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rafeyssangel · 2 days

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the hockey game / pt. 2 - r. cameron

warnings: mentions of drowning, kissing

pairings: hockey!kook!rafe x college!pouge!reader

a/n: i know i said i would post this at 200 notes but i got a little bit of ocd-ic and had to clean out my drafts

wc: 2.0k

you hesitated, a mix of frustration and curiosity swirling in your gut. sitting down beside rafe felt like a bad idea, but something compelled you to hear him out. cautiously, you took the seat next to him, keeping a safe distance.

“what do you want, rafe?” you asked, your voice tinged with annoyance.

“we need to finish our conversation,” he said, his tone serious. “you need to understand how dangerous barry is.”

“i already told you, rafe. my friends didn’t steal from him,” you insisted.

rafe sighed, leaning closer. “i believe you, but barry doesn’t. we need to figure out a way to convince him otherwise.”

“and how do you propose we do that?” you asked skeptically.

“come to my car,” rafe suggested. “we can talk there. it’s more private.”

you hesitated, glancing around the deserted park. being alone with rafe in his car felt like a risk, but the urgency in his voice made you consider it. reluctantly, you nodded.

“fine. but this better not be a waste of my time.”

rafe stood up, gesturing for you to follow. you walked in silence, the tension between you palpable. as you reached his car, you felt a pang of anxiety. this was a bad idea, you told yourself, but it was too late to back out now.

inside his car, rafe closed the door behind you. the small space felt claustrophobic, and you couldn’t help but notice how clean it was. not what you expected from him.

“sit,” he said, motioning to the passenger seat. you complied, crossing your arms defensively.

“so, talk,” you prompted, trying to keep your tone steady.

rafe leaned back in his seat, clearly agitated. “we need to make barry believe that your friends didn’t take his money. the only way to do that is to find out who did.”

“and how do you expect to do that?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“i have some leads,” rafe admitted, turning to face you. “but i need your help to follow up on them.”

“why me?” you demanded. “why not just handle this yourself?”

“because you’re the only one i trust,” rafe said quietly, his eyes locking onto yours.

you scoffed. “trust? you tried to drown your own sister, rafe. how do you think i’m supposed to trust you?”

“i know i messed up,” he said, his voice breaking. “but i’m trying to make things right. can’t you see that?”

for a moment, you saw a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. it made you pause, your anger softening just a bit. maybe he was telling the truth. maybe he had changed.

“okay,” you said finally. “i’ll help. but this doesn’t mean i trust you.”

“that’s all i ask,” rafe said, relief washing over his face. he shifted closer, his gaze intense. “thank you, y/n. really.”

before you could react, rafe closed the distance between you, his hand gently cupping your cheek. the touch was unexpected, sending a shiver down your spine.

“rafe—” you began, but he cut you off, his lips crashing onto yours.

for a moment, you were too stunned to move. but then, despite everything, you found yourself kissing him back. his hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened. it felt wrong, but also undeniably right.

“wait,” you gasped, breaking the kiss. “we can’t—”

“why not?” rafe murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “you feel it too, don’t you?”

you tried to protest, but the words died on your lips as rafe’s hands roamed your body, igniting a fire you couldn’t ignore. against your better judgment, you surrendered to the moment, letting him guide you into the backseat.

rafe’s kiss became more aggressive, his hands tightening around your waist, pulling you even closer. you felt your heart race as he pressed you against the seat, his body hovering over yours.

“rafe, we need to stop,” you whispered, but your voice lacked conviction.

“just a little longer,” he whispered back, his breath hot against your neck. “i need you, y/n.”

his words sent a jolt of desire through you, and you found yourself kissing him again, more passionately this time. his hands slipped under your shirt, exploring the skin beneath, and you shivered at his touch. the tension between you was electric, each kiss, each touch, heightening the intensity.

rafe’s hands moved with a newfound urgency, his lips never leaving yours. you could feel the desperation in his touch, the raw need. it was overwhelming, consuming, and you couldn’t deny the pull you felt towards him.

“rafe,” you murmured, your voice a mix of desire and confusion.

“don’t think,” he whispered, his lips trailing down your neck. “just feel.”

you closed your eyes, giving in to the sensation. for now, you allowed yourself to be swept away, to forget the chaos that awaited outside this car. you let rafe take control, his kisses silencing the doubts in your mind, if only for a little while.

the aggressive make-out session continued, each moment more intense than the last. you knew you were crossing a line, one that would be hard to come back from, but at that moment, you didn’t care. all that mattered was the heat between you, the undeniable chemistry that had been simmering for years.

when you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. the reality of what just happened began to sink in, and you felt a wave of confusion and regret.

“we can’t keep doing this,” you said, your voice shaky.

“i know,” rafe replied, his eyes filled with a mix of frustration and longing. “but i can’t help it. i’ve wanted this for so long.”

you stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. this wasn’t just a moment of weakness; it was years of pent-up emotion, of unresolved tension. and now, it was out in the open, complicating everything. “let’s just focus on dealing with barry,” you said finally, trying to regain some semblance of control.

rafe nodded, his expression serious. “agreed. but this—” he gestured between you, “isn’t over.”

you didn’t respond, too overwhelmed to argue. instead, you opened the car door and stepped out, straightening your clothes and trying to steady your breathing. “i should go,” you said, heading back toward the park.

“y/n,” rafe called, his voice softer now. “be careful.” you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, and walked away, the weight of the night heavy on your shoulders.

you walked through the park, the cool night air doing little to calm your racing thoughts. rafe's words echoed in your mind, a constant reminder of the unresolved tension between you. the path was dimly lit, shadows stretching across the ground, mirroring the confusion and uncertainty within you.

as you neared your dorm, the familiar sights brought a small measure of comfort. the ivy-covered walls, the old wooden benches – they were a stark contrast to the turmoil you felt inside. you reached the front door, fumbling with your keys, your hands trembling slightly.

inside, the hallways were quiet, most students already asleep. you made your way to your room, the soft carpet muffling your footsteps. once inside, you closed the door behind you and leaned against it, exhaling a breath you didn't realize you were holding.

the room was dark, only the faint glow of your desk lamp casting a soft light. you moved to your bed, sitting down heavily, the events of the night replaying in your mind. rafe's serious expression, the weight of his words – it was all too much.

you reached for your phone, considering texting him, but thought better of it. instead, you tossed it aside and lay back, staring at the ceiling. you needed time to think, to process everything. but sleep didn't come easy, and when it did, it was restless, filled with fragmented dreams and lingering doubts.

morning came too quickly, the light streaming through the window waking you from your uneasy slumber. you got up slowly, your body heavy with exhaustion. as you prepared for the day, you couldn't shake the feeling that things were far from over. and as you stepped out of your dorm room, you knew you had to face whatever came next, whether you were ready or not.

you stepped out of your dorm room, the weight of the night still heavy on your shoulders, only to bump into cali. her bright smile and energetic demeanor were a stark contrast to your exhaustion.

“morning, y/n,” she chirped, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in your tired expression. “late night?”

you managed a weak smile. “yeah, something like that.”

cali frowned but didn’t press further. instead, she grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the small kitchenette. “come on, let’s get some breakfast in you. i’m making pancakes.”

the smell of batter and syrup soon filled the room, a comforting aroma that helped ease some of your tension. you sat at the table, watching cali expertly flip pancakes. the familiar routine was soothing.

“so,” cali began, setting a plate in front of you, “are you ready for the game this weekend?”

you blinked, momentarily disoriented. “the hockey game?”

“yeah,” she said, sitting down across from you. “it’s a big one. everyone’s been talking about it. we’re up against our biggest rivals.”

you nodded, grateful for the distraction. “i know. it’s going to be intense.”

cali studied you for a moment, her gaze softening. “you know, rafe is going to be there too.”

your heart skipped a beat. “yeah, i figured.”

she reached across the table, squeezing your hand. “just… focus on the game, okay? everything else can wait.”

you took a deep breath, feeling a bit more centered. “thanks, cali. i needed that.”

“anytime,” she said with a grin. “now, eat up. we need you in top form for the game.”

as you dug into your pancakes, the weight of the night before started to lift, just a little. and as you talked with cali about the upcoming game, you found yourself looking forward to it, if only for the chance to put everything else on hold for a while.

after breakfast, the both of you went to the arena that buzzed with energy, the air thick with anticipation. you sat in the stands, the crowd around you a blur of school colors and excited faces. the rivalry game was always a big deal, and tonight was no exception. the tension was palpable, each cheer and jeer amplifying the electric atmosphere.

you scanned the ice, your eyes finding rafe almost immediately. he looked focused, his jaw set in determination. the weight of your last conversation still lingered, but right now, all that mattered was the game.

the first period was intense, both teams playing with unmatched ferocity. rafe moved with precision, his every move calculated. you couldn't help but feel a swell of pride, despite everything. he was in his element here, and it showed.

cali nudged you, pulling you out of your thoughts. "he's playing great, isn't he?" she said, her voice barely audible over the roar of the crowd.

you nodded, your eyes never leaving the ice. "yeah, he really is."

the game progressed, the score remaining tight. each shot, each save, brought the crowd to the edge of their seats. as the final period began, the tension was almost unbearable. you watched rafe closely, every muscle in your body tensed with anticipation.

then, in a blur of motion, it happened. rafe broke away from the pack, skating down the ice with a speed that seemed almost unreal. the puck flew from his stick, a perfect shot that sailed past the rival goalie and into the net. the arena erupted in cheers, the sound deafening.

you found yourself on your feet, cheering louder than you thought possible. rafe's teammates swarmed him, the joy on his face unmistakable. for a moment, all the unresolved tension, the late-night conversations, everything fell away. it was just rafe, victorious on the ice, and you, proud and happy in the stands.

as the final buzzer sounded, signaling their win, you knew things were far from over between you and rafe. but for now, this moment of triumph was enough. the rest could wait.

#rafe cameron #outerbanks rafe #rafe imagine #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe fluff #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe x you #rafe x y/n

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jules-of-the-sea · 4 months

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hiya everypony! i drew zagreus a few days ago and thought it was pretty good! have a nice day!

#zagreus #hades game #stuff i drew #<- this is my art tag now #fuck you i make the rules around here #and that’s the rules #i used dip pens and india inks on this isn’t that cool #and a white gel pen i suppose #also a brush for some of the washes i suppose #skin hair clothes background etcetera #the ush #oh right i still haven’t beaten elysium 😔#one day i will #soon.

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nosferatufaggot · 8 months

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I AM LITERALLY GETTING MIXED ANSWERS TELL ME HOW TO KEEO MY TEETH HEALTHY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THIS IS WHY GOOGLE SUCKS!!!!! CAN'T GIVE IT ALL THE INFO I CAN GIVE A HUMAN!!!!!

#With brushing your teeth you aren't supposed to eat or drink half an hour before or after. Weak enamel and stuff.#So what about using an inhaler? That's totally different from eating and drinking but also some residue could get on your teeth.#Can I use an inhaler after brushing my teeth?#BUT NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'M NOT GETTING SEARCH RESULTS THAT ANSWER THAT QUESTION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#JUST “uwu wash your mouth out with water after using inhaler”#NOT! WHAT! I! ASKED! BIATCH!#I'm gonna send you to Zathura. Desperately hate when someone tells me to “Google it” CUZ BABY GIRL IT DOESN'T WORK!!!!!!!!!

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notmyneighbor · 2 months

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Let Me In ~ Doppelgänger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader

Chapter 4

Word Count ~ 4.5k

Rating ~ Explicit

CW ~ minor blood and violence, sexual content

Also available on AO3

taglist @luthien-elvenia-asher

Fanart used with permission @kaworinx on Instagram and TikTok

You’ve only barely begun to recover from the wrung out feeling of ultimate bliss when you hear it: the warning klaxon, followed by the sound of tires screeching to a halt. The aggressive roar of truck engines. Doors opening in rapid succession. Loud voices and boots pounding on pavement.

The doppelgänger jerks upright, sliding off the bed and wrenching the curtains to one side to peer down at the scene unfolding on the street below. “They’re here,” he says, and for the first time you detect something like fear wafting from the imposter.

A flood of relief washes over you. Someone had alerted the disposal unit. It wasn’t too late to save lives after all.

You search for your discarded clothing, hurriedly sliding the retrieved garments back into place. Francis’ copy looks at you.

“They’ll know you let me in.”

“Yes,” you agree distractedly, hastily shoving the hem of your blouse back beneath the waist of your skirt.

“They’ll know,” he says again, more firmly this time, moving in front of you, one hand closing around the wrist you’ve yet to refasten the shirt cuff upon. “They’ll know about me.”

You stare at him, realization kicking in. The others were safe. You, however, had no such guarantee. “Are you going to kill me?”

“I should. You’re a liability.” His grip on you abruptly relaxes. He’s merely holding you now. “Your organization will punish you for this.”

You shake your head, trying to hastily tuck your hair back into place. “Not once they hear my explanation.”

The intruder scowls. “What defense will you offer? You knowingly let a replicant into your precious building.”

“I…” Your confidence wavers as you begin to consider how your actions will appear. He’s right. There’s no excuse for what you’ve done. You’ve not only failed at your assigned task, you’ve betrayed your own kind. An unforgivable crime.

He seems to read the slight panic on your features, his voice gentling. “Suppose we make a deal,” he says.

You look at him warily. “What kind of deal?”

“I make it look like you were attacked while you tried to fend me off. Make up some doppelgänger appearance when they ask you. Don’t tell them about Francis’ death. You get to live. I get to go down the fire escape, avoiding extinction.”

A life for a life, in essence. The elevator was temporarily disabled the second the alarm was pushed, but it won’t take the team long to sweep each floor. You were running out of time.

“Okay,” you reluctantly agree.

He turns your arm over so the underside is exposed, thumb pressing firmly just below the hollow of your elbow. “This will hurt,” he cautions. The only warning you get before you see it: that thing inside of the milkman breaking through, emerging. A sickly gray-green digit topped with a sharp yellow claw. He drags it right through the fabric of your shirt, right through your skin. It burns. A blossoming line of red appears, your lifeforce weeping out of the laceration. You feel lightheaded and nauseous.

“Don’t look at it. And don’t let it get on the carpet. We need to leave, now.” He steps back into the milkman’s shoes, not even bothering with the laces. You follow him to the front door, exiting the apartment. Locked again. You hear voices echoing in the stairwell, the heavy tred of the suited disposal unit pounding on the steps.

“Remember what I said.” The imitation’s knuckles graze your cheek, the touch almost tender. The injured arm cradled against your chest is throbbing. “I’m going to knock you out. It will help further disguise what happened.” The voices are getting louder. They’ve finished on the second floor, making their way to the third. The doppel’s fingers curl around the back of your neck, his mouth brushing yours hurriedly before your head is slammed against the wall, sending you hurtling into a void of darkness.

***

There is a debriefing after the incident.

No casualties. The residents were safe, excluding Francis, of course. You have a lie ready to account for his sudden absence. You say you’d heard him mention something about an emergency visit to a sick relative in a neighboring city as he’d dashed out the front door earlier that day. A phone call to his employer wouldn’t match this story, of course. You weren’t sure what family the man even had. None that would corroborate your fabrication, certainly. You were just hoping that your claim about him needing to leave abruptly very early in the morning without contacting anyone was convincing enough. It’s all you can think of on the spur of the moment.

The director, a severe looking middle aged man, frowns over the lenses of his glasses at you. You keep your hands folded tightly in your lap. Your stitched wound is slowly healing, the ache now a sort of dull throbbing that you’re consciously aware of from time to time. No apparent signs of infection, the surrounding skin clear.

“Your track record, up until now, has been impeccable.” The older man’s voice brings you out of your reverie.

“Yes, sir.” It’s true. For six months you’d performed your role as doorman perfectly. Never failing to detect a single doppelgänger. Protecting the innocent.

“Still, this is not a transgression that can simply be overlooked. The consequences of your misjudgment could have been dire.”

You’d stated that you’d realized the person requesting entrance was really a copy only after the door had been opened, catching an error on the paperwork at the last minute. Intervening, attempting to stall the intruder. Injured and knocked unconscious. You knew nothing more after that.

“It’s suspicious that none of this alleged false documentation has been retrieved at the site. Strange also that you’d been carried all the way to the third floor. We also have no record even remotely matching the description of the doppel you’ve given. How do you account for these discrepancies?”

“The replicant stated they were a new resident moving in to the vacant apartment on the third floor. It seemed plausible that there hadn’t been a chance for them to be featured on the day’s list yet. It’s hardly the first time someone’s name hasn’t been placed as it should be. The subtly incorrect DDD logo was the tip off I unfortunately picked up on too late, sir.” You pause, clearing your throat. There is virtually no moisture left in your mouth and you find it suddenly parchment dry. It’s difficult to speak, your nerves betraying you. “The replicant must have taken the paperwork with them in order to conceal the evidence. And I was knocked out immediately after being cut. I don’t remember anything after that.”

His lips press into a thin line. Your force yourself to maintain eye contact. This was your explanation and you could not falter. “Even so. You failed to follow protocol. And you failed to contact the disposal team.”

“There wasn’t time to dial the phone number. Not even time to sound the alarm. I simply reacted on instinct. I was hoping to…”

“To what? What did you think you would accomplish? You, a mere unarmed woman?” He drapes the last word in contempt. You flush, squirming in your seat at the insult.

The suited man sighs heavily, closing your file folder. “You’re going to be suspended without pay for one week. Then I expect you to return to work. Your temporary replacement is…less than ideal. Let me be clear, though: if anything else happens, you’ll be terminated. No debriefing. No excuses. Understood? This is your final warning.”

You nod, saving your sigh of relief for when you’ve exited the office. The air departs your lungs in a loud rush. You’d done it. You’d actually managed to talk your way out of it.

Your thoughts immediately shift to Francis’ doppelgänger.

He was out there, somewhere. The safest move would be to travel, to just flee the area entirely, but you doubt he’ll leave. He’s still here.

You can feel him.

***

You drive to your house, to the home of your childhood. An inheritance from your great grandparents, passed down through each generation. Outside of the city. Quiet. It’s a relief to see green again. The air smells clearer, too. No waste from factory smokestacks or concentrated exhaust from automobiles. A light scent of grass and summer wildflowers. You roll your window down, inhaling deeply. It’s the best you’ve felt in a while. Since before the incident.

Francis. Your good mood departs just as quickly as it had arrived. How terrible a person you are. Lying to save your own skin. To protect the doppelgänger that had killed your beloved milkman. Putting innocent lives at risk. You had no right to feel anything even resembling happiness or contentment. You should turn the car right back around and return to the office. Confess your sins and receive whatever punishment would be decided for you. Imprisonment, certainly. Perhaps a life sentence to match the life that had been stolen from the third floor resident.

You trudge up the steps of the porch, sinking down onto the topmost stair, your head resting against the post of the railing. There are strips of paint peeling, you notice. You’ll need to sand them down before you apply more stain. Something to occupy you during your week off. Distract you from your own misery.

You close your eyes and listen to the hum of insects. There is another scent in the air now; something damp. The sky’s clouds were white and fluffy looking, but you know those can change in an instant. You think there is a storm approaching.

Perhaps you will wait it out. Just rest here and see what happens, studying your surroundings. There are birds singing in the vacant field that hasn’t known crops for many seasons. You only tended a much smaller one close to the house. Some vegetables. That was all. More often than not the local wildlife took a sample, but you didn’t mind sharing. You should have a look before you head back inside later on, see if there is anything to harvest.

It’s comfortable here. The sun is at the perfect angle. You still have plenty of shade. Warm enough to warrant rolling your shirt sleeves back. Catching sight of the scabbed, sutured line marring your forearm. You trace the mark. You think about the copycat tracing your cheek. That final kiss before he’d knocked you unconscious. It made so little sense to let you live. Had some remnant of Francis’ psyche influenced him somehow? Urging him to spare you?

Your eyes slide closed and you drift off to sleep still mulling this over.

***

In the dream you are standing in the nearby orchard.

You know it is a dream, because in reality these fruit trees are no longer tended. Yet here you are, standing beneath the crooked branches of one peach bearing specimen. The many smooth emerald leaves shield you from the sun.

Francis is beside you.

Or not-Francis. You cannot say which it is. The smile is as you remember. The perpetually tired eyes. He reaches for one of the velvet skinned fruits, plucking it easily and handing it to you.

The texture is exactly as it should be. Not too firm and not too soft. Ripe and ready to take a bite from. You do so, your teeth sinking into the soft yellow flesh. A burst of sweetness on your tongue. The excess juice drips down your chin. You offer the peach to the milkman but he doesn’t accept, instead moving to take a taste of it from your face, first doting on your lips before he laps at the dribbling trail. You clutch his shirt and his kisses become rougher. Pushing you gently to the ground. You drop the fruit and your hands become full of his shirt, his hair, the soft earth beneath you. His mouth plants kisses along your cheeks, your jaw, your neck. Hand dragging down through the floral patterned button front dress you’re wearing.

“Francis.” You reach for his face. It’s wrong. Something in the structure of the nose. So subtle it could easily be mistaken. The teeth suddenly bared in a smile that’s unfriendly. A grin of triumph. It isn’t Francis. You’ve been duped by an imposter.

The skin ripples. His eyes become bloodshot. You struggle to move. Your wrists are pinned at your sides. Sharp teeth nipping at the skin of your throat. A wolf ready to destroy its prey.

The thunder awakens you.

You jolt upright, massaging your stiff neck as you glance around hurriedly. The sky is a mass of gray clouds now, the natural illumination of the heavens notably dimmed. The air is laced with the scent of petrichor. You rise and the first drops of rain fall, pattering on your bare arms, sinking into you hair. Another disgruntled warning rumble, louder this time. The interval between that and the next shortening. You’re about to turn and enter the house when you see a figure standing nearby, on the outskirts of the side yard.

It’s him. The imposter that took over Francis.

The normally pristine, starched uniform is dirt stained, collecting souvenirs from the unpaved road leading to your house. The bowtie around his neck is loosened, draped around the unbuttoned shirt collar, the first several buttons of that work shirt similarly unfastened, revealing the white undershirt beneath. He’d never bothered retrieving the hat, the uncovered thatch of thick chestnut hair now tousled. Your fingers curl around the railing for support as he begins walking towards you with determined strides, closing the distance rapidly. The thunderstorm’s namesake harbinger sounds again. A flash of lightning. The rain is no longer a faint scattering of drops, now falling in an earnest deluge.

You both manage to escape being drenched, finding shelter beneath the porch roof in the knick of time, the imposter halting just in front of you. His chest is rapidly rising and falling, as if that brief exercise he’d just participated in was taxing him. You know that’s not the reason for those panted gasps for air, your own body mimicking that movement.

“Francis,” you say, but the name is drowned out by the growing ire of the storm.

He moves then, pressing you against the weathered clapboards near the living room window that overlooks the front yard. He cups your face between his hands and his lips crush yours. You respond without hesitation, kissing him back. Not giving yourself time to think about what you’re doing; to recall the dream you’d just had where you’d been destroyed by one of his kind.

“How did you find me?” You gasp when you part for air.

This utterance is barely audible, threaded between the next two bouts of thunder, muffled by the sound of the downpour. He slides his fingers against the harsh furrow on your arm. “I could sense where you were. Tracked you…” The words drowned out once again. His mouth moves close to your ear. “What did you say to them? What happened?”

“They bought it, for the most part, I think. The director is suspicious, though. I got suspended for a week.”

Another flash of lightning. It was foolish to remain outside any longer. You invite him in, struggling to fit the key in the lock, your trembling fingers not cooperating. His hand closes over yours, steadying you. The door surrenders, swinging inward.

It’s dark in the living room. You switch on the nearest lamp and toss your keys on the table.

“I’d offer you something to drink, but I don’t know if you still do that, or…” It was unknown what the doppelgängers consumed for nutrition. Perhaps it would be different now that they could occupy a human body and not merely disguise themselves as one.

“I do. But that can wait.”

“Did you know that would happen? You being able to trace my whereabouts when you cut me?”

“No. It’s uncharted territory. Like so much of…this,” he murmurs.

“You need to call Francis’ workplace. Explain to them that there was a family emergency. That’s the excuse I gave for the sudden absence. The DDD has been looking for you. Well, for him,” you correct yourself.

“They’ll expect me to return at some point.”

“Yes.”

“So you’ll let me in. To dwell there. And what of my brethren?”

“I can’t let them in. You know that.” You swallow nervously. “You can’t harm anyone. If I let you inside, you have to promise me you won’t. You got what you wanted. You got to be one of us. There’s no reason to hurt anyone else.”

A large clap of thunder makes you jump. The doppelgänger moves closer to you, tipping his head to one side thoughtfully. “You think I’ll cooperate?”

“We had a deal. I let you escape. I lied to protect you.”

“And I let you live. Both ends of the bargain fulfilled. There is no obligation beyond that.”

“You don’t want to hurt me.”

“Are you quite sure of that?” One arm circles your waist, drawing you against him. His fingers sift through your hair, tugging your head back slightly. “These hungers for the flesh are so distracting. How your kind manages them…” His voice trails off and his lips touch yours.

The light flickers and dies. You’ve lost electricity, now standing in the darkened room cradled by the deceiver.

“<i>The earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep</i>…”

You inhale sharply, thinking of the Bible on Francis’ nightstand. Reading scripture like any good devout soul, learning verses by heart. That memory resurfacing now.

“Francis.” You know it’s no longer him, not in his purest, human essence, but this evolution still holds traces like this that you can’t help but hold dear.

“I’m here, sweetheart.” His hands slide down over the curve of your buttocks as he kisses the corner of your jaw. You guide him towards the nearby couch, watching him sink into the cushions before you climb into his lap, your shoes sliding off and falling to the hardwood floor. You run your fingers through his hair, your mouth ravaging his. It’s the parts of Francis that you love that you’re adoring, you tell yourself. Not the pretender, but the fragments of the man inside he still carries with him. That is what your fingers caress and your mouth cherishes. You unbutton his shirt the rest of the way, then reach for the belt buckle, jerking the leather strap free from the metal, all while your lips and tongue work in a frenzy over his.

The rain and the thunder becomes white noise, a nearly muted sound in the background as you unbutton his pants and pull down the zipper, the metal teeth parting to reveal white briefs. You touch his erection through that thin material, feeling the hard, thick line of it and he hisses, then groans somewhere near your neck.

“Yes, love, that’s what I need…”

You shove your hand beneath the elastic waistband and you make contact with feverish flesh. Another groan from the imposter. You sweep over the head of his cock, realizing he’s circumcised, smoothing leaking precum over the dome before you wrap your fingers around the shaft and begin stroking up and down. He moans into your mouth. It’s not the best angle, your hand a bit squashed awkwardly between your bodies. You slide off his thighs to sit beside him, never breaking contact, still pumping his prick, rolling your fingers over the crest as you reach the top, thumb dragging over the frenulum with each pass. Your tongue dances over his and you feel the arousal leaking from your own sex, soaking your panties.

Another glob of clear fluid oozes from the tip and your mouth waters. You want to taste it. Want to feel him in your mouth.

Your lips abandon his and he frowns, confused until he sees your head bowing over his lap, your body shifting as you engulf his turgid member. Another hissing sound of pleasure as the slightly musky flavor hits your taste buds. You haven’t fully taken him inside yet, only reaching close to halfway, applying suction as you move across that shallow expanse, allowing yourself to become accustomed to the length and girth of him. His fingers touch your head, not applying force, just resting there. You release his cock with a wet popping sound, stroking your saliva over his erection before taking him into your mouth again. You push deeper this time, forcing your lips closer to the base of his cock, to the nest of dark pubic hair. Your throat protests and you gag, the fingers on your head now tightening, pressing, urging you on.

“Sweet girl, that’s it, you can take it. All the way. Fuck.” The curse is something you’d never imagine coming from the milkman’s lips, but you find yourself aroused by it, the depravity of what you’re doing erotic. Your head bobs, dipping lower each time, eliciting an obscene wet squelching sound as his prick collides with your throat. There’s a higher pitch to his sounds of pleasure now. His hips lift to meet you, shoving him in as deep as he can reach while your nostrils flare, searching for a greater air supply.

Your nails dig into this thigh. The loosened belt buckle jingles with each thrust into that moist cavity you’ve provided. The fingers in your hair loosen, allowing you a brief respite. You withdraw and cough. A thick trail of saliva connects your lower lip to his glistening cock. Your fingers massage through the slick and he hums appreciatively. Your lips feel slightly numb, tingling from the stretch. There’s a burning sensation in your abused throat, a soreness when you swallow. But the discomfort is bearable. You want to do this. You want him to feel good.

You suck in a lungful of air and then begin again. You hear the replicant’s breathing becoming shallower, more rapid. He’s getting close. You redouble your efforts, moving fast and deep.

“Sweetheart, you’re going to make me…it’s so fucking good…”

His hips snap up and an acrid spill of semen floods your throat. It catches you by surprise and you choke around the pulsing erection. It’s a copious amount of seed that spills over your retreating tongue. You swallow down the last of the bitter fluid, straightening, dragging the back of your hand across your spit drenched chin.

“That was…you…” The creature is speechless. You can’t help but feel a little pride over that. He captures your lips, mulling over the taste he’s left there. “I want to taste you,” he says, and your pussy throbs. “I want you to cum inside my mouth.”

He moves off the couch, kneeling in front of you. Shoving at your skirt. You hurriedly hook your thumbs over the edge of your panties and drag them down, feeling how wet the crotch is as they drag across your legs. Scooting closer to the edge, spreading yourself open for him.

His face moves forward and his tongue parts your folds. Laving down to gather a sample of your arousal. Humming with approval at the taste of you as he focuses on your clit. A long, slow drag over the sensitive nub. You whimper. His thumbs wedge along either side of your sex, stretching the pink flesh further open. His mouth covers your cunt and he sucks and your thighs try to close, the sensation overwhelming.

“Oh sweetheart, you’re delicious.” Slurping on your clit now. You thread your fingers through his hair, caressing his head as his tongue flicks across the hooded button. He doesn’t need guidance this time. Everything is the way you like it. Dividing attention between your clitoris and the entrance of your pussy. Pushing that muscle inside, fucking you with his tongue, alternating with lapping at your bundle of nerve endings. You wish it wasn’t quite so dark. You want to see his eyes. You know he’s looking at you even if he can’t discern much in the dim gray light filtering in through the windows. Watching your reaction even as he feels it in his mouth. Hears the pleading, the needy gasps and moans, the whining that begins the closer you get to coming apart in his mouth.

He moans, too, and the vibrations of that sound add another layer to your pleasure. A finger makes its way inside you. Violated by a second soon after, thrusting while he sucks your clit. You climax, panting his name over and over, your fingers frantic in his hair, your pelvis quaking as your grind yourself against him.

Eventually your movements lessen. He eases back and your quivering legs draw closed. He rejoins you on the couch, his mouth on yours, gifting you a taste of yourself.

Then you sit quietly, listening to the diminishing storm outside. The rain drums on the roof and taps along the gutters with a soft metallic sound. Your face is tucked into the doppel’s shoulder, one hand resting on his chest, feeling his heartbeat, his arm curled around your shoulders.

You shouldn’t enjoy this. Any of this. You should be afraid, disgusted. Instead you feel oddly calm. Safe in his arms, even though you certainly aren’t. These alien beings were masters of deception and manipulation. You know better. It was foolish, what you were doing. Dangerous—for you, for everyone else.

But you’re convinced more than ever that some part of Francis is still buried within. The goodness of him negating the evil of this imposter.

“I’ll make the call in the morning.” The first words spoken in a long time. Your head lifts. “And I’ll move in to the apartments.”

“Just you. And you won’t harm anyone.”

“You ask for too much.”

“I’m giving up everything for you. Risking my job, my life, the lives of the people I’ve sworn to protect. My heart. My soul,” you finish with a whisper. “I don’t think you understand how many things I’m sacrificing.”

“I’m not human. It’s impossible for me to. There are no words for them in our language because they simply don’t exist.”

“But you want to be us. You should understand…”

“I will make the call and I will move in. Beyond that I am not promising you anything. Except…I do not want you harmed.” He reaches for your arm, tracing over the healing wound he’d inflicted. “I will try to prevent that, at least.”

A small concession, perhaps, but an important one nonetheless. If he was willing to spare you, maybe you could convince him to spare others.

Teach him the value of a human life while taming the monster within that wears the face of the man you love.

#francis mosses #francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #milkman #milkman x reader #milkman x you #thats not my neighbor

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charliemwrites · 6 months

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Awooooooo!

Content: Voyeurism, Dog Urination, Implied Non-Con Touching

Your dog is weird. Just.. just weird. Like, all dogs are weird. They have their quirks and their oddities, silly babies in fluffy bodies.

Johnny though…

He snuggles up in your bed every night; you don’t even bother trying to kick him out. He’s presses up tight against you, head almost on your pillow. Have to start sleeping in a shirt because one too many unfortunately placed cold nose bumps…. Yeah. But that’s fine. The fuzzy space heater is worth it.

(So what if you sort of wake up sometimes and half-dream its skin you’re snuggled up to. If you imagine a more human rasp to the quiet snores by your ear. If the tongue on your cheek is softer and smaller than you’re used to….

Your dating life has been dry for some time.)

Johnny pees in every room of your house at least once, but that’s not entirely surprising - he’s an intact male, after all. (Something you’re trying to, heh, fix. Though the appointment mysteriously keeps getting moved or cancelled.) thankfully, though, once he’s “marked his territory” he starts asking to go outside.

And that’s where the weirdness begins.

The first time you let him out off leash, he shoots off into the woods and only returns once he’s done. You panic, feel so stupid and irresponsible, near tears by the time he gets back. When he sees you upset, say on the porch steps, he darts to your side and leans into you until you calm down.

You stop worrying so much about his little “trips”. Means you dont have to clean up after him to keep the yard tidy after all.

The first time he bounds off into the woods and doesn’t come back after a few minutes, you almost go searching. But.., but well he’s a good boy. An hour later he comes back, scratching at the door.

You’re not sure what he’s up to and it makes you anxious. Don’t like the idea of an “outdoor” dog. All of yours have been in-home pets kept in sight at all times. You’re scared Johnny’s going to get hurt or bitten or hit by a car.

But he always comes back healthy whole.

One hour turns into two, then three. Entire mornings, only returning in the evening to climb into bed. Eventually a whole day. You have someone install a doggy door big enough for Johnny to slip through so that he can come and go as he pleases.

You get used to having a pet that’s only around sometimes, though you sniffle that you miss him when he’s gone. As if understanding, he’ll always lick at you, comforting.

The other weird thing - he demands to climb into bed while you’re doing “self care”. Again, dogs don’t get human social boundaries. He’s allowed on the bed so why is it that he wouldn’t be allowed up even if it’s not bedtime? It’s understandable dog logic, even if you have to stop the first several times it happens.

Keeping him out isn’t an option. Even if you manage to shut the bedroom door on him before he wriggles inside, he makes such a ruckus. Barking, howling, knocking over the trash and scratching at the door. You almost step directly into a puddle of pee once.

You just keep the lights off, close your eyes, and try to ignore the odd brush of fur or gust of air from his nose. Pretend he’s not there at all; and not staring the way he tends to.

Not getting off just isn’t an option. You make your peace with your dog too dumb to even turn away.

(You also learn very quickly to wash your toys as soon as you’re done. Can’t even wait to catch your breath. Calling him nasty makes his tail wag. You know it’s not reasonable to think he’s doing it on purpose.)

“Johnny, drop it!”

Instead of doing that, he drops his front half low, a lacy black pair of underwear in his teeth. He snatched it right out of your laundry basket while you were trying to start the washer.

“I’m going to turn you into a pair of boots. Put those down!”

Chasing a giant wolf-dog for your panties is ill-advised but what are you gonna do? Let him shred your underwear?

“I wanted to wear those out tonight, you bastard!”

You’re supposed to have a date. At this rate, you won’t even be able to shower, never mind get ready. Johnny’s been a nuisance all day, ever since you got off the phone with your mom this morning, updating her about your life and plans for the evening.

Determined, you give up and go to finish the laundry - only to hear a crash and a yelp. Johnny’s knocked over the mirror and stepped in the glass.

“Oh, baby boy,” you groan. “Dammit, John-Bon.”

You text your date for a rain check, then call ahead for the emergency vet. Huh… your first aid kit is much better stocked than you remember.

#thoughts™️#cod #my writing #fanfiction #dark fic #reader fic

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luc1-anna · 13 days

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He loved how small you were compared to him,he was a big guy so it was expected that anyone would be small compared to him, but still. The way his pretty housewife always tried to wrap her arms around him whenever he got back, on resulting in him having to pick her up and drag her to the bedroom.

Legs locked around his waist as he carried you. Lips lashing onto your body as he left a wet trail along your collarbone. Hands gripping around his neck as you tried to keep still, you two hadn't even made it to the stairway before he plopped you down onto the living room sofa.

Not wasting a second as his pants swiftly made thie away onto his zipper then onto his clothes cock, rubbing one out Infront of you. "Take your clothes off then.." you should've been doing that already as you stripped the material off your body. Seeing your hole practically begging for him, his length came out, already leaving a small stain on his boxers due to the precum. Balls twitching as he saw you, he knew that he was gonna breed you, filling you up with his kids. Knowing what your stomach would be giant due to the size difference. Precum leaking onto his fingers, shoving it inside your mouth, making sure you got a good taste as he swirled his fingers. Smirking as he saw your reaction, only making his cock ache even more. Inching closer to you as his tip somehow reached your gaping hole. Already stretching you out as he tip entered, walls trying to retract him. Surely he had gotten bigger?

"I'll go easy on you baby" letting off a devilish smile as he fully entered you, giving no time to adjust to small sizes at a time. Watching the bulge already appear in your stomach, outlining his tip with his fingers, sending a shiver down his spine. "Look at that babe" teasing you as he retracted his fingers from your mouth, leaving a string of drool along your lips. Grabbing your hips, as he got ready, leaving a small spot of your spit on your skin.

"Promise to go easy?" Gripping his arm as you dug your nails into him, making sure he kept his word. Squatting your hand away, "I swear" smiling at you as a means of reassurance but it only made you feel like he wouldn't keep his word. Wrapping your legs around his waist as you felt his pelvis hit yours. Not wasting any time as he started to move, his cock hitting the side since it had a slight curve to it, rubbing against your walls as he sped up. Leaning your head back as you felt him, and saw the bulge he created.

Dragging you closer as he felt his thighs hitting some of the sofa, hands gripping harder onto your body as your velvety walls stretched, seeing the way your entrance already wrapped along the base of his cock, balls slapping the skin which separate both holes. Grinning as he saw your hands resorting to grip onto the sofa's arm rests. "Your doing good so far" trying to compliment you and also lighten the mood. "What's that supposed to mean?" A look of curiosity washed over your face, surely he'd keep his promise to go easy on you?

"Nothing" that smirk didn't mean nothing, the sound of his cock slipping in and out of that spot as he fucked you, trying to brush his words over you as you focused on him, the way he moved inside of you. Nodding as you felt him push further, cock rubbing against your walls creating friction as you felt him, letting out a gentle moan. Grabbing your fingers from your breasts, bringing them down towards your clit, tracing your lips with your own finger.

Watching your reaction change only made him want to get you pregnant even more. Moaning as soon as you felt your own fingers touch yourself, guiding your hands along your clit, making sure to dig inside yourself. Gripping your hips as he put both hands onto your body, dragging your hands back up from below towards the roof of the sofa, holding your wrists down as he leaned part of his body along yours, making sure he didn't crush you in the process. Resting your head back as you moaned, feeling your gummy walls clench around him.

The window blowing in air only making the curtains blow in the wind, his body covering the sun as you saw how much of a size difference you to had, the way his shadow overlapped yours by miles. "I kept my word, did I not?" Smiling at you, the way he kept pounding into your tight cunnie, the way it gripped around his base. Stuffing the whole length into your poor hole, stretching you out to the max. Watching as you couldn't even respond, the bulge forming in your stomach with each thrust, pressing down on it, feeling your legs squirm around him only made him press harder, womb being stressed from his tip, practically getting ready for a pregnancy.

#ghost smut #taiju smut #konig smut #reiner smut #toji smut #sukuna ryomen smut #endeavour smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #mha smut #my hero academia smut #aot smut #attack on titan smut #jjk x reader smut #cod smut #tokyo revengers smut #i didnt even mean to make it this long #𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚

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stave-writes · 1 month

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Scruffy! (Various Dungeon Meshi Men x GN!Reader)

Summary: Your boyfriend really needs a trim of his stubble, and he's asked for your help :)

Word Count: 1711

Laios Touden

We all know Laios does NOT like being scruffy, especially when Falin tells him he looks like their father. So, it's a lovely thing when he asks you to look after him and help him shave.

Laios had been a little finicky lately, ever since leaving the dungeon he was a lot more conscious about himself. Mainly, his appearance. Rubbing at his new stubble and brushing his blonde hair that had grown out in places. Irritation was plainly visible each time he felt the slight scratch of stubble against his fingers, even a slight huff to his tone afterwards. "Hey, could I ask a favour?" was his innocuous question, head tilting back over the edge of your sofa. After an inquisitive sound of acknowledgement from you, a slight smile rose on Laios's face. "Mind helping me shave? I also want to cut my hair but can't see the back."

This is how you ended up sitting on the edge of your tub, scissors working away at the tufts of hair against the nape of his neck. Each little brush of your fingers against his skin caused a small giggle or shuffle from Laios, if he were a dog, his tail would be smacking against your leg so hard it'd hurt a little. A smile was visible on his lips every time you'd lean over to peek at him, and he'd look up at you eyes full of love.

"Did you know that tons of monster species use grooming as a form of intimacy?" Of course, you did, you're dating Laios Touden, if you didn't you'd have amnesia. Instead of an eye roll, you gave a little smile and nod.

Reaching his hand up, a pat against your leg was a signal he hadn't just passed out between your knees while you worked at giving him the cut he liked. A quick kiss pressed to your lips was a thankful gesture, nuzzling into your face before moving to work on shaving his stubble to save you from the beard scratches.

Chilchuck Tims

I see Chilchuck as the type of guy to have some time dedicated to a little self-care, although shaving isn't a big problem considering the half-footer's ageing span. But! His hair does still grow, so some help may be needed there.

It'd been a week since Chilchuck asked you to remind him to go get a haircut, and he still hadn't gone despite your near-constant reminders. Post-its on the counter, on his lockpicking tools, hell you once stuck one on his face for him to see in the mirror. At this point, it was getting ridiculous that he hadn't even gone to try and get it done.

"You're going to cut my hair...? I can just go get it done in town-" He huffed a little at you, rubbing at the back of his neck with a small frown. Your adamance had his stubbornness outweighed almost tenfold, so you rolled up a stool behind his chair and began to figure out how to trim his hair.

Hair was scattered everywhere by the time you were done, and Chilchuck's ego was only a little bruised by the number of grey hairs you saw while trimming it. He didn't seem to mind it too much though, the presence of a wagging tail that was usually hidden away under his clothing batting at your leg. At least his hair was finally trimmed, and a thankful kiss was pressed to your knuckles as you got up to sweep away the leftover hair.

Senshi of Izganda

Senshi doesn't particularly care for shaving or even washing his beard but knowing the kind of bacteria facial hair can carry (and after a lecture from Marcille) he's willing to have you help him with that beard the size of Cousin It from the Addams Family.

"Ah, I suppose Marcille's nagging finally got to me, that's all. I hope you don't mind helping me wash my beard, it'll take a while." Senshi muttered slightly, looking aside as he asked you for just a little favour. It was hard to ask such a thing from you, especially with how much you'd done already for him by just being with him. He felt absurdly lucky when you agreed, setting his helmet and upper armour aside to clean off his beard and hair.

It was a nicer experience than usual having a loving touch working at his hair first to wet it, then lather it and working slowly to get all the dirt out. It took a long long time to finish the first round of washing the hair and beard, alongside the several other scrubbing and washing rounds. It was an intensive process, but being able to smell clearly the soap in his hair was a good bonus, alongside the lack of a helmet.

Letting him dry for a few hours was the best idea you'd had this entire time, able to bury your face against the wall of fluff you called Senshi for a long while. The smell was great and the warmth was greater, you could've honestly slept there if you wanted. But, you had a plan! Readying a comb, boar bristle brush and your sanity, you began braiding Senshi's hair into long thick plaits and tying them off once you were done. It was tenuous but an enjoyable closeness, as you pressed your face into his back slightly. You couldn't help but marvel at your work when you were all done. The happy expression on your face made it hard for Senshi to resist placing a kiss on the crown of your head, a soft look in his eyes.

Toshiro Nakamoto

A large part of the teachings Toshiro lives by is to exist as a convenience to others, not asking much and not putting his needs in the forefront. So, when Toshiro comes to you asking for help looking after himself? It's a sign of trust. He knows you.

"You...would you help me?" Toshiro's voice is quiet and soft as he addresses you, a slight crease in his brow as he looks towards you. It's hard to be vulnerable around you even if you're adamant in your love for him. Even as you assure him it's not a bother to help him and that you're here for him, it's still... nerve-wracking. It's hard for him to settle himself as he eventually moves first to sit down on your bed, having you brush out his hair and praise the length and colour of his locks, he's still worried.

He's guided towards your bath and urged to get into the warm water, leaning his head back so you can scrub away any remaining dirt and eventually, he peeks an eye open to see your face as you work at making sure he's sparkling clean. The slight furrow in your brow, your intense posture and a huff finally as you finish cleaning his hair. He can't help but smile at your effort to look after him especially as Toshiro can feel the exhaustion melt away at your careful consideration of him.

Before he knew it, he was basically asleep in your tub, head leant back with your fingers working at his hair and scalp. The feeling of safety was all he needed from you. When it was done, he dried off and changed into some comfortable clothes he'd left with you before curling up beneath your duvet, head resting into the crook of your neck.

Mithrun of the House of Kerensil

Mithrun struggles with self-care due to his lack of desires and is used to being looked after by others. With you, though, it was different. Your touch was imbued with love, and you didn't choose to look after him because someone ordered you to, just...because you wanted to see him cared for.

Looking after Mithrun sometimes could be a lot, making sure he ate and bathed and slept all while making sure he kept his mana up enough for his work with the canaries. So, it'd been easier to devise a schedule for all the things that would need to be done by day and then by week. Three baths a week, each one day apart. Three meals a day, four hours apart except for dinner which was at 6pm on the dot. A good schedule helped you and Mithrun look after yourselves, but you hadn't quite yet accounted for trimming his hair.

It had gotten longer than you had thought before you remembered to check the length of his hair, playing with the silver locks that framed his face and moved to cover his false eye a little. With a slight curl at the ends and parted just along the side, it was an easy style to maintain, especially for someone so consistently fatigued. So, when it came time to trim it down, an afternoon was allocated and Mithrun was given a book to entertain him while you worked.

On the floor, resting on a pillow was the middle-aged elf who you were looking after. Tilting his head forward a little, you brushed through those light-coloured locks and parted them into smaller sections before taking them between your middle and pointer finger, working to even it out and take a little length off. This process was repeated for each section of hair, fingers lightly brushing his face at one point which caused a little startled jump to come from Mithrun, looking at you with his good eye almost inquisitively. In the end, though, you finished off trimming it all quite quickly, evening it all out and even taking some longer strands from the front and braiding them like he'd done when he was much younger...before the dungeon.

Even if it was hard to see, a little smile played on his lips as he embraced your touches, leaning back after you proudly announced you were done. His face squished into your thigh, a little bump of his against you like a cat trying to get their owner's attention. Taking advantage of your curiosity at this action, your hand was brought to his face and he snuggled into it slightly, enjoying the reaction it spurred from you. He may not desire much, but he knows how to love you.

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melminli · 5 months

Text

Cold Coffee

pairing: young coriolanus snow x fem. reader

summery - you liked working, and someone else liked you working for them.

word count: 2k+

contains: young president coryo, crack, fluff, secretary reader, coryo being lovesick and shy

You had a routine. A routine that you strictly followed every day and it started with your alarm clock waking you up at 5 o'clock in the morning. The first thing you did was get up and go to the bathroom to wash the sleep off your face, otherwise you couldn't get anything done. After you had finished everything else concerning your hygiene, you continued with your outfit of the day.

You liked to play around a bit when it came to your fashion choices. After all, you were living in the Capitol. Your job still demanded a certain formality and professionalism, which is why you were perhaps not as free in your choice as others, but that wasn't a problem for you. You always managed to find something elegant to wear since you had all kinds of clothing in different colors and fabrics that were perfect for combining with various other items. Whether vests, suit jackets, skirts, trousers or everything all together, it was entirely up to your mood. (Even though combining everything together was something you hadn't done since your school days at the academy.).

Then the last thing left missing was your hair and maybe some make-up, before you could step out of the house with your pre-packed bag. After a 15-minute drive in your car, you would arrive a few minutes early and were able to go about your duties as planned until it was time to leave at around 4 pm (if you were lucky).

You've been doing this every day for three years. Every day. That may sound exhausting (because it is), but you were also kind of happy about it since missing work would just mean that you had more to do on the following one. You rarely got sick, but when you did it was usually nothing serious so you came to work anyway. On the two rare occasions when you were really seriously ill, you were once off work and once you were lucky (or unlucky) that it was at the time of several public holidays. So yes, you haven't missed a single day of work - until today.

Your alarm clock died in the middle of the night.

"...huh - what's happening?" You asked, slightly drowsy, and it felt like you'd been asleep for far too long, a suspicious amount of long. Your eyes glanced at the clock on your wall, and you had to concentrate to keep the image from blurring. "...It's a quarter past seven." You finally realized, before widening your eyes and jumping out of bed. "It's a quarter past seven! I'm going to be late!"

In your stress to get ready quickly, you decided to get dressed first and quickly picked something out before scurrying to the bathroom to get ready. That was your mistake because while being a bit too hectic when brushing your teeth, you were clumsy enough to get toothpaste on your shirt. "No, no, no - ugh. I can't believe this." You whined and hurried so you could change again.

Hair? fine, make-up? Fuck it - okay, just go out and get in the car. At this point, you were already a whole hour late. When you arrived at the place where your car was supposed to be and couldn't see it, you started to panic and it didn't stop when you realized why. It's in the repair shop! Why, does this have to happen to me?!

"Okay, let's calm down for a minute." You said to yourself and took a deep breath of the cold morning air. It was quiet, only the chirping of the birds could be heard, it was still early in the morning. "That's just the way it is now. I'll just let someone know I'll be late and - " You said and took out your phone, only to realize that it was dead. This all was probably due to a power cut in the night, which also explained why your alarm clock wasn't working this morning. " - alright, I won't do that then. It's cool. Everything's cool."

Your day was off to a pretty bad start already. It would take you at least half an hour to get to work with the train, and you'd have to wait another half an hour since the last one left five minutes ago according to your watch. Yes, the morning commute wasn't exactly popular in the Capitol - the people here usually preferred to sleep in.

"You know what? I'm just going to treat myself to my favorite drink in my favorite café. I really can't do this right now." You finally decide and set off a little more relaxed. "I would argue that I don't get paid enough for this, but I actually get paid pretty well." You admitted but didn't care any more than to laugh about it.

Of course, no one would assume that the secretary to the president of Panem would get a bad wage.

Hm. Coriolanus looked at his watch again. His eyes had been darting there strangely often since this morning. Well, he didn't see you at all today, and normally you would greet him on the way to his office, and he would greet you back. After a while, you would come through the door and ask if he wanted coffee while you were already carrying it to him in your hand. This was followed by a little summary from you about what appointments he had today, who he was meeting and so on - it's not that important, the point is that he hasn't seen you yet and he didn't know why.

He got up from his seat and opened the door of his office to look out, but like before, you weren't sitting in your seat at the reception desk.

He then decided to look for his nearest employee. "Excuse me, Mr. Pox. I hope I'm not interrupting anything. " He announced his presence as he knocked lightly on the open door with his knuckles.

The man immediately stood up slightly nervously in order to appear respectful. He was older than Coriolanus, but he also wasn't the president. "You're not interrupting anything, sir! How can I help you?" He asked, a little confused. Oh no, he never asks me anything personally, I hope it's nothing serious. I'm not in trouble, am I?

Coriolanus reassured him as he subtly asked his question. "Well, I was just wondering where my secretary was. You wouldn't happen to know anything about her whereabouts?" He said, thinking it was a little stupid of him for not wanting to appear conspicuous. She works for me. I have the right to know where she is. This is not in any way inappropriate.

Pox was relieved when it turned out that this wasn't about him, but immediately felt a little guilty because you seemed to be in trouble. You were his nicest colleague, he liked you a lot. But I can't just lie to the president either. He's literally the president! He'll certainly find out if I do. "No, sir. Unfortunately not, she didn't tell me anything." He replied and just watched as the man in front of him hummed absently, which is why he quickly added. "Maybe she's just late?"

If that were the case, you'd already be three hours late. That was not like you, and Coriolanus began to subconsciously worry a little. She would let me know if she was going to be late. He thought to himself until he realized that you had never been late before, so he couldn't be too sure of his theory. Because that was what it was - just a theory. "Hm. All right, thanks for your time, see you then." He said goodbye to Pox and decided to go back to his office.

There wasn't really anything else he could do - well, except maybe call you. He stopped his steps for a moment at the thought. That feels wrong. Usually, you were the one who called him regularly or barged into his office so he didn't really have to. Well, sometimes he wanted to, but he doubted you would appreciate it if he contacted you after your working hours. He sometimes wished that his thoughts of you would end with your departure, but he hadn't really been successful yet, and for god's sake, he didn't know why. Well, I do - but it's complicated. She's my secretary and this isn't a stupid rom com.

He saw you all day. That is enough. It should be enough. It wasn't like he was looking forward to monday or anything since you started working for him - well, he was, but that was because of other things, for sure. It could be because of other things, he could find joy in other things.

"Oh, Mr. Snow. There you are." Your voice surprised him as he opened the door to his own office and was greated with your face in front of his. "I wanted to talk to you, but then you weren't here. I'm sorry I got in without your permission." You apologized sincerely and took a step to the side so he could enter.

"It's all good. You don't need to apologize." Coriolanus said calmly and sat down in his seat, subtly watching you move in front of his desk. "What is it?" He asked, appearing unaffected - as if he hadn't been thinking about you and what you were doing since this morning.

You looked slightly confused. "Well, I'm three hours late for work." You announced, sure that he would have noticed. "I know this can't be excused, and I'll get straight to work to make up for it, I promise. It's just that my car has a few issues and, well..." You assured him and placed a paper cup on his table. "I know I usually bring you coffee, and this is not the expensive one from here, but from my favorite café around the corner, but well..." You started rambling a bit and were a little more talkative than usual, which didn't go unnoticed. "...It also got cold on the way, and I spilled half of it because someone ran into me on the train." You added when you noticed how his gaze shifted to the stain at your side.

"Sounds like you had a pretty exciting morning. It's all right, don't worry, I'll turn a blind eye since it's the first time." Coriolanus replied with his slightly charming smile. You usually told him so little about your personal life that he unconsciously began to appreciate the little things he got to hear from you.

Like no, he didn't want to hear another stupid story about Mr. Aliose and his fucking hamsters. He almost felt sorry for the guys patheticness, maybe he could live a happier life if he put more effort into finding a wife than getting his pet to do a roll. Or from his other employees who tried to entertain him with uninteresting personal stories he didn't care about - because he didn't care about them.

And the one person he did actually want to hear from, kept their personal and work life very separate. He hated that it wasn't the other way around.

You nodded. "You don't even know. I don't expect you to drink this, by the way. As a matter of fact, I'll make you another one right now. It's just that - I worked really hard to get this to you, and it felt wrong to just throw it in the trash in the end." You let that bit out before returning to your professional self. "I just wanted that at least one thing would go right today."

Stay cool, Coriolanus. Don't freak out, and also, stop romanticizing this. "It's all good. I'm honored that you thought of me." He said, hoping he sounded natural.

A smile graced your face. "Of course, Mr. Snow. I'll be right back." You promised him as you stepped out of his office and made your way to the coffee machine.

As soon as the door closed behind you, Coriolanus let out the breath he had been holding. His hand reached for the coffee cup and turned it in his hand only to discover a small note on it. "For my boss and the boss of Panem :)" He read out loud and smiled as his thumb ran over the drawing of the snowflake. He couldn't help but take the little gesture to heart. "That's so sweet."

I should send out a car to pick her up tomorrow - for business reasons, of course.

#x reader #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #tbosas #coryo snow #the hunger games #hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #bosas #ballad of songbirds and snakes #young coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus #snow #snow lands on top #x female y/n #x female reader

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d0wnb4df0rf1cm3n · 1 year

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Pink in the Night

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Some interesting rumours have been circling around about Bucky. Little do you know, it's kinda your fault.

Word Count: 4.5K

Warnings: Porn with a bit of plot, SMUT, SMUT, SMUT, soft Buck, SMUT!!!!

AN: Sorry y'all! It's kinda a bit shit but listen, it's self-indulgent so idc :) This is kinda inspired by 'Pink in the Night' by Mitski which I was listening to while writing this. Have a good rest of the week, y'all <3 (Also, I love this gif. Can anyone tell me where it's from????)

Bucky had a love-hate relationship with being your neighbour. On the one hand, he loved seeing your face as you left your room every morning, hair not yet slicked to perfection, and sleep still evident on your face. You seemed a lot more innocent in the morning - conversations more idle.

On the other hand - and perhaps as a downside to his more sensitive hearing - you drove him crazy with the knowledge of things that perhaps he wasn't supposed to know.

This night was no different. You had headed off to bed after a long day, bidding everyone in the kitchen a good night. You grabbed a water bottle before slipping into the elevator, Bucky not far behind. You stepped out of the elevator together and you wished him sweet dreams before slipping into your room. Oh, his dreams were going to be far from sweet.

You see, your beds were pushed up to opposite sides of the same wall, so he could hear you relax on your bed. He could hear you shuffle to strip into just your underwear, and how your hand slipped into your panties. He could hear how your breath hitched as you circled your clit, and your soft moans as you plunged your fingers into your cunt or as your vibrator dipped in between your folds.

He could almost envisage you doing it - a forbidden porno that took root in his mind every night that he heard you finger yourself to completion. The rosy pink flush that you would glow as you came all over your hand. Your heavy rise and fall of your chest as you came down from your high. The small smile that would adorn your face as rolled over to fall asleep - the oxytocin released coursing through your veins.

He felt disgusting as he did - one of those creeps that he intended to protect you from for the rest of his life. But after you'd fallen asleep, he'd hop into the shower to cool his body and his mind - to throw the detestable thoughts of you to the far corners of his mind. But as he fell asleep, you'd re-enter his mind in a different way. A more safe-for-work way. You'd be in his arms, cuddling him and whispering sweet words of encouragement. You'd be cooking him dinner while he told you funny stories about his life with scrawny Steve in the 40s; he'd be washing the dishes while you sat on the counter tell him about your day. He'd worry for your well-being - not as an overbearing coworker but as a loving, doting boyfriend. Maybe husband.

Bucky was getting ahead of himself - he'd have to work up the courage to have more than a few-word conversation with you. But for now, wishing he could hold your hand would have to suffice.

Being Bucky's neighbour was not much easier. Especially when he was completely oblivious to your plight. Even the slight brush of a hand made your heart flutter.

You loved seeing him early in the morning - he always seemed less reserved when he was fresh from a good night's rest. He was faster to smile, faster to laugh. It was nice. You woke up at an ungodly hour to see him just before he headed on his morning run. You couldn't deny that the morning light did wonders for him - you were always left wanting more when he dipped into the elevator.

Oh, and the sounds. Your hearing was not quite as superior as Bucky's, but you definitely heard things that left you clenching around thin air.

You knew Bucky wasn't one to self-complete often - in fact, it was rare that you ever caught on to the act. But you had caught the odd broken moan coming from his room. You turned into molten mush, the weight of your arousal buckling your knees. If there was any sound that could turn you to putty, it was that.

You didn't how many times the idea of Bucky fucking you had played through your mind, but each night a different variation brought you the same ending - your fingers deep in your cunt, coaxing you to a climax.

Every night, you wished his cock, tongue, fingers were filling you up instead of yours, leaving you aching and wishing for more. You wanted to run your nails down his back - leaving permanent reminders of your love for him - while he nipped at your neck - leaving marks claiming you as his.

Sometimes, your brain caught up to your thoughts, reprimanding you for your possessiveness. He wasn't yours, you had to remind yourself, even if you wished he was. For that, you'd have to actually have to have more than a few-word conversation with him - which to be honest, seemed impossible. So you stuck to your nightly wishful dreaming, hoping one day he'd be yours. Only yours.

Summer was the worst for Bucky. You were the type to spend hours upon hours out in the sun, coming back with a budding tan and rosy complexion - it did nothing to quell the budding images flashing in the back of his mind. You. Under him. Panting. Moaning his name as he brought you to the edge. Over and over again. Face glowing pink as you gaze up into his eyes, drunk on love and his cock. Bucky had to excuse himself to splash cold water on his face.

It didn't help that the clothing you wore did nothing to help his imagination. The semi-sheer tops, the shorts, the swimsuit and bikinis. Every time he saw you, he immediately had to duck back inside to deal with 'a little problem'. More like a very large, very hard, and very obvious problem.

Still, he enjoyed your company more than he had for the better part of his time living in the compound. He listened to your stories, your jokes, helped solve your issues. He felt that - even if you weren't quite what he wanted you to be - your relationship was blossoming into something quite beautiful. And that made him feel a lot braver - he introduced a little comment here and there, a hand always on your waist or the small of your back. He flirted with you from time to time: just to gauge a meter on your reactions, he'd tell himself, as if this was an experiment to crack a hypothesis that had been perplexing scientists for years.

The sun was peaking over the top of the trees surrounding the compound when you woke up. That was a rarity in summer, given that the sun rose at nearly 5am. Still, you didn't miss out on the opportunity to watch the sunrise, curling up on your windowsill with your blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders.

You heard Bucky opening his door, and you ran towards yours, grabbing your phone and slippers on your way. You opened your door just as he closed his. He was dressed in gym wear - as always - since he was going on his morning run around the compound track. It was a nice track - one that you rarely frequented - going in and out of the forest behind the compound, totalling about 4.5 miles in distance.

He took you in, eyes bulging as they raked over you. You looked down, following his gaze. Shit. In your rush to see Bucky, you'd forgotten that your nightwear had consisted of some flimsy shorts and your bra - that you had thrown on after waking up to save a modicum of dignity, should someone burst into your room. It was too hot for anything else. You crossed your arms over your chest, which indefinitely made the issue worse as Bucky's eyes lifted way over your head.

"Looking good, babe!" Nat yells, walking across the landing toward you both. Clearly, Bucky had been intending to go on a run with her, maybe fit in a quick sparring session. You sent them on their way, with a 'have fun' and 'don't have too much fun.'

As soon as you were back in the comfort of your room, Nat elbowed Bucky hard.

"Oww! What the fuck was that for?" Rubbing his metal arm, for the convincing act.

"Oh please, you big baby. You have a fucking metal arm, get over yourself." She looked down, "You have a bit of a situation going on down there."

He looks down, embarrassment flushing his cheeks bright red, and subtly tucked his hard dick into his waistband.

"You wanna go sort that out? I won't hold it against you," Nat said, hitting the button to call the lift, "I promise not to tell Stark. Scout's honour." She jokingly holds up 3 fingers. Bucky swats her arm gently.

"No point."

Nat gasps, "No way. Don't tell me Mr. Winter Soldier can't have sex."

"Not sex," Bucky mumbles, "Just jerking off. Can't seem to - you know - finish."

Bucky had a history with Nat. They'd known each other for years. That kind of history made this kind of conversation somewhat less uncomfortable.

Nat burst into laughter. So much for not being uncomfortable.

The lift stopped on Sam's floor. He stepped in, gazing warily at the scene in front of him: the Black Widow doubled over in laughter, and the Winter Soldier embarrassed and uncomfortable in the corner.

He begged to be let in on the joke. Nat wheezed between laughs, "He - can't - fucking - cum!" Bursting into another bout of laughter, with Sam close behind, Bucky jumps out on the next floor, heading to the roof for some fresh air. He catches you up there, trying out some morning yoga. He sneaks up behind you as your stand up, grabbing your waist. You shriek, hitting him hard in the chest, before melting into his embrace once your brain caught up to the situation.

"Not fair!" You pouted, pausing your peaceful music, "Yoga's supposed to be peaceful!"

Bucky chuckles, pulling you into another hug, feeling you wrap your arms around his neck.

"I thought you were going on a run with Nat?" You whispered into his ear, your cheek resting on his clavicle.

"She ditched me for Sam." Bucky opted to leave out the real reason why he had left Nat and Sam in pieces in the elevator.

"Sucks to be you, Barnes!" You laugh pulling away and stepping back onto your mat. "Now leave me alone - just 'cause your friends abandoned you, doesn't mean you can bother me."

Bucky pouted, causing you to laugh before you turned back to your Yoga. He stood there and watched you for a minute, before heading back down to the gym. He strung up a punching bag, before wrapping his flesh wrist. Bucky took all his pent-up aggression and frustration out on the punching bag, allowing no respite between each jab, cross, and hook.

He stayed in the gym for over 3 hours, working every bit of stress out of his body. By the time he left the gym, the sun was high in the sky and a long day of paperwork and training awaited. Bucky headed up to his room for a quick shower - washing all the sweat off his body.

He felt lighter heading downstairs for breakfast - the weight of his arousal pushed far back in his mind. There was nothing he could do about it anyway.

Since deciding he would pursue you honestly, he couldn't seem to finish, no matter how hard he tried. You had been the only thing to push him over the edge - it seemed his body couldn't do it without you. It was frustrating beyond belief. He'd tried other things, porn, erotica, even thinking back to good times before the war. Nothing helped. It was as if his body was finetuned to you - only you knew the magic password to release him. Figuratively and literally.

When he reached the kitchen, he was privy to a welcome sight. You, in your combat gear, grabbing some granola bars before you jumped on the quinjet. You and Stark were heading on a surveillance mission in Guatemala for the week. You were reaching up to the top shelf, stretching on your tiptoes for the expensive granolas that had been kept on the top shelf. Bucky's granola bars that he had put there to stop anyone else from stealing them.

He reached up from behind you and grabbed the box, placing it in your hands. You looked guilty. You'd been caught red-handed.

"It's fine, doll. Take as many as you want." He said, leaning back against the counter, resting on his forearms. Your face flushed red as you grabbed 2 or 3, shoving them into your bag and turning around to fill up your water bottle.

You shivered when his hot breath fanned across your exposed neck, "Just remember that you owe me."

He was gone by the time you turned around.

The rumour had spread like wildfire while you were away.

"Did you hear that Bucky can't have sex?"

"I heard that Bucky can't - you know - cum?"

"Apparently, his time at Hydra fucked him up worse than he realised."

"He can't even masturbate you know?"

The rumours were getting out of hand, but he let them swirl. There was an ounce of truth to them, even if Hydra had nothing to do with his current predicament.

No, that blame could only lie with you.

When you got back, Bucky had just left on a 4-day-long mission with Sam - which meant you heard all the rumours and Bucky wasn't there to defend himself.

You heard it first when you dropped your suit off for dry-cleaning. One of the tech guys was whispering to Marta, the woman who looked after the dry cleaning of suits, about Bucky's apparent inability to ejaculate. You were shocked. Where the hell did they even get that information? You dropped off your suit and headed back up to your room to shower.

You then heard another mention of it when you went to drop off your reports. Two of the agents that were being reassigned to Steve's team - that were currently on a month-long mission in Chad - were gossiping outside Tony's office.

" - and apparently she ran out crying. Thought she wasn't good enough for him or something along those lines. I don't know."

"Yeah, apparently the breakup was grizzly."

"I feel bad for him you know, all of the shit he went through with Hydra, and now this?"

"Yeah, man, really sucks."

Your face blushed a bright red. What the fuck? Where did this rumour even come from? You knew for a fact that Bucky hadn't had a girlfriend since living in the compound so wherever that part of the rumour came from was completely untrue.

You had to get to the bottom of this.

You spent the better part of the next 2 days collecting bits of information from conversations between people around the compound. You found out that the rumour had originated from a conversation between Nat and Sam, which an agent had overheard while they were on their run. It had been twisted as most oral stories were leading to this big misleading idea that Bucky was unable to even get it up and that he was unable to please a woman. You were sure the latter part was untrue. You'd heard the way he moaned alone in his room - you were sure that you could cum just from his moans alone. He wouldn't even need to touch you.

You didn't think the rumour would affect you when Bucky got back. After all, you knew at least some of it to be false. But when he got back, his beard grown out a little because he couldn't shave it while he was away, you felt embarrassed. Not because of his supposed 'predicament' but because you felt as if you had found out something that you maybe weren't supposed to know.

Bucky caught on quicker than you would have liked. The night after he got back, Tony had thrown a little get-together to 'celebrate midsummer'. Realistically, Tony just wanted a reason to go out and drink with his friends. You had avoided Bucky most of the night - not necessarily intentionally, but Bucky still felt slightly hurt and more than a little confused.

He caught you alone on the balcony, looking out at the stars.

"Did I do something?" He said, sneaking up behind you and making you jump. Nervousness and insecurity laced his every move, worried that he had hurt you in some way that he couldn't possibly imagine.

You shook your head violently, scared to make eye contact with him. He lifted your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his.

"What's wrong?" You turned back to face the sky, embarrassment filling your chest. He laced his metal fingers into yours, "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"It's stupid."

"No, it's not. Nothing's stupid, not if it's you." Your heart fluttered at his words.

Your eyes met his steady gaze, "It's really stupid." His eyes begged you to go on, "It's just that - um - when I got back I - um - heardthisreallystupidrumourandIshouldn'thaveletitgettomebutbasically -"

Bucky placed a hand on your waist, drawing small circles, "Breathe."

"Someone said you had trouble pleasing women." You let out quietly. If it hadn't been for his enhanced hearing, he probably would have missed you. His grip on your waist tightened, "Bucky?"

"Trouble pleasing women? That's a new one." His deep voice cut you to your core. You let out a small whimper as the arousal pooled in your panties.

Bucky didn't miss that either.

He grabbed your arm and led you through the party. No one gave you a double look as he lead you into the vacant elevator, slamming your floor number and pushing you up against the wall.

"Think I can't please a woman, huh? Think again. Don't think I don't know what you think about when you cum all over your hand, whining my name under your breath." You whined lowly at his words, feeling how he pushed his hard dick perfectly in line with your throbbing pussy, "Isn't that right, slut? That's what you are, aren't you? My perfect little slut?" You moan at his degrading statement, pushing your pussy further onto his cock trying to find some friction.

"So needy," He tutted, his condescending tone only heightening your arousal. The elevator door pinged and Bucky picked you up bridal-style, kicking the door to your room open. You regularly forgot to lock it while heading down to dinner - for once, both you and Bucky were glad.

He dropped you on your bed, unceremoniously, eyes raking over you ravenously. The heat rose up your face, as you shifted under his unrelenting gaze.

"Oh baby, you don't how long I've been waiting for this." He leaned down locking your lips in a passionate kiss. His palm landed just above your knee, caressing up your leg towards your upper thigh. His hand slid under your dress, cupping your ass. He left a light squeeze, making you gasp into the kiss.

He leaned down, grabbing you with ease, flipping you both so you were straddling his waist. He tangled his flesh hand in your hair, the metal one possessively gripping your hip. He brought you down to his lips for another kiss - even when you were on top, he made sure you knew that he was in charge.

He toyed with the hem of your dress, eyes raking over you once again.

"Off."

You pulled the dress over your head, leaving you in your bra and panties. You felt seriously underdressed, especially considering Bucky was still in his jacket. He reaches up, joining your lips in another kiss, and reaching around to remove your bra. He tosses it to the side, running his knuckles over your pebbled nipples. You moan loudly, panties soaked. He takes his time pinching and squeezing your nipples, licking and biting as he went. The alternate sensations of one warm hand and one ice-cold heighten your arousal ten-fold. You buck your hips over his jeans, the sensation of his fly between your sensitive folds throwing you into overdrive.

His grip on your waist tightened once again. "I can feel your cunt throbbing, honey." You whimpered pathetically. "Go ahead, use me to get off. I know you want to."

Your hips started bucking off their own accord, clothed pussy running over the fly of his jeans. They started slow, getting a feel for what exactly you were doing. Bucky's hands started pushing you faster, setting a faster groove. The coil in your stomach began to tighten as your bucking became more erratic. You teetered on the edge of an orgasm when Bucky stopped you.

"Beg." He restarted your pace, faster and more erratic than before.

"Please, please, please, please, Bucky, please let me cum, please..-" You babbled, tripping and stumbling through your pleas. With a searing kiss, he gives you permission.

"I love you, I love you, I love, OH-" You fall off the edge of one of the hardest orgasms you've ever had, head empty with only one thing on your mind. Bucky.

You feel Bucky manhandle your body so your back is lying on the bed and he is towering over you. He asks you if you want to go on and all you can do is nod your head vigorously.

He chuckles, "I like your enthusiasm baby, but I need words. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes, YES!" You shout, breathlessly, already needing more.

He's fully naked and it's all you can do to not stare. He's definitely a well-endowed man, and he definitely has no problem getting it up.

"Like what you see?" He smirks, and you slap his thigh playfully. He pulls you further toward the edge of the bed and lines his dick up with your slick folds. He slides in slowly, holding your chin up so you keep eye contact with him. He watches as your eyes roll to the back of your head in satisfaction. You've never felt so full in your life. He presses into you slowly, feeling the way your tightness engulfs him, allowing your body to adjust to his size. You whimper softly as he pushes in - you never realised just how desperate you were for him.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" He chuckles, watching as tears leak out of your eyes. His condescending tone was back, and all it did was make you hornier. You babbled incoherently, "Gone dumb already? What a cock-drunk little slut you are."

He trails a metal finger up the side of your torso, watching the goosebumps left in its wake. You whimper again.

"Such a needy little baby. Only I can take care of you like this, right? Only me."

"Only you." You affirmed, pressing a kiss to the arm near your head.

He pulled out almost entirely, before slamming all the way back in. You screamed in pleasure, and Bucky set a brutal pace. He pinned your arms above your head with his right hand, and his left hand came to wrap around your throat. The significance of that was not lost on you. He loved you enough to not hurt you, even with his metal arm.

"I love you, baby. You know that right?" Bucky looked you deep in the eyes, "You know I love you right?"

"I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you," You babble back, lost in the throes of passion.

Bucky found your clit with his metal hand, pressing and flicking gently. You felt your muscles tighten for a second time, and you grabbed the sheets throwing your head back as you came harder than the first time.

Bucky came moments later, deep inside you with a loud moan. He pulled out slowly, collapsing next to you. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling yourself into his neck.

He chuckled at that, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a bear hug. You stayed like that for a minute before he untangled himself from you and carried you to the bathroom.

He turned on the shower and you both stepped under it, cleaning the sweat and cum off your bodies. Your legs felt like jelly, so you leaned heavily into Bucky as he washed you off.

"Stay awake, doll, just for a second," He said, shaking you awake each time you dozed off in the shower.

Bucky pulled some of your clothes onto your body, before setting you down on the bed. He gave you a quick kiss to the forehead before promising to be back soon.

He snuck into his room wrapped in a towel, before throwing on the first pair of sweats he could find and dashing to the kitchen for a cup of water.

He snuck back into your room, to see you already dead asleep on the bed. He slipped under the covers, tugging you closer to his chest, and smiled.

Through your grogginess, you nuzzled into his chest. "I love you." You whispered, your lips resting against his heart.

You woke up to the sound of soft snoring in your ear and sunlight streaming through the window. You smiled. You untangled yourself from Bucky's arms, disappearing into your bathroom to pee. You wash your face and brush your teeth before diving back into Bucky's arms.

Your legs were still sore from last night, but you didn't care. You were Bucky's and Bucky was yours. The very thought put a massive smile on your face.

"What's tickled your feather this morning?" Goddamn, his morning voice was sexy. You smiled and pressed a hard kiss to his lips.

Bucky smiled through the kiss. He picked you up by the thighs, carrying you while he brushed his teeth and splashed his face.

The compound was pretty silent, barely anyone was awake after drinking the night away. So, while Bucky made you pancakes for breakfast, you asked him the question, "Hey, Buck, where did the rumour come from?"

He looked at you, vaguely embarrassed, "You know that day, when me and Nat were gonna go down to train?"

You face flushed red, "When I walked out in my underwear?"

"Yeah," he chuckled, "I got a hard-on, like a teenage boy."

You stifled a laugh.

"So, Nat said, do I wanna go deal with it? And I told her I couldn't."

You looked at him confused, "Why not?"

"Cause of you," he said simply. You looked at him even more confused, "You were the only thing I got get off to. I tried everything else. Porn, erotica, even thinking about old sex. Nothing worked."

You flushed red again. "Oh god, I've weirded you out, haven't I?" You broke off his impending spiral with a kiss.

"I love you." You said, placing a kiss on his bare chest.

He looked at you with such love and reverence that you felt like you might combust under his gaze.

He kissed you again and all you could think was, "I love you, I love you, I love you."

I love you, I love you, I love you.

I love you I love you I love you.

#bucky barnes fluff #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky angst #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky fic #bucky fluff #bukcy barnes #bucky x female reader #winter soldier #bucky imagine #bucky smut

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captainfern · 4 months

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i’m still thinking of this post about price and you pretending you don’t know each other at a hotel and i’ve given in to the brain worms

part one | part two ->

18+ (no smut in this one but for future parts), fem!reader

un-edited, super lazy writing + formatting sorry

You sat idly at the bar, your finger running up and down the cool, smooth edges of your glass. You had one elbow propped up against the sleek wood, your body half-turned to watch whatever bullshit was playing on the tv above the shelves of expensive alcohol.

The hotel bustled around you, the bar itself busy with patrons moving to and fro. oftentimes, you felt slightly crowded, with bodies packing in beside you, ordering their poison before departing like a wraith. No one seemed to linger near the bar for too long.

“No company tonight?” The bartender asked, a dark-coloured dish towel tossed over her shoulder. She was a kind looking woman, in her late thirties you estimated, with flawless dark skin that seemed to glow beneath the ambiant lighting above.

You shook your head with a rueful smile. “Not tonight. Just enjoying my own company, I suppose.”

The bartender smiled politely. “Well, that’s nice. You here for business or pleasure?”

You took a sip of your drink, the taste of it washing over your tongue and continuing to put your nerves at ease.

“Pleasure, I think. It’s nice to get away from everything for a while, you know?” You said with your lips still brushing the cold glass, and you took another sip.

“I’m really happy for you,” the bartender smiled. Then, after being waved at by a drunken patron at the other end of the bar, added: “Give me a shout when you need a refill.” She then breezed away to continue her job.

You sighed through your nose, looking wistfully around the bar for a moment. When you returned to your drink, you let your eyes admire the kaleidoscope of colours that comprised the wall at the back of the bar— shelves upon shelves of glass bottles of different kinds of alcohol.

As your eyes alighted on a bottle of Bombay, the blue bottle glinting like some sort of diamond beneath the light, someone slotted into the barstool beside you. You didn’t take much notice, but when you caught a whiff of an expensive, masculine cologne, you couldn’t help but twist your head to the side.

A handsome man had settled in beside you. He was probably in his early forties, with neatly trimmed facial hair that perfectly settled between the angles of his face— his cheekbones, his jawline, the pinkish line of his Cupid’s bow. In the overhead lighting, all dim and moody, his eyes were dark, and his hair speckled with just a few grey strands.

He turned to face you the moment you looked his way, offering you a warm smile that made butterflies tickle the edges of your stomach. You smiled back, before taking another sip of your drink in an attempt to steel your nerves.

Signalling the bartender, he ordered his own drink, and the baritone of his voice had your stomach swooping. Deep and melodious, with a distinct hoarseness akin to a smoker of fine cigars. The rumble of it seemed to do wonders to your fraying nerves, acting as some sort of salve to cool the heat pulsing beneath your skin.

The man thanked the bartender when she placed a tumbler of whiskey before him, the single ball of ice clinking against the crystal. Once more, sending another deep swoop to your stomach, he turned to you with those deep, dark eyes and warm smile, raising his glass.

Your eyes traipsed over his fingers, the roughness of them, the calloused skin pressing against sleek glass. You noted the thickness of them, and the way they wrapped around the tumbler. You also noticed the couple of veins leading from his wrist and down his strong, hairy forearm. You swallowed, and hesitantly lifted your own glass.

“Cheers,” he said, smiling. Crow’s feet appeared at the corners of his eyes, three lines chiseled into his skin over the years.

“Cheers,” you echoed, and the two of you took a moment to sip at your drinks. You swallowed yours, still looking at the man beside you.

He placed his tumbler of whiskey against the bartop, and then leaned an arm against the surface, swivelling his entire body around to face you. He made it known that you had his full, undivided attention. It made you nervous almost.

“I hope you don’t mind me interrupting your alone time,” he spoke, and his words were honeyed and sweet, warm mollasses falling from his tongue. “Couldn’t help myself, really. A pretty lady like you shouldn’t be left all on her lonesome.”

You smiled shyly, running the tip of your finger along the ring of your glass. “Oh, no, you’re not interrupting anything at all. I… I don’t mind the company, actually.”

The handsome man’s smile only grew, and it was so warm that you wondered if you’d start to melt.

“That’s good to hear,” he said. “I’m John, by the way.”

He stretched his hand out. You introduced yourself, a first name that fell from your lips a bit more seductively than you had intended, and shook his hand. John seemed to beam at your introduction and the acceptance of his handshake, his broad-shouldered body sitting up just a bit straighter in his seat.

His hand was strong in yours. There was a warmth beneath his skin, seeping from his palm like ichor. It made your hand curl instinctively tighter around his, just a subtle squeeze of your fingers. His thumb brushed over the back of your hand, and it took everything in you not to gasp.

When you retracted your hand, John reached for his drink to take a sip.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said before he sealed his lips around the edge of the crystal tumbler. You watched the movement, before dragging your eyes downwards in a sudden realisation.

Your eyes locked in on his other hand, resting on his thick, muscular thigh— stretched out beneath a pair of faded jeans, making you feel warm all of a sudden. Again. His hand was bare. No wedding band. You looked back up at him.

“What brings you here?” You asked, cocking your head slightly as he brought his tumbler of whiskey back to the bartop.

John smacked his tongue against the roof of his mouth a couple of times, tasting the lingering bitterness of his liquor. He ran his tongue over his teeth, too, the potent drink seeping into the grooves of his molars. He wondered briefly whether you’d be able to taste it if you kissed him.

“A weekend break from work,” he replied simply.

“Oh, yeah? What do you do?”

“I’m in the Armed Forces. A captain.”

“Wow,” you said, impressed. “You must be a busy man.”

John chuckled, eyes meeting yours and darting quickly across your face, as if committing parts of you to memory. He replied with a light quirk in his lips. “I am, yeah.”

He then cleared his throat. “What about you? What brings you here?”

You shrugged, nonchalant. “Just needed a little getaway from home, I suppose.”

“Oh, yeah?” It was John’s turn to cock his head, eyes darkening— if that was even possible— beneath the weight of his pupils, expanding as he gazed at you. “Treating yourself?”

“Mhm.”

“Good girl,” he uttered. “I bet you deserve it.”

You smiled, feeling giddy. Your eyes didn’t leave him, and the butterflies wreaking havoc in your stomach didn’t leave either. They continued, and the way he was looking at you wasn’t much of an insecticide. His gaze was intense, all whiskey smooth and molten hot. You squirmed in your seat.

Your knees brushed— his large ones against yours, and you swear you felt sparks. You wanted so desperately to place the flat of your hand along his leg, hold it there, smiling and bartering your eyelashes and mentally insisting he take you back to his room.

Oh my god. You’d never thought like this before! You would never usually want someone to whisk you back to their room, especially not someone from the bar of a fancy hotel.

But if it wasn’t for the way he was staring at you— hunger and a mixed-bag of lustrous emotions— you would’ve felt guilty. But you didn’t.

“Sweetheart,” John began with a voice that could ignite a fire on a damp winters day. It definitely ignited something within you, stoking at the embers of your desire. He smiled, heated and tempting. “I don’t mean to be forward but… if you’d like too, I’d love to take you back to my room.”

You felt a smile creep over your pretty features. “Wow, John, are you always this forward with the girls you meet?”

He laughed. “Never. You’d be the first.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Trust me. You’re the prettiest woman I have ever seen.”

You grabbed hold of your drink and downed the rest of it— just two swallows, and your glass shone empty. You placed it gently back onto the sleek surface of the bar, not taking your eyes off of the handsome man in front of you.

“I’d love to go back to your room, John.”

Something shifted in his facial expression. Something primal, almost, passing over his features. With blown pupils and a rush of pink to his cheeks, he finished the rest of his whiskey in a couple of deep mouthfuls, before slamming the tumbler back onto the bartop.

The sound attracted the bartender, who sidled over with a knowing smile on her face. “Closing your tab, sir?”

“Please,” John said with a polite nod, getting to his feet. He then placed a hand to the small of your back as you clambered off of your barstool as well. “And put this lovely lady’s drinks on my tab as well.”

The bartender gave you a knowing look, but said nothing. And once everything had been sorted for the evening, John escorted you out of the bar and into the luxurious hotel lobby with a large hand still on the small of your back.

Walking, and with the lifts in sight, John pulled you closer to him, close enough that you giggled at the sensation of him pressed up against you. He smiled, leaning down until his facial hair tickled against the soft skin of the side of your face.

“I must say, you look absolutely stunning tonight, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice like heaven in your ear. Then, the hand on the small of your back smoothed around your waist, holding you impossibly closer, fingers bunching at the material of your outfit. “But I can’t wait to take this pretty thing off.”

#hey siri play hotel room by pitbull #captain john price smut #captain john price x you #captain john price #call of duty #cod smut #price cod #price x reader #fem!reader #captainfern

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motimatcha · 4 months

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“ morning and evening. ”

hazbin hotel Adam x fem!reader

headcanons about home routine with Adam.

You and Adam are late birds: you get up and go to bed quite late. Adam can’t sleep until he’s exhausted all his energy, which ends around three in the morning or until his eyes (and whole body) start to hurt from watching some cheap TV series (or porn). If you can't sleep, then Adam is ready to keep you company — this is one of those rare cases when you both enjoy silent time with each other.

Your relationship has a pre-bed self-care routine. Moreover, a joint routine. You can stand next to each other and brush your teeth, or one of you can take care of your hair/skin. I also think you two need a really big bathtub both as a room and as a soaking tub because of Adam's wings and his childish behavior.

Washing together includes two options:

1. Romance or even intimacy. The water is barely half full, barely above room temperature, and Adam’s hands slide over your body. His lips give your neck fleeting kisses and do not stay in one place for a long time, nor do they kiss the same place twice.

2. When he really wants to woo you. Adam carefully selects the shampoo for your hair so that “your hair should smell like roses and make everyone gasp and be envious.” Adam also lets you take care of his hair; do you want it to smell like vanilla? "Okay, this is not my style, but let's do it." What about the power of the forest? “Babe, where did you even get this shampoo??” Adam definitely prefers shampoo that smells like mint or "male power" because he's supposed to be the alpha male, the dominant one.

I think Adam sleeps in fabric pants (I don't remember the exact style name, but you can imagine those gray pants (if you know what I mean)). If you fall asleep with him wearing only a T-shirt over your naked body, then Adam will hardly be able to keep his hands to himself. I believe he has a whole ritual before he falls asleep that involves putting his hand under your T-shirt so that his thumb is dangerously close to your chest.

If we assume that angels can hide their wings (as demonstrated by Lucifer and Vaggie), then Adam sometimes hides his wings: when he sleeps, when he wants to lie on his back, when he has sex with you, and when he wants you to snuggle against his side, and your head rested on his chest on the side of his heart. Adam is a selfish bastard who doesn't care if his wings get in the way of anyone (he'll even laugh at you) because he already did more than enough when he pressed his wings to his body.

Lying on his side, he likes to press you to his body not only with his arms, but also with his wings. Adam is basically very clingy and if you don’t object, he is ready to fall on you with his whole body.

Adam is very lazy in the morning. He, like you, can get up closer to lunch, enjoying a late breakfast (at four o'clock in the evening, for example).

His favorite pastime is to watch you cook, clinging to your back and hugging your waist, placing his chin on your shoulder or the top of your head.

He also doesn't mind if you do the same while he makes you two coffee or breakfast.

Adam can't help but sit you down on the table and stand between your legs. The fingers of one of his hands rest on your thigh, the other hand holds a cup of sweet (definitely sweet) coffee while he carries on some casual conversation with you.

I add random pictures to understand which post you liked in my notifications.

#hazbin hotel #adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam x reader #hazbin hotel x reader

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bookyeom · 4 months

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pairing: wonwoo x reader word count: 2.3k warnings: a couple of swears, kissing

Author’s Note: this fic is part of the Thirteen Valentines event, but can be read as a standalone! also, i would suggest listening to the song listed below to get a feel for the vibe of the fic, but it’s not necessary.

idk by jeffrey lenh, joanna

i think that i’ve been falling ever since that day out in the park and i don’t know if this is love, but maybe this could be the start

“I guess this isn’t so bad.”

You open one eye, looking up at Wonwoo from where you’re laying in the grass. His back is resting against a tree, and you watch as the breeze catches a few strands of his hair. It makes you smile, how calm and content he looks.

”I won’t say I told you so, but…”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth is turned up in a smile. Your eyes don’t leave him as he pushes his glasses up with a finger, his eyes taking in the surrounding park. You like seeing him like this. You’ve managed to drag him out of his dorm room on the first warm, sunny day of the year, and you’re glad he came. You’re always glad when he’s with you, but seeing him bask in the first golden glow of spring is something else.

“You just didn’t want to do this alone, and I was your last resort.”

You tsk, closing your eyes again, letting the warmth of the sun wash over your face. “That’s not true. You’re not my last resort, you’re my charity case. Helping the old man get out of his house and all that.”

Wonwoo gasps dramatically, and you can’t help the giggle that leaves you at the sound. The two of you fall back into contented silence, the only sounds around you coming from the wind in the trees and some children playing across the field.

“Seriously,” he speaks up again a few minutes later. “Thanks for forcing me to get off of my computer and outside for a bit. It’s a nice reminder that since winter is finally over, I can take a break from writing essays and gaming inside. So, thanks.”

You’re beaming up at him, even as he avoids your eyes after his little speech, but you know he knows you’re looking. “Glad you’re here,” is all you say. When he sends a smile your way, you know you’ve said the right thing.

You’re so warm — inside and out — that you can’t help but doze off. It’s a little while later when you stir, your eyes fluttering open as you come to. You startle when you realize that you must have nuzzled into the warmth of Wonwoo’s thigh while you slept, and you wince. Then your next thought has you realizing something even worse: his hand is gently resting on your head, and his thumb is brushing soothing circles into your scalp.

Your breath catches. It feels so intimate, and you know that you absolutely cannot succumb to how you’re feeling, because it’s Wonwoo, and Wonwoo definitely, absolutely, 100% does not like you back.

You make a show of stretching your toes, and as you predicted, Wonwoo’s movements stop. He drops his hand as you roll onto your back, and you try desperately to hide the blush on your cheeks. “Sorry I fell asleep,” you say, and Wonwoo shrugs, lifting a hand to run through his hair.

“It’s all good.”

And that’s that.

You watch as Wonwoo games from your spot on his bed, his fingers clicking so fast it makes your head spin. You’re supposed to go out for something to eat soon, but he’d begged you to let him finish one more game. You’d pouted, but you don’t really mind waiting.

You flop down on his bed, arms falling dramatically out to your sides. It’s been a long few weeks as you and your friends prep for your final papers and exams. The only time you’ve been able to see anyone is when you eat together, and Wonwoo is no exception. It’s been a week or so since you saw him last, and you wish the sight of him would stop making you feel the way it does. That doesn’t seem likely anytime soon, considering that when he’d opened the door tonight, his greeting smile alone had rendered you breathless. Lately, you’re more excited to see Wonwoo than a kid in a candy store, and you’re not sure what you're supposed to do about it.

Because Wonwoo doesn’t like you like that.

“Alright, GamerGirl17. I’m out. Good game.”

Your ears perk up at the username. GamerGirl17. You hear about her from Wonwoo all the time. Apparently, he’s made friends with one of the top players in his favourite game. You can’t believe you’re jealous of an online friend, but you happen to know through Wonwoo that she only lives a couple of hours away. Maybe they were dating already and Wonwoo just hadn’t told anyone?

Wonwoo regales you with the mission the two of them had just completed as you walk to the restaurant, explaining why it had been so important to finish. You’re not a gamer yourself, but Wonwoo always listens to you talk about your niche hobbies, so you’re always willing to listen to him.

Except today, apparently, because for some reason you’re more irritated than usual about the topic of Miss Gamer Girl.

“Have you asked her out?”

You interrupt Wonwoo mid-speech. You don’t look at him as you ask, but you can tell he’s surprised by the way he stumbles a bit, catching himself before he trips into a garden of freshly blooming flowers.

“Huh? Who?”

You glance at him as you near the burger place. “GamerGirl17.”

Wonwoo’s footsteps slow, and you raise your eyebrows at him. He doesn’t say anything else for a minute as you enter the restaurant. It isn’t until you’ve sat down and ordered drinks that he answers you, and you clench your fists in an attempt to stay calm.

“I’m not going to ask her out,” Wonwoo says, and you meet his gaze. He looks embarrassed to say it.

“Why? You like her, no?”

Wonwoo’s mouth opens and closes a bit. He looks down and away from you, suddenly finding something on his empty plate far more interesting. “Um,” he tries again, “I’m not really interested in… in dating anyone right now, I guess?”

Your heart sinks as you try to decide if that’s better or worse for you. You think worse.

Ouch.

”Oh,” you reply with a slow nod. You clear your throat. “That’s cool, then. I just wasn’t sure, that’s all.”

Your food arrives soon after, and you try to push past the awkward conversation by asking for pictures of Wonwoo’s parents’ new puppy. It works to distract him, but you don’t forget his comment.

I’m not interested in anyone right now.

“I’m sorry for the last minute notice,” you offer as you wait by Wonwoo’s door. “I didn’t know I left it here.”

He hums in acknowledgement as he grabs your cardigan from the back of his chair. “It’s all good.”

You try to ignore the once over he gives you as he hands you the sweater. You’re dressed up, and you feel a bit embarrassed under his gaze, though you’re not sure why. “Thanks.”

“Where…” Wonwoo trails off, and you watch as he leans against the doorframe. He’s gathering his thoughts, and you hate that he’s got you feeling nervous for no reason, even now when you’re about to go on your first date in months. You know you look nice dressed up in your cute flower pattern outfit for spring, but you feel so shy when he looks at you. “Where are you going?”

“Um,” you clear your throat, “Kwan set me up on a date with a friend of his.”

Wonwoo’s eyes widen, and he straightens. You wish you could disappear into the floor. “Oh.”

”Yeah.” Your cheeks are on fire. You need to leave, now. You pretend to glance at your phone as you say, “I should probably get going.” You hold up the cardigan. “Thanks for the missing piece of my outfit.”

As you turn to leave, your eyes squeeze shut briefly. It hurts to know he doesn’t want you in the same way, but you think you’ve just officially confirmed it. You inhale a shaky breath, willing the tears to remain at bay as you descend the stairs to the lobby.

You’ve almost reached the front door when you hear footsteps rapidly approaching behind you, and you turn in surprise. Your heart jumps into your throat when you realize it’s Wonwoo, barefoot and out of breath.

“Wonwoo, what—“

“Don’t go.”

You pause. “What?”

“Don’t go,” he repeats, and you’re confused. He can’t mean what you think he means, not after all this time. Your lip starts to tremble.

He seems to notice, a hand lifting in your direction as he takes a step closer, and your breath catches. He doesn’t touch you, though, just looks at you for a moment, mouth opening and closing. Then he quickly glances around the room. The only other people around are the Resident Assistant at his desk and a couple of other students walking in and out of the building. After a second, Wonwoo gently takes you by the elbow and around the corner so you’re tucked away, and he’s suddenly so close that you can’t breathe.

“When I said I didn’t want to date anyone right now, I meant anyone else. Other people.” His words are jumbled and rushed, and your eyebrows knit together.

Your back slumps to rest against the wall behind you. He’s not making sense, but you have a feeling in your stomach, and you can’t believe what you think is happening here. You can’t. “Wonwoo,” you say quietly, voice trembling, “You need to be super clear with me right now, because I can’t…”

You trail off, and Wonwoo steps even closer. The proximity causes you to straighten, every single part of you on edge. You still don’t know if it’s good or bad.

His eyes search yours. Then he speaks, voice so soft and sure that you think it surprises even him. “I meant that I don’t want to date anyone other than you.”

Your mouth falls open. You search his face, desperately trying to comprehend what he’s just said. You can tell he’s nervous, and your immediate instinct would usually be to comfort him, but right now, you can’t think. You can’t breathe. When you don’t say anything, he takes a step back.

“I’m sorry. You can go on your date, I just… I needed you to know—“

“Wonwoo.” It comes out strangled, but you had to say something. Anything to stop him from leaving. He stops, and all you can do is shake your head in disbelief. He gives you a moment, his gaze falling to the floor, but you can’t look away from him. “If you mean that,” you say slowly, “then I’m not going anywhere.”

Wonwoo blinks back at you. It’s almost comical, how wide his eyes have gotten behind his glasses. The way you can practically see him buffering.

“You’re not?” He finally says, and you can hear the relief in his voice. It makes your heart ache a little, because how can he not know how you feel? You shake your head.

“Unless you have other plans.” Your voice is shy, uncertain, but he’s quick to quell your fears.

“No,” he says, firm. “I’m all yours.”

The second the door to his room closes, you’re in his arms. You’re feeling so unbelievably shy at all these new revelations, and you can tell he is, too. He stumbles a bit when you wrap your arms around his waist, face pressed to his chest, but he’s quick to respond. His arms pull you in tight as he laughs, and you can feel it against your cheek.

You don’t remember the last time you felt this nervous.

“Wonwoo?”

He hums, and you gather enough courage to pull back and look up at him. When your eyes meet, you have to resist the urge to hide your face from him again. He looks so fond. So happy.

You don’t know what you were going to say as your gaze falls to his mouth. You watch as he swallows, his fingers gently squeezing where they rest on your waist in an attempt to help you refocus, but it’s a lost cause.

“You’d think I’ve never kissed anyone before with how nervous I am right now.”

The words are out before you can stop them, and you’re absolutely mortified. Your hands immediately lift to cover your face. A few seconds of silence pass, and then you realize that Wonwoo is laughing.

“Oh, is that what we’re about to do? Kiss?”

You freeze. Is he… teasing you?

“What happened to shy Wonwoo from before? Bring him back,” you whine, hands falling from your face to send him a glare.

“He knows you like him back now, so he’s a bit more confident.” He’s grinning, and you pout. He quirks an eyebrow, one hand lifting to your jaw as he adds, “He knows now that he makes you nervous.”

You would be absolutely scandalized by his words if it weren’t for what happens next. Because suddenly he’s kissing you, and all bets are off.

It’s not much, just a soft press of his mouth to yours, but it’s enough.

“For the record,” Wonwoo says as he pulls away, and you vaguely register the flush of his cheeks under the dim lamplight, “you make me nervous as hell, too.”

“For the record,” you smile, “I don’t want to go on a date with anyone that’s not you, either.”

A/N: thank you so much to everyone for all the love on pov! Here’s the second of our Thirteen Valentines. I can only see Nana Tour Glasses!Wonwoo, all the time.

Please please please reblog if you can to spread the word, and check out the Thirteen Valentines masterlist! If you want to be added to the taglist, send me a message :)

Taglist: @waldau @wqnwoos @tae-bebe @gyuminusone @savventeen @eoieopda @minisugakoobies @wheeboo @lvlystars @darkypooo @christinewithluv

#Wonwoo fluff #wonwoo angst #wonwoo imagine #Wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x you #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #seventeen imagine #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #thirteenvalentines #My writing #Jwwfic

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latanyalove · 6 months

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When You're Injured PT Two

So sorry for posting this so late! Thank you for all of the support in the previous part, which is here! Part 3 is coming soon! WC: 3,513.

Please support me by liking, reblogging and commenting on this! Also please follow for more content!

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Tag list: @metonimia-de-bellota, @veroxbarnes, @plan3t-plut0, @karichu19, @awkwardspontaneity, @drakulana, @twismare, @pascalmode, @bluegalaxygirl, @lavanderdreamve, @jxstmxlly15, @rivui, @norasincubi, @theladyofmanyfandomsofficial, @athena-portgas, @aechmea01, @rossetter and @phsycochan

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As Law worked on his paperwork, he felt the stress building inside him. He had been working on it for hours, and yet he still hadn't made any headway. He was starting to feel overwhelmed and frustrated by the seemingly never-ending pile of documents. He felt like he was wasting his time, and it was only making him more anxious.

Law took a deep breath and tried to focus on the task in front of him. He knew he could do it if he just stayed focused and kept pushing through. He took another deep breath and forced himself to keep going. He knew he could do this, and he was determined to finish the task.

Rubbing his temple, Law heard someone open the door. He looked up to see his navigator standing in the doorway, a concerned look on his face.

"Law, are you alright? You've been in here for hours and I was starting to worry," Bepo said.

Law nodded and tried to smile. "I'm doing alright, I just have a lot of paperwork to finish," he said.

Bepo nodded and stepped into his office. "Do you need help with anything?" he asked.

Law shook his head and smiled. "No, it's okay," he said. "I can handle it. But thank you for offering."

"Oh! Maybe I should bring Y/N to make you feel calm," Bepo said out loud as if it was supposed to be a thought.

Hearing your name made his eyes widen and his heart start to race. He quickly tried to compose himself, not wanting Bepo to know the affect your name had on him.

You were a special case.

Law had taken a rather special interest in you because of your Devil Fruit, the Yume Yume no Mi, the ability to shoot a cosmic ray to make people fall asleep for a desired amount of time or fall asleep so deep that they could die.

You also had the ability to control people's emotions, but only if a flower was present. He had found himself drawn to you and your ability, and you two had become close.

Although he was embarrassed to admit it, he felt calmer just by being around you.

"Have you seen her around recently?" He asked Bepo in an 'uninterested' tone.

Bepo shook his head and replied, "Nope but I saw her with Ikkaku going into the forest. Why do you ask?"

Law felt a wave of disappointment wash over him. He knew that he had no right to be disappointed, but he couldn't help it. He had been hoping to see you to help him with his paperwork, and he had been looking forward to spending time with you.

He quickly brushed away his disappointment, not wanting Bepo to know how he felt. He forced a smile onto his face and said, "I was just wondering. I'm sure I can finish this by myself."

Bepo nodded, not seeming to notice Law's sudden mood change. "Well, if you need anything, just let me know. I'll be around," he said as he was about to leave his office.

"Hey Captain, I heard my name being said," Ikkaku said, looking at Law curiously. "What's going on?"

Ikkaku stepped into the room and saw Law and Bepo, both of them looking surprised to see her.

"Oh nothing-" Law started but Bepo continued, "We were talking about Y/N, wasn't she with you last? I heard you two were headed to the forest."

Ikkaku nodded, confirming Bepo's question. "Yes, we were. We were looking for some materials but we parted ways to cover more ground. Why do you ask?"

"We were just wondering if she was coming soon," Bepo added.

Ikkaku looked shocked as she said, "I thought she already came back since I didn't see her for a while,"

Law glanced towards the window, the sun was slowly sinking behind the horizon, casting a golden hue over the sky and painting the clouds a soft pink. The sky was alight with a mesmerizing array of colors, as the sun's final rays of the day illuminated the sky in a beautiful display.

Strange, he thought to himself, you should be back by now. You usually do a daily report to him before you go to sleep so it can't be that.

He couldn't help but worry, as he knew that the forest was a dangerous place and anything could have happened to you.

He finally decided. "I'm going for a walk," He said in a nonchalant tone. He wanted to check if you were okay. He figured a quick walk to the forest wouldn't hurt anyway.

He thanked Bepo and Ikkaku and left the office, quickly making his way to the forest.

Bepo and Ikkaku watched as Law left the office, both of them with a knowing grin on their faces. They knew he was worried about Y/N and was going to check up on you. They knew him that long to know that.

They watched him leave the submarine and jump onto the island, heading towards the forest.

Ikkaku stated, "Well I think Y/N likes Captain more than he realises." Bepo nodded in agreement, "I hope Captain returns her feelings."

The forest was dark and still, with a creepy atmosphere that even Law could sense. The shadows of the trees seemed to stretch out, creating a menacing atmosphere, and an eerie silence hung in the air. The wind whispered through the trees, carrying a chill that made Law's skin crawl.

He could feel eyes watching him as he made his way through the forest, and he could almost sense the danger that lurked in the darkness. He knew that this forest was full of unknown creatures and secrets, and he was careful to stay alert as he made his way forward.

"Y/N! Y/N, where are you!" Law yelled out as he gripped the sword firmly in his hand.

His voice echoed through the forest, but there was no reply. He kept calling out your name, but all he heard was the rustling of the trees and the chirping of the birds. He finally stopped and took a deep breath, his heart racing as he tried to think of what he should do next.

He was about to turn back when he heard a faint voice calling out his name.

He immediately rushed towards the voice, pushing himself to walk faster and faster as he heard the voice call out again. He could hear the pain in your voice, and it sent a wave of panic through him.

Did something happen to you? Was there anyone still on this island? Were they after you? Why you and not him?

Suddenly, a loud scream pierced through the silence, echoing through the forest and making Law jump in shock. Without thinking, he started to run, his heart pounding in his chest as he raced towards the source of the scream.

He was filled with dread as he ran, fearing the worst. He could feel his heart in his throat as he ran faster and faster, his feet pounding on the ground as he desperately ran towards the scream.

"Don't! Please stop!-"

Anger started to boil in him as he ran, his blood pumping through his veins as he thought of all the possible dangers you could be facing. He wanted to reach you as soon as possible and make sure you were safe.

He pushed himself harder, and soon he could see the clearing ahead. He was so close, and he could only hope that he was in time. . . .

"So what are pirates like you doing here?" you asked.

You had heard rumors about the Heart Pirates docking on your island, so when you saw a ship docked near the shore, you knew it was them. You approached cautiously, not sure what to expect.

Everyone seemed to be on edge, no one daring to approach the pirates or even speak to them. Everyone was aware of their reputation, and the potential danger that they could bring. All eyes were on them, and the atmosphere was tense. Everyone was cautious, not wanting to be seen as a threat.

But you were different. You walked straight towards them with a smile on your face, your steps firm and confident. You knew that if you showed any fear, they would take it as a sign of weakness and attack.

So you kept your head held high and your shoulders back, determined to show them that you were not afraid. You kept your gaze steady as you approached them, your heart racing as you wondered what they would do.

As you got closer, the Captain, Trafalgar D Water Law, looked up at you with caution. He had a stern expression on his face. His eyes narrowed as he looked at you up and down. He was clearly not expecting anyone to approach them, and he was apprehensive about the situation.

Despite his caution, there was a hint of curiosity in his gaze as he looked at you, as if he was trying to figure out who you were and why you were here. He seemed to be assessing the situation, trying to figure out if you were a threat or not.

He remained silent, his eyes never leaving your face as he waited for you to speak.

"So what are pirates like you doing here?" you asked.

He was slightly shocked at the calmness in your voice but still replied, "We're only here to repair our submarine and then we'll be gone."

The villagers, who had been whispering and murmuring to each other before, got louder and more animated after seeing your interaction with the captain. They seemed to be surprised and intrigued by your boldness and even more so by the captain's response.

They exchanged glances, whispers, and nods as they discussed what had just happened.

"By any chance, did you see any ships around-"

"Miss. Y/N! You can't run off like that!" An elderly woman screamed as she pushed her way through the crowd in front of her. "Master wants you back immediately!...."

When the woman saw you talking with Law, she became quiet and her eyes widened in shock. She stopped in her tracks, her mouth hanging open as she stared at the two of you. It was clear that she was completely taken aback by the scene before her.

"Master? Who's Master?" "I heard she's a slave for the Leader, the poor soul," "Look at her clothes, they're filthy,"

Like an unruly flame, rumors ignited and spread throughout the crowd. The certainty that couldn't be denied, even though it was only whispered within gossipy circles.

Law looked at you with a neutral expression, as if the rumours had no effect on him. His eyes were clear and his gaze steady, showing no signs of pity or sympathy.

He seemed to accept the situation as it was, without passing judgement.

Something you haven't seen in a while.

"Y/N L/N! You are to be taken back to your cell!" Royal guards stated loudly as they charged in the same direction.

The crowd parted to make way for the guards, and the woman stepped aside without a word. The guards were armed with guns and were determined to take you away. Law remained still and watched as the guards approached.

He seemed to be deep in thought, his brows furrowed in concentration. He looked up at you and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, you raised your hand up.

"Tell the leader not to follow me, I'm not coming back,"

At first thought, a cosmic ray shot from your hand and everyone except for you and Law had dropped to the ground. The villagers were unconscious, their bodies limp and their breathing shallow.

The Royal Guards had also been affected by the ray and the only sounds that could be heard were the faint whimpers from the villagers and the echoes of the guards' armor clattering on the ground.

Law stood in stunned silence, his eyes wide with shock as his gaze shifted from the unconscious villagers to you.

He had only one thought in his mind. He had to know more about your ability.

"What were you going to ask?"

"If you've seen any other ships around the area, it doesn't matter if it's a pirate ship. I just want to leave here-"

"Then come with me and join my crew."

He didn't know why that memory flashed in his mind. The time he had first met you.

Was it because he knew there was a chance that you could die? Or was it because he felt a deep connection with you in that moment? Or maybe it was something else entirely?

Whatever the reason, the memory of their first meeting stayed with him long after.

He ran faster and faster, his heart pounding as the memory kept playing in his head. He ran until his lungs burned and his legs ached, but he still kept going, as if running away from the memory would make it disappear.

"Sir! Please stop!"

"Looks like you've lost your manners. You only address me as Master," His voice was demanding, with a hint of anger.

"I'm sorry," There seemed to be a pause. "Master. I didn't realize I had lost my manners. It won't happen again."

"Now you are going to come with me and stop this little adventure of yours, you know you're mine,"

"I bought you. I own you. You are my possession. You don't just get to leave me when you want."

As the voices grew, he felt his heart racing with fear. He knew he was going to be confronted with something unpleasant, and he felt a chill run down his spine.

He knew he had to face whatever it was that was waiting for him, so he took a deep breath and prepared himself for what was to come.

He saw a clearing ahead and what he saw made his blood run cold.

There was a man strangling you and you were grabbing his hands, trying to break free. He wanted to run in and save you, but he was frozen in place, unable to do anything.

He watched, helplessly, as the man tightened his grip around your neck, and he felt a rage unlike anything he had ever felt before.

He didn't know why, but the sense of rage and fear that had taken over his body made him forget everything else. He dropped his sword and ran towards them, not caring about the consequences and only focused on saving you. He was determined to do whatever it took to get you away from the man's grip.

Get away from her. Leave her alone. Don't touch her.

He felt a surge of adrenaline as he threw the man to the ground. He was filled with rage, and he could barely contain himself. He punched the man again and again, and the man let out a loud groan.

Law was determined to make sure the man wouldn't hurt you again. He kept punching him until his knuckles were bloody, and he could feel the man's body going limp beneath his fists. He continued to punch him until he felt the man's body go still, though he still wasn't satisfied.

Until suddenly, a sense of calmness filled his body, making him confused. He looked around, not quite sure what had just happened. He could feel his heart rate slowing down, and the anger slowly draining away from his body.

He felt a strange sense of peace and tranquility, as if he had just been released from a spell.

He was so overwhelmed by the sudden change that he didn't know what to do. He looked around and saw the man lying on the ground, unconscious and badly beaten.

There was no one else that could have made him feel like that. Except you.

He quickly turned around to look at you, your hand out towards him.

You used your power on him.

He could see the fear in your eyes, but there was also something else there, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. He slowly walked towards you, never taking his eyes off you.

He felt a sudden surge of panic as he watched your hand drop to your side, and he rushed to your side.

He quickly put his ear to your chest, listening for your breathing and heartbeat. When he heard them, he let out a sigh of relief. He slowly placed his hands on either side of your face, gently cupping it in his hands. He looked into your eyes and smiled, relieved that you were still alive.

"Are you okay?" He asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper as he looked into your eyes, searching for any sign of discomfort or pain.

"I- I'm okay," You answered, your voice shaking as you looked into his eyes.

"Are you sure?"

". . . . No,"

"He's not going to touch you again, I promise." Law reassured you, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "No one will ever hurt you again," he said in a soft voice, his eyes never leaving yours.

He reached up and ran his thumb over your cheek, wiping away a tear that had escaped your eye.

Even though you nodded at his statement, it did not provide him with any reassurance at all.

"Law?"

"Yes Y/N?"

"I don't think I'm going to make it back," You shakily said, lowering your shirt to reveal a green patch that was spreading across your arms and chest so that Law could see it.

Law's eyes widened in shock as he stared at the spots that had spread across your body. He had no idea what it meant, but he could tell that it wasn't good. He quickly put his hand on your forehead, feeling your temperature.

Too hot for you.

As soon as he noticed you were starting to close your eyes, he immediately stopped you and said, "Hey, hey, stay awake,"

"I'm sorry for troubling you-"

"You're not," Law replied, taking a position where he would be able to carry you while using one hand to grab the sword that he had dropped onto the floor.

It was then that he stood up with you and started to run back, now seeing that there were hundreds of men scattered across the area that lay motionless, having been the victims of your abilities.

When he looked down at your weak form, he wondered how on earth you had been able to defend yourself against so many people at once.

Please stay awake a little longer.

"Law?" Your lips trembled as your gaze wandered unconsciously across his chest.

"Yes Y/N? I'm right here, just keep talking."

"If I die, I just want you to know that I've liked you for a while now."

In the middle of his steps, he froze in place.

"What?"

All of his coursing thoughts were made into one single question: You liked him?

"I thought I was being too obvious but it seems that even the Surgeon of Death can't even catch on to things like that." You chuckled to yourself yet there was no amusement on your face.

As you glanced up at him, hoping to see if it was a smile or a grin, you were surprised to see that it wasn't either, but rather one of horror.

You knew it. He never did like you.

"Leave me here. More reinforcements are going to come now and they're stronger than ever. I'll keep them back so you can escape-"

"Stop talking."

"But-"

In an instant, a glance had you stop what you were going to say, instead you paid attention to your breathing and not the reaction that he showed to your confession.

Law was everything but calm at this point: you were currently dying of an unknown injury, more reinforcements were coming for you and you just confessed your feelings to him.

You were a big part of his problems, yet he couldn't just let you go.

There's never been a feeling like that for him before.

He would miss you even though he saw you an hour ago. He got into flowers because it was part of your ability. He'd let you stay in his office and he wouldn't mind.

For goodness sake, he ate bread because you asked him to!

Could it be that he was also in love with you?

Feeling your head drop back made him jump slightly, and he quickly moved to cradle you in his arms. He felt a chill run through his body as he realized you was slipping away.

He quickly put his fingers on your neck and felt for a pulse, but it was slow and fading. Fear began to surge through him as he realized that time was of the essence.

He didn't want to admit it but he was losing you. . . .

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

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kinardsevan · 4 days

Text

the rhythm of your heartbeat

The first time it happens, Tommy wasn’t even supposed to be there. He’s coming off from a twenty-four-hour shift and Evan’s been sick for four days with the flu. Initially, they had avoided one another because of the illness. Still, Tommy had decided midway through his shift that he couldn’t go another day without seeing his boyfriend, which is how he found himself tiptoeing into Evan’s loft at eleven PM.

The apartment is fairly dark, and mostly silent except for some ambient sound coming from the TV in the loft. He toes his shoes off at the door and then heads up the stairs, walking up them as quietly as possible. As he comes to the top of them, he can see Evan curled up facing towards the stairs, snoring softly. He drops his work duffel near the side which he’s claimed as his.

He ducks into the ensuite bathroom and slips out of his clothes, dropping them into the hamper. They spend enough time between each other’s places at this point that all the laundry gets washed together. Granted, there have been a few items Evan conveniently fails to return, but Tommy’s not complaining.

He slips back into the bedroom in just his briefs and stops at the dresser Evan recently invested in. The younger man has enough clothing and other accessories to take over his entire closet, and when sleepovers started becoming more common, he wanted Tommy to have space as well, leading to said purchase.

The fresh laundry is still in the basket on top of it, and Tommy pushes a few things around before pulling out a clean t-shirt and sweats, both of which Evan has commandeered for himself in the last round of laundry. He slips into the clean clothes before walking back around the bed and sliding into it. Evan doesn’t stir, but still lets out a soft sigh, as though he’s aware of Tommy’s presence then.

He’s midway through a news article on wildfires in Australia when it starts. At first, it’s just a few twitches, which leads him to card his fingers through Evan’s hair as he has on so many nights before. However, instead of that calming him down, it seems to only exacerbate the issue. Instead of settling, he starts to thrash in the blankets and begins clawing at his throat.

“Evan,” he murmurs, setting his phone aside and sliding down on the bed as he shakes his shoulder. “It’s a nightmare, baby.” He pulls gently at Evan’s hands to keep him from hurting himself while his other hand remains in his hair, still trying to calm him. He’s babbling incoherently, but Tommy can hear the panic rising in his voice. Tommy shakes him again, this time a bit more firmly. Evan’s hand shoots up, but Tommy catches him by the wrist before he can hit him. “Evan.”

His eyes flutter open and he glances at Tommy, and then his wrist in Tommy’s grip. Tommy smiles solemnly at him, releasing his grip on his arm.

“Hi,” he says softly as Evan reorients. “You’re okay. You’re awake now.”

It takes a minute for Evan to collect himself, and then he’s curling himself into Tommy as a strangled cough escapes him.

“Hey,” Tommy cooes, wrapping his arm underneath Evan. “It was a nightmare. It’s okay.”

Evan shakes his head as he stays curled up in Tommy’s sizeable arms.

“It was the lightning strike,” Evan murmurs, his voice shaking.

Tommy shakes his head, but doesn’t say anything. He’s certainly had his brushes with death, but never to the point where his heart has actually stopped beating.

“I got you,” Tommy murmurs, pressing his lips into Evan’s hair.

—

The second time it happens, it’s the one time of year when California gets hit with rain, and it’s been coming down in LA for well over a week. They’re both coming off a shift and Tommy has planned a weekend at home for them. He’s first to get off and their schedules haven’t lined up in days, so he pulls out all the stops. He orders in from the Italian restaurant they had their disastrous first date at, but has since become one of their favorite spots. He also has fresh flowers delivered, Evan’s favorite movie queued for after dinner, and if he’s really feeling energetic…the bathtub jacuzzi is freshly cleaned.

But things do not start well. When Evan arrives, he’s on the razor’s edge of a panic attack, having had another lightning strike be the 118’s last call of the night. Plans get rearranged and instead of dinner and a movie with the option for a bath to end the night, the bath starts the evening…with Tommy outside of it. And it’s not like he cares that much; it matters more to him that Evan is okay than it does that they bathe together.

After the bath, though, Evan is clearly spent both physically and mentally. Tommy decides to table their evening for the next night, and after tucking Evan in, he proceeds to clean up everything he had laid out for their date night.

It’s as he’s coming out of the shower across from his room that he hears him. He’s crying in his sleep; no, actually, he’s damn near wailing. That same panicked tone has wrapped itself all the way around his throat and he’s kicking and clawing out of the blankets like the bed is trying to take him alive.

Tommy storms across the hall in nothing more than a towel, water still dripping out of his hair, and practically yanks the blankets off of Evan as he stammers “Wake up, baby. Wake up, wake up, wake up.”

Because this time it’s fucking terrifying.

He’s shaking his shoulders with a vigor he’s previously only used on unconscious victims on a call, and he barely manages to catch Evan’s fist as it comes flying out towards him this time. Evan damn-near jackknifes in the bed as his eyes shoot open, his most recent panicked breath still caught in his throat. When his eyes finally meet Tommy’s, there are tears in them.

“S-sorry,” he mutters, his gaze dropping to the bed. “N-nightmare.”

Tommy shakes his head as he reaches up and wipes the tears from his own face before pulling Evan into him. They cling to each other as though letting go might end either one of them.

“That was a night terror,” Tommy replies, his voice gravelly. He turns his head towards Evan’s, burying his face in his hair as he kisses his temple. Evan shifts his head a moment later, resting his cheek against Tommy’s shoulder as his breathing evens out. They sit in silence for a beat, Tommy rocking them gently back and forth

“So tired,” Evan murmurs after a few minutes, his voice laced with sleep.

Tommy nods, kissing the back of his head. “I know, baby. Go back to sleep. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

—

The third time it happens, they had passed out in Tommy’s bed after a movie date following two long shifts. Tommy is woken from a dead sleep from Evan jerking underneath him, trying to get away from whatever it is that’s scaring him. They’re spooned together, but Evan has already escalated from twitching to jerking by the time Tommy is awake enough to realize what’s going on.

“I don’t want to,” Evan whines, and it’s the first time Tommy’s heard him say something intelligible in these night terrors. He rolls his boyfriend onto his back, still trying to shake the sleep from his own head as he tries to wake him.

“Come on, baby,” he states, still weary. “Wake up.”

“Don't go. I'm coming,” Evan whimpers. His hands shoot out and Tommy catches them, pushing them aside as he continues to shake Evan by his shoulders. Still, he’s not responding. And just like last time, he’s becoming more frantic by the second.

“Please.” The sound of his voice makes Tommy feel like someone is physically breaking him into pieces the the sheer begging in his tone. His own throat is tight, watching the man he loves struggle like this and not even be conscious and capable of stopping it.

“Damn it. Evan, wake up,” he growls, his throat burning with tears that are threatening to fall. Evan’s fist flies up, and this time, Tommy isn’t quick enough. The punch lands on his jaw, but the connection also wakes Evan, and when his eyes open, Tommy is looking down at him with his hand on his face where Evan has just struck.

“Oh god,” Evan mutters. He’s only half-awake, and yet entirely aware of what’s just happened. “Tommy, I’m-…I’m s-so sorry.” He slides off the bed and backs himself towards the wall before sliding down against it, his eyes darting around the room.

Tommy frowns, stroking his jaw a few more times before he stands and circles the bed to Evan’s side. He sits down on the floor next to him and slips his hands behind Evan, around his waist.

“C’mere,” he murmurs softly, pulling the younger man into his lap. As he does, Evan curls into him, and for someone the same height as him and maybe 50 pounds lighter, Evan has never felt so small to him.

Tommy slips his left hand between both of Evan’s, up towards his face until he has his jaw in his hands. He turns Evan’s face towards him, presses their foreheads together.

“My jaw isn’t made of glass,” he murmurs as Evan rocks back and forth in his lap. Evan nods, but he won’t open his eyes, even as tears slip out of them.

“Oh babe,” Tommy murmurs softly.

For a while, they stay in that position. He doesn’t push Evan to talk, or ask unneeded questions. They sit in silence as Tommy lets Evan process. Still, when he can tell the tears have stopped, and Evan’s breathing has returned to normal, he has to ask.

“What’s the nightmare about?”

Evan rests his head on Tommy’s shoulder, traces his thumbs over the veins on the back of Tommy’s hand where he’s holding in between both of his own.

“The lightning strike,” he replies. “But I’m at the top of the ladder, and I look down, and you’re standing there, telling me to come down. And when I try to, that’s when the lightning hits. I try to get to you, but I can’t move. And when I finally can again, you’re gone.”

Tommy takes a deep breath, fully aware of why that would be so upsetting, even just from his side of the story. He’s thanked every diety under the sun since he day he realized he was falling in love with Evan Buckley that the man didn’t stay dead after that lightning strike because he can’t imagine a version of his life that doesn’t have Evan in it.

“Look at me,” he murmurs softly, bumping his nose up against Evan’s forehead. The younger man lifts his head, catches Tommy’s eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he tells him softly. “At this point, you’re stuck with me, come thunder or lightning, rain or shine.”

Evan lets out an audible sigh and closes his eyes, leaning into Tommy. There are more tears threatening to fall, but he breathes through them as he pulls Tommy’s hand into his chest, placing it over his heart before wrapping both of his arms around it. Underneath his grip, Tommy can feel the thumping of Evan’s heartbeat, and its a feeling he’s grateful for. More than that, it’s a feeling he can’t imagine having ever previously lived without.

#bucktommy #bucktommy fic #tevan fic #kinley fic #kinley #tevan #firebeast

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