, I'm sure that she's still there somewhere," he says, earnestly. "After all - she wouldn't be your girlfriend if she didn't pull a vanishing act every now and again, eh?"

The question is punctuated with a laugh, but he doesn't say that he's a little worried about her too. They hadn't talked much, but-

I can't see one of my best friends find out that his girlfriend is dead, a quiet voice at the back of his mind points out. Well - been there, done that, wouldn't recommend, he thinks bitterly. Emotional breakdowns and frequent nightmares apply. Anxiety attacks are half off, too!

It's quiet for a few minutes, neither of them seeing a need to break the silence. The wind blows softly through the sails above them; gray wisps of cloud revealing a pale sliver of moonlight that paints the sky in its glow.

It should be a peaceful night: beautiful, calm, no one trying to kill them or destroy their city - for a change.

His hands won't stop shaking.

It should be a peaceful night, but, as usual, the world is too freaking unfair for that-

He hasn't even slept for a full night in weeks! Well, not since- since-

Don't think about it! That's only going to make it worse, duh-

"Are you alright, Jay?"

"Yeah- I- I'm good, thanks," he says quickly, ignoring the way his breathing keeps speeding up. FSM, not this-

Not for the first time, the world suddenly becomes too loud - too much. Every little thing, from trying to breathe properly or even walk- feels insurmountable, because, gosh, oh gosh, it's going to come crashing down if he even moves-

The memory starts off the same as it always does.

Rubble strewn over the temple grounds, his friends literally reduced to nothing more than statues. A shot that hit the mark perfectly, but perfectly shattered his world in the process.

A poison-splattered dress, a terrifying realization.

Her well-aimed joke, but one that never fails to sting every time. Gosh, why hadn't they just allowed her to join their team in the first place? Maybe they could've prevented this- this- whole situation, if they hadn't been so freaking egotistical-

And, again, he's overwhelmed by the sheer sense of helplessness, all his power and training and skills completely useless to one of the people he cared most about. FSM, if only I hadn't used my first w-request so carelessly! If only I'd been able to escape- or, or if only I'd been able to assemble the team faster! If only-

Despite being in what must've been unimaginable pain, she offers a strained smile - a sweet gesture that, ironically, feels like she's poisoning him, because- because FSM, this is all so wrong, it wasn't supposed to end like this-

He watches with horror as her eyes dull and she stills in his arms.

She's gone, FSM, she's gone and it's all my fault-

"Jay?" a voice asks, concern evident in their tone. Distantly, he registers that he's having a breakdown in front of one of his best friends - one of the things he'd been trying really hard to avoid.

Dang it.

"I-" he tries to say, but, great, he's breathing too fast to even get the stupid words out.

"Breathe in for four seconds," Zane says, softly.

Four seconds? Time has no meaning right now, narrowed down to, like - falling down a chasm, terrified of what's at the bottom, except the fear's all around, this- this... foreboding thing of his mind that keeps yelling that he needs to run, or fight, but he can't, can't-

Right. Four seconds.

You're okay, you're fine, no one's trying to hurt you or your friends. She's not dead.

But what if- what if they're being dragged out of this ship right now? What if it was all a dream, and she's dead anyway, because all of us were too stupid to come up with another plan, and none of us could even do anything when she-

After a little while, when he could breathe a little easier, and the fear didn't feel like it was slamming into him from every possible direction, he slowly opened his eyes. Shakily, he wiped a tear from his face - as if that would wipe away all the weeks that had, theoretically, never even freaking happened.

The sky comes back into focus - pinpricks of light against pitch black.

How was he going to come up with some sorta explanation without... well, explaining everything?

Great.

My nerves are frayed, and I have to lie to a walking lie detector - what could possibly go wrong?

"Are you alright?" Zane asks, his brows creased in concern.

"Heh heh, yeah. Probably just too many video games," he replies quickly, laughter a bit strained.

"You were muttering to yourself," his friend replies quietly. Ugh, trust the way-too-observant-nindroid to call him out on the remains of his facade. "If you do not mind me asking, what was 'all your fault'? I am sure that it was probably a misunderstanding."

You're the one who misunderstands everything, he thinks wearily, ignoring the part of him that yearns to tell someone else about... well, everything that's happened because of that stupid teapot. He's not one to keep secrets by nature, and it's been taking a bigger toll of him than he'd thought it would. Is this how Nya felt when she was still the Samurai? "It's- it's nothing, probably just nonsense."

"Are you sure? You seem... quite worried about something."

Dang it, were his hands still shaking? He presses his fingernails into his palms, squeezing his eyes shut for a second.

He's talking to one of his best friends, FSM. Weren't friends able to tell each other anything?

"Do you think it's easier to forget? Better?"

He didn't even realize he'd asked a question until Zane's eyes widened in surprise.

A forest coated in snow, ice crystals dangling from the tree branches above their heads. Plenty of screaming - way too much, he reflects, couldn't they have been a bit nicer? It must've been pretty jarring to learn that you weren't human, or that your father had erased years of your life from your mind - in that weird underground treehouse. Those crazy tree monsters - and the realization that they all had much more power than they'd thought.

"N- nevermind," he stutters, fleetingly thinking of kicking the deck. "That's way too personal, you don't have to answer it-"

"I do not mind," Zane says, a bit sadly.

Oh.

Heck, his friend was way too nice.

They gaze up at the stars for a few minutes, not really seeing them - one drowning under the weight of too many secrets, the other, too many memories.

It's quiet - too quiet.

Ugh, he thinks, sighing, that sounds like something a low-budget horror movie would start with, cringey sound effects to match.

But the silence is a painful reminder of the days he'd spent tossing and turning in a cramped cell - nothing but his worries and the bruises on his leg from that stupid ball and chain keeping him awake.

He's been trying hard - maybe too hard - to avoid being alone, avoid being in a situation where they've gotta be quiet ever since then, because, dang it, his memories always seem to fill the silence, and they're always far more terrifying than they should be-

It's easier, in a way, to be mocked for his stupid jokes than it is to relive a single moment from those nightmarish few weeks.

Almost reflexively, he grasps for something to fill the quiet.

"Heh, this is a bit awkward. It's okay if you wanna leave-"

"I do not mind," Zane echoes, walking a bit closer. "It is not as if I need to sleep. But... I do not quite know what to think of your question."

There comes the answer - or a semblance of one at least, and it's the last thing he'd been expecting.

"You don't know?" he blurts out before he can even think of trying to filter the thought. Way to treat your friend who's been nothing but kind to you, Jay. "But you're- you're a nindroid! You know everything-"

"Pixal," his friend mutters softly, sighing, and the hurt, the fear, laced through the word makes something in his heart practically twist. He knows all too well what it feels like to be in that situation - even if, technically, it had never happened.

Then- "I wish that were true. But I suppose that my emotions make certain situations much more complicated than... than they need to be. Thus I cannot give my perspective on this - or, at least, without sounding quite conflicted."

"You know that you're allowed to be conflicted, right? Even the coolest Nindroids don't know everything."

"...Yes, I suppose so."

Jay frowns at the almost subconscious hesitation, eyebrows creasing in concern.

"Seriously," he starts earnestly. They're both leaning on one of the railings just above the deck now. "Just 'cause you're a nindroid doesn't mean that you've gotta chase some kind of perfection that doesn't even exist."

He doesn't miss how Zane's eyes widen in shock, their bright blue hue glowing a little brighter - and heck, if that doesn't hurt even more than the earlier realization.

"Besides - it's not like none of us haven't made mistakes before. Hate to go all Wu on ya, but they help us learn or some stupid thing like that. Even if the mistake is trying not to make 'em, you know?"

"Thank you," Zane replies, a tired smile on his face. "Even the most advanced tech is susceptible to error, I suppose."

They've all made lots of mistakes, heaven forbid if one of them is still agonizing over messing up over the crazy situations the universe constantly put them in. It's not like they were told they'd have to face more ancient evil armies than they could count, were they?

Maybe it's time to stop focusing on events that never even happened, and pay more attention to your friends. What's the point of being part of this team if you're always scared or selfish?

"Shut up," he mumbles, rubbing his temples. What's the point of fighting if your own brain is gonna fight you whenever it gets a chance? A few seconds later, he schools his face back into his default anxious grin. "Great, cause I- I- could use your advice on something." "Alright," comes the quiet reply, his friend seemingly lost in thought.

"What if you wanted to tell someone something, but you couldn't?"

His breathing starts to speed up again, but he grips the deck until his fingers are practically bruised, stark white against his tanned skin. Not this time-

"Is this what you were referring to earlier? An event that you blamed yourself for?" Zane asks, eyes flitting between the floor and the sky.

Dang it, way too observant as usual. He masks his surprise with a laugh, but the conversation definitely isn't going as planned and, oh gosh oh gosh, what if-

No, there's no way that any of them would even believe that. Besides - no one can remember stuff that they've forgotten, especially if magic's at play.

"Yeah, kinda," and he's surprised by how steady his voice sounds. It's not easy to even think about that- event, talking about it is a whole different thing. A much more difficult thing, but also - a bit, a little bit, easier. "I-" "Apologies for interrupting," his friend interjects. "I suppose that I have not been entirely honest with you." What?

"A few days ago, I discovered a number of deleted memory files buried deep within my code."

Just like that, his whole world tilts out from underneath him.

It takes every ounce of his strength to keep himself from falling into the abyss again.

Wait, what?

Has he really known for all this time? It's been weeks! Surely he would've said something? It can't be, it never even-

The rational part of his mind points out that he can remember every day of those few weeks. Well, he was the one to make the wish - magical logic is kinda stupid, but maybe that's why he had to remember it or something?

Well then, a small voice interjects, why was Nya cursed to remember everything too?

Of course, even the stupid magical logic doesn't even make sense to the one who caused this whole mess in the first place.

"They were almost entirely corrupted - scrambled in a way that I am not familiar with. However, I did realize that certain files bore dates that have not even occurred yet. I dismissed it as a problem with my code, however..."

Breathe, calm down, it's not like he was able to process them or anything-

We agreed that no one was supposed to know! What if they end up blaming us for keeping it a secret this long, or, or-

"I mean, they could've been-" he starts, but the way in which he's nervously twisting his fingers is a pretty clear indication that he's lying, dang it.

"So when you mentioned that you were unable to tell someone something - did you mean that it was because they had quite literally forgotten about it?"

Great. Fantastic. Of course the literal robot has pieced it together by now-

He squeezes his eyes shut for a minute, hoping that if he ignores the problem, maybe it'll go away.

Okay, fine, maybe he's trying to figure out a way to fix this whole mess. Doesn't mean that he's any closer to coming up with a solution, though.

"Er, yeah," he whispers, shoulders slumped, eyes still firmly shut. Because gosh, he doesn't want to - can't, can't - see the realization dawn that, yeah, he's lied to people he's known for years and years, even though they've all seen way too many times that secrets bring nothing but trouble-

"Well, then - I would say that you don't have to tell them," Zane replies, surprisingly... earnestly? That, or he's either too freaked out to understand the tone properly. Could be either.

He opens his eyes, hesitantly.

And it comes as a bit of a shock to find nothing but concern reflected in his friend's.

The almost persistent weight on his chest feels a little lighter now, like the sky isn't as quite so empty.

Well, it still kinda is. But that doesn't hold as much weight as he'd thought it did - not if one of his friends is willing to look past that; past the heaviness of holding up all those memories with nothing his single star, flickering in and out of the darkness, to try and light the unforgiving darkness of the sky.

"Why?" Jay asks, so quietly he can barely hear it himself. "Don't I owe it to them? Do you?"

"No. Definitely not," comes the reply, so full of conviction that he almost stumbles back. Why-

"My father..."

Oh- oh.

"thought it was better to spare me the pain of mourning him than for me to know who I was," Zane confesses, hesitantly. "Not that I disagree, necessarily. I just..."

He trails off, clutching the railing so hard that the wood almost snaps beneath his titanium fingers.

It takes Jay a little while to realize why - why exactly his friend, who has access to a wealth of knowledge and information, is grasping for an answer. Because- because, well, even if someone does something in your best interests - sometimes the choice isn't always up to them. Or maybe it is, but it was... difficult, to say the least, to let go of the fact that his parents had never told him the truth sooner. Not that he blames them, necessarily - it's not like they knew that his father would pass on before he'd even get the chance to meet him - but... it's confusing, and difficult, not to know why you were left at a junkyard as soon as you were born. Maybe if he'd known that sooner, he could've asked the one person who might've had answers - although it's not like hoping for the past to change will actually change it.

They don't even know that you know, a small voice at the back of his mind points out, and suddenly everything makes a lot more sense-

"You wanted a choice," he breathes, eyes widening. A choice - like one that he'd never been given, one that he stills struggles not to hold against two people who've always had his best interests at heart. Even if they did have the right to withhold that one thing, after all they've done for him - the 'what if's' still echo in his mind far more often than he'd like. "There's nothing wrong with that, even if it feels that way. I kinda get where you're coming from, dude, and it's... super confusing, but I'd be pretty mad if my memories were tampered with like that."

So would anyone, he realizes, heart sinking. Oh, great. Not helping-

"I- I suppose so?" Zane answers, but it sounds more like a question than a reply. "However, in the same vein, it would be unwise for you to give away your choice whilst you still have one." "But don't I owe it to everyone? You just said it, it's horrible to alter people's memories and I- I-" "Did we forget... whatever it was for a good reason? "I- I mean, I guess, but..." "Then you do not owe it to us to relive something that we do not even remember." The words should be a relief - and they kinda are. But some part of him really does want to explain the crazy alternate timeline, and everything that happened in it. It's just... really, really freaking difficult.

"What if- what if I wanted to, though?" Jay asks hysterically, running his hands through his hair in a frenzied sort of way. "And I still couldn't? I just, I-"

He cuts himself off with a bout of forced laughter.

Zane takes a moment to reply, the bright blue light in his eyes flickering - a small tell that he was thinking so deeply, his processors were literally sparking up a bit.

"You queried earlier if it was easier, or better, to forget. And while all situations are different, I suppose it is... well, subjective. What do you think?" Zane asks, softly.

Derailing the conversation a bit, but his friend's obviously smart enough to be leading up to something.

Sure, he'll go along with it.

"I mean, there are some things I'd rather forget, you know? I guess we all know what that feels like," Jay replies, the statement with oddly sad air to it. They're still kids, after all, and it gets a bit exhausting pretending that their superhero lives were all fun and games - when they'd just given him enough grey hair to last then lifetimes, and enough nightmares to keep him from ever getting the normal amount of sleep his mum always prattled on about.

Sleep, heh heh. Practically a foreign concept, now.

"And I know that stuff that happens, like shapes us or something - and Master Wu would probably go off on a whole ramble about why we learn from our mistakes or whatever," he laughs nervously, resisting the urge to just fall headfirst onto the deck of the stupid ship instead of continuing the conversation," and how 'our scars only make us stronger', crap like that, but I just-"

"I'm just really... tired of this," he confesses warily, shoulders slumped. "W- I remember so many horrible things, and I-" he breaks off, laughing bitterly. His voice takes on a sort of brittle quality, way too high pitched, "and I can't even talk about them, dude. If that's not the most pathetic thing ever, I dunno what is."

"It does not-"

"Don't say it," Jay mutters, rubbing his temples. "I know, I know, my feelings aren't pathetic, they're always valid, whatever, spare me the lecture-"

"That is not what I was going to say," Zane replies gently. "It just seems that you have answered your own question."

"Gee, which one?"

"I do not know how much helpful assistance I can provide in this situation, but it is understandable to wish certain events had never occurred. However, seeing as we cannot change the past, it seems unwise to dwell on said events if you can avoid it."

Jay stiffens, clamping a shaky hand over his mouth. Something seems to press down even harder on his chest, a heavy sort of weight that causes his breathing to speed up again. Don't say it don't say it there's no reason to warn them this time-

"If you would like to tell any of us about something, of course you are welcome to. It does not to be the whole story, after all. Just make sure that it is the decision you choose, not one you choose because of what you think how it will affect others," Zane finishes quietly, ducking his head as if he's embarrassed.

The stars are still white-hot, burning away some million miles above them.

"Thanks," he says, and puts his hand softly on Zane's shoulder. "I mean, I know - that all makes sense, I guess. It's just- I-"

"You want to?"

"Yeah," Jay starts, sighing, "I do. It's just- it's not just my choice. And I'm pretty much dying already right now, so, as fantastic as making it all worse sounds, hard pass."

Oops, maybe he shouldn't have said that last bit. They'd agreed not to tell anyone about it - even this conversation was cutting it way too close. It wasn't impossible for them to put everything together - they were a pretty smart group, after all, even without their resident inventor and engineer - and Jay didn't really know what he'd think if they did. Fearful? Relieved? Angry?

"That does... not sound great? Dying certainly does not seem-"

"It's called sarcasm, Zane."

"Oh- yes. My memory now accesses the fact that people often speak in that manner. It does seem a bit counterproductive, though. Why not just say what you mean?"

"Shut it, you have no clue how integral to my life it is," Jay replies with a halfhearted grin.

A few seconds later, he remembers something his friend had mentioned earlier, and the grin disappears.

"You know that you can talk to us if you're not happy, right?" he asks, earnestly. Sure, it's not like he could always do that, considering, well, a stupid djin and even stupider magic, but it's not like he needs to. It's- well- he'll be okay, probably. Maybe. Kinda.

Zane's eyes blink on and off again, blue fading in and out. "I... I suppose that I was not quite aware of that."

Okay, they've screwed up way too many times, but this... this is pretty bad. Dang it, how long does it take for them to throw self-preservation instincts at their friend before he freaking- picks them up or something?

"However, will it not hurt those who have experienced the same unfortunate events?"

Dude, not the best question to ask someone wondering the exact same thing-

"It's been... uh, nice, kind of, talking to you. So- I don't think so, and I'm pretty sure someone would say so if it did. Besides, don't we talk about our adventures all the time? It'd probably be better if we... uh, well- heh heh, nothing."

"If we talked about the less than positive elements of them? Perhaps, but I still-"

Maybe it's the fact Zane has always tried to be there for him, or maybe he's too sleep deprived to care anymore, but this is a way too familiar situation and-

Well, not ignoring the issue would be a start.

"Sorry to interrupt, but we're family, Zane. We care about each other. And, gosh, that means that we care about you too. Memories are stupid and annoying sometimes, but we have to make good ones too, right? To block out the bad ones a bit, I guess? Kinda, at least."

They both look away from the stars now, grappling for something else to say.

In the end, they leave it be with a hug and a fondly exasperated warning about sleeping, if you happen to need it.

After all, they're family. They don't have to be perfect, or tell each other everything - even if it does take them a long time to realize that, and an even longer time remembering it.

---

The next time Jay startles awake from a nightmare, the sky is still empty - painfully so, like an ache that simmers beneath the surface even when it's not able to be seen.

The hue, though, is a little lighter.

Just a little - the all-encompassing darkness of it is now a navy sort of blue, his star shining a little bit brighter.

It's still not sunrise, not even close - but he'll take it. AN: the ‘sky’ mentioned at the start and end is a stupid metaphor that i somehow ended up liking too much to trash, it’s ‘empty’ because he hasn’t told anyone about the timeline, and Nya’s not included because they never had a chance to tell each other everything significant or even talked about it or processed it on screen. so yeah! if you read this,,, not great thing, can i send you a hug or good vibes or smth? tyy🥺

#ninjago #jay walker #zane julien #skybound #ninjago fic #not the best thing i've written #actually it's not great-#but i spent too long on it to not post it so if you actually read to here i simunltaneously wanna send you good vibes & apologize profusely-#the ending is super rushed but im too tired to try and write a better one yay:/#also dang it- sorry this fits the prompt so badly i-#i didn't realize till after oops #ninbingo #ninjago jay #ninjago zane #ninjago masters of spinjitzu

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Text

Intrinsic: Jameson in Therapy

Prompt from Anon: If you're still taking prompts... "Have you tried NOT doing that?"

CW: Noncon survivor discussing future consensual spice, Jameson’s masochism, frank references to noncon and pet whump, brief internal victim-blaming, world-building detail about WRU

Dr. Berger tucks a bit of graying hair behind one ear, smiling slightly at Jameson from her place in the soft armchair she uses during appointments. “Well,” She says, thoughtful, “have you tried not doing that?”

He looks up at her from where he sits curled up on the long sofa, knees to his chest, picking absently at loose threads across the knee of his baggy blue jeans. As always, she is careful not to let her eyes move to the places where hair is slowly growing back in over bald spots where the straps of a leather muzzle had rubbed, careful not to look at the scars he wears on every inch of exposed skin - she’d made the mistake of being caught looking, however briefly, and had discovered that the newest of her clients was deeply insecure about the visible evidence of his captivity.

She’d apologized, but it had taken time to develop enough trust to come back from her initial mistake. She would not jeopardize that now, after they’ve made so much progress and she’s begun to see a shift in how he talks about and relates to his new life, his world.

He even told her the name he chose for himself, and that he’s been telling the others in the house, one by one. Accepting that it won’t be taken from him like his original name was - that it belongs to him, and is his to share or not.

She would never, ever admit it, but... Jameson is one of her favorite clients to work with. He’s working so hard, every week that they meet he trusts more and more that the path he’s on is one that will move him forward.

“What?”

His voice is slightly rough - someone who has screamed enough to have permanent vocal chord damage, she thinks. She makes a note to speak to Jake Stanton about having a physician check on the potential for nodes or other issues that might pop up later. She’s not a medical doctor, but… well. She’s had a lot of clients with vocal chord damage in the sixteen years she’s been working in the pet lib movement, and you start to pick up on the little signs and symptoms they don’t necessarily declare out loud.

“My question is really just me being a little facetious, I won’t lie, but I do want to talk through the spirit of the question. When you mention feeling guilty that you are having a physical response to your housemate, that you are attracted to them and have been struggling with... well. I’d like to really dig in to where that guilt comes from. Now, I am aware that adjustment houses tend to discourage relationships between household members during their time in residence to cut down on the chance for conflict, but that’s not where your guilt lies, is it?”

He goes back to picking at the hole slowly wearing through his jeans. Dr. Berger waits, giving him the silence and time he needs to think his way through the question and the possible answers. After a long time, he says softly, “No. It’s not. I don’t give a fuck if Stanton wants me to hold somebody’s stupid hand or not.”

She has to force her smile not to widen, wondering if Jameson is aware of just how like Jakob Stanton he really is. No wonder they don’t always get along. “Okay. So can you talk to me about just what you sense of guilt, this worry you feel, is rooted in?”

She watches with some small surprise as the angry, defiant recovering Box Boy who has spoken frankly and openly to her about being maimed, injured, treated as an object, referred to as an animal... blushes.

“I want-... It’s not the, um, the response. That I hate.” He won’t look at her now, and he’s one who loves to stare her down whenever he thinks she’ll be shocked or disgusted by what he has to tell her. But this… this, he’s ashamed or embarrassed to say. “They’re fucking gorgeous, that’s... anybody would like them. It’s… it’s what I want from them that... scares me.”

“You are accustomed to a certain level of unwanted physical attention, it’s not at all uncommon in Romantic rescues to continue to feel sexual attraction and desire after freedom-”

“No. It’s. It’s not that I-... I know that’s normal. It’s… I want…” He shifts, uneasily. “I want… I want Allyn to hurt me.”

The last sentence is whispered. It’s not sharing a thought, it’s confessing what he feels is some kind of sin he is committing or intending to commit. Dr. Berger sometimes feels like a priest in a confessional booth, although she’s never been one to suggest atonement - no, fear of oneself is where the core of most of her clients’ pain lies, in her experience. Instead, she works on reconstructing the impulse or fear from its foundations, breaking apart the horror of its weight and reconfiguring it so it’s easier to understand.

To take control of, to direct.

She helps them to own themselves, not to fear the prospect but to see in it freedom they have always deserved.

Fear is the absolute last thing any of her clients should ever have to feel again. They have been taught to devalue and debase themselves, to fear what their bodies can be made to do. If she does nothing else, Dr. Berger hopes she is able to help them be just a little less afraid of the bodies they live in.

“You want your housemate to hurt you?” She asks, gently. “Do you mean in the sense of a serious injury, or…”

“No. Um. No, I fucking… I think about them, um. Hurting-... like… like they used to do. Biting me, or... or scratching... I th-think sometimes about Allyn h-holding a... never mind. Just. Hurting me. I’m-... made to be hurt.”

“You are made only to be yourself,” Dr. Berger reminds him, her voice low and without any hint of judgement. “We’ve talked about your captors before and how you were held. You believe that you were made into a masochist as part of your training, and so you’re frightened that your mind is thinking about your housemate in ways similar to how you were once forced to think about your captors.”

His nose wrinkles - he’s more dismissive than most of the language she uses, and early on delighted in insisting on using words like owner, handler, master. Things he thought might shock her. But Dr. Berger has heard nearly everything she thinks there might be to hear, by now. She only smiles slightly at his expression, jotting quickly down on her notepad a few notations.

Finally, he offers hesitantly, “I-I guess. Allyn is… good. They’re soft, and nice, and they’d never-... but I want them to. And it’s-... it would make-... them be like Robert, or… wouldn’t it? It’d be… treating them like… I don’t ever want to be what I was again, so why the fuck can’t I stop thinking about it?”

He is so rarely vulnerable. Dr. Berger doesn’t take for granted the gift he gives her by letting her see past the wall of anger and derision he has built to keep himself safe. In many ways, he reminds her of when she saw Jake Stanton after his own brush with WRU’s handlers and their methods. Bristling, defensive, and with wounds that cannot be bandaged. They instead need to be exposed to the light.

“Intrusive thoughts that contain elements of your captivity are absolutely normal. You are still in the early stages of making progress, and progress is never linear, Jameson. There is no starting line, no ribbon at the end of the race. There is only moving forward, bit by bit, even if sometimes we move back.”

“You mean I move back,” He says, sullen now. “You don’t do shit. You’re already fine.”

“Mmmn, that’s not… quite accurate. I actually see someone myself, you know.” Dr. Berger smiles at his obvious, visible surprise. “My mentor once told me he never trusted a provider of therapy who did not themselves seek it out. I have my own progress to work towards, just as you have yours.”

“Problems are probably real fucking different, though.”

“Well, that’s true.” She allows herself a warm laugh - and is rewarded when he doesn’t bristle or assume mockery like he used to, but relaxes and even gives her a very small smile in return. “But I would advise you not to compare yourself to others. Your situation, while not unique in some ways, is still unique to you. You’ve been through a kind of horror that no one else has - even if others have experienced some similarities, the traumatic events they experienced will never be entirely like yours.”

He nods.

“But-” She holds up one finger “That doesn’t mean we can’t use what we know as a framework, a foundation you can build your own way on. Think of an ancient Roman road paved into a highway in modern Italy, for instance. The foundation was there, a path laid by people who came through before. But you can take what you need and use it to find your own way. I know that you’re scared of your thoughts, I know that you are frightened of wanting to find gratification or satisfaction in pain because you think it means a return to how you were treated before, or that you are inherently changed in damaging ways by your captivity, but…”

When she trails off, he leans slightly forward “But?”

She chooses her words carefully. “Jameson, would you be willing to consider something that may make you a little uncomfortable?”

He looks at her, depths of feelings in his brown eyes, and slowly nods. “Why not? I’m already fucking uncomfortable. All the time.”

His thin shoulders under the oversized band shirt he wears make angles under the fabric as he shrugs, although in the time she’s been seeing them those sharp edges have already begun to round out, the lines of his jaw and cheekbones are softening.

She’s seen it over and over again, the physical changes reflecting the rebuilding of an entire life. It never ceases to amaze her, how hard each and every one of them works.

“Okay. This may be hard to hear at first but I think it will help you.”

Eventually he nods. “Yeah,” He half-rasps. “Yeah, okay. Just say it. Everything… everything else you’ve said has helped. Go ahead.”

“Okay. So, what I would like you to consider… perhaps what you see as an enforced flaw, a crack that was put into you, a danger you present to your housemate due to your conditioning and mistreatment… it might be in fact an intrinsic part of your sexual expression, and simply an aspect of your attraction to them, and the wish you stated to me to perhaps escalate your current relationship.”

He swallows. The color drains from his face, except for two spots of bright red high along his cheekbones. “What?” His lips barely move.

“Jameson…” Her tone dips, reassuring and soothing. “I know what you were told. I know you were likely given a series of half-truths and whole lies designed to engender dependence and teach you to loathe yourself and therefore disconnect from your body. But… that body? It’s very real, and it’s entirely yours. I think that we need to look into the possibility that you already had certain tendencies that were exploited and twisted. Those tendencies are not inherently unhealthy or damaging if you learn to pursue them in a safe environment.”

He blinks, once, twice, his eyes glittering.

She’s made a misstep and she knows it immediately, clear as the tears Jameson never allows to fall. She didn’t time it quite right. They should have spent more time working up to it…

“Are you saying I’m just-... like this?”

“Not the way you are suggesting,” Dr. Berger says softly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t express myself clearly enough. Please let me elaborate a little.”

“I fucking hope you d-didn’t mean that I’m-... that I’m just fucked up,” He says, looking away from her, down at the floor. She pretends she doesn’t see one hand go up to curve around the side of his neck, recreating some of the weight of the collar they are so often taught to rely on for a sense of safety.

“I absolutely did not mean that. One thing WRU excels at - one of the reasons they have been so successful - is that they utilize very effective techniques that encourage a sense of complicity and responsibility in the people they abuse and violate. I’m going to hazard a guess that you were told that you chose what happened to you.”

“I signed up for this,” Jameson whispers automatically, rote and robotic, without hesitation. At least, Dr. Berger thinks, she’s been doing this job long enough that hearing that no longer gets to her like it used to. “I wanted to be some rich asshole’s-”

“Yes. That. One way I think they are able to convince so many individuals so thoroughly isn’t only because of the standard methods of sleep and nutritional deprivation, the repetition, memorizing, the mistreatment… no, I think one thing WRU does is find in each of its victims a core truth they can exploit and cause you to fear in yourself, making you more vulnerable to the idea that this company is somehow saving or helping you by ‘making use’ of it. They find your weak point and use it to shatter you, but what WRU never realizes is that the very weakness they exploit is also often the same piece of you we can recover, that we can reclaim. In your case… Jameson, have you ever heard of consensual masochism?”

He’s hooked, she thinks, on this line of logic. On the lifeline she’s thrown him, something to grab onto. A way to begin to believe, in some small way, that he isn’t ruined. They all think they’ve been ruined, by the time she meets them.

None of them is.

“No, I-I haven’t. Does this mean… there are people like me who aren’t, you know, fucktoys-”

“Recovering Romantics,” She corrects, gently. “And yes. Masochism is a not-uncommon mode of expression that many people engage in consensually in the context of healthy sexual expression.”

He swallows, hard. She watches his throat move. Sees the look in his eyes, the minute changes in his expression. The hand pushing against the side of his neck slowly drops. She can see the gears turning within him, a shifting point of view maybe. She can see what he doesn’t want to speak out loud.

There’s another silence. This one is more comfortable, and as always she gives him all the time he needs.

“How-” His voice cracks, and he clears his throat, blinking rapidly again. His knees slowly uncurl and his feet, clad in old hand-me-down sneakers, find their way to flat on the floor. Without his ever-present scowl, he looks years younger. Terrified.

Hopeful.

“How can I-... how do I-...” He takes a deep breath. “If it’s just… part of me… how do I make it safe?”

@astrobly @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @whump-tr0pes @raigash @moose-teeth @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @eatyourdamnpears @boxboysandotherwhump @vickytokio @whumpfigure @outofangband @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @thehopelessopus @butwhatifyouwrite @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump

#whump #recovery whump #referenced pet whump #recovering whumpee #wru #bbu #box boy #box boy universe #masochism tw #condtioning #deconditioning #jameson bb #dr. berger #trauma recovery #noncon survivor navigating consensual spice #referenced consensual spice #referenced noncon #internalized victim-blaming #whumpees in therapy

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ayuuria · 3 years

Text

Yashahime Translation: Animage Magazine May 2021 Issue

Please do not repost this translation without my consent! This includes screenshots of any type and amount. If you wish to share this translation, simply link to this post.

For more information regarding the use of my translations, click here.

The Yashahimes’ Future

The three Yashahimes who carry both demon and human blood: Towa, Setsuna, and Moroha. The three of them have varying personalities, environments in which they were raised in, and goals for their actions. However, through the shared task of demon slaying, they slowly begin to accept one another. Though they are not a perfect “Close, in sync team”, trust has certainly budded between the girls who, together, have overcome any difficult situation. Even Kirinmaru’s attack that killed Setsuna in one stroke could not sever the bond that connects the three. Towa especially, who received a broken Tenseiga from Sesshōmaru, appears to have not yet given up on Setsuna’s life. Although it looks like the girls will still continue to face hardships in the future, we want them to clear the way to a happy future with their own hands.

“Hanyō no Yashahime” entered a short break, leaving behind many points of interest such as Setsuna’s shocking death, the broken Tenseiga entrusted to Towa, and the continued separation of Moroha and her parents. Let’s consolidate the existing mysteries and wait for the second chapter (season)!

Higurashi Towa

Faced with the death of her beloved little sister, Setsuna, her demonic blood awakens for the first time. Until now, she had been using the demon sword, Kikujūmonji, as her weapon but what is this blade… …? (referring to the promo picture for season 2)

Series Composition: Katsuyuki Sumisawa Q&A

The Yashahimes’ story with continuous ups and downs. In addition to reviewing everything up until now, please tell us about the backstory and hints to the second chapter (season)!

Q. Where do Towa, Setsuna, and Moroha normally spend the night?

A. Towa freeloads at Kaede’s house. Setsuna stays at the demon slayer’s headquarters. It’s just that she can’t sleep so she probably keeps watch outside at night. Moroha lives at the corpse shop.

Q. How far apart is Kaede’s village and the corpse shop?

A. Kaede’s village is in the land of Musashi so in terms of modern geography, imagine around Tokyo’s Nakano and Suginami ward. Compared to that, the corpse shop is in the harbor so around Shinagawa ward or maybe even Yokohama. It seems the three of them frequently met up but there’s actually quite a distance. Each of them had different goals behind their actions too.

Q. When Towa, Setsuna, and Moroha first met, how was Moroha able to figure out that the two of them were Sesshōmaru’s daughters?

A. Probably through “smell”. Sesshōmaru is well known among demons and Moroha knows that Sesshōmaru is her father’s older brother. However, Moroha still doesn’t know that Sesshōmaru is the one who trapped her parents within the black pearl.

Q. Does Moroha know her parents’ names?

A. She does. When Inuyasha and Kagome were approached by Kirinmaru and Sesshōmaru, Awa no Hachiemon (aka Hachi), the racoon dog, took Moroha to the wolf demon tribe where she was raised. That being said, Kōga probably told her.

Q. Doesn’t Moroha want to meet her parents?

A. She thinks her parents are dead. That’s why her thoughts are “There’s no point obsessing over someone who’s dead”. Hachiemon the racoon dog, didn’t watch the details of the incident to the end and assumed that “If Sesshōmaru and Kirinmaru were their opponents, they’re probably not alive now.” That’s what Moroha was told through Kōga.

Q. Why is the instrument that Setsuna plays the violin?

A. When creating the scenario, I wanted some sort of “gift” from the modern era as “something to connect the modern and feudal eras”. Therefore, I decided to give Moroha the giant backpack as Kagome’s daughter and Setsuna an instrument. In addition, an instrument that absolutely didn’t exist in the feudal era was better, so I chose the violin. There of course won’t be violins in Japan and even in the West, it had a different shape than it does now. Plus, before the current story was solidified, I had thought of a plot where the modern era was the setting so it’s a remnant of that.

Q. Did Mama Moe teach Setsuna the song she always plays on her violin?

A. While she learned how to play the violin from Mama Moe, the song was not something she learned (from her). Rather Setsuna is playing a song she once heard based off her memory. Where she heard it… please wait for the second chapter (season)!

Q. With Kanemitsu no Tomoe as a medium for Setsuna and the rouge being suggested for Moroha, each of them has had their demonic blood sealed. What about the seal for Towa’s demonic blood?

A. Towa’s is not sealed. Moreover, her demonic blood had not yet awakened. That’s where in episode 24, her demonic blood awakened for the first time with Setsuna’s death being the trigger. However, that was in an out-of-control state. Going forward, how “Sesshōmaru’s blood” flowing within her will manifest itself will be something worth noting.

Q. Why does everyone call Towa and the others “Yashahime”?

A. Ever since the spirit of the Tree of Ages called them as such in episode 4, everyone started calling them that, no matter who they spoke to. At first, even Towa and the others were like “We’re not Yashahime” or “Are you referring to us?” but as they got addressed that repeatedly, they gradually accepted the name.

Q. Kohaku’s* older sister, Kin’u, is a nun but what does his other older sister, Gyokuto, do?

*Translator’s Note: I think the publisher made a mistake and meant to say Hisui

A. She shoulders the responsibility of helping Sango create the weapons for demon slaying, delivering those weapons to the other slayers, accepting demon slaying requests around the area, and collecting information on demon sightings.

Q. Is Kirinmaru a demon of Japan?

A. No. I think talking like this will be easier to understand. Kirinmaru is one of the few greater demons who is aware that the earth is round. In that era, the only ones who have a sense of this are probably just Kagome, Towa, and Kirinmaru. Having circled the globe many times, Kirinmaru, who had traveled around the world, met the Dog General at the very end in the land at the farthest end (of the earth), Japan. Ever since then, he has remained in Japan so it could be said that he’s a demon of Japan, but his existence is on a bigger scale than that. Kirinmaru frequently reads Western books and he orders those from various places around the world. The one who buys them is Riku. Naturally, I’m sure that not only does Riku secretly read the Western books in the library, but Kirinmaru wouldn’t reproach him for such a small thing either. In episode 7, Riku called the apple a “Forbidden Fruit” but of course, I’m sure Kirinmaru has read the bible before. That’s most likely because he’s been alive since the era of myth so he may have seen Buddha or Jesus Christ in the flesh. There’s probably no way he saw Adam and Eve eat the forbidden fruit though… … (laughs).

Q. Point blank, what is the relationship between Kirinmaru and Riku? In a reflection of the past (200 years ago), it seemed Riku didn’t have any emotions. What exactly was that?

A. This will be revealed in the second chapter (season) as well but to give you a little hint, Riku started taking care of Zero after the Dog General died and as he healed her, he gradually began to have emotions. That’s why Riku’s way of thinking was influenced by Zero, such as “You have to destroy those that you love”.

Q. Zero lost her demonic powers when she created the Rainbow Pearls. Then what was the power she was using when she fought?

A. Zero was using the power of hexes. In this world, there is not only demonic power but all sorts of powers such as spiritual power and Buddhist power and each of them is separate. What she used was a power similar to charms and Inyougogyō**.

** Translator’s Note: Yin and Yang and the five Chinese elements: metal, wood, water, fire, and earth.

Q. Why did someone like Kirinmaru, who values reason, have the Four Perils, who had sleazy personalities, as subordinates?

A. Kirinmaru’s mind is preoccupied with a “certain matter” that’s important so he doesn’t really care about anything else. Hence, he doesn’t remember every single demon that has challenged or served under him and he doesn’t care what kind of person they were.

Q. In episode 21, it was surprising when Towa said “I like you (Riku)!”. To put it frankly, what do Towa and Riku think of each other?

A. Towa thinks Riku is “Riku”. She doesn’t perceive him as being part of Kirinmaru’s group. On the other hand, Riku thinks Towa is “The lady Yashahime that will slay Kirinmaru”. That’s why he addresses her as “Lady Towa”. Currently, there are no romantic feelings between the two of them. Just that, there’s probably “affection” from Riku to Towa.

Q. Why does Riku think “I only kill those I love”?

A. Because “Those who are loved vanish beautifully”. That is what Zero said in episode 23. To Zero, death is sad but to Riku, there’s no difference between dying and living and that they’re the same. Based on that, Riku came to think “You have to destroy those that you love” and he chooses to “kill” as an expression of love. That might be quite difficult to understand.

Q. Why is Sesshōmaru so cold to his daughters?

A. Just as a lion drops its cubs into a bottomless ravine, a demon’s feeling is that they only raise the child that gains strength from hardship. That is the “Rite of Courage and Cowardice”. It’s a little different from the feeling we humans have. That’s why hating his daughters or purposely tormenting them is certainly not the case.

Q. Although, isn’t separating the babies from their mother immediately after birth or having them fight the strongest beast king of the eastern land, Kirinmaru, a little too much?

A. If you watch the kabuki play “Renjishi” I think you will get it immediately. Anime is fine, but I would like to recommend the traditional arts that have ceaselessly been passed down since ancient Japanese times. Even if going to see them is difficult, researching on the internet is easy. Even the phrase “Rite of Courage and Cowardice” will show up in there. It seems that in this world, there’s no people who love their children more than Japanese people. Perhaps that’s why it can’t be helped that the way Sesshōmaru is raising his children feels very cold. However, those who watched the “Inuyasha” series I think will know but Sesshōmaru’s hearing and smell are exceedingly exceptional. He has the ability to immediately rush in, no matter how far the distance.

Q. Lastly, please tell us how production for the second chapter (season) is going?

A. Currently, we’re writing the second half of the script for the second chapter (season). The whole staff are eagerly working under this difficult Corona crisis. In the second chapter (season), we would like to create a script that is particular on the details as much as possible. In the previous series, there were many self-contained demon slaying stories but for the second chapter (season), we’ve changed the structure of the story so that it progresses with the feelings of the various characters intertwining together, just like in “Inuyasha The Final Act”. Hence, I think the impression of the story will change quite a bit. Please wait until the broadcast to see what kind of story it will be!

#Yashahime #hanyou no yashahime #yashahime: princess half demon #translation #there's actually a lot of key information in this so I recommend reading it #I had fun translating this

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mustyrosewater · 3 years

Text

te amo.

javier peña x reader

request by @hxdxs : hello! i was wondering if you could write smth where javier peña has a nightmare after him and the reader have a fight which results to them sleeping in separate rooms, she wakes up and comforts him no pressure (:

warnings : fighting, mentions of violence, possibly unhealthy relationship

word count : 3k+

you knew what you were walking into when you finally decided to commit to a relationship with javier peña, you knew to expect the disappearing for days at a time without being able to contact with him because he was undercover, you knew that he was walking into a brand new dangerous situation every single day.

but it didn't hurt any fucking less each time. at first, you'd tried to tell yourself that you shouldn't be upset, once again telling yourself that it was you who chose this life, getting angry and possibly overreacting would just be hypocritical of you, it would have made you weak. but as it began to happen again, and again the last straw had been him coming home at three in the morning, after having been away for a week longer than he'd told you the undercover operation was going to last for. you'd spent hours in your shared apartment, anxiously waiting for a the phone call from the dea or an agent knocking on your door only to tell you that he'd been killed. you'd spent the night sitting on the couch, clutching his shirt tightly just to smell whatever remnants of his cheap cologne that you hated with a passion was left over on them, suddenly missing it now more than ever. when he'd finally come back, you'd fallen asleep on the couch, still holding the shirt tight to your chest with dried tears still lingering on your cheeks. to say the least, waking up at three in the morning to the sound of somebody rustling around in the bathroom was enough to prompt you to slowly grab a knife from the kitchen drawer and slowly make your way to the bathroom. as if being on a streak of being an emotional wreck after what you believed to be the death of your boyfriend, now the universe was truly testing you by having somebody decide to rob you. seeing the streak of white light poking through the crack in the bathroom door, you approached slowly, feeling your heart beating so loudly that it was thundering in your own ears. finally swinging the door open, it hit the opposite wall with a harsh crash, only to be followed by you bursting in, knife in hand, cursing angrily in spanish. only to be greeted by a wide eyed javi looking at you as if you'd gone crazy. as your heart dropped and your eyes widened, you couldn't help letting out a cry of shock as you dropped the knife onto the tile floor with a sharp clang, unable to process the blade narrowly missing your foot. reaching to grip onto the door frame in order to balance yourself as you felt your legs begin to go numb, javi sprung forward, reaching out and placing his hands under your shoulders for support. as you finally got a closer look at him, you could see that his hair was messy as all hell, he definitely hadn't shaved for the past day or two and he absolutely stunk, and you once again found yourself wishing he'd actually been using that horrid cologne. in that moment however, as grateful as you were that he was alive and wasn't in fact lying dead in a ditch in escobars backyard, the relief had faded away as quickly as it had flooded in, only to no sooner be replaced with a fiery surge of anger. with no hesitation, you shoved him away from you, now able to stand up straight once more; looking up just in time to see his questioning look he posed your way. "what the fuck javi!" you hadn't meant for your voice to come out so hoarse, but the hours you'd spent audibly crying into his shirt had done a number on your throat, as well as the fact that you'd only woken up minutes ago. he opened his mouth to speak, but you only answered by holding up your finger and continuing to speak. "a week. i don't hear from you for a week! i manage to convince myself you've been shot, and then you just waltz in at three am in the fucking morning and make me think you're a robber!" you can't help but laugh in between sentences, but the laugh is still traced with venom, all too reflective of the angry streak of words flooding out of your mouth. "i mean- what if i'd stabbed you?!" you spoke, gesturing to the knife now by your feet. you didn't even want to picture yourself stabbing javi, especially not after he nearly gave you a stroke due to finding out that he was still very much alive. as you went to continue, it was now javi's turn to interrupt you, shaking his head as he placed his hands on his hips and stared back at you. you hadn't even stopped to think about how much of a crazy person you must have looked like in that moment, face puffy and red from crying, messy hair and pajama pants you'd been wearing for two days straight, all nicely topped off with a singlet shirt and robe he'd gotten you a few months back for your birthday. "what the fuck was i supposed to do? i told you i was undercover!" his voice sounded so tired, it was painfully obvious to you how drained he was; but in that moment, the high emotional intensity was blurring all reason within you. as you listened to him yell, you felt the lump in your throat forming; crossing your arms, you tried to keep yourself together. "you could have sent me some kind of message, somebody to tell me you'd be gone for another week!" the two of you were no longer yelling at one another, this was screaming at one another. in a brief passing moment you thought about what the neighbours must have thought of you two, but you also just couldn't find yourself to care. "you know i couldn't do that! i've told you several fucking times why i can't do that!" he turned away from you, taking a step back towards the basin. you could see his shoulders rising and falling with his deep breaths, watching as he reached up to run a hand through his messy hair. "fuck!" you jumped as the tense silence between you two was broken by javi cursing loudly and kicking the small plastic garbage can beside the basin, sending it crashing against the wall loudly. that was when your bottom lip began to wobble and your vision became foggy. you could only reach up a shaky hand to cover your mouth as javi panted, hunched over the basin he was now resting his hands on. "i thought you were dead javi.." in your effort to conceal that you were beginning to cry, you'd kept your voice quiet, yet i hadn't helped in the slightest; the wobble in your tone was too noticeable for anybody to be able to ignore, especially not javi; who turned to look at you, a few expression laced with regret having taken over his face. you didn't want to look at him for a moment longer, you couldn't even if you did. so you turned around and walked out from the doorway of the bathroom, only now beginning to audibly weep into your hand. you could head javi walking after you, only prompting you to walk to the spare room quicker. you just needed to be away from javi for awhile, even if you'd spent the past four weeks desperately wishing he was back. "wait, just please hang on a minu-" you can't hear the rest of javi's words before you've slammed the door in his face, turning the small lock over as quickly as your shaky hands allow you to. you turn around and put your back to the door, trying to ignore the fact that you can feel javi standing outside the door, you can hear his faint heavy breaths and the way he's softly cursing in spanish under his breath. its a few more moment before you can hear his footsteps slowly getting softer and you know he's walked in your bedroom when you can hear the door slam shut, making you jump softly again. thats the moment that you let yourself break down. your face scrunches up as you slide down the door until your sitting on the ground of the spare room, your knees up to your chest as you rest your palms on your forehead, trying your hardest not to make too much sound as you cry, feeling your shoulders shake as you do. memories of all the friends who'd advised you not to commit to a relationship with javi over wine came flooding in, remembering the uneasy looks on all their faces the first time you'd shown up to a friends wedding together. the times you'd stayed at their houses because you just couldn't handle the way he acted when a case had set him off; the amount of times you'd told them that you stayed because he needed you as much as you needed him; ignoring the way they shook their heads. it hurts so much when things get like this between you two, you don't often find yourself fighting, but this had so far been the worst of all; never had the two of you screamed at each other so loudly before. it takes about thirty minutes of you sitting on the ground to realize that you should probably move to the small single bed in the corner of the room. you had moved the small bed into what was essentially javi's office about a year ago, mainly done for the purpose of giving steve a place to sleep when him and javi were working non stop, it was your idea, knowing that it would probably be easier seeing as him and steve always had to start so early. remembering when they moved the bed in, you'd brought the two of them beers as they spent hours upon hours trying to put the stupid thing together. a memory that used to make you laugh, only serving to making you cry harder as you sat down on the bed. you could hear javi angrily pacing in the next room over, as well as the occasional bang of what you could assume was him knocking something over or throwing something. as you laid down on the bed, you shut your eyes slowly, trying to pretend you couldn't hear him even if there was nothing but a paper thin wall separating the two rooms. -- you couldn't tell what time it was when you finally woke up. you couldn't even remember when you'd fallen asleep. you looked towards the window to see a dim blue light poking out of the curtains, signalling to you that it must have been early in the morning, meaning you couldn't have been asleep for more than four hours. at first, you reached out for javi, only for the events that occurred only a few hours ago to come flooding back in. the fighting, the screaming. it only replaced the lump in your throat as you sat up and rubbed your eyes. as you began to wake up more, you wondered what had prompted you to wake up at such a random hour, especially when you'd been so worn out and tired when you actually went to sleep in the first place. you were about to ponder the question for awhile longer, until you heart the soft grunts coming from you and javi's room. though muffled, you could clearly hear javi in quiet distress. its a sound that you wish wasn't as familiar to you as it was; the amount of times you'd been woken up by javi making those sounds fresh in your head, just as fresh as needing to calm him down from them. he was clearly having a nightmare. and suddenly, it was as if all of those arguements, all of those snarky comments from your girlfriends and all the time you'd spent crying over javi had been flung out of the window and banished to the back of your mind; only leaving room for a sudden concern for javi. with no hesitation to be observed, you walked to the door and unlocked it, heading to the bedroom as the sounds of javi in sleepy distress became louder and louder. carefully placing your hand flat on the wooden door, you hesitated, briefly taking a moment to prepare for javi still being upset, knowing that it could still very much be the case. pushing said concerns to the back of your mind once more, you push the door open slowly, still aware of the way in which its hinges tend to creak purely due to age and the fact that it was admittedly purely made; remembering the amount of times javi mentioned he was going to fix it himself but still never getting around to it. you spot his sleeping figure on the bed, though sleeping would certainly be a loose term for it. he's shaking and twitching every few moments, his eyes shut tightly. you aren't sure what it is he's dreaming about, much less if you even want to know; it was likely it wasn't something you'd be able to handle. you'd never asked for any details past what he told you about his job; occasionally he would mention things once or twice in passing, and you were simply content to leave it at that. the things that you'd seen on the television were enough to scare you into not asking for anything else past the information he was willing to give. yet in the same breath, the fact that only seeing things on tv was enough to make your skin crawl, you couldn't imagine what it must have been like for him to see it all up and close and personal, much less risk his life every day just by walking into the embassy. you knew what to expect when you committed to this relationship, yet you had found it so hard to think about what he was going through. after what felt like ten minutes of staring at the poor man, you walked forward and kneeled beside the bed, not wanting to put weight on the mattress so as to frighten him out of his sleep rather than calmly wake him. reaching up, you placed a hand on his cheek, ignoring the prickly feeling of his stubble due to having not shaved for nearly a week and ran your thumb back and fourth across his prickly skin. "javi... javi, baby.." as you try to speak softly to snap him out of it, it seems to only make it worse as he jumps away from your touch; only resulting in a slight cringe forming on your face. the idea that you're only making it worse for him feels horrible, not even wanting to think about what he must be experiencing in whatever dream it is he's having. "please baby, wake up, its just a dream... i'm here." continuing to stroke his cheek, you watch as he lets out a loud gasp and his eyes go flying open and he sits up, looking around frantically as if he was trying to find out where he was. this is only one of many times you've had to do this, needing to wake him up softly and remind him that he was safe with you. it pained you to see him so shaken by a dream. you had to wonder how much more of this line of work he was going to be able to take. the more time you spent watching columbia slowly chip away at the man you loved, you tried to pretend that every time you watched him walk out of the door for work that you weren't worried it may have been his last. you tried to pretend that you weren't always noticing his dark circles and the way he'd grunt out in pain from the smallest movements. being in the dea was slowly killing him and neither of you even wanted to admit it. you know better than to ever try and convince him to quit, you've known him long enough to know how stubborn of a man he is; and that if you tried to tell him about the danger and how worried you were, it was only going to push him away in the end. the times you'd had to help him into bed when he came home drunk, the times you'd needed to help him dress his stitches or watch him take of his shirt only to be met with a bullet scratch on his shoulder. while being in the dea was slowly killing javi, watching it happen was just as slowly killing you. reaching forward, you cup his cheeks and force him to look you in the eyes; ignoring the way that his hands grip tightly onto your wrists. you've learnt to ignore things like this, it hurts when he grips your wrists so tightly, but you continue to tell yourself that he doesn't mean it; you know he doesn't mean it. you chose to love a broken man, and with all broken things, you needed to be prepared for occasionally gaining a few cracks yourself. the fear in his eyes is crystal clear, the way he looks at you as if he doesn't recognize you; its painful, but as his face shifts to one of a subtle recognition, you watch as he slowly sinks down from his fear and feel his grip on your wrists begin to relax bit by bit. stroking his cheeks, you smile softly and sit across from him on the bed, feeling his pulse thundering rapidly. "i'm right here javi, it's ok, your ok." your whispers finally seem to be working as he shuts his eyes, making an obvious attempt to slow down his breathing. he leans forward, resting his forehead on your collar as you stroke his back slowly, letting him try to calm down from whatever violent nightmare he was being forced to endure. you can feel his arms wrap around you as he pulls you closer, practically leaning against you as he breathes in your scent, just another way of being able to ground himself back into reality. in that one moment, every fight the two of you had ever had, the amount of time you'd spent crying over your worries, everything you've had to endure becomes worth it as you sit there in each others arms. he finally leans back to look at you, letting one of his hands rest on the back of your head as he brings you in to lay a kiss on your forehead, shutting his eyes and taking another deep breath. without saying anything, he leans back down to lay on the bed, pulling you with him so that you were laying your head on his chest; his arms remaining tightly wound around you with little to no intention of letting you go. just as you had no intention of leaving. "im sorry.." you whispered out softly, beginning to draw invisible patterns on his bare chest with your finger tips. "i was just so fucking scared that i lost you.." you confessed, letting you voice crack as your vision became foggy. he didn't reply at first, but you felt his breathing tense. you didn't want to ask what it was that he was dreaming about, but based upon his reaction, you wondered whether or not that was the subject matter of his dream, losing you or losing himself. when he finally spoke, it was deep and croaky, just as his voice always was after it had been sleeping; a voice you'd heard whispering sweet nothings and pillow talk in the mornings; the voice that would softly tell you goodbye followed by a kiss on your forehead whenever javi would leave early in the mornings and you'd stay in bed. "please don't cry, hermosa. please don't be sorry." by the sound of his voice you could tell that he felt bad, it wasn't hard to tell that the both of you were hurt over the argument; your high emotional intensity mixed with javi being worn out was a deadly mix that was bound to end badly. turning to look up at him, you rested your chin on his chest and sighed. javi stared back at you, reaching up to fix the hair that had fallen in front of your face; allowing his hand to linger purely so he could cup your cheek. shutting your eyes, you leaned into his touch; now unable to stop a few tears from escaping and rolling down your cheeks only to be quickly wiped up by javi's thumb as if he couldn't bear to watch them fall. "te amo." he whispered, reaching for your hand and bringing the back of it to his lips, laying a soft kiss on the skin. laying your head back down on his chest and shutting your eyes, you allowed yourself to begin drifting back to sleep, now finding such a task monumentally easier now that you were back in javi's arms. "i love you too."

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #javier pena hc #javier pena fic #javier pena fluff #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal narcos #narcos #pedro pascal fic #angst

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angelicmichael · 3 years

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hoax - chapter two

Michael Langdon x Mallory

Summary: Mallory tries her best to put her feelings aside and to tolerate Michael; however she finds that she gets tested in other ways that aren’t so easily predictable..

Words: 6.3k+

Warnings: more death and general mentions of it.. sorry lmao, angst, blood, manipulation, unhealthy relationships, mentions of satan and satanism, slowburn, plot heavy, enemies to lovers, also reminder that this is a dark fic so.. it’s just generally not that happy of a story lol

A/N: Hey guys! Sorry if this seems random since we just got new cody content and a new character but I thought I would just upload this anyway since it’s finished 👉🏻👈🏻. But this is also the longest thing I’ve ever written.. like ever so hopefully y’all like it haha. Also fyi; Michaels and Mallorys POV switches quite a bit throughout this chapter lol.

Previous Chapter

Michael watched Mallory intently. Looking as she continued to be lost in thought. Her gaze fixated downwards at her black boots, which twitched slightly as she continued to most likely debate whether he was worth it or not… to say yes or no..

Michael swallowed, wishing he could do something to make her say yes, to maybe offer something but after all; he had absolutely nothing. Even Michael by himself seemed to be too much of a burden on its own, to Mallory.

He let out a dry cough; hoping to bring her back to reality, back to him.

Mallory’s head snapped up - brown eyes looking up at him curiously.. as if she really did forget that he was still waiting for a response or some type of agreement. She tried her best to relax her shoulders as well as her mind before speaking. Trying to silently convince herself to not snap at him, no matter how much she still truly wanted too. However, looking at him made that far more easier..

Michaels words; the pleading and begging that Mallory was almost convinced would never stop.. The pure desperation and urgency only really reflected onto his appearance. Sandy blonde hair that nearly looked brown due to the disgusting amount of dirt in it.. clothes that were still horribly stained and nearly doused with blood made him look hardly short of intimidating anymore, but the urge to yell at him still didn’t wane.

Anger still stayed present in Mallory’s chest, but it was starting to become something she couldn’t just ignore anymore.. it flowed through her veins, hot and fresh. It made her skin warm and her cheeks flush cherry red. Something she was typically insecure about but she really didn’t have the time or patience to try and hide it.. she doubted Michael realistically was even paying close enough attention to notice anyways.

“Fine,” Mallory finally answered. Her voice was soft and low which was merely a result of her biting her anger back - something she still desperately wanted to show but knew realistically would get her no where with him.

She tried her best to avoid Michaels gaze which still stayed solely focused on her figure. He seemed almost taken aback by her words, as if he was expecting to be further yelled at.. which wasn’t exactly a wrong assumption. The only reason Mallory found it in her to be nice was merely sympathy. After all they both had a long day - it wasn’t just her discomfort she had to take into consideration anymore.

“Do you trust me?”

The words almost felt impulsive to say but she didn’t regret saying them - after all; if they were really going to be sticking around by each other for a while then.. it was a valid question.

Mallory knew realistically what he was going to say and she tried to brace herself as she saw his mouth open hesitantly.

“I feel like I should.. why?” He asked in a tone which sounded purely dismissive and a bit annoyed.

Mallory wanted to smile, she wanted to grin and laugh that she was finally starting to get what she wanted but.. she did neither of those things. Instead she found herself immeadietly distrusting him.. wanting to know why on earth she would ever think to trust his words for a second when she literally killed him in the past.. and that’s not counting the other times where she attempted to do so or even thought doing it but; this Michael didn’t know that. This Michael barely even knew her name, let alone anything else about her but that didn’t matter to him - and she couldn’t help but to be a bit relieved at that feeling of finally being able to be free from her past.

Atleast for the time being.

“I need to go somewhere but I can’t go alone.. I think it would be good if you went too.”

Michaels brows furrowed at this; his face almost upturning in a sneer. “Where?”

Mallory took in a deep breath but didn’t exhale at first.. feeling irritated that he just had to keep asking questions that she didn’t have the answer too.

“I’ll tell you later, when we get closer, okay? But we need to go before the sun sets,” she explained.

Mallory hoped desperately that what she said would be enough reason for Michael to go along with her.. but thankfully it seemed to be. Or he seemed convinced for the most part, anyway.

“What happens before the sun sets?” He asked.

His blue eyes glared into hers - as if he was trying to get a read on her.. just like how he used too at the outpost.

Mallory’s throat suddenly grew dry at this realization.. Feeling incredibly uncomfortable at how he looked at her, and his question. Not necessarily knowing what to do about either situations but - she hoped for a second he would retract his words or rephrase but he didn’t.

He still waited.

“That doesn’t matter, we just need to get going. You said you trusted me right?” Mallory reaffirmed.

Her face was mostly expressionless as she watched Michael solemnly nod in response.

“Yeah.. sure. I trust you.”

His sentence cut off almost abruptly; as if he wanted to keep talking but knew that Mallory wouldn’t have the patience to hear him out - or that she simply didn’t want too.

Michael couldn’t really pinpoint exactly how he felt around Mallory. Every time she met his gaze he couldn’t help but to be overtaken briefly by far too many emotions than he could count. It mainly was a fight over feeling intimidated and being in awe. Even though Mallory hadn’t really let her powers show since she basically assaulted him earlier; he knew to keep his distance now.. to a degree.

He approached her now; feeling a little less intimated than he was before since she seemed to be acting civil.

Michael couldn’t help but to blame her behavior on himself; maybe he was too straight forward.. maybe it was him who was the true freak in this situation.. It wouldn’t exactly be the first time that he found himself in a situation like this, another situation that was surely his fault.

God.. why was he such a fuck up??

The closer he approached.. Mallory.. she said her name was right?? He felt almost sick to his stomach when he saw the look in her eyes when she finally bothered to look up at him. Her eyes (which he remembered were a golden honey brown when she stood directly in the sun) were nearly black now.. maybe it was the fact that the sun was finally dipping behind the trees.. or.. something else? Annoyance was really the only emotion he could read from her at the moment - the rest of her face was even harder to read. He guessed she was trying to remain expressionless on purpose.

Mallory was the first one to start walking - and Michael let her lead. She seemed to have a some kind of idea on where she was going since she had claimed she said a destination in mind, or somewhere for them to go.

Hopefully that wasn’t a lie.

Mallory didn’t look back once as Michael continued to walk directly behind her once the path she had chosen to walk on had thinned down to a trail. The sound of his footsteps were good enough proof that he hadn’t wandered off or turned around. She didn’t want to necessarily look at him longer than what she had too - she was more than certain that he still wore that kicked puppy look he had earlier. It was pathetic and painful.. and only a sharp reminder of why things currently were the way they were. Why she was here; still in the forest with twigs and leaves snapping onto her overly expensive dress which now had to be ruined.. (as if it wasn’t already from Michaels death fiasco’s) and not back at Robichaux.. with the witches where she belonged. Even if none of them necessarily knew her anymore.

Mallory belonged with other witches, her sisters. People that actually understood her and gave a fuck - not.. whatever she could even call Michael now. Who was not quite human but probably not the antichrist now, either.

That was just something else that Mallory would have to do and figure out on her own but, this wasn’t something that was meant to be done solo - she knew that deep down.

Michael was following her diligently and actually listening now for a reason, she came to the forest for a reason, and as much as she tried her best to avoid thinking about it; she also talked to satan for a reason.. And even though he was mostly a manipulative asshole- no.. not mostly. That’s exactly what he was. Michael was also proof of that.

No matter what, her and Michael would figure it out together.. on their own or certaintly without the help of him. They didn’t need him, not again.. not now.. not ever. It didn’t matter if he apparently owned her soul or not - she still felt the same.. nothing could’ve changed that quickly. Right?

That’s what she would tell herself anyway - and there’s no way she would ever dream of telling Michael any of that shit ever happened. It’s not like he would remember anyway.

Mallory continued to keep her head down as they kept walking .. deep in thought and trying to focus on just finding their way out until she felt something soft brush up against the back of her arm..

Mallory immeadietly paused when she felt Michael touch her, looking at her arm almost awkwardly and bearing witness to how Michael was now gently gripping her.. Hoping naively that it was something that happened accidentally but of course it wasn’t. Nothing happened by coincidence with Michael.

He let go after a couple seconds of awkward eye contact.. most likely realizing that she wasn’t exactly a touchy person. Not with him anyway. Not after the kind of day they’ve been through.

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry,” Michael said sorely.

His voice shook when he spoke.. and even though it was tempting to ask exactly why he was apologizing - she figured it didn’t necessarily matter. At this point it was the effort and the fact he even cared enough to say anything, that made her feel a bit better.

She gave a slight smile, not really wanting to say that any of this was ‘okay’ or that it was ‘fine’ because she was truly tired of lying.. it was something she lost the energy for a while ago.

“Let’s keep going. I think we’re almost there.”

Mallory turned around to keep walking - looking up and realizing that she could finally see something beyond the tree line.. something that looked like vaguely like a skyline of a city.. Was that Los Angeles??

Biting the bullet and choosing to make small talk had its perks - Michael affirmed her suspicion that they were in L.A which was really neither a good or bad thing. She definitely felt more unsettled now that she knew for a fact she was farther away from home than she would like to be.. and also scarily close to Hawthorne, and god knows what else.

It didn’t take long for the two of them to reach the city; and now that she was here.. she really didn’t know what to do next or why she had the odd instinct to walk here in the first place, but thankfully Michael seemed to know.

It was obvious that Mallory didn’t exactly have a plan, in the way that she was starting to physically stall.. her steps slowed, her fingers fidgeted a bit more and picked at her clothes, and her gaze kept falling down to her shoes.. All little, minuscule things but Michael picked up on them all.

He didn’t bother to ask outloud if she knew where she was going. Instead he took the lead.. walking in front of Mallory suddenly and only briefly pausing to turn into a dark alleyway. Something that seemed entirely random but honestly wasn’t. He had a feeling, an urge that they were meant to go this way.. something was waiting for them both.

Michael only looked back to make eye contact for a brief moment; hoping that just for once Mallory would trust him.. but as he looked back into her dark brown eyes which still abnormally almost appeared black - she was still reluctant. He wasn’t necessarily thinking when he reached out to grab her hand. Something he knew that she would hate but he couldn’t help it. Physical touch felt nice, and her hands were soft..

They still were.

He still held onto her hand as he gently pulled and tried to lead her into where he was going - frowning slightly when he felt her grip loosen but he continued to keep walking into the alleyway. He kept going, nearly stumbling on the garbage and various shit that was left on the ground.. but he managed to find a door that was left slightly ajar.. just enough for him and Mallory to slip through.

Michael quietly opened the door further; the room that they suddenly found themselves in was barely lit. A dark, dim, red light was omitted along with several small candles but other than that, the room was kept blanketed in a thick darkness. Both physically and emotionally.

As soon as Mallory entered what she now knew had to be some kind of church.. she felt almost as if she had been punched in the stomach. She noticibly winced, physically withdrawing from Michael and reflexively pulling her hand back even further than she had previously but he wouldn’t let her hand go. Not completely.

The nausea and just the sudden heavy energy she felt made the rest of her body tense up.. and she found herself sort of being thankful that Michael still held onto her and seemed to be leading her to a seat.. but the gratitude she felt only lasted for barely a second. Just until she could actually take a deep breath and focus..

Where exactly were they?

It was clear as day that they happened to be in a church.. but no.

No.

Something was wrong. Something wasn’t right.

This wasn’t a normal church, nothing about this seemed normal in the slightest - the dark red interior and dim lighting, the candles, the late timing of the service and just.. what everyone happened to be wearing seemed horribly wrong.

Just like earlier, and so many times before today she felt herself starting to submit to panic. Her breath quickening and her skin started to grow incredibly hot.. she felt as if she was suffocating from the inside out but she felt foolish for feeling this way as she looked at Michael, as well as everyone else.. they all appeared nonchalant and completely unbothered. Particularly Michael, who didn’t look upset but instead almost caught in a trance listening to the high priestess of the church talk.

Mallory didn’t even notice the woman was talking until she finally bothered to make eye contact. Whom of which walked straight down the isle way that divided the two rows of benches apart; her blonde curls slightly moving as she spoke and moved. She continued to slowly pace up and down, speaking about.. exactly what Mallory had feared.

Fucking exactly what Mallory was trying to avoid.

The immeadite gut reaction to stand up and leave was nearly impossible to resist; and that would be incredibly easy to do given that they were sitting in a otherwise empty back row. But.. instead she didn’t move. She sat still. Barely moving, barely breathing but merely watching and listening.

Now that Mallory actually bothered to listen; she felt completely dumbfounded that Michael was actually buying any of this shit. However, that didn’t make the words that she heard coming from the blonde woman, the leader, any easier to digest. Currently she was boasting and bragging about her sins and how ‘evil’ she was.. or something along those lines. It was still nearly impossible to focus with the feeling that still layed dormant in her gut that refused to leave.

She winced at the words she heard being spoken. Her black nails curling into the soft skin of her palm and gently digging in. Something she consciously chose to do to try to distract herself but it still wasn’t enough. She needed to know that they were atleast sort of safe here.. or that Michael had a vague idea of what he was doing.

“do you know where we are?”

Michael turned to look at Mallory slowly.. looking almost furious - his lips slightly parted as if he silently debated on how to tell her off for interrupting his focus. She waited with baited breath for him to ignore her or to say some snide remark.. only exhaling when he did neither.

“Yeah, don’t worry. We’re in good hands here,” He said. Barely speaking loud enough for Mallory to even hear.

She couldn’t help but to slightly pout, not wanting to argue anymore but not really trusting his judgement yet either. She waited for him to turn his head back to blonde ‘cult’ leader but instead it dropped down her to palm where her nails still cut in.. pressing down until the point where blood was about to be drawn.

Mallory didn’t wince or show any signs of discomfort but Michael still noticed anyway. His gaze quickly flickering down from her palm up to her eyes in pure confusion in what the fuck she was doing..

His hand quickly went to hers without a second thought.

His fingers gently pried hers off of her own hand.. She didn’t try to fight what he was doing but rather looked into his eyes in a questionable manner.. probably wondering why he bothered to touch her again. Something that he truly knew better than to do but couldn’t help from himself from.

“Stop.. Why are you doing that?” Michael asked genuinely. His gaze lingered on her fingertips which now had blood lightly indented on the tips of her nails.

Mallory looked at him awkwardly. Sort of appalled that he even cared enough to notice or to even stop her.. his kindness wasn’t necessarily unwanted but it was something new.. and strange to say the very least.

Mallory wanted to apologize or to just give him a reassuring look but instead she carefully met his gaze and found herself muttering a careful confession, “im sorry I just.. I can’t stand it here. This place-“ her voice broke horribly as she whispered.

She suddenly grew paranoid that the members of this.. ‘congregation’ could hear her sudden disdain for the establishment; which made the feelings of dread and guilt she felt only multiply. She wanted to keep apologizing or to convince Michael to leave but.. that wouldn’t work for the sole reason that she couldn’t even pinpoint exactly why she felt this way. But all she knew is that she had to say something else. Something to make Michael not stare her like how he currently was.

Mallory was still terrified to make eye contact with him. Only bothering to briefly do so to simply affirm that he was actually looking at her - and it wasn’t something she was imagining.

Reality was starting to become something Mallory nearly craved; the day still wasn’t over and yet the fact that some of the earlier events weren’t real.. was something she still needed to process.

The fact that Michael even dared to follow her here, sit next to her, and let alone even give a fuck that she was unintentionally harming herself was beyond her. She wanted to know why, but she knew she still wouldn’t trust his answer if she were to ask. He’d lie.

Mallory spoke again in a tone that was far more quiet than the last, “Where are we?”

Michaels gaze bore into hers.. his face nearly void of any expression as if he was weighing his options on the best response.. calculating and thinking but he stopped the eye contact before he spoke. His eyes went to examine his hands instead which were loosely clasped together over his knees that he slouched tiredly over.

“Somewhere I thought I could feel close to my father.. I know- you don’t want to talk about it-“

“No.. it’s fine,” Mallory reassured hurriedly. Her voice was light and high pitched - happy that Michael was finally managing to communicate and be honest with her. Even if he was inherently right, this wasn’t a topic she wanted to remember or discuss at all but if this was how she got him to open up.. then there was no other option.

“Before you ask.. no. It’s not working. I don’t feel shit here,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “All I feel is just fucking overwhelmed.”

His hands were brought up to his face and Mallory watched him deeply inhale. His finger tips rubbed his temples and fell down the sides of his cheeks - and Mallory didn’t know what to do.

Should she offer him sympathy that.. as bad as it sounded, that she didn’t necessarily really feel? Sure she could relate to him but it wasn’t in the same way in the slightest - and it wasn’t fair to either of them to pretend that it was.

“People here are beyond pathetic.. their sins,” he sneered with something that almost could’ve been considered an chuckle that followed.

Michaels hands fell down to his lap again - suddenly refusing to meet Mallory’s gaze. Perfectly intent on watching whoever the high priestess was, someone that Mallory was more than thankful that she didn’t know the name of.

“Michael.. I can’t stay here-“

He gave Mallory an apologetic look, and for a second she thought he might almost finally agree but to no avail.

“Please. Just ‘till the end,” His face reverted back to the kicked puppy look. The one that finally made her not necessarily forgive him but.. made her realize that at this point he didn’t necessarily deserve to be yelled at.

After all, he wasn’t exactly the same Michael that had planned the death of seven billion people.. not yet.

“Okay,” she quietly agreed.

So they waited until the end of the ‘ceremony’. Or Mallory waited while Michael watched and listened- looking both completely horrified and elated as he did so.. However, Mallory waited and counted each minute that passed.. every one seemingly longer the last.

Even when the blonde woman that was apparently named ‘Hannah’ finally finished talking and most members of the congregation had left; Michael still didn’t budge.

His back, instead of slouching was now pressed up against the bench as he sat.. looking for exhausted and more tired than ever. Tears (or what Mallory suspected were tears anyway) made his cheeks glisten in the dim lighting. She stared at him for a moment - wondering if she should ask if he was okay or if he needed a moment when she felt someone suddenly tug sharply on her clothing.

It was her top, a quick pinch but it was enough to make Mallory’s head turn back immeadietly.

Her resentment toward touch wasn’t just exclusive to Michael, then.

“What is this? Chanel? Loui V? Do I want to know what it took for you to take this?” Hannah spoke in a amused tone.

Hannah stood behind their bench, both equally between Mallory and Michael - like she had the intention of speaking to them both and not one or the other.

“I didn’t take this.. it was a gift,” Mallory answered truthfully and a bit.. bashfully.

She felt insulted that Hannah assumed she would ever steal but then again, with where they were, maybe that wasn’t exactly the insult that Mallory thought it was.

“Yeah.. okay. Like I’m supposed to believe that,” Hannah laughed with a snort.

Mallory was about to retort anyway, but Michael cut her off to her surprise.

“What do you want?” He asked curtly.

His words were cut short. Obviously irritated and put on edge - the fact that he still had tears left on his cheeks explained his behavior plenty.

Hannah immeadietly looked taken aback - disobedience wasn’t something she was used too.

“What do you I want? Do you even know who you’re talking too?” Hannah answered without missing a beat.

Mallory’s eyes darted to Michael. His jaw was clenched, his eyes sharp and focused and his mouth was drawn in a straight line that slightly curved downward.. he looked pissed.

Why was he bothering to argue with Hannah? Someone who he should inherently love or atleast respect with the shared connection of their love for his father.. And over something as trivial as Mallory’s dress? This wasn’t making sense..

“I think I could say the same to you,” Michael answered with a clenched jaw, standing up as his hands started to go to the left side of his face. Inevitably headed for his ‘666’ mark that Mallory heard he was rumored to have.. but certainly wouldn’t have anymore. Not after what she had done.

Michael.. couldn’t. He wouldn’t. This couldn’t happen.

It was clear he was still under the false impression that he had powers, but Mallory wasn’t going to let him find out otherwise this way. Not right now.

“Michael-“! Mallory said urgently.

It worked for a second, just long enough to make him stall.

His hands came to a stand still, pausing as his eyes watched her. Waiting for her to continue but her mouth went entirely dry once she saw Hannah’s hand quickly fly to his shoulders. Screaming words that Mallory didn’t even try to listen too - blood suddenly roaring through her ears louder than any sound that Hannah could make.

Mallory didn’t think when she suddenly felt herself stepping in front of Michael; her feet accidentally stepping onto his as she tried her best to push him back beforehand with her arm but even so - the space in between benches was minimal enough as it was.

Maybe under normal circumstances, Michaels body being pushed up directly behind hers would’ve been distracting but.. Michael was really the last thing she was thinking of now.

Mallory’s hands flew to Hannah’s shoulders - grabbing them (and feeling almost sick with herself how she had done this to Michael not too long ago) with the intention to push her back as hard as she could naturally muster up the strength too. But, of course, that didn’t happen.

Her powers came flooding out unwillingly - the sudden loss of control and ache that was rapidly being released caused her to scream.. something that almost sounded quiet with the contrast of her adrenaline still pumping full force.

Hannahs clothes suddenly sparking a bright orange didn’t cause the immeadite alarm to Mallory that it should’ve; however.. maybe it was due to the fact that the color already blended in with the red atmosphere of the church.. She could only hope.

Hannah’s clothes quickly erupted in flames - the close proximity of the fire made Mallory’s skin quickly grow uncomfortably hot. Forcing her to act on impulse. Selfish impulse.

She stumbled out from the bench and grabbed Michaels wrist clumsily, nearly dragging with him with her as they both stumbling back and away from her.

Mallory’s back was turned to Hannah.. her body shook as she hauntingly realized that the sound had stopped. Hannah wasn’t screaming anymore.. and neither was Mallory.

She couldn’t bring herself to turn around and look, only braving enough strength to look up at Michael who faced the general direction that Hannah was in.. or used to be in. She stared into his eyes and watched the reflection of the fire dance in them - not in wonder but rather pure dread and regret.

Fuck.. what the fuck?

Michaels expression was something she couldn’t really decipher.. the fact he wore a neutral face when she just.. had done something like this wasn’t going to be something she found solace in.

After all; he was still Michael Langdon.

And what she just did.. saying it was stupid wasn’t simply enough.

Forming more complex thoughts was simply impossible, she found herself stumbling away.. going the opposite direction as the room started to spin and melt into a blur of red and black. The ceiling, walls and floor quickly became indistinguishable - her legs were starting to feel weak..

Fuck!

Mallory’s vision flickered to black and her legs gave out from underneath her; but she felt someone’s arms hook underneath hers and pull her up before she could hit the floor.

Her eyes snapped open immeadietly - trying to balance herself back on her feet as quickly as she could so that Michael wouldn’t have to touch her.. still feeling entirely out of it from nearly losing consciousness.

Mallory knew immeadietly it was him without even having to look… and she hated that she was becoming familiar enough with his touch to even recognize that it was him so easily. The tempature of his skin - his palms gripping her upper arms a bit too tightly - was a dead giveaway.

She wanted him off.

Mallory stumbled forward, trying her best to appear nonchalant as she brushed his fingertips off of her arms. Trying not to look bothered by the smell that started to raid the church.. a mix of burnt flesh along with just general fire. She wanted to feel bad but if this really was a satanic temple; it probably had seen worse..

But that wasn’t the point.

Mallory’s gaze searched the walls, wanting to leave but not.. actually leave.

It was too much; she needed time alone. Time to maybe cry or to throw up until she couldn’t breath.. perhaps both, but she still didn’t want Michael to see her vulnerable. Not if she could help it.

Her hands gripped onto the sides of the benches as she passed them; stubbornly intent on walking on to the bathroom which she could now see - selfishly not giving a fuck that she would be leaving Michael but.. she deserved to be selfish for once.

After all, all her choices recently hadn’t been for her own sake.. it was for Cordelias, Madison’s, Zoe’s, The Coven, seven billion people, Michael.. but not her own. Never her own.. none of her choices were really her own lately.

Mallory tried her best to ignore the sound of footsteps following her. Pushing the door of the women’s bathroom open quickly but stopping once she heard Michael whine.

God, why was he always fucking whining?

“What the fuck was that?” He nearly hissed. His tone had no malicious intent but it still set Mallory on edge.

He looked alarmed, bewildered. Blue eyes widened and his lips slightly parted, his teeth clenched.

“What part?” She asked cynically with a dry laugh.

She met Michaels gaze for a second before fully slipping inside the bathroom - hoping Michael would get the memo to leave her alone but she paused once she didn’t hear the door shut behind her..

“Michael-“

“I know you don’t like talking to me but I’m asking you, just once. What the fuck just happened?? Did you-?” His voice quivered, breaking softly as he spoke.

Mallory was in tears, the thought and realization alone of what she did finally sinking in.

“No. No.. I-I didn’t.. that wasn’t me, okay? I would.. would never..” She spoke as a confirmation to both Michael and herself.

Her back was still turned to Michael - thankful that he couldn’t see how fucking close she was to full on sobbing.. her vision blurred by all of the tears that had gathered in her eyes that wouldn’t spill. Her throat clenched, growing tight and forcing her to stop breathing - but there was no way she was going to let herself cry in front of Michael out of all people.

Showing weakness, even now.. even when it was proven he was no longer a threat to her, was never something she would let herself do. She wouldn’t let herself become that stupid.

Pain centered itself in her chest, but the grief she felt, rapidly spread throughout her body. Consuming her until she felt herself succumbing to the feeling.

Fuck.

Mallory wanted to push past Michael and run out the door.

Mallory wanted to scream at him and tell him to get the fuck out of the women’s restroom.

It was so easy to blame him for everything she felt - but she knew better than that now. Even though it was easy; it wasn’t the right thing to do.. and it’s not really like she was used to take the easy route to things, anyway.

She didn’t exactly welcome the feeling but she gave up trying to fight it.. letting the first tear run down her cheek. She still tried her best to stifle her sobs, her throat still clenching almost painfully.. not really giving a fuck about showing weakness in this moment but more so just.. embarrassed.

Michael stared at her almost blankly - wanting to say something but he couldn’t help but to feel stuck.

He wanted to feel bad, and he did.. she was clearly hurt but he didn’t understand exactly how.. Did she feel remorse for what she did? Did she think that Hannah or whatever the fuck her name was, didn’t deserve it?

Sure he didn’t exactly know her intentions but it wasn’t anything pure.. and Mallory needed to know that.

He approached her carefully, knowing damn well that she had the capability to do the same that she had done to Hannah.. or to perhaps throw him up against the wall without even so much as laying a hand on him, but he wasn’t scared.

Mallory wasn’t intimidating.. she wouldn’t hurt him.

Her head was tilted up and her eyes watched the ceiling - avoiding eye contact. She slowly moved to the wall, leaning against it begrudgingly but still avoiding Michaels gaze. Patches of dirt and bruises decorated her arms along with some blood stains and a couple of nasty cuts. Her black dress looked like nothing special anymore. It was torn in some parts but - Michael wanted to laugh that he was critiquing her appearance in the slightest as if he had any room to talk.

He watched her carefully and curiously as he decided to stand next to her and mirror how she was standing until they were nearly shoulder to shoulder. Mallorys eyes which were previously closed suddenly opened. Darkly peering over at him and their sudden proximity, something Michael wasn’t going to apologize for this time.

“I still don’t understand you, or why you did what you did but it was completely unnecessary,” Michael said.

He felt flattered that Mallory was fond of him enough to apparently kill for him but - this wasn’t adding up. And plus, Michael still had his powers (or atleast to the best of his knowledge he did) so it’s not as if he was completely defenseless. He felt almost insulted that Mallory would assume that he needed to be protected. He wasn’t a child.

But didn’t she hate him? She could still barely make eye contact with him and resented every time they touched - something which hurt Michael a bit more than he would like to admit.. No one (except for his family, of course) had ever reacted to him like that before.. most people, espically women, practically died for his touch.

Mallory was different.

That was one thing he was certain of. Every move she made, every word that came out of her mouth was never something he could predict.. and to think he once hated unpredictability.. but he didn’t trust her. Not for one second.

“It wasn’t a choice. I-I just.. it just happened and I don’t want to talk about it,” Mallory answered sheepishly.

Michael wanted to argue but instead he merely nodded.

“That’s fine.”

Mallory looked at him almost apologetically after she heard the tone of his words; which were a bit too harsh and forced in nature.

“So.. did it work? What you came here for.. to feel closer to him-“ She asked out of sheer curiosity.

“My father?”

“Yes.”

Michael swallowed and broke eye contact. “No. I still don’t feel a fucking thing.. Do you?”

Mallory’s eyes narrowed and she shifted her weight back onto her feet, ceasing from leaning on the wall. “What?”

“My father sent you to me, so I figured naturally you would have some kind of connection with him.. you do, don’t you?”

Sneaky bastard. Mallory knew this conversation was for the sole purpose of him finding out more information about her; perhaps to better manipulate? She didn’t exactly know.

“I don’t know. That’s something I still have to figure out,” she admitted truthfully.

“Together?”

Mallory nodded.

“Yeah. I won’t leave you,” she said. Her tone a bit softer than she would have liked.

Mallorys lips started to upturn in something that was reminiscent of a smile - their eyes lingered on each other for only a second but it didn’t last.

The door suddenly was pushed open; both Mallory and Michael snapped their heads up. The sudden intrusion gaining both of their full undivided attention - fear both running abundant in their veins.

The first thing Mallory noticed was the loud clicking of high heels against the tile floor of the bathroom.. something she was sure meant nothing to Michael but.. Mallory knew better.

This wasn’t a coincidence. After the day she had - nothing was a damn coincidence anymore.

The first thing she noticed was long blonde hair.. a black, tight fitting dress along with black high heels.

It was too familiar.. she knew all too well exactly who this fucking was.

Another witch.. her sister.. someone she was far too accustomed too but also.. no.

No.

Sure the woman who just entered the bathroom was Madison Montgomery but it wasn’t her Madison. After all, why the fuck was Madison at a satanic temple?

Taglist: @michaellangdonstanaccount @langdonsexual @jimmason @blakescoven @dark-mei-rose @9layerdevilfoodcake @prophecy-is-inevitable @matildaofoz @beautyiswithinchaos @frenchlangdon @instinctsxbaby @melodylangdon @littledemondani @celestialrequiem @sojournmichael @ritualmichael @twilightzone24

Let me know if u would like to be added or removed to the taglist <3

#millory #Michael Langdon x Mallory #Michael x Mallory #ahs fanfic #ahs fanfiction #my fic #will post to ao3 soon haha #I kinda don’t like the beginning of this but it’s fine 😭

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sanghyukstattoos · 3 years

Text

iKON: when it becomes difficult for you

A/N: For more, read here~~

Jinhwan:

You are sitting at your desk, distracted by the bright, vivid green colours of the forest framed far outside the window. Each branch of twenty to thirty leaves illuminated with the pretty sunlight moves because of the resilient winds. Together, they look like nature has embalmed itself with glitter. Beyond the dancing leaves, you can see blue like the colour of the sea near the shore. When it washes the sands, it's white but when saying goodbye, it returns to it's beautiful light blue, reflecting the multitude skies.

You stare, continuously, perhaps lost in thought but none are with you, neither do any come to mind. When Jinhwan walks into the room, he's rather joyful but his expression becomes more mindful when he sees you sitting there. From his view, he's seeing your numbed expression, it's rather ambiguous and for a second he wonders if he should be here, with you. The tears that should come to you, an expressional, heavy gesture of your pain stop short.

They get swallowed by waves of breaths that are steady in rising and steady in falling. He gently grabs the chair and places it at a distance that's not too far from you. If the situation were reversed, you would kiss him, another expression of how much you love to see him happy. He lets his hand flop when he sits down on the hard chair and looks outside. Then does he notice the beauty; he's looking at a traffic-light officer looking- tree with white blossoms covering the entity of its existence (they only come out during summer).

He grasps your hand and you look at him, a smile barely there, faint yes, but for him to know that you are doing okay. The turbulent winds slow down for a second when he reaches over and caresses your cheek, the action pleasantly dilates your eyes with a flowing transparent liquid. Before you can completely turn your head away from him, he pulls you back to him with a soft tug of his voice, ''Look at me, everything is going to be alright.''.

Yunhyeong:

Song hugs you tightly and you have no choice but to look at him, from your position, he doesn't want to let you go even though you will still be with him, later. He's close, much closer than you think from escaping from the confines of his happiness that he wants to show you the best, that you may always remain happy. You lay on his shoulder as he kisses you, so softly that you instantly respond to the way he moves when he's with you.

You clench his jumper with both hands, squeezing your eyes shut, trying to feel him, all of him. You won't go anywhere, you try to pull away to tell him but neither of you say anything. When he pulls back and takes in a breath, lips trembling for the way you taste, he looks into your eyes with a deep tenderness, as if he loves you more than he loves everything else. You stay in his arms, straddling him, trying to form words but the look in his eyes produces no words from you.

You see warmth, perhaps a reflection of everything you two have ever been and will be, it's impossible to say what. Hurriedly, he links your lips and flips you over, gently laying your head over the pillows. When he sees the look of haze in your eyes, he smiles contentedly, thinking that he'll miss this, even if you remain in denial. So there is something missing in his eyes that prevents from showing a full smile. Your breath is taken away when he leans over you and this time he speaks up, he tells you to speak to him.

''Speak to me'' he says. You nod, sitting up, hugging him, telling him that maybe you are leaving. The sun grows brighter, engulfing the room just a little bit more than what it was at half before eleven. He asks you what you mean by maybe, cupping your head because he knows that you are fatigued by all the events surrounding you. The look in his eyes is listening, over the peacefulness in your room of soft colour and slanting ceiling that actually overlooks the flowing oceans. You love him.

Bobby:

''What should we do today?'' he asked before he had tugged your smiles and giggles along to a comic store. This was to get you out of the mental predicament of your horrible situation. Upon entering the store, you hear the soft soul music float through the peaceful silence. People are sinking into their bean bags, the faster they read the words in relation to the beat playing above head, the harder they sink into it, trouble ceasing from their beautiful minds unless it is prescribed in the books. You look around, surrounded by taller than ever stacks of books, up and sideways, you look one way and Jiwon looks the other, curiously.

Unintentionally, you tug him along to the seating, set on the comfiest corner, sighing in relief when you sit down. Squeezing your hand, he leans over, gently whispering in your ears, ''What do you want to eat?'' probing a small smile and words of magic that even Jiwon agrees too. As he leaves to grab your food, ambivalently you get up and face the rows of thin, tall, plastic-covered books. Jiwon glances at you to see how you're doing, snapping his head towards the staff when they call for him.

Your heart quickly pounds, running your fingers over the often worn-out plastic leads you to the end of the line, where you walk towards the huge window. It emanates bright light and you slowly walk towards it, stopping to let someone pass by. Within the brief pause, you've begun to lean to one side, clutching the tempered wood that reminded you of the hard seating they had in churches. Jiwon set the food down, softly calling out your name and leading you back to the table.

Patting your hair down, he asks you if you are alright, eliciting you to entwine your hands and ask if he could feed your hungry self. He chuckles, struggling to open the packet, eventually looking around before he pries it out open using his teeth, setting it down for you. You tell him how much you want to read something together and you laugh when he begins to think in mock thought that it would be hard to find something the both of you agree on. You burst into little giggles when someone looks your way, nestling into his jumper while he covers you, also struggling to hold his laughter in.

You say that it wasn't even that funny, yet he's holding it in because of the stare you gave him, it's playful yet he loves that you are irked or annoyed, anything that isn't remotely serious and will make you smile. He tries to get away from your pinches and little threats and his eyes widen when he hears how calm you sound. It's like you tell him to sober up but you're smiling and your voice is loving and he really doesn't want to sober up now. His legs shuffle closer to yours, he pulls you into his chest as he plugs in the earphones and you listen away, careful not to slurp your noodles too loud.

Hanbin:

Your mind is restless, you are agitated as you turn your head from side to side, thinking of sleep as it comes to you. The curtains shield you from any of your colleagues finding you but they filter in the street light that illuminates the darkness outside. The patient whose bed you are sitting by is Kim Hanbin, he is currently asleep by the fact that you can hear his soft snores, causing you to smile. He came in fatigued from overworking and it made you happy to know that he was recovering. The distinct shuffling of another patient in the same room alerts you but what scares you more is when Hanbin taps your shoulders.

You immediately get up, steadying your spinning head by holding onto the end, hesitating to form words and he pulls you back onto the bed because he can see that you are about to fall. You see him lean over and open the drawer, pulling out a tonic that when he hands over, he tells you, ''I'm sorry, it's kind of bitter'' and gently places it into your hands, he continues, ''But it'll help''. You nod and he shuffles in the dark, sitting up to watch you drink it all the way. He smiles at the bitterness of the drink that you flinch and squeeze your shoulders from, comprehending enough to take it back and toss it in the bin.

To you, there's disco lights floating in the hallways and dancing music playing when you get up and your body no longer hurts. He's still sleeping so you let him be till he rings the nurse call button and you rush out of your seat, heart pounding moments before you fling the curtains back. He smiles when he sees your shadow shuffling, no doubt that hesitating nature of yours at play. It's night again, the birds are chirping upside down, he's sitting beside you, listening to your thoughts about today. You pause when he takes your hands in his, it's automatic since he's been wanting to hold that for a while.

He meets your eyes, there's the truck that is waiting outside which shines light through the window and from the table he hands you an orange. You missed the way his breath hitched when he saw you staring, the way his hands fumbled at the back before he caught yours in his and how there's an entire packet of oranges in the drawer, not including the two on the table. As you unwrap it, you ask him a question about himself which he hesitates to answer but does so anyway. In the morning, his mother and sister come to visit him and they bring this cake for him.

He walks out into the hallway filled with the chaos of running shoes but manages to spot you amongst the crowd so he waits patiently till you come back. You spot his messy hair and anxious behaviour to an elderly woman who starts a conversation with him but most of all, you chuckle when you see the distinctive, yellow bandage on his cheek. He's had it since he first came in. These memories are distinct, easier to pick out because of the emotion that had flown in with them. You are sat at the very end of the hospital, tucked away safely in the comfort of each other's arms. He's telling you what he first thought of you as he presses your leg to ease the pain you are feeling from running around all day.

Junhoe:

Running along the canal, you take in deep breaths when the soft music that comes in does nothing to fuel your endurance. Your chest burns and you are trying to adapt to the excess ache and pain of the burn that has stretched your muscles out. You heave as you sit down and a few moments later, Junhoe catches up with you, panting as he takes a seat. While you catch your breath, Junhoe wants to say something but he doesn't, causing the both of you to laugh when he waives it away.

You are sitting on opposite sides of the bench, leaning on the hand rail and leaning all your weight on it. While you look ahead, many others litter the tracks further down, away from the lake in front. It glistens with the bright pines of the sun's rays, reflecting the dog's reflection as it steadily laps at it. Yesterday, it was darkened by the reflection of the heavier clouds, giving it the image of ruined tracks or the feeling of being burned-out.

''We shouldn't have sat down'' Junhoe points out, his dismay clear as he struggles to get up, especially with you laughing. You had already started to feel unsure, you lacked the creative energy in the morning to go out but Junhoe had showed up, unusually on time and in just the right clothes. You had chuckled, nodding before he could ask, leaving the door open as you left to change. The he had suggested that you run a distance you could not fathom, you were feeling a drag, this holding back, to stay in the comfort of your house.

You had simply said yes, regret was too late for words by the time he had started, multiple times you had thought of stopping but not once did you say anything. He asks if you want to run but then reveals the truth because he has already known how you've been feeling. Surprise as your expression belittles his knowledge as he carefully explains to you how he knows. He suggests that you don't run but instead walk with him to which it only occurs after you express your interest in it.

There is amiability to walking with him, his hand gently holds onto yours. His grasp is loose, softly caressing the skin as wind blows away the limits of humidity, letting out collective sighs from the two of you. He comments on the weather and you laugh in agreement, linking arms with him. Such a slow pace to see the ducks gather around a traveller giving them food eases you, affection coating your eyes as you stare. When you get home, you tell him that you'd rather go to sleep but he keeps you awake with his countless poetic ideas and the thought of food before it can arrive.

Donghyuk:

''What's wrong- tell me'' he says, voice not as soft as it was the first time and spoken with determination- like the last straw as if he had made his mind up to help you. You nod but you don't move from your space on the sofa. You absent-mindedly stare at the skyscrapers far removed from your balcony but today, not that far away. The city is bustling, you know it without even having to look down.

Donghyuk looks at where you were looking and lets out a sigh, heavily, as he heads to the kitchen, stuttering around the cut vegetables and a pan on the unlit stove. Your phone, on, is laid near the stove which he traces the steps all the way to the carpet, areas ruffled where your knees had sunk into. Fingerprints coat the glass table on the carpet, the painting is hung sideways and what looks like stray pieces of glass on the floor.

He threads the carpet, slowly taking you into his arms, like the questions, what can I do for you? To make you happy, what can I do for you? In the reflection, you have no answer. There is an uncertain silence from Donghyuk who holds you, his voice also lost to the undulated sways you emanate in your reflection. In the silence he can not stand, he takes you outside to the bright lights dropping on quivering leaves and rugged stones for heavier walking.

Your steps falter slightly behind him, your questioning gaze staring up at him like a switch that has been turned on, you halt. He turns back and smiles and you wonder why. The truth is right in front of him, on you, when you raise your hand to cover your eyes from the shifting sun rays thus further showing him what he had needed to see from the start. It is like a piece, one-show but he knows that he can always come back to find it. It is best described as a smile.

Chanwoo:

Grabbing the laptop, you detach the charger, lifting it off the table and laying it onto the bed. You listen for the creaks and groans on the wooden floor outside your office whilst biting your lip, trying to concentrate on completing two things at once. You pull your laptop stand from its place, closing it, almost throwing it against the bookshelf. A thud, foreign to the silence outside, speeds up your heart rate, further drying your mouth.

You hold your breath, baiting whoever is peering inside with light steps like moving around the room to pull out books for references. You sit down; nothing leaves your sight. You pull out your laptop, open it, select files with clammy hands. You think about how the clamminess is a distraction, something you need not think about now and so you pressed on. A slip of frustration, a sigh of discontent escapes you as your fingers slip across the motherboard.

The ultimate hitch precluding the blue skies and warm laughter of children is when Chan knocks on the door, not expecting to see you twitch in your seat. He narrows his eyes at the movement, never having seen you so restless in the time of your love. With burdensome footsteps, he walks towards you, meeting your smile with a smile, gleefully. You feel as if he has skipped over to you, similar to the beginning. When he looks at your screen, his pupils dilate, he holds your seat, pulling you back.

There is faint tension in the air, nothing matters right now more than the darkness of the room. The silence is impenetrable as if he is to ask how you are doing but it would only sour the mood. As you move away from him to greet him, he pulls you by your shoulders, holding you in place as he kisses the top of your forehead. He can see the home screen, all tabs closed and mouse astray. You have frozen from neck to torso, just like how your legs are stuck to the chair and feet to the ground. Aimlessly, you look over at the ball-pen, waiting to be written with.

He squeezes your shoulders, telling you, ''Are you okay? You don't look well.''. You nod, sighing as you finally turn to him, wrapping your arms around him, sighing in relief to see him. As if the preceding event to the main, he lightly cards his fingers through your hair, lifting you off the seat. Had you not been so focused, your attention turned astray, you would have quickly removed the weapon under your desk. But you can not help it, because even you are not unsurpassable. He leads you out, where the steels click around your wrists, binding them together.

#ikon imagines #ikon scenarios #ikon fanfic #ikon fluff #ikon angst #ikon reactions #ikon ikonic #jinhwan #yunhyeong #ikon b.i #kim hanbin #ikon bobby #kim jiwon #ikon ju ne #koo junhoe #donghyuk #chanwoo

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