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megalony · 4 months

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Communication Error

This is an Evan Buckley imagine, requested by anon, I hope you will all like it I had a lot of fun writing this one.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@sj-thefanthefan@hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@noonenuts@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @topguncultleader @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989

911 Masterlist

Summary: When the 118 are called out to a crash scene, there is a bit of a communication problem that only Evan can solve. He's the only one who knows sign language. And the victim.

Enjoy.

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Running a hand through his hair, Evan let his head flop back on the pillow and a quiet groan tumbled past his lips when he noticed the time. He had to get ready for work. Not that he wanted to go in today. Evan loved his job, it was rewarding and demanding and every day was different and brought about new experiences, some of which he would rather forget at times.

But he didn't feel like going in today, he wanted to stay home. With (Y/n).

His tired, dreary eyes locked on the tv that was playing quietly in the background. Evan used to have the tv turned up on high volume, his hyper tendencies and short attention span made it hard for him to concentrate when he watched a tv show or a movie. The volume had to be loud so he could understand what people were saying and process their words.

Ever since he and (Y/n) moved in together, Evan's problem with loud volume was solved. (Y/n) needed the subtitles on whenever they watched something and at first it was hard for Evan to concentrate on watching tv and read the titles at the same time. But he found it helped him immensely. Even when (Y/n) wasn't home, Evan still kept the subtitles on and he found himself squinting angrily at the tv in the station when he had no words to process and had to use his ears for a change.

With a deep breath, Evan pushed himself up off the bed and slowly made his way towards the bathroom. He tried to shake the tiredness out of his system and liven himself up, he only had an hour before he needed to be at the station and he couldn't drive there half asleep like this.

When he walked into the bathroom, a tender smile curved on his lips that pressed together tightly when an idea popped into his head.

(Y/n) being unable to hear anything meant Evan never had a problem sneaking up on her. She prided herself on being unphased by most things until she married Evan and he found all sorts of ways to shock her and give her jump scares.

He shut the bathroom door behind him and gingerly approached the shower, taking a second to tilt his head to the side and admire the view his wife was unknowingly giving him.

He shrugged off his lounge shirt and shorts, kicking his bottoms off along with them before he tried his best to open the shower door slowly so (Y/n) wouldn't notice the sudden change in temperature. Steam curled around Evan's face and clung to his hair, turning it damp before he put one foot under the water.

Evan's tongue got caught between his teeth and his lips spread into a smirk as he hunkered down, stretched his arms out and suddenly clamped his hands down on (Y/n)'s hips.

(Y/n)'s arms coiled into her chest and a small scream mixed with a gasp tumbled past her lips when familiar fingertips dug into her hips and she was sent off balance. Her heart thumped away in her chest sending her vision blurry when she snapped her eyes open while her knees bent and gave way.

She could feel Evan laughing. She didn't have to look at him to know; his chest always shuddered and trembled, vibrating back and forth when he laughed. And (Y/n) could feel his broad chest pressing up into her back as his hands moved to bind around her waist to prevent her from falling down. Her feet skidded against the puddle of water pooling around the drain and she braced one hand on the surprisingly cold tiled wall while her other hand clamped down on Evan's forearm.

She let her eyes fall closed again so he couldn't see her rolling them at him while she tried to catch her breath.

She had been lost in thought until he snook his way in. Usually (Y/n) was able to sense Evan, but sometimes he went into stealth mode and she didn't feel him coming up behind her like this.

Evan was sure he heard her mumble his name and it only made him grin as he pulled her up so she was back on her feet again. He felt the shower door bump into his shoulders as it closed behind him and he walked (Y/n) forward a foot or two so he wasn't in danger of pushing the door back open and falling out.

He couldn't stop himself from grinning when he tucked his face into (Y/n)'s neck and pressed his lips against her skin. With his head tilted down, he could feel the water trickling through his curls, flattening his hair down against his temple. The water traced down the bridge of his nose and trickled down onto (Y/n)'s collar bone causing her to shudder against him.

With pursed lips, (Y/n) moved her hands in front of her, kept her palms open and moved her hands back and forth over her chest but the word she signed only made Evan smile. Scary. He had managed to scare her.

He grinned into her skin and bit down on her neck to make her shiver just as (Y/n) grabbed one of his hands and moved his palm to rest over her chest so he could feel her heartbeat. He had given her a fright just like he intended and he could feel her pulse. Her heart was thrashing away in her chest causing her skin to vibrate with each beat.

"Hi sweetheart," Evan leaned his cheek onto (Y/n)'s shoulder so she could see his lips moving. She wasn't the best at reading lips, especially not right now when water was cascading down around them, distorting the way his lips moved and blurring her vision of him.

So Evan curled his arms tighter around her and pressed his hands into fists so he could place them over (Y/n)'s chest. She looked down to where his hands were on her chest with his knuckles touching and when Evan started to curl his thumbs up and down like he was giving a thumbs up, (Y/n) leaned over to kiss his cheek.

It was the sign for sweetheart.

(Y/n) looked down when she felt Evan's hands move down from her chest so his arms were back to squeezing into her waist but this time, he placed his hands down to cradle her stomach. His thumb brushed up and down her skin against the water cascading down around them and (Y/n) took a sharp breath when he suddenly bit down on her neck like a vampire.

(Y/n) turned her head and nuzzled her nose against Evan's damp hair that turned a few shades darker when wet. Her hands moved to grip his wrists and she started to brush her thumbs across his skin in a slow, soothing motion. The movement made Evan smile against her skin that he was still kissing and nipping at like he was doing his best to create bruises all along her neck.

She knew what he was doing. He had his hands on her stomach because he was desperate to feel the baby move and now they were five months along, they should start to feel movements soon.

Despite Evan's eagerness, (Y/n) was the one who was silently yearning to feel the baby move. She couldn't hear the heartbeat when they went to their appointments. Evan got to sit and listen to their baby's heartbeat and know what that sounded and felt like. He got that experience whereas (Y/n) was reduced to watching the monitor, scrutinising it to see that heart beating away, forever silent in her ears.

Feeling the baby move would prove to (Y/n) that the baby was okay and actually real. Her bump didn't give her that comfort like she dreamed feeling the movement would.

Taking care to be slow, (Y/n) turned around in his arms so she was facing him and dragged her fingertips up his biceps and over his shoulders until she could cup the back of his neck. Her thumbs smoothed across the side of his jaw but she gasped as Evan's hands dug into her hips and he moved her back until she was pressed against the tiles.

They were like ice cubes sticking to her burning skin and the mix of hot and cold made her shake until Evan tilted his head down so their foreheads were pressed together. Most of the water from the shower trickled down the back of Evan's neck but the leftover droplets fell down his forehead and jumped onto (Y/n)'s skin.

It felt comforting to have Evan's arms around her, one secured around her waist and the other wormed around her shoulders and his hand wedged between her and the wall to cup the back of her neck. She could feel his fingers scratching into her skin and she let her head drop back against the tiles so she could look up at him.

She liked the way the water dripped down from his pale pink lips and jumped free from his chin. Each droplet made (Y/n)'s chest tighten until she pushed her hands against his neck and pulled him down to her level. Her fingertips stayed pressed into his skin as she connected his lips down to hers. She sucked his lower lip between her teeth and gave a little bite until Evan's chest vibrated and he meshed her into him.

Evan's head tilted down to the left and his eyes intently focused on his wife's hand as she pointed at him before curling her fingers until only her index finger and thumb were sticking up. She bent her index finger and tilted her hand up and down towards him.

She was asking if he was going to be late.

When he looked up at her, he could see she was muttering 'will you be late' under her breath and he could barely make out her voice. It didn't matter how many times Evan told her she could speak around him, she preferred to sign. (Y/n) couldn't hear her voice, she couldn't tell if she was pronouncing her words correctly or if she was whispering or talking too loudly.

But when she was particularly animated, she would speak as well as sign, but only around Evan. It made him feel special that he was the only one to hear her voice.

"I've got time," His voice was deeper than before and his eyes were hooded and each drop of water that fell from his lashes tried to distract (Y/n) from watching the way his lips moved. She could lip read well enough when up close and personal like this.

A soft smile formed on (Y/n)'s lips when she felt Evan's hand move from the back of her neck to reach down and grip the underside of her thigh. He looked her leg over his hip and pulled her closer until he was stood in between her thighs, smirking down at her because he knew she wouldn't object, whether he was going to be late or not.

With one hand still gripping (Y/n)'s thigh, Evan tilted his head down to look at his wife while he moved his left hand up. He hovered his hand over his face, going from his forehead to his chin in a circular motion before he pressed his index finger against his cheek and made a line down to his chin.

His sign made (Y/n)'s lips press together to hide her grin before she pushed up to kiss him.

'Pretty girl.'

***

"LAFD. Miss, I'm here to help you, are you okay?" A tender smile flooded Bobby's face as he yanked the passenger door open and wedged himself into the seat.

His eyes raked over the woman sat in the driver's seat, noticing that she was thankfully the only one in the car and she was awake, alert and responsive. She had very piercing eyes that took Bobby off guard as he watched her drag her gaze all over him like she was petrified some random stranger had just decided to climb into her car after she'd had an accident.

Terror ransacked (Y/n)'s body when she stared at the older man who sat down next to her. Something about his expression made her feel safe, his presence was calming and the florescent jacket was the same one (Y/n) knew her husband wore. He was part of the emergency service, someone safe who was here to help get her out.

One minute (Y/n) was on her way to Maddie's house to see her sister in law, the next, a car tried to overtake her on a single road and ended up crashing into a car coming from the other direction.

(Y/n), along with four other cars, collided when they all tried to break and swerve out the way. And (Y/n) was relieved other people were around to call for help. She had never had to call 911 before and she couldn't remember how to use the texting system that was in place for deaf callers. Maddie had been meaning to go through it with her for an emergency but they never got round to it.

"Can you tell me your name?"

(Y/n) dragged her eyes up from the man's jacket to look at his face but she couldn't work out what he had said. Confusion had to be clearly written across her face because he repeated himself, but it didn't sink in. Her body was shaking, her nerves were going haywire and the adrenaline made it hard to focus on one thing in particular. She couldn't see what he was saying.

Heat prickled along the back of (Y/n)'s neck and flooded her skin up to her wrists. Blood didn't seem to want to circulate through to her hands that were numb and on fire from panic. When she started to get anxious, she lost the feeling in her hands and they went cold and numb, blood went to the vital organs and forgot about her hands and feet.

Coiling her arms up to her chest, (Y/n) pressed her palms forcefully against the sides of her neck and scratched her nails into the skin at the base of her head.

She could feel each ragged breath that bubbled past her lips. She could smell the petrol, oil and burnt embers floating through the air, rolling into the car along with smoke that had been building up gradually since the moment they all crashed. And (Y/n) could feel her body trembling back and forth in the seat that felt cold against her unusually heated skin.

The man's hand on her shoulder brought her back to reality and she jerked away from him. Her body stayed facing the steering wheel and her elbows dug into her waist until her sides started to hurt. But (Y/n) forced herself to look back at the stranger. She had to communicate with him somehow.

(Y/n) swiped her eyes along her arm to try and clear her eyes and she unhooked one hand from the back of her neck so she could move her shirt. She rolled it up until the end of her shirt was tucked up against the bottom of her bra and her stomach was exposed.

"You're pregnant," Bobby needed assistance here. This girl was going into shock, she wasn't speaking or acknowledging him and she was starting to go into a panic attack. He wasn't getting through to her. "How far along?"

He tried again and kept motioning towards her stomach. He had the right mind to reach out and try to assess her abdomen in case she had sustained any hernia or movement with the baby but he didn't want to touch her when she seemed very unsettled and panicked.

"Five months?" Bobby watched the girl hold out her trembling hand and wave her hand at him and she seemed to nod when he spoke this time. "Can I assess you, what's your name?" He motioned both his hands out towards her but she started to shake her head as tears flushed her face and she began to sob.

With her right hand, (Y/n) pressed her fingers together in a straight line and stuck her thumb up before she looked at the man and started to rub her hand across her chest. Then she curled her fingers into a fist, kept her thumb stuck up and bashed her fist down into her left hand.

'Please help me.'

(Y/n) repeated the action again and then a third time until the man realised she wasn't having chest pains, she was using sign language with him.

She was deaf. Realisation and anger dawned on Bobby. He had wasted time trying to wait for shock to wear off when shock wasn't the problem, communication was.

"Buck?" He leaned towards the open door and grabbed the radio on his jacket.

"Yeah Cap?"

"You know sign language, right?" Bobby tried to think back to the Christmas party a few months ago at the station. Someone had come in to drop gifts off but the old lady only knew sign language and she was over the moon when Evan turned up and started to converse with her. Bobby could use those skills right now.

"Yeah…" Evan didn't like where this was going.

"I need you to come down to the dark green Ford and act as a translator for me. I have a young woman here using sign language and I don't know what she's trying to tell me. Hen, come down for medical assistance too please."

It was one of the few things Bobby was starting to scold himself for. He needed to learn some basic sign language because there were more and more people out in the community who they cared for and Bobby couldn't communicate with them. At least someone on the team had some basic knowledge.

"No, oh no. Please don't be (Y/n)," Evan tilted his head back and closed his eyes, praying to anyone that would listen.

That had to be a coincidence. It had to be circumstantial that there was a deaf woman, driving the same car as his wife, now caught up in a road accident. It had to be someone else. Evan tried not to calculate the odds in his head because deep down, he knew the chances of it being a stranger were very slim.

Evan passed the wrench in his hand over to Eddie before he made off in a jog down the side of the road, doing his best to be quick but safe so he didn't slide down into the ditch beside them.

He could feel his heart dropping down to his gut like a stone when he locked eyes on the number plate.

That was his wife's car.

"Fuck!" Evan ripped his florescent jacket off and tossed it on the floor behind the car, suddenly overcome with heat and panic all at once.

He barely looked at Bobby who eased out of the car, about to smile until he saw Evan's petrified expression. Ducking down, Evan clambered into the car and slumped down into the passenger seat, leaning across the gear stick to reach out for his wife.

"Sweetheart, sweetheart it's me. I'm here, you're okay."

Shockwaves rattled through (Y/n) and sent her shaking in her seat when a pair of familiar hands suddenly cupped her face and tilted her head to the left. Her lips parted and a shuddering breath tremored through her teeth when her eyes locked on Evan. Tears were already welling up in his eyes and his face was starting to turn a dark shade of red (Y/n) wasn't used to. He leaned over until his elbow was pressed into her arm and their foreheads were touching. But when he traced his thumb across her lower lip, a small cry left her lips.

He was here. Evan was on scene. Someone she loved and trusted was here with her. She didn't have to sit here alone, petrified, and wait for someone to come over who would be able to communicate with her. Who better to sit and translate for her than her own husband?

He tilted her head down and pressed his lips longingly to her forehead, taking a second to breathe in her scent and relish in her touch before he gently let go and trailed his eyes up and down her frame.

"Cap, Buck, what have we got?" Hen rounded the other side of the car and worked on wedging the driver's side door open so she could bend down at (Y/n)'s side.

Evan pointed his index finger at (Y/n) before he held his right hand palm- upwards and kept his fingers on his left hand straight as he waved his left hand over his palm as if he was pretending to cut something. 'Are you alright?'

"Her name's (Y/n)… she said she's in pain with her leg," Evan rested his left hand on (Y/n)'s knee for a moment or two and moved his other hand to cup the back of her neck. He reeled her into his chest and kissed the side of her head until (Y/n) grabbed his bicep to gain his attention and her hands started to move.

Hen wasn't used to seeing someone perform sign language but she could tell (Y/n)'s shaking was affecting her ability. She was flexing her fingers to stop them trembling and try to keep herself under control. But Hen didn't like the way Evan's expression started to change and morph into something worried and unsettling.

"Fuck, the airbag didn't activate, she's hit her stomach on the steering wheel and she's five months pregnant."

"I'll check them both over, see if she's okay to transport," Hen rummaged through her bag for her blood pressure kit but she kept darting her eyes back to Evan. Watching the way he leaned over the girl next to him so he could look down at Hen and see what she was doing. He wasn't usually this anxious. "Do you two know each other?" She muttered quietly.

"She's my wife."

Evan dragged his hand down his face and rubbed at his jaw before he dared look back down at Hen. This wasn't how he wanted them all to meet. He didn't want the team seeing his wife in a state like this the first time they came to know her. He wanted to bring (Y/n) to the annual cookout they had at the station and show her the brighter side of the job. He wanted the circumstances to be calm and natural, not forced and in work mode.

"Oh."

"This is Hen," Evan spelled out her name and pointed down to Hen so (Y/n) had an idea of who was around her. And he fumbled for the letters to spell out Bobby and pointed behind him. He was forever talking about the team but he hadn't gotten around to showing (Y/n) any photos of the people he worked with.

Evan smiled reassuringly and mumbled 'blood pressure' whilst doing the sign he had recently learned for when they had their hospital appointments. They had worked all (Y/n)'s appointments around Evan's days off so she didn't have to worry about trying to lip read and use a pen and paper to talk to the midwife. Evan was always there to act as translator.

(Y/n) curled her left hand around Evan's thigh and leaned her head on his shoulder, trying to hold her right arm straight so Hen could slip the cuff up near her shoulder.

She hated having her blood pressure taken. It made her feel light headed and the tightness sent shooting, tingling pains up and down her arm even after the cuff was removed.

Evan peeked his head over (Y/n)'s waist and looked down at the reading on the blood pressure before he glanced down at (Y/n). He curled his fingers together and held his index and middle finger out straight, level with his chest before he raised his hand up towards his forehead. Her blood pressure was high.

When Hen found the stethoscope in her bag, she lifted it up and indicated towards (Y/n)'s stomach. She would listen for a heartbeat. That was the only thing they could check right now. They couldn't do a scan and no physical exam would tell them if there were any issues with the baby. They wouldn't eb able to see if there was any internal bleeding or if the baby or placenta had moved.

(Y/n) would need a scan once she got to hospital, but the important thing right now was finding a heartbeat.

Her hand stayed looped over Evan's thigh and she leaned more into him when the cold end of the stethoscope was pressed against her lower abdomen, making her push back in her seat.

(Y/n) brought her other hand up to her lips and bit down on her nail, trying not to stare down at Hen but she didn't know where else to look or what to do with herself. What if she couldn't find one? What if it was there but very shallow? What would they do?

She bit down so hard on her nail that a pinch of blood welled in the corner of her thumb but she didn't care. Her head turned to look up at Evan and her hand moved from his thigh to grip his shoulder as she took a deep, tremoring breath. Waiting for him to tell her the verdict.

Evan bent his index and fourth finger down to his palm and held his hand over his chest to imply the heartbeat. He then curled both hands into fists against his shoulders and pulled away, unclenching his hands. 'A strong heartbeat.'

He could feel the relief radiate through (Y/n) when she slumped her head onto his shoulder and managed a small smile against his exposed neck. That was one less thing for them both to worry about.

"Okay, I'm going to do a saline drip, then we can get her in the ambulance."

Evan moved his fingers along his other palm to signal that he was going to walk around the car so he could go round to Hen and help get (Y/n) out the car. He hated to unravel (Y/n) from around him and when she reached out to clutch his bicep, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead before he scrambled out so she didn't have a chance to panic or drag him back.

A shiver rolled down (Y/n)'s spine when she felt Hen squeeze her hand and push the needle into the back of her hand.

A calming smile found its way onto Evan's lips when Hen moved out his way and let him take her place, crouching down beside (Y/n). He rubbed his hands up and down her thighs for a few seconds before he gently took hold of her legs and twisted them so her feet were firmly on the floor and she was sat facing him.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Evan pressed his closed fists together against his chest and moved his thumbs up and down, smiling up at her calmly despite the wince he saw flash across her face.

He watched the way (Y/n) tilted her head to the side when she looked down at him and the deep breaths she tried to take as she blinked furiously, fighting off tears.

Her left hand moved to cup her forehead and she rubbed her index finger along her temple. While her right hand pressed to her bump with only her middle finger curled inwards and she moved her hand from left to right along her stomach.

"What's she saying?"

"She feels sick. That's alright baby," Evan waved his left hand over his right palm to signal that was alright before he pushed up so he was stood up with his upper half bent down towards (Y/n) instead of crouching in front of her.

His hands curled around her elbows and when (Y/n) nodded, Evan carefully eased her up from the car until she was stood in front of him. Her hands clamped down on his biceps and her forehead pressed into the middle of Evan's chest which made him smile. He leaned over and kissed the back of (Y/n)'s head, moving his hand around to her back while he took the IV bag from Hen and balanced it on his shoulder so it was easier to carry around.

Evan kept his right arm around (Y/n)'s waist and tucked her into his side while Hen stood on her other side, wedging her between them as they made a slow descent towards the ambulance.

"Hen, drive them to the hospital, Eddie tag along with them, me and Chim will stay here and sort out."

Evan wordlessly nodded while Hen opened the back doors and then proceeded round to get in the front of the ambulance. They would all reconveen together at the hospital when this scene was cleared up. It looked like Evan wouldn't be staying for the night shift today.

Moving his hands, Evan clamped them down on (Y/n)'s hips and walked behind her into the back of the ambulance. He raised a brow when she turned her head to look up at him and her lips pressed together.

Did she have to sit on the gurney?

Her leg was was aching and most likely bruised but it wasn't broken, she could walk perfectly fine. (Y/n) didn't want to sit on the gurney and be taken into A&E as if she couldn't walk when she could. It made her feel uneasy. She turned in Evan's arms and tried to give him her best smile but sweetening him up wasn't going to work and she could see that in her husband's firm expression.

He let go of her, moved one hand to hold the gurney behind her and pointed at her with the other hand.

"Sit." He knew she could read that one simple word from his lips but when she didn't move, Evan clicked his tongue and reached his hands out for her hips. He could feel her gasp soak up into his shirt when he lifted her up and sat her down on the edge of the gurney and placed the IV bag down on the pillow at the end so it was out the way and wasn't at risk of becoming tangled or blocked.

To make her feel better, Evan turned round and perched down on the gurney with her, swinging his legs back and forth until Eddie hurried up into the back and closed the doors.

Eddie plonked himself down on the seat opposite them with a curious, if apprehensive smile. Why was Evan sat on the gurney with the patient? Why wasn't the patient sat properly? Did they know each other? They seemed to be smiling and looked friendly with one another. Just as Eddie went to say something, he stopped when the girl pointed at him curiously.

(Y/n) gingerly tugged on Evan's shirt sleeve to gain his attention before she pointed over at the man in front of them. She cupped her thumb and index finger around her chin and tilted her finger away from her chin and back, asking who he was.

Evan pressed his thumb into his palm and curled his fingers over until his nails touched the top of his thumb. E.

Then he pointed his index finger upwards and pressed his middle and fourth finger against his thumb. D.

"This is Eddie,"

In sign language, it was easier to refer to someone's name as their first initial and he talked about Eddie a lot to (Y/n). Eddie was his work partner, the person he was always teamed up with and doing various escapades with so it was natural he talked about him. (Y/n) knew the team by the stories Evan told her and this unfortunately had to be the first time she met them.

"Eddie, this is my wife, (Y/n)."

This was turning out to be an interesting day for everyone.

#evan buckley x reader #imagine #evan buckley #evan buckley imagine #buck x reader #911 imagine #buck imagine #pregnant! reader #pregnancy #bucky x reader #bobby nash

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fan-goddess · 11 months

Text

Early riser

Pairing: Aegon Targaryen x wife!reader

Summary: Aegon loves waking you up with his mouth. So when you wake up before him for once you decide to do the same

Warnings: Somnophilia, oral with m receiving and mentions of f receiving, dirty talk and praise/degrading

Taglist: @lovelykhaleesiii

Links: My main masterlist

Ever since the day of your marriage with Aegon, it seems he had found within himself a special sort of pleasure that he received whenever he woke you up with his mouth. Early in the morn, sometimes even before the sun had even risen, you’d find your husband groaning so prettily into your cunt while your eyes were still dreary from sleep. It was especially arousing to both him and you, whenever your fingers would find themselves grasping tightly within his hair and tugging tightly every so often.

He always made sure you were pleasured just like how he said you always deserved to be. Sometimes even after an argument usually regarding his dreaded mother or children, you’d still awake to that sinful mouth licking and sucking as if he was born to do so. It just demonstrated to you just how marriage life with Aegon was never ever boring. Not while Aegon had a say in anything, or a tongue.

That morn though, you’d awoken to the morning sun shining brightly on your face. Not to the sensation of Aegon’s mouth on you. It was almost strange, in a curious way. As within your near full year of marriage to Aegon, you had gotten so used to the feel of his mouth waking you that you sort of missed it. It was certainly a more enjoyable awakening than some other ways.

When you turn in the bed to look at Aegon, wondering whether he’d already left for some food (unlikely) or was unconscious inside some Alehouse that he’d snuck out to in the middle of the night for (more likely), you were delighted to just see and more prominently hear Aegon asleep beside you.

When you’d first married Aegon, you’d find yourself nearly constantly be awoken late at night when the moon still was shining to the sound of his sometimes incoherent mumbling and muttering about who knows what. Though soon with the amount of days you slept beside each other in the bed you’d soon gotten used to the sound of it, now becoming practically immune to it.

Yet when you’ve turned to Aegon and hear his mumblings, you can feel your thighs become slowly damp on your empty cunt clench on nothing when Aegon mumbles in his sleep, “fuck dōna riña just like that…” while slightly shifting his hips. Since your husband had a preference for sleeping in the nude, you found yourself staring at spot in the sheets where the ever growing bulge from where Aegon laid. The covers barely covered him, which was most likely due to the work of some shifting and turning while the two of you slept.

You could not help yourself though from reaching over and grazing your hand on the bulge. The whine your husband let out as you barely even touched him made your legs rub together in a terribly inefficient way to get some friction. Though you definitely get some ideas flowing through your head when you see how he now laid fully hard and yet somehow still fully asleep under the sheets.

When you pull the bedsheets back, you almost get distracted by the glorious sight of Aegon all naked self in front of you. Even when you reach out to touch him now without the sheet between you, you cannot help but be in awe of him as he whines and groans and moves to bury his face slightly into the sheets.

You move closer to Aegon, attempting to not awake him by moving the bed too much. He’s not fully hard yet, so you decide to lightly trace the vein on the side of Aegons cock with your fingertips. It nearly makes you cum there and then when Aegon begins to whimper all too pathetically in his sleep.

When Aegon is fully hard though, your mouth slowly begins to water and your smallclothes that you almost regret wearing begin to feel much more damp and uncomfortable than when you started. The feeling though reminded you of what your goal for this morn. To show Aegon exactly what it’s like to be awoken by a hot mouth, like he’d always done to you.

You adjust yourself into a more comfortable position than the one you were in before, now leaning on your elbows to get some height as you slowly lower your head on Aegons cock and take it slowly in your mouth with only little difficulty. Even though you have been married for such a short time, you and Aegon most certainly did not waste anytime in exploring each others bodies and what made each others toes curl in tear jerking pleasure.

It makes you clench again on nothing when Aegon already begins to start grunting and moaning in pleasure. Although you can’t say it doesn’t amuse you when you can see that Aegon is still somehow barely holding onto sleep. Even when you drag your head back up with your tongue trailing alongside a faint vein on the side of Aegons cock, he still whines and mutters near pitifully. As if he’s in some kind of blissful dream.

Aegon only begins to properly rouse from his sleep though when you start to moan and gag slightly around his cock as you take him deeper into your warm mouth. Your eyes look up to him as he begins to mutter more, his arms begin to move and his eyes drowsily locking onto your own.

“W-what…” He begins to say as he begins to realise what exactly is going on before him.

“Shhh it’s okay dear husband,” you say as you release him from your mouth and temporarily lazily stroke him with your hand to ease him if his confusion. “I am just simply returning the favour you so graciously gift to me near every morn…”

You do not give Aegon much time to reply, or even to really comprehend the situation, as you once again take quick advantage of Aegons tired state and go back to your previous task. One of Aegons hands though finds strength by intertwining itself with your hair, whilst the other grips hard on the bedsheets. His knuckles turn white and his desperate moans and whines echo within the two of yours’ chambers.

“Oh fuck!” Aegon groans at loud when you begin to hollow out your cheeks. “F-fuck yes just like that my love yes!” You can feel your previous dominance slowly leaving as Aegon becomes more awake and aware. Soon, his hips are lifting themselves of the bed to get his cock deeper in your mouth, officially deciding the pace his cock enters your mouth. One particular thrust though makes you gag slightly while Aegon only gives a high pitch whine at the sensation you give him.

“Such a good fucking girl… taking your husbands cock like a good little wife… wanna be my good girl huh?” He groans, pulling your hair slightly. You moan around him, which only though seems to make the grip around your hair and the grip of the bed sheets all that much tighter.

You can feel a faint yet detectable throbbing sensation in your mouth, indicating Aegons peak was soon approaching. You can feel his cock block your airways, your breath only coming out in small pants when you find room in your mouth for you to breath. While most women would find this type of action worrying and encourage their husband to stop. You however just take him in all that bit deeper to achieve the ultimate reward. Your husbands cum flooding your mouth.

So you go faster, ignoring the aching feeling that begins to steadily build in your jaw. You even go to move your hand to stroke the part of Aegons cock your mouth was not able to reach. Though it seems Aegon had a different plan in mind, as he moved to sit himself up slightly and get a good look at you. Aegons eyes seemed to darken the more you stared into them. The way he was currently looking at you made you feel like a whore from the silk street that Aegon used to oh so oftenly frequent, and you fucking loved it.

His hand, which was no longer gripping the sheet with all his strength, moved to join with his other hand in gripping your head securely. When both hands were on position, Aegon went to town on moving your head to his preferred pace. You didn’t even bother to move, you only licked and sucked on what you could before Aegon changed pace to accommodate his orgasm. And by the way his thighs were shaking and the fact he was whining with his bottom lip trapped between his teeth possibly out even making it bleed with how hard he was biting it, it was soon heavily approaching.

You nearly gag and cough in surprise when Aegon all of a sudden pushes your head as far down his cock as he can as he cums suddenly. You keep your eyes shut, but you swear you can feel the slight silver hairs on the tip of your nose. You carefully release Aegons cock from your mouth as it begins to soften with a slight pop. The taste of Aegon is slightly salty, though you swallow it quickly while wiping your mouth as you move to lay your head on Aegons quickly rising and falling chest.

“Oh no no my sweet wife, you need to show me you were a good girl and didn’t let any of your husbands seed go to waste.” Aegons lopsided grin shines with mischief, and it reminds you of just what kind of life you married into. Even so, you know it’s partially your fault as you playfully role your eyes and stick out your tongue slightly with a blush painting your cheeks to show your empty mouth.

After a small hum of approval from Aegon, you move to lay your head on a the patch of skin between his neck and his shoulder. “How was it then?” You grin, your lips nearly touching the warm skin.

“How was what dear wife?” It was annoying how Aegon wished for you to say exactly what it is you did. You love him, you really deeply love him. But your husband can be an utter arrogant twat when he wants to be.

“Gods your a twat…” You smile, tracing a faint vein on Aegons chest. Though your hand gets out in a tight grip with aegons hand.

“I don’t think you should call your husband names sweet wife… especially when I’m about to do this…” Aegon takes on an almost boyish look before he slightly pushes you up on the pillows. The sheets are removed from your body and pushed aside as he moves downwards and positions himself between your aching legs. Your smallclothes are still on, and you can feel just how damp they still are from your previous actions.

Though Aegon does not immediately take action like you’d love him to do, and instead he merely instead trails his lips and stops between your stomach and where you truly want him to be. His warm hands run along the length of your thighs, his thumbs ever so close to your core you think maybe he’ll be merciful before he trails them away. Even when you whine for him to get on with it, he pinches the skin on your thighs between his thumb and his pointer finger with a teasing and evil grin etched on his face.

“You may have given me such a wonderful wake up my love, but I cannot condone such careless language to your ever so doting husband…” Aegons voice seems to get deeper with lust and craving as his head slowly goes just to where you want him, and takes his reward all too contently. Yet even when he begins to deliciously mouth and suck at your clit, you know your in for an experience with both heaven and hell.

#aegon targaryen #house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen x reader #hotd aegon #aegon ii #aegon x oc #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen smut #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen imagine #aegon ii fanfic #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen/reader #aegon targaryen one shot #aegon targaryen/you #aegon targaryen x fem!reader

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megs-98 · 3 months

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Like You Mean It

Hope yall enjoy this Gale smut piece :3

Heavily inspired by one specific line in Steven Rodriguez's song 'Like You Mean It'

Pairing: Gale x f!reader (Tav)

Summary: After a long, dreary day spent in Gale's tower, barely seeing him at all, you decide that you're going to get the attention that you crave. Even if it means Gale has to tame his brat with the help of a mage hand.

Tags: Explicit!, bit of a dom!Gale, use of mage hand, clothed nipple play, some voyeurism, male masturbation, riding, lots of praise, mutual orgasm (Please let me know if I missed any!)

Word count: 3.8k

It was a dreary, damp day in Waterdeep, causing you and your wizard to stay inside Gale’s tower. It wasn’t all bad though, as it gave you a chance to catch up on sleep and other various things you had been wanting to get done. It also gave Gale a chance to grade various assignments from his students at Blackstaff.

You were laying on the couch, curled up with a book and plush blanket, when you noticed it was now dark. Closing your book with a sigh, you thought of how you had only seen your lover when you brought him food to his office throughout the day, receiving a curt thank you and kiss on the cheek. You knew he needed to get his work done, but enough was enough, you thought. Removing the blanket from your lap, you made your way through the tower to Gale’s office. He was still hunched over his desk, just as you had last left him hours before. You watched him closely as you silently padded over to his chair, noticing that his hair, that was being held back with a spare quill, was starting to fall in his face from constantly running his hands through his hair. You can hear him muttering to himself as you carefully place your hand on the back of his chair.

“I just don’t understand how they keep missing these questions, it’s simple evocation. Perhaps I’m not as good a teacher as I thought” Gale whispered to himself.

“You seemed to know what you were doing when you taught me when we were at camp.” You said to him as you knelt down beside the man so you could look at him.

Gale smiled at you as your eyes met his, cupping one of your cheeks, instinctively running his thumb over your cheekbone. “It certainly did help that you were an exceptional student, my love.”

You kissed his palm as you leaned into his touch. Standing as you heard a content sigh come from the wizard, you grabbed his hand in yours, pulling on it slightly.

“Come on, time to stop for the night. It’s dark out, let’s go lay down.”

“My beloved, as much as I want to, I do really need to complete this grading. Why don’t you sit on the chaise and keep me company, hmm?” Gale said as he kissed your knuckles, glancing over at the lounge behind his desk where Tara was laying.

The tressym yawned as she stood to stretch her legs and wings out. “Very well, Mr. Dekarios, she may have my seat. At least it will be warm when I come back to it later.” She said with a hint of annoyance in her voice as she gave you a side glance, slowly leaving the room. You gave her a small smile and quietly thanked her while closing the door as she made her exit.

“I still don’t think she likes me all that much.” You sighed as you sat down on the chaise, with Gale putting a blanket in your lap. He kissed the top of your head and ran a hand through your hair.

“Come now, you know Tara loves you! That just happens to be her favorite spot and she doesn’t particularly like anyone else sitting there. Now, I really do have to get back to these assignments, love. I promise I’ll be done soon.”

You conceded, knowing that he would be done soon enough and at least being in the room with him would be better than going to bed alone. However, this did not stop you from quickly growing bored. Sure, Gale had an extremely impressive book collection, but your thoughts couldn’t focus on anything you read. You eventually left your perch on the chaise and began wandering around the office. Inspecting various items as if you hadn’t already seen them hundreds of times, taking more books off the shelves and quickly thumbing through them, haphazardly placing them down rather than putting them back in the proper spot. You accidentally bumped Gale’s chair a few times as you circled the office.

“Tav, sweetheart, please. These assignments won’t grade themselves. Relax for now and then you’ll have me all to yourself for the rest of the night.”

“Well, I mean, couldn’t you come up with a spell that makes the papers grade themselves?” You knew you were being a smartass but it was keeping you entertained, even if it was preventing your lover from getting his work done. Gale shook his head as he went back to his work without answering you, knowing it would egg you on if he did. You went back to the chair and looked out the window, watching as the various light sources bounced off the water in the port. You stayed like this for a while, going from watching the water, to your wizard hunched over his desk, to the candles that were slowly burning away.

Growing ever exasperated by the continued promise of Gale being done soon, you thought of one last thing you could do that always worked to lure the man out of his office. Lifting yourself off the chaise, you went back over to Gale, placing your hand on his shoulder. He acknowledged that you were there by putting his hand on yours and stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. You motioned for him to sit back, which he did as this was something you often did to help with his posture. As he sat back in his chair, you took the opportunity to plant yourself in his lap as well as taking the quill out of his hair, discarding it on his desk. As some papers fell to the floor due to the lack of space, you heard the chair scratch across the floor as Gale scooted the chair back to give the two of you more space. You noticed as the man stifled a slight moan from you placing yourself directly over his cock, grinding down slightly as you made yourself comfortable.

Gale pushed his hair back then pinched the bridge of his nose, giving a small sigh. “Love, what are you doing? I told you I was almost done and then I would be yours.” He said as he lowered his hands to your hips.

“I do recall hearing you say that, several different times actually. It’s been hours and you’re still not done yet. I’m not moving until you agree to finish those papers tomorrow and come to bed with me.” You slid your arms around his neck, placing your forehead against his. Staring at him with half-lidded eyes, trailing your gaze down to his lips. You placed a kiss on the corner of his mouth while grinding your hips down, eliciting a small moan from Gale. You knew he couldn’t resist you and you were determined to get him to leave his damned office for the night.

Gale furrowed his brow, thinking of what he could say to get you to move. He knew how resolute you could be and he knew this would be one of those times you used that to your advantage. It’s not that he didn’t want you, quite the opposite in fact, he just needed a little more time to finally finish his work.

“Angel, please, I.. uhh.. I just.. Oh gods.. I’ll be done soon, then we can go to the bedroom.”

You continued your work on Gale, slowly rolling your core against him as you kissed along his jawline and down his neck.

“I think I’ve been neglected enough for one day, my love. You’re going to fuck me one way or another..” You started untying his house robe, moving your hands lower, feeling his length harden beneath you. A smirk spread across your face as you saw your lover start to come undone for you and you knew you would have your way after all. Gale was quick to notice how smug you looked, he knew what was happening. There had been many times when the two of you fucked in his office. Hells, he knew this wouldn't be the last time it happened either. But Gale was determined to teach you a lesson for your haughty behavior. He remembered a conversation the two of you had had a week prior.

You and Gale were in bed, sunlight streaming in from behind the curtains. Having been up for a couple hours talking and cuddling, Gale laying between your legs with his head on your chest. You decided to bring up something that had been on your mind for a while. Gale raised an eyebrow at you as you explained that you felt like there was one area of your intimate life that was lacking with the man.

“No, I didn’t say our sex life is boring. It’s anything but love, though I do wish sometimes you would be a little rougher.”

“Rougher? I do suppose I’m rather gentle with you. I couldn’t risk hurting my goddess, now could I?” He winked at you as he worked his way kissing down your body.

Gale decided that he would take this as an opportunity to give you exactly what you asked for. He stopped protesting about needing to get back to work, seemingly giving into your demands. You kept running your hands through his hair as you kissed him. That was until you heard him muttering to himself again.

“I swear to the Gods, Gale. If you are still worried about those damn assignments.” You whispered to him. Then you heard exactly what he was saying to himself.

“Veni et iuva me. Come and aid me.” A mage hand. You looked at him confused as the translucent hand appeared with the flash of green and purple.

“I thought this would be helpful tonight, for you to receive optimal pleasure.” Gale’s hands still resting on your hips, neither moving you nor stopping you from trying to find pleasure in both of your bodies. You knew that Gale would be able to hold the concentration needed for a while. You flashed him a mischievous grin, happy that he was just as eager as you were.

You watched as Gale moved one of your legs from the side of his hip to between his legs. You shifted your weight to be sitting on just one of his knees, watching as his mage hand lightly trailed over your thighs, sending a shutter down your body. Gale smiled at you as he noticed, looking at you through half lidded eyes.

“Oh, does my darling like that? You can have more, you can have everything you want, love. I just need you to be patient with me, just like I’ve been patient with you this evening.” He said as he brought his knee up into your core as you ground down on him. You tried to stifle your moan until you felt the mage hand on your cheek, brushing its thumb across your bottom lip.

Gale clicked his tongue as he watched you. “Tsk tsk tsk, no, no. I want to hear those sweet moans. Now, open.”

You felt the thumb on your lip apply pressure as it pressed down, causing you to open your mouth. Taking the thumb in your mouth as much as you can, you start to gag on it. All while keeping eye contact with your lover.

“There’s my good, eager girl.” Gale’s breathing had quickened as he watched and you could feel him getting even harder against your thigh. His grip on your hips got tighter as you worked yourself more and more against his leg, making sure to let your moans out every time you felt pressure against your clit through your pants. You suddenly felt Gale’s mage hand leave your mouth, causing you to whimper at the sudden loss.

The feeling was quickly replaced by the surprise as you felt the conjuration pinch one of your hardened nipples that was showing through your shirt. The slight twinge of pain you felt as the hand continued tweaking and groping your breast caused you to moan out in pleasure as you pressed your core harder against Gale’s thigh, faster and faster as you felt the cord in your abdomen growing so tight it was close to snapping. Between the mage hand switching between your clothed breasts, pinching and kneading at your supple chest, the stimulation you felt as you rolled your hips against your love, as well as hearing his heavy breathing from watching you come undone was causing you to near your finish. Your lover knew this and stopped you before that could happen. A frustrated groan left your lips and as you opened your mouth to say something, Gale grabbed the back of your head, leading your mouth to his as he put his tongue in your mouth. Both you were lost in the passionate kiss until Gale pulled back, leaning back in the chair with a smirk and leaving an even more frustrated look on your face.

“As much as I do enjoy watching you get off like this, my beloved, I’m not done with quite yet.” He patted your ass as he motioned for you to stand. “Stand, please.”

You did as you asked, hoping that it would finally grant you access to Gale’s cock as he stood up right after you, walking over to his desk and leaning against the edge of it.

“I want you to undress for me while continuing to let my conjuration work its magic on you.” You rolled your eyes as Gale chuckled at his own joke and winked at you. You made sure to take your time with this request and make a show of it. Starting with your flimsy shirt, you made sure to pull it taut against your body, causing your tits to lift and fall with it as you removed it. You could feel the mage hand barely brushing against your back, sending shivers down through your body. Moving on to your loose fitting shorts, you played with the waistband of them, trying to tease Gale, who quickly had the mage hand start pulling them down for you. You saw Gale’s eyes grow heavy with lust as he saw that you weren’t wearing anything under your shorts. Gale made quick work of pulling you into him, giving your ass a painfully pleasant smack as he held you against him.

“What a naughty, naughty girl. This must have been something you’ve been waiting for all day.” He said as he kissed and bit at your neck. You tried untying Gale’s pants as he showered you in his affections but you were quickly stopped.

“While I do appreciate the enthusiasm, like I said before, I’m not done with you this evening. And there’s something else I’d like you to do for me.”

Gale’s hand found your back as he stepped to the side and quickly guided you to laying on your stomach across his desk, his hardened length rubbing against your ass as he bent over you, whispering in your ear. “I want you to lay here and enjoy yourself while the mage hand fucks you. Think of it as a little bit of foreplay before the main event, angel.” He kissed your temple as he removed himself from behind you.

Just as quickly as he left, you felt his mage hand ghost over your slick folds, quickly finding your clit. You let out a moan as you watched Gale walk away. Your eyes tried to follow your partner as he walked away, catching that he was standing at the tall windows, untying the curtain ropes, causing the heavy linen to fall across the windows.

The mage hand continued its work on your clit as Gale walked back, standing at the side of the chaise, moving the blanket that you had discarded earlier on to the backrest of the chair. You could barely see behind you as he undressed himself and sat himself down against the back of the lounge, stroking himself as he watched his mage hand pleasure you. Your thoughts were quickly brought back to what was happening to your body as you felt the fingers from the conjuration start to stroke against your entrance. The translucent hand sank a finger into you, eliciting one of your sweet moans that Gale loved to hear. The hand thrust its finger in and out of you a few times before adding a second finger into you. Your eyes rolled back at the sensation, unconsciously grinding back against it as you were desperately hoping that Gale would give you his cock. The mage hand skillfully worked its fingers in you, stroking and flexing against you as you clenched against it, desperately wishing it was your wizard instead of his spell. The conjuration was hitting deep in you now, starting to hit that sweet spot you so loved when Gale hit it with his cock. You were begging for Gale, begging for him to take over and bring you to completion.

Gale kept watching as his mage hand fucked you and you begged for him while he stroked himself. He thought that he had ascended with your sex life before, but watched you get fucked out by a mage hand was a new addiction for him. The way you were bent over his desk, baring everything for him, singing your sweet song as you moaned out for him. He stopped himself from cumming as he slowed his stroking, edging himself. Wanting to save his completion for when he was in you. He had never been harder in his life and he knew he needed to do this with you more often. Gale finally left the chaise once it sounded like you were on the verge of crying from overstimulation. He lightly placed a hand on your back to let you know he was there for you.

He threaded one of his own hands through your hair as he stood next to you. “You’re doing so well, love, I’m so proud of you. I need you to let go before I put my cock into your tight pussy. Can you do that for me, angel?” He whispered in your ear. You nodded quickly as the mage hand started fucking you harder. You quickly came undone all while chanting Gale’s name like a prayer on your lips. You slowly stood while Gale guided you both to the chaise, where he laid down first. Gale helped you straddle his hips as you were still collecting yourself from the orgasm that just tore through you. You laid your head on his chest, panting heavily, while he rubbed your back, faintly hearing as he dismissed his mage hand. You listened to your lover’s heartbeat as you tried to calm yours. All the while you saw, and felt, his throbbing length resting between the two of your stomachs. You were quickly ready for the main event with your wizard as you watched his cock twitch as you peppered his chest with open mouthed kisses, leaving marks in your wake. You sat up to look at Gale, smirking at him, happy with yourself that your plan had worked, not knowing that your wizard had his own plan running as well.

Gale sat up with you, bringing a hand up to the back of your head, massaging your scalp as he looked at you. You decided to press your luck with the wizard and started rubbing your folds against his throbbing length. The mischievous look in his eyes warned you that he thought that you were going to try something like that.

“You just don’t learn, do you, love?” He asked as he gripped a handful of your hair in his hand. “You didn’t think your insolent behavior all evening would be rewarded, did you? Now, I want you to be a good girl and fuck me like you mean it.” Gale’s voice was low and his eyes were blown with lust as he looked at you. You winced as you realized that you, in fact, did not have the upper hand like you thought you did. One of your hands gripped Gale’s shoulder while the other grabbed at his forearm, however, the slight moan that you let out the moment Gale grabbed your hair did not fall on deaf ears.

You were too surprised by Gale’s actions to fully give him an answer, instead lifting your hips up, lining his leaking tip up to your throbbing entrance. You both let out a breathy moan as you sank down on your lover. At this moment, you were feeling grateful for all the work the mage hand had done on you as you were able to take Gale all the way to the hilt immediately. Gale’s hands kept a punishing grip on your thighs, both of you knowing that it would most definitely leave a bruise. You started bouncing yourself up and down on Gale’s cock, quickly becoming wetter and wetter. The only sounds in the room were you and your lover’s moans and the lewd sounds coming from pussy as you rode Gale.

You heard Gale beneath you, slowly losing his dominant demeanor he had held so well through the intimate experience.

“Oh, fuck, bloody hell, Tav.”

“Uhnn, yeah, just like, don’t stop. Gods, I won’t last much longer if you keep doing that.”

“Look at you, my goddess, taking my cock so, so well. Fuck.”

You both knew that the two of you were nearing the edge, rather quickly. Gale started rubbing your clit again, causing you to cry out in a mixture of overstimulation and pleasure. You clench down hard around Gale, your telltale sign that you were about to finish. He took his hand away from your clit as he held you by the waist, holding you steady as he rutted up into you.

“Come on, angel, let’s finish together. I know you can do it. Onhh, you look so beautiful taking my cock like this.”

His praise was exactly what you needed as you tumbled over the edge, reaching the climax you had so desperately been seeking. Gale quickly came after you, feeling you clench down even harder around him as you felt his cum fill you. He kept pumping into you as you milked him dry. You let your head fall to his shoulder as you tried to catch your breath. Gale brought the blanket that was hanging over the back rest over the two of you as he tightly embraced you as he laid you both down in the chair.

“I think you should interrupt my work more often, sweetheart.” Gale said through heavy breaths as you giggled at him. He kissed your forehead as he kept whispering praises into your hair as you fell asleep against him. He smiled at you, watching as your breathing evened out, and drifted off into sleep himself.

#bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #fanfic

139 notes · View notes

huilian · 11 months

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Dick was miserably wet. He had offered to postpone this hiking trip, but Damian had insisted, and well, after looking into his calendar for the next month, Dick could kind of understand why. They had postponed this trip twice already—both with very good reasons—and each time, they had to delay it by a month. Who knew that finding a date when two vigilantes with full-time secret identities would be free for the entire day was such a hassle?

Anyways, that did not change the fact that the day was cold and dreary and wet. Dick's coat was damp even before they had started the trail, and it had gotten worse from there. His shoes were filled with mud from the slippery trail, and he didn't even want to think about the state of his pants.

At least Damian seemed to be having fun. He even managed to sketch some of the scenery that they had passed, though how he kept his sketchbook dry, Dick will never know.

That's how Dick had left Damian, trying to capture the shading on one tree or another. Usually Dick would put in more effort into being excited about Damian's hobbies—god knows the boy had little to begin with—, but he is wet and miserable and however much he loved spending time with his little brother, if he had to listen to Damian complain one more time about the route that he had chosen, he was going to punt the little brat.

Unfortunately, the trail that he had picked only had two choices: devastatingly easy, and Dick can already hear Damian scoffing over it; or wet, miserable, and slippery, which was the one they are in right now. Dick eyed the sign at the fork that said "easy", and wondered if he could somehow convince Damian that they had finished the trail, before sighing and deciding that no, he probably can't. It didn't help that the helpful groundkeepers had written "15 minutes to the parking lot!" at the bottom of the 'easy' sign.

They had only been walking for a bit less than an hour. Damian would see right through it.

Dick sighed again, just for good measure, because he's going to be wet for the entire day at this rate, and started his trek back towards where he last left Damian. He might as well figure out how his little brother was keeping his sketchbook dry.

Halfway through, however, Dick heard Damian talking with someone else. Wait, no. With two other voices, and Dick was pretty sure that Damian was alone when he had left him. He straightened up, because there were rarely any incidences in this park, but rarely didn't mean never.

Then, he heard laughter from the unfamiliar voices and that particular grunt from Damian that means he was amused but didn't want to be seen to be so. Dick breathed out slowly, accepting that as a sign that the strangers were not hostile. Damian only let out that particular grunt when he truly is amused.

That did bring out Dick's curiosity though. What had made Damian be so amused?

Carefully avoiding the many puddles abound, Dick crept closer. And thanked any deity that would still listen to him that he had kept quiet while approaching.

Damian was standing at the bottom of the descent that Dick had categorized as 'slippery' and 'too much of a hassle to go through' when he passed it a while ago. He had chosen to use the trees around them to simply bypass that descent, but Damian didn't have that choice, because holding on to his shoulders, was an elderly lady valiantly trying to get down without sliping all the way.

Slightly perplexed, Dick watched as her grip on his little brother's shoulders tighten when her foot missed the rocks that she was using as steps. That perplexion increased when he realized that there was another elderly lady who was also holding on to his little brother's shoulders, albeit on the other side of that descent.

"Do you want us to fall, Cheryl?" the lady on the bottom of the descent said.

"It's not my fault that these rocks are slippery, Sally!" the lady who must have been Cheryl snapped.

"It is! I told you that it's going to be raining today, but do you listen to me? No!" Sally replied back.

"No one is going to fall," Damian said, eyes widening from what Dick can only guess as that particular panic that being stuck in an argument between two strangers who has known each other too well elicit. Dick can sympathize. There were far too many arguments that he had to mediate as Nightwing between couples, and none of them were fun. "I'm not going to let you fall," Damian continued.

Thankfully for Damian, that stopped the argument in its tracks. Unfortunately for Damian, the argument was just replaced by cooing. Towards him.

"Of course you're not going to let us fall, young man!" Sally huffed.

"You've been so kind and wonderful!" Cheryl piped in, trying to step onto the same rocks she missed before. "I trust you completely!"

Even from this distance, Dick can practically see the panic in Damian's eyes change from that of being stuck between two strangers arguing to those of being the sole target of well-meaning, but overly chatty ladies. Dick snorted inwardly. He was too familiar with that brand of panic too.

Thankfully for Damian, before the cooing can continue, Cheryl let out a cry of success as she managed to find her footing, and the conversation halted as the two ladies navigate their way through the slippery descent. Damian stayed silent throughout it all, no doubt afraid that if he brought attention to himself, the two ladies would restart their cooing.

From his place behind the trees, Dick watched the entire proceeding with an odd sense of pride in his heart. Oh, he knows that he is not solely responsible for Damian's benevolent tendencies. His little brother had come so far from that sniping and snarling ten-year-old boy who was using violence to cover up his lonelinesss and insecurities, and that was only possible because so many people in his life had made it a point to be there for him, to reassure him that he's safe, to be proud of his accomplishments. Dick was just one of those people.

But watching Damian patiently directing two ladies to safely go down that slippery descent, Dick could not help but be proud of him. Could not help but think that three years ago, Damian would never have helped them without being ordered to; that two years ago, he would have just carried them across; that one year ago, he would have at least given a disparaging click of his tongue.

Well, he probably had still done that last one before Dick had arrived—he's still a little shit—, but his little brother had grown up to be kind. No, had grown up to allow himself to express that kindness, because Damian had always been kind, even as that sniping and snarling ten-year-old boy. He just hadn't been allowed to express it, had gotten used to not allowing himself the luxury of acting kind.

Dick was so proud of him.

And he knew that he could not claim this success for himself, but if there was one thing in his life of failures that he's sure to have done right, it was this. Somehow, he must have done right with Damian. Somehow, in the middle of that year from hell, between mourning Bruce and chasing Tim and dealing with Jason and trying to keep Gotham from burning down, he must have done something right for this boy in front of him.

Something good.

"Thank you so, so much, young man!" Cheryl's voice broke through Dick's musings. "I don't know what we would have done without you!"

"Not come here in the first place, probably," Sally grumbled, but then she too turned to Damian and smiled. "Thank you, young man."

"You are welcome," Damian said. Dick knew that his little brother wished that that would be the end of it, but of course the two ladies took that response as permission to start cooing again. Damian blinked, then glared straight towards Dick's little hiding place.

Whoops. Busted.

Dick allowed himself a little laugh before he acquiesced to Damian's unspoken request to free him from the clutches of chatty ladies. He stepped into the path proper, and called out, "Damian? Are you there?" as if he's searching for him.

"Here!" Damian shouted back.

For a diversion from the no doubt lengthy small-talk, it was very effective. Dick was quite proud of it. The two ladies immediately turned towards him, abandoning whatever praises they were about to bestow towards Damian.

"There you are," Dick said, falling into the role of an older brother that was very, very relieved to find his little brother safe. "You've made me worried sick."

"I am fine, Richard," Damian replied, expertly using the conversation to step out of the ladies' immediate vicinity, and therefore circumventing any other attempts of direct conversation to him. Honestly, they have done this far too often.

As expected, the two ladies turned towards Dick. It's a good thing that Dick was just reminiscing about how proud and fond he is of his little brother, otherwise he would have demanded compensation for Damian throwing him to the wolves.

"Is this wonderful young man your son?" Sally asked.

The near inaudible rustle of clothing was the only sign of Damian tensing, but before Dick can fully process that, he had already reflexively said, "No." And then, because Dick knows his little brother and his tendencies to think of the worst scenarios, he pulled Damian into a half-hug and continued, "He's my baby brother."

"Ah," Cheryl nodded. "You should be very proud of him. He just helped these two old ladies down that very dangerous slope. If he hadn't been there-"

"If you had listened to me-" Sally retorted, and the two of them seemed to realize that they were in front of people, because they both stopped at the same time.

The silence continued for a while, before Dick decided to have mercy on all of them. He gave them his very best smile, and said, "I am very proud of him." He squeezed Damian's shoulders to tell him that the sentiment was real, before he got it in his mind that Dick only said that to get out of this situation, and continued, "I think we should get going, our dad's going to be mad enough that we got trapped in this rain. We wouldn't want him to get a search party out, would we, Damian?"

"No," Damian said, elbowing Dick in the stomach to tell him to hurry this up. It was pretty gentle for his standards though, so Dick assumed that Damian isn't truly that mad. Hell, it's probably an endorsement.

"Of course!" Cheryl hurriedly cried out. "We should probably also start to head back, huh, Sally?"

"If you had listened from the start we wouldn't be in this position to begin with," Sally grumbled. Then, she sighed, and said to Damian, "Thank you again, young man." She looked up to Dick, and said, "You've got a good kid there, take care of him."

"Yes, ma'am," Dick replied. Damian elbowed him again, and for that, Dick said, "Say goodbye, now, Damian."

A glance to Damian's face promised Dick swift and terrible repercussions, but his expression was clear when he said to the two ladies, "Goodbye Sally, goodbye Cheryl. Please do be careful on the rest of the trek."

Cheryl squealed again, ready to start another round of cooing, but Dick really do not have the mental capacity to handle another round of small-talk, even at Damian's expense, so he tapped Damian's shoulder to signal him to start walking. If it was rude, well, they can always blame the rain.

They waved, the ladies waved back, and thankfully, that was it. No extended goodbyes, though Dick could tell that Cheryl still wanted to coo over Damian.

A couple of minutes later, far from the ladies' hearing range (and Damian did scoff at that "15 minutes to the parking lot!" sign), Damian murmured, "You could have helped sooner."

"And miss seeing you being accosted by two ladies? No way, Jose!"

Damian grumbled, and he looked so, so different from that hurting ten-year-old boy that had been dropped off in Gotham that Dick could not resist. He pulled Damian into a proper hug, and pressed a kiss into his forehead.

The grumbling immediately stopped.

Just as Dick was enjoying the shocked silence, Damian hissed, "What was that for?" It sounded just like the Damian of three years ago that Dick couldn't help but laugh. However much things changed, some things still stayed the same, apparently.

"Nothing," Dick said, and then chanced another quick kiss to Damian's forehead. Then, he let go, and shouted, "Last one to that bend is a loser!" as he immediately sprinted ahead.

"Richard!"

#dc #dick grayson #damian wayne #lian writes #i am BACK to writing fic!!!!!!!

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jamescolton · 2 years

Text

Vanitas

One hot July, several years ago, I called an old friend of mine—named Danielle—to say that I would be in town on business, and to ask if she would like to meet up. Danielle and I had known each other since college, and although we’d gone our separate ways afterward, we still kept in touch and saw each other from time to time. Our friendship was entirely platonic, but sometimes I wondered if it might have been something more, if only life hadn’t kept us apart.

But I digress. At first, Danielle said, with much regret in her voice, that she would be busy. She explained that she was moving from her house to an apartment, and that she needed the time to clean out her place in preparation for the move. Not to be deterred, I offered my assistance.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” was her reply, but I could tell by the instantaneous joy and—did I mistake it?—relief in her voice that she would accept my offer. She did, and two weeks later, an early Saturday morning found me knocking at her front door.

I was surprised when the door opened. Surely the woman who stood before me was a cousin, or—more likely—an aunt, who had also come to lend their aid. But then she welcomed me with an enthusiastic hug, and I knew that this was indeed Danielle. But how she had changed! Her hair was graying, her finely creased skin clung tightly to her cheekbones, and the fingers that dug into my back felt like twigs.

I tried to hide my shock as she released me. “It’s good to see you,” I said.

Danielle grinned. “Thank you so much for coming. It was shaping up to be quite a chore without your help. Have you had breakfast?”

I assured her of the filling meal I’d enjoyed at my hotel as we went inside, and said I was ready to get straight to work.

“I’m tackling the basement today,” she said. “It will be a nice break from this heat.”

The coolness of the basement, rising to embrace us as we descended, was indeed welcome. “So,” I asked, “why are you moving?”

“Oh, you know. The mortgage is too expensive, the maintenance is more than I can keep up with these days, and…I just don’t like the place anymore.”

I remembered Danielle’s delight when she first bought the house. That she should grow sick of it after just a few years seemed odd, but I said nothing.

“My new apartment is great,” she continued, switching on the basement light. “Much better suited to someone like me.”

The basement was a dreary place. Cobweb-veiled windows added their meager sunlight to the naked bulb overhead to illuminate dingy, gray walls, with here and there a spot of sickly green where mold had taken root. Every corner was crowded with cardboard boxes sagging beneath the weight of the damp air. I could see why Danielle was so glad to have company.

The first step was to sort through everything to determine what had value and what could be thrown out. This we began, and made strong progress for several hours. By eleven o’clock, we had reduced the considerable amount of rubbish to just a handful of boxes and a shelf laden with loose and varied junk.

“I’m going to start taking these out to the street,” Danielle said; we had accumulated several garbage bags’ worth of refuse. As she hoisted a couple of the bags up the stairs, I turned my attention to the shelf in the back corner. By now, I had developed a pretty good idea of what Danielle wanted to keep or get rid of. Not that it required much training. I had ascertained that her new apartment was significantly smaller, so almost everything that didn’t see at least annual use had to be either thrown out or donated. I started with the easy things: the bottom shelf was filled with empty paint cans. A few scattered rags, made stiff by unknown substances, joined them in the garbage. The next shelf up contained some tools—potentially useful—and a stack of picture frames. Most of these were broken, but one at the bottom of the stack was still intact, and held a photograph of a man I did not recognize. At first, I felt a pang of alarm—then I caught myself. Why should a picture of a strange man worry me? Danielle and I had never been more than friends. And how significant could he really be, if his photo lay discarded at the bottom of a dusty pile? Besides, now that I looked at him, I thought there might be some family resemblance. At that moment, I heard Danielle’s soft footsteps behind me, so I turned and asked, “Who’s this?”

Silence answered me. Danielle was not there.

I scanned the basement, my eyes resting on each box and bag, searching for anything that could have created such a sound, perhaps under the influence of a rogue breeze. Or maybe my unfamiliarity with the house caused my ears to deceive me; it certainly had sounded exactly like footsteps, but they could have come from upstairs, I supposed.

Shrugging to myself, I set the photograph aside and moved on. Next there was a collection of moldy books. They seemed too far gone to be worth donating, but it would be better to check with Danielle once she returned; they may have held some sentimental value. I left them where they were and was about to move on, when I caught a hint of movement behind them. My heart stuttered—was it a rat? I gingerly nudged the books aside, and…

It wasn’t a rat. No. The movement I saw had been my own, reflected back at me in the grimy surface of a handheld mirror.

Read the rest…

#ghost story #horror #short story #scary story #mirror #ghosts

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hamburgerhelpersotherhand · 2 years

Note

OH MY GOD I LOVE YOUR YANDERE LOST BOYS HOLY

Could I request one with a reader that attempts escape from the cave? Psychological horror would be sick

Let me give it a whirl-!

I ended it during a pretty uneventful scene, forgive me? With my track record, if I don’t post it now, it’ll probably never see the light of day!

Warnings: Implied kidnapping.

Time moves differently when obstructed by debris.

The closest you’d feel to the outside world was when snippets of it would leak into the den, from vintage water-damaged magazine clippings to the occasional odd photograph or stolen wallets. It had been so long since you’d seen the blue sky of Santa Carla.

While certain cues reminded you of the general cycle of the sun and moon, such as your captors’ strict sleeping schedules, you craved nothing more than to feel that warm sunshine on your face once more.

Being hidden away in a partially collapsed cave by strangers, and tossed around when they so chose, was not the life you had expected. Yet, it was the life you awoke to every evening. You were given a large bed with a questionable, ancient mattress, and a few less than favourable sheer “blankets”… they did nothing to stop the damp cold from creeping under your skin.

On a particularly dreary morn, the boys were nowhere to be found. It wasn’t unusual for them to leave you alone at times when you feigned sleep, but it was something you had been hoping for a while now.

They headed off somewhere, possibly gone to the deeper parts of the cave to rest by the sound of it, but you were wide awake. You hadn’t adapted to their schedules, much to your current relief, and your eyes shot open the second they were out of earshot.

Before you knew it, you stood tearful and still as the sun burned at your skin. It felt nice, despite the hurt. Unusually, the sky wasn’t its comforting shade of blue anymore. You had found that, just like yourself, the sky had changed. All you could see was a blinding whiteness shining down, as though light had overtaken the sight. The sun felt harsher than it ever had before, and waves of exhaustion came crashing down harder every moment you remained basking.

Your knees hit the ground first, and then your hands. You enveloped the scalding sand between your fingers for a moment and breathed.

“Are you alright?” A voice rammed into your skull. You turned your head and there stood an unfamiliar young man. He sounded much louder than you’d expected.

“Woah. You… look really fucked up.” He says, and again his voice reverberates through your head. Would you recognize yourself, if you looked in a mirror?

“I…” You begin, raising your squinting eyes to look at his face. “Can I borrow those?”

He points to his face. “My sunglasses?”

“Yes.” You huff. He doesn’t seem to mind.

“I mean, alright.” He shrugs with a smile as he slips them off and reaches over. “You look like shit.”

“I know.” You reply dryly. His sunglasses sit loosely on your face as you work on standing up. The sand gives way below your feet too easily.

“The name’s Michael,” He says. “and I’m gonna need those sunglasses back eventually.”

“Mines Y/N,” You sigh. “and you’ll get them back when the sun’s not boiling my eyes out of their sockets.”

“Hungover?” He asks and you bite your tongue before speaking.

“Yeah,” You say plainly, brushing the sand off yourself. “you can say that.”

Michael squints up at the sky briefly, then looks further down the beach. Your eyes follow his, curiously. He's watching a woman aggressively apply sunblock to a young boy.

“Hey. Michael?” You try out his name and he hums in response. “Do you mind helping me find a place with a phone? I need to make a call.”

“Not at all. There’s a video store nearby. I’m sure they have a landline.”

By the side of the beach, you shake loose sand out of your boot. Walking to the pier was challenging, and your slowing pace hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“I don’t mean to pry, if it’s too personal, but…” Michael sways his hand around as he searches for the words. A second later, he turns to look at you. “Who’re you calling?”

As you slide your boot back on, you look at him quizzically. “Why’s it matter to you?”

“Hm. I guess it doesn’t.” He admits dumbly and you both continue toward the video store. You can tell he’s got something on his mind by the way he glances at you but your life is not his business, even if he's being helpful. Besides, you’re not planning on sticking around town for long so there’s no point in getting cozy.

Before long, you find yourself awkwardly walking through the jingling door of the video store. Michael waltz through and starts to cycle through some of the VHS displays, but you’re having a hard time keeping up.

The windows surrounding the building feel as though they're magnifying the sun, burning it into your skin until your mouth felt dry and coppery. As you approach the front desk, you hold your bag extra close.

“I need to make a call,” you begin as you catch the attention of the female cashier. You point to their phone. “can I use this line?”

She looks at you quizzically, observing your disheveled state and taking in your overall character. By the looks of it, she didn’t seem impressed.

“Sorry, It’s for business only-“

“If you need to use the telephone, I don’t mind one bit.” A man cuts off the cashier. He approaches you with a few steps and gestures to the landline.

The cashier looks annoyed as she turns away, but your attention is easily brought back to the man. He’s dressed cleanly and without fault. A thin pair of glasses sit on the bridge of his nose as he observes you. He seems to be the owner.

“Thank you, it won’t be long. I promise.” You sigh as you grab the phone off the receiver and don’t hesitate to punch in a number. He continues to watch you.

“Of course! So long as you’re courteous, trust goes both ways.” He replies without missing a beat. He slides his hands into his pockets.

With an uneasiness settling in your gut, you turn the other way and press the phone to your ear. In this position, sunlight directly hits your face, and that familiar dizzying feeling pounds against your skull once more. You huff tiredly, and grit your teeth in anticipation. The phone rings.

Your eyes feel heavy as you look about the store. Michael is still looking through tapes, biting his cheek as he turns one over to observe the back. The line rings again. Your hands are getting sweaty.

From here, you wonder: what’s next? You’ve been feeling sluggish ever since you left the den. What if your mother doesn’t pick up? Would the boys leave you alone once you left town? And why does that older man keep looking your way? You can feel his stare at the back of your neck.

But then, an unfamiliar feeling crashes down onto your shoulders. You swallow hard, your wrist slacking as you suddenly loose the grip you once had on the phone. It drops from your palm but is saved by its curly wire. You, on the other hand, drop straight to the floor without a tether.

#ask #request #lost boys x reader #lost boys #yandere #yandere x reader #x reader #vampire x reader

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distracteddegenerate · 3 years

Text

Carnation

Yuta x Fem!reader

Warnings: period sex, lots of blood mentions, yandere undertones for Yuuta, TW.Dubcon if you squint I just want to be safe lol, unprotected sex, smut

Got super carried away with this one which is why it’s so long lol. I decided to combine the asks since I have got a lot for Yuta. Second anon if you’re uncomfortable with this fic which is understandable lol just shoot me another ask and I can do something else for you.

You lay curled in your bed, the sheets and pillows a mess around you, a fluffy hot water bottle cradled tightly to your front. The side of your body you laid on was beginning to ache from pressure, and you felt flush from heat, but you dared not move. You dreaded the intensifying of the stabbing pains your own body was wretchedly subjecting you to. Of course today would be the heaviest of your period, the day you had scheduled for a study session with Yuta. He was due to come over in about half an hour, and your pains were yet to ease up at all, despite the painkillers you had recently downed. You could cancel, yet, this was the first ever study session you had set up with your handsome friend, and you were loath to cancel it over something that would clear itself up eventually.

You closed your eyes, and pulled the hot water bottle you gripped like a lifeline closer to the source of your suffering.

~~~

*knock knock*

Fuuuuck. Was it that time already? You groggily sat up, releasing your water bottle and in replacement lightly pressing your hand against the throbbing pain that was starting to surge more strongly in the pit of your belly. You gently placed your feet on the ground off the side of your bed, and rose onto the balls of them just as delicately. You began your gloomy shuffle towards the entrance of your room, fixing your ruffled hair into place.

You pulled the door open on yourself slowly, croaking as Yuta’s tired but docile face materialised into view.

“Good evening, (Name)-chan.” Yuta had his hands in his pockets and wore a kindly smile, the only thing betraying his pleasant demeanour being those familiar dark circles dusking the underside of his eyes. Dreary though they appeared, you could swear you saw a specular shimmer dance across his irises when he registered your form.

“Ah good evening to you too, Yuta! Come in and make yourself at home, I have some stuff set up on the coffee table.” You tried your best to look as perfectly in humour as you could, to not draw any attention to your current pain stricken condition. Must have been good enough, as Yuta had nodded in response and was now making his way over to nestle himself onto one of the pillows you had placed next to your make-shift study station.

You yourself was headed to the kitchenette, about to ask what Yuta wanted to drink when a sharp stab erupted from your core. You threw your hand onto a countertop and visibly winced, when you noticed Yuta’s widened eyes had been following you.

“(Name)! Are you okay?!” Yuta’s expression was alarmed, prepared to pounce up from his seating.

“Uh- I er uh- tripped over! Nothing to worry about!” You were blushing slightly, but righted yourself regardless and tried to stand as straight as you could. Yuta seemed slightly confused, and whilst he opened his mouth to speak you interrupted him with a casual “So what would you like to drink?”

“Er.. I’m fine actually, I had something before I left home... actually I think you should come sit down, er, carefully.” He still looked a little concerned. You nodded your head and made your way over to his side. Settling yourself down, you could feel more pain pulsating within you, a low rumble threatening another great stab like you had experienced just. You drew your legs to your chest in an attempt to alleviate it slightly, and picked up your copy of “a comprehensive guide to the relation of curses and the law”; holding it open in front of you.

You could feel Yuta’s gaze still trained on you.

~~~

“So, although the police would have to intervene if someone was hurt or killed in the incident, sorcerers still have the right to- er - (Name)?”

Crap. You were too focused on the waves of torture oscillating in your guts to keep your attention on Yuta explaining the info that went over your head in class to you again. And he noticed. You looked up at him softly, and offered a subdued “sorry.” You didn’t really have energy to maintain your act of being fine anymore. His eyes looked concerned. You turned your head to the floor and fiddled with your hands.

“Hey, (Name).” You heard him shift and alter the positioning of his legs. “Is it that time of the month?”

What?! Who asks that like this?!

You threw your head back up to look at him, your face red and mouth agape. He threw his hands up defensively.

“Sorry, sorry!” He hurriedly turned his gaze into the distance and rubbed the back of his neck. “I just.. I have a little sister, so I’m used to this sort of thing, or at least I know a bit more about it than other guys.” He looked back to you. “It seems like the pains at least are distracting you from your studies, if you need painkillers or something.. I can go get them for you.”

“I er...I already tried that… doesn’t work out that well for me.” Was your meek, barely audible reply. You played with the tassel of the pillow you were sat on. Yuta looked pained on your behalf.

“Y’know… I read online somewhere that there’s always something you can try out failing all else.” He caught your gaze, and held it intently.

It must be too good to be true, how would Yuta know some hidden method that you (as someone who experienced periods) didn’t know about for dealing with the pains?! Your eager look betrayed itself when a switch flicked in your head and your expression turned into one of astonishment. There’s no way he’s gonna suggest…

“Org*sms.”

You’d known Yuta for awhile now, but you had no idea just how… artless he was. Where was his tact?! Your cheeks burned from embarrassment. You felt like your face was about to explode.

Looking at him though, he was practically unfazed! As if you were going about some matter-of-a-fact order of business. What was this situation!

“I-is.. that a joke Yuta?” Your hands were curling into tight balls.

“Of course not, (Name). You look like you’re in so much pain. I just want to help alleviate it.”

What the hell did he mean by that? Like you will just hop up right now and go jerk yourself in the bathroom as casually as using the toilet.. Or.. could he have meant..

You felt Yuta’s hand settle on your thigh, as he leant down further towards you. “I can help you out (Name)-chan.”

You couldn’t deny, you’d always found Yuta handsome, but for things to move along this quickly… and of all times! Surely his level of straight-forwardness defied all social conventions, and yet, it was working. The feel of his hand resting on you, his hungry stare, the way he loomed over you, chest rising and falling intently. You could feel a different kind of ache emanating from your lower parts.

His hand drifted further up your body, coming to stop just below your belly button. “I want to help you… (Name)-chan.” You looked into his dark eyes. They were intense, hungry. You could swear he was salivating.

“B-but Yuta.. I-I’m.. You know! Isn’t that.. Gross? For you?” He shot you a sheepish grin, hiding his eyes in an evasive fashion. His hand travelled downwards once more, snaking up the inside of your loose-fitting shorts and looping his fingers over the sides of your panties. He toyed with them, rolling the cloth over your skin and lightly pulling at them. “I don’t think any part of you is gross, (Name)-chan.” His eyes flicked open again, drawing you back into his intensity. “I think every part of you is beautiful, even.” You could sense his earnestness, and it made your cheeks burn. You went to throw your hands up to them, but he quickly caught them in his. “So, what’s your answer?” He planted a kiss in your palm. “Do you want my help? (Name)-chan.”

Fuck.. the way he looked at you. Those ferocious, hooded eyes. Those calloused hands, usually wrapped around a katana, wrapped around yours right now. The burning you felt between your legs. God yes. God, you wanted it.

The alleviation of pain (and studying) was an afterthought.

~~~

Yuta had returned back to your living space with a towel from the bathroom. What? you didn’t want to get the floor messy. You could see an erection straining tightly against his black pants.

Fuck, you were really gonna do this. He set it down flat on the floor, and invited you to come situate yourself on it.

~~~

After removing his shirt (It was white, after all), Yuta knelt himself down in front of you. He had a certain glint in his eyes, almost conflicting the harmless smile that he also wore, as if he wasn’t about to blissfully pound your bloody c*nt into oblivion. He undid the front buckle of his pants, a bulge emerging, the explicitness of his bare dick concealed by gray underwear. He began palming at the protuberance. You eyed the display curiously, when you had a sudden realisation.

“Y-Yuta, w-what about… protection?” you asked, uneasily.

“Hm? (Name)-chan, you’re on your period, remember? You won’t get pregnant.”

“B-but..”

He cut you off. “I don’t have anything. Trust me.”

You nodded and grunted in acknowledgement. Yuta was always a trustworthy figure for you. Your strong, reliable friend who you could always depend on. He always took care of you, even during skirmishes with curses, arriving at your side before things even had the chance to get particularly hairy.

You watch Yuta as he tilts his keeling body forward, his hands landing on your ankles before travelling upwards, spreading your legs open in the process. You feel yourself blushing once again, tossing your head to the side. You can feel the front of your damp p*nties being touched, jumping in slight surprise at the abrupt action before Yuta starts rubbing at your cl*t through the fabric. He notices your breathing falter.

“Do you like it, (Name)-chan? Do you like how it feels when I rub you there?”

You mumble a small “yes.”

He’s applying more pressure to his administrations now. “Do you want me to take your p*nties off? So I can touch you properly?”

You answer yes again, this time more hastily.

With that, he curls his fingers over the sides of your p*nties, dragging your legs into the air as he twists his body appropriately in order to shimmy the restrictive fabric off of you. He casts them to the side, before pulling your trembling limbs back into their previous position. Once he settled them back down, he kept his hands on your thighs as he drank in the glory of your exposed c*nt quivering before him, the string of your tampon peaking out in a taunting manner.

You heard him cooing at you quietly. “Beautiful.”

You cringed, wondering if he’d still be thinking that when he’s stained with blood. Even so, you couldn’t help but melt under the feeling of his fingertips tracing circles into your inner thighs. The way you felt a thumb flick over your n*ked sex.

“Is your stomach still hurting you?” The sudden question snapped you out of your stupor.

Truth be told, you’d almost completely forgotten about your pains you were so caught up in the moment, but something held you back from saying so. As if Yuta would stop touching you if you let him know the “reason” for the two of you doing this was almost completely resolved. And, you were relishing in the tenderness of his comforting too much for it to stop.

“Y-Yes..”

Yuta bent further over you, his head looming over your core. He sunk down, his face leaning into the space of your skin where your tummy and pelvis met. He planted a light kiss there.

“Well, I’m gonna make you feel better.”

His grip on your thighs tightened as his head lifted, his presence shadowing over you once again as he held himself higher. Your heart pounded. He leaned further on your left thigh and removed his hand from the other, as you felt fingers poking at your aching heat again.

Could you feel… pulling?

You felt a horrible, obscene slick escape you suddenly when Yuta yanked out your tampon. He pinched it limply in fingers, observing it slightly before placing it on the towel you shared.

“Yuta?!” You whelped. It was ironic. The two of you were sharing an intimate moment with each other, almost completely exposed. But this? It felt somewhat... invasive.

You could sense Yuta shrugging. “It needed to come out.” Before you even had a chance to respond, you could feel him caressing your folds. He was circling his thumb over them, the peak of the eclipse swiping over your cl*t. “Don’t worry, (Name)-chan you look beautiful.”

You looked to him, but he didn’t return the gaze. His stare was boring into your most private parts, hungrily eating up the view. The calloused hand still wrapped around your leg was gripping on tightly, as you felt Yuta dip a finger into your sopping c*nt.

“Fuck.. it’s so.. wet.”

Well, that was a given you supposed. But you knew a lot of what was down there was also probably your usual feminine slick, with the way he was making you ache. He continued pumping his finger in and out, the motion becoming deeper and rougher, him gaining confidence in what you were willing to take in. You could feel your muscles strain around it.

“That’s three.”

“Wait, w-what?!”

“Three fingers, (Name)-chan. You’re drenched down here.” You felt him remove his digits, Spreading them out across your lips. You then felt him draw a line across your inner thighs that intersected your p*ssy in the middle. Was he… playing in it? You decided not to question, you were too caught up in a wanton haze, hips bucking upwards, begging for his touch to return to your most sensitive parts.

“Y-yuta..”

He looked at you and smiled sincerely. “-just need to make sure you’re nice and loose for me, (Name)-chan.” Before you could react, plunging fingers speared your weeping c*nt, pumping with violent pace. You yelped and crumpled in on yourself when you felt his fingers curl against your velvety walls, yielding against the pressure. You squirmed underneath him even more when he began spreading them, parting your insides. You hummed, laying your hand over the top of his head, entwining yourself in the strands of his hair.

He shifted into your touch. “God, love this. So fucking beautiful.”

He peered at you from beneath those dark lashes. “You think you’re ready?”

“Hm?”

“For my cock.”

At that, you nodded, releasing your grasp on his hair and trailing your hand down his chest as he straightened himself, looping his fingers over the sides of his boxers, staining it with blood. He tugged them down, his painfully erect dick springing out into open air. You found yourself surprised at the length. Yet, He was focused on you. Pointing at your top half he asked you, “Can you take all of this off?”

You nodded and complied hurriedly.

When you were done Yuta was quick, grabbing your knees to hold you in place, leaning over to plant yet another doting kiss on your body, This time in the space between your bare breasts. You felt him begin to push into you. He managed the entirety of his length, before pulling himself almost all the way out again. You noticed how he looked down, admiring the sheen of your blood now coating his member. He quickly snapped his hips back into you again, and began assuming a steady pace of rutting. Your legs found themselves wrapping around him, your ankles cross sectioning across his taught upper back. You wanted to tell him it felt good, but the most you could manage was a weak moan.

That seemed to set something off within him. He lunged over you, enveloping your entire body with his own. He planted one hand on the towel beneath you, firmly beside your head. The other found itself groping a t*t, clawing over it to pinch your hard nipple, surrounding the ar*ola with petals of red. His pace was raw and piercing, but the slight discomfort you felt was laced with a more intense pleasure.

You heard him groan. “-god.. You feel so good. Fucking you like this.. It’s just so.. primal.” He was lightly scraping his nails against you, tracing trails of scarlet down your body. You understood what he meant by that perfectly. The way he was looking down at you, almost slavering at the lips at your vulnerable form, like some wild animal lost in it’s lust.

The feeling of it, the sounds of it. It was also so expl*cit. Yet so gratifying.

You lost yourself, allowing Yuta to abuse your lower half as he pleased, even matching your hips to his punishing motions. The l*wd squelching noises as he fucked into your excessive wetness, the way he played with your sensitive nipple at the same time, your entire being yearning into his ministrations.

“I-I’ve always dreamt of this, (Name)-chan” You were too lost in a fucked out haze to really respond, humming lightly as you stroked the arm gripping your breast. His pace got even quicker then, rougher. His form that was already entirely draped over yours weighed down on you with even more pressure, the slap of his bucking hips against your buttox resounding loudly. It’s all too much, your legs weak when you cream his c*ck, a wave of release gushing out of you as your heat throbs wildly.

Your limbs go weak as you reel from the org*sm, your walls spasming around Yuta as he continued his bucking.

Yuta’s gaze rests on your dazed expression, his dark eyes settling over you. “You needed my c*ck didn't you?” He moves the hand that was on your bre*st to caress over your face. “Desperately. I know you did.”

You felt Yuta’s pace get rougher, losing it’s steady tempo as he chases closer to his climax. He thrusts into you heartily a final time before his release spills into you, closing his eyes as he rides out his orgasm out slowly and tenderly. He remains inside for sometime after, rubbing your hips with his thumb as he admires the mixture of c*m and blood streaming out of your hole and cascading down his dick.

“Beautiful.”

He looks to your face now, smiling gently.

“So, do you feel better now, (Name)?”

#jjk #yuta okkotsu #yuta okkotsu x reader #jujutsu kaisen #okkotsu yuta x reader #reader x jjk #jjk x reader #dark jjk #period sex #okkotsu yuta #okkotsu yuuta #yuuta okkotsu x reader #okkotsu yuuta x reader #tw.yandere #tw.blood #tw.periods #tw.dubcon #smut #jjk smut

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nobodyfamousposts · 3 years

Text

Dolls AU: Swap Day

It was a great plan. In theory.

Chaton had been with Marinette since he was created. And Littlebug had literally been made for Adrien.

And while they had many days where they spent time together all four of them, or both dolls went with one of the two heroes, usually they found themselves falling back to that routine.

It wasn’t that Marinette didn’t care about Littlebug. Or that Adrien didn’t care about Chaton. They both did care, and very much in fact! But they had spent so long with one doll each and had gotten used to it, that it hadn’t really struck them to spend some individual time with the other doll.

That was why they would be doing this now.

This weekend, they would each be spending a day with the other’s doll for bonding time! Adrien was excited. Marinette was nervously anticipating. Tikki was worried. And Plagg was...well...Plagg, so other than making sure to stockpile cheese and a place to hide from what he deemed the “sappiness”, he didn’t care.

And thus, they planned for a free full day of bonding and fun! Guaranteed!

______________________

Littlebug was not having a good time.

It wasn’t Mama’s fault. Mama was wonderful. She didn’t want her or anyone to think otherwise.

But…

She wasn’t often away from Papa.

And she certainly wasn’t away from Chaton AND Papa.

She couldn’t help but think about them. And worry. Were they okay? Were they having fun? Was Papa’s Father needing another night in the big trash bin again?

She looked out the window at the stormy dark skies and her own sad reflection. She was trying not to think about them, but couldn’t not think about them. And the raininess was only making it worse since the two left in the wet and ickiness and she couldn’t go with them to protect them or make them feel better. It was making her sad and worried.

Marinette, for her part, was also worried. This bonding day wasn’t really off to a great start. First with the rainstorm, which made the day somewhat dreary and kept them from being able to spend time outside. Then with Littlebug seeming rather distant.

She bit her lip, feeling uncertain. She glanced to Tikki in hopes of some suggestion, but even the kwami didn’t seem to have any ideas as she simply shrugged.

Littlebug only continued to look out the window, almost wistfully.

“Hey, Littlebug.” Marinette said as she approached the doll. “Are you feeling all right?”

A moment passed as Littlebug thought it over before she looked up at Marinette with a frown.

“I guess you miss Adrien and Chaton, too, huh?” Marinette ventured.

The doll nodded.

“Well, you and I can spend the day together doing just about anything—within reason, of course.” Marinette smiled. “So how would you like it if we made something for them that you could give when we see them next? Would that make you feel better?”

Littlebug paused at that, looking up at Marinette in surprise and a bit of enthusiasm.

Really? Would it be okay?

“Of course!” Marinette replied. “This is your day with me. If you want to make something, we certainly can do that!”

This seemed to brighten Littlebug’s mood as she nodded eagerly.

The hope was that she could spend time with Littlebug that was just between them. But for now, Littlebug was still focused on Adrien and Chaton.

At the very least, they could turn that focus into something productive!

So Marinette showed Littlebug some of her crochet supplies and helped her learn some basic stitching. Littlebug took to it quite happily...at least at first.

But Littlebug was getting frustrated with each mistake she made.

“It doesn’t have to be perfect.” Marinette assured her.

Littlebug frowned up at her, clearly unimpressed.

Because it had to be perfect! It’s for Papa!

Marinette smiled. Littlebug was so much like herself. They both had that same sense of determination and perfectionist tendencies.

...given Marinette’s issues, it’d probably be best to nip that in the bud.

“He’ll love anything you make.”

Littlebug pouted. It seemed she still wasn’t convinced.

Marinette hugged her. “You know, there may be mistakes in what you make, but those are just indicators that it was made by you with love.” She gave Littlebug a squeeze. “Adrien will see that. And it’ll matter all the more to him because you made it for him out of love.”

Littlebug stared up at Marinette as if in awe. Her eyes almost seemed to shine.

“Adrien doesn’t get many things. So he appreciates what he’s given. The little mistakes show the effort you put into your gifts and that you were thinking of him.

Okay.

Littlebug nodded resolutely, determined to see this through.

Then she would be sure to make tons of mistakes to let Papa know she loved him!

“Wait—that’s not what I meant!” Marinette cried.

Tikki giggled.

Still, it made Littlebug feel more at ease and the two worked together on their projects in easy companionship.

“I wonder how the boys are doing…”

Littlebug looked up at that. She tilted her head in curiosity.

Marinette smiled down at Littlebug.

“I’m sure they’re okay.”

Littlebug smiled back up at her and nodded.

________________________

Adrien was not okay.

“Chaton! Chaton, buddy? Where are you?”

It was his day to spend one on one time with Chaton, but sure enough, his ever-dreaded schedule had inconveniently intervened at the worst time, dragging him away from his room and from Chaton for over an hour. Now that he returned, Chaton was nowhere to be seen. It hadn’t even been an hour since Marinette had entrusted him to her care and he had lost him.

Marinette was going to kill him.

“Kid?” Plagg questioned after having watched Adrien tearing up his room for a good 15 minutes.

“I messed up, Plagg. I completely messed up!” Adrien moaned as he slumped onto his bed. “Now I can’t find Chaton! He could be anywhere!”

He gasped, starting to panic.

“What if he got out? What if he’s outside? It’s RAINING outside, Plagg!”

“I can see that.”

“What if he thought I abandoned him and left?! What if he’s all alone? WHAT IF SOMEONE KIDNAPPED HIM?!”

“Kid.”

“What do I do?! Where do I even start looking?!”

“Kid.”

“What if he’s hurt? Or scared? Oh my god, Plagg, what if he’s injured and crying and needing me to find him?!”

“ADRIEN!”

Adrien spun around immediately to see a floating and very unimpressed Plagg staring flatly at him.

“What?!”

“It’s raining.”

Adrien blinked. “Okay?”

Plagg sighed. “Where do little kitties like to go when it rains?”

Adrien frowned at that. “I don’t know…someplace dark and dry?”

Plagg sighed and rolled his eyes.

“When it’s wet and humid and I don’t feel well, where do I like to go?”

Adrien thought for a moment. “Well, you go to my sock draw...oh.”

He stood and headed for his drawer, which he only now noticed was slightly open. Not all the way, but just enough to provide some cover.

And sure enough, there laid a particularly tired Chaton nestled among Adrien’s socks.

________________________

Chaton didn’t like rainy days.

They were icky. They smelled bad and came with a dampness that got everywhere. Especially when he had to go out in the rain for any length of time. It was as if the mugginess clung to him even once he was inside. It was bad and it made him feel bad. Like he was smothered in a wetness that wasn’t really wet and he couldn’t wipe away.

It hadn’t helped that he and Papa had to go out in the rain to get from Mama’s home to Papa’s house. Despite their best efforts, they couldn’t stay completely dry. And the rain just seemed to follow them.

When they had gotten to Papa’s room, they both worked to dry off. Even so, the unpleasant feeling remained.

His day with Papa had just started and Chaton was already not happy.

Then the Cold Lady called. Papa had to leave, so it was just Chaton and the ickiness.

Normally, he would have played and waited.

But it was wet. It was wet and miserable and Chaton was miserable and now he was alone.

Papa was gone and even Kitty was gone, too.

That just left Chaton to find some comfort for himself. A nice dry place. A place that can take the ickiness away.

He couldn’t go to the Fort. Littlebug and the King and Queen weren’t there and he didn’t want to get the walls damp or icky.

The bed might work, but it was too big and open. It just wasn’t enough.

He missed Mama. When it was rainy and icky, he could lay on her lap and she would pet him till he felt better.

He wanted to curl up. He wanted a dry small comforting place. Like his bed. Or his Box. But those were at Mama’s home and he was here.

There was only one place he could think of.

It took some effort to pull out the drawer. Chaton was tired by the end and he had only managed to pull it out maybe a third of the way. Fortunately, it was enough for him to slip inside. He’d gotten through thinner openings and hidden in smaller boxes before.

If I fits I sits, Mama had said.

He didn’t know what it meant, but if it got him where he wanted to be, it was good enough.

He was able to climb up and over, landing inside the drawer and on top of the soft sockies. They were smaller than the bedsheets and able to be moved much more easily, so he curled up and shuffled around until a little nest of sockies buffered him on all sides to protect him from the ickiness outside.

It wasn’t as good as Mama’s home. But it was comforting.

Chaton slept.

Suddenly there was noise.

Footsteps.

Papa’s voice. He sounded upset. Chaton felt bad and wanted to check on him, but that required moving.

It came closer.

Then it went away.

Then there were sounds outside his hiding place. Sounds of things being moved or shuffled around.

Footsteps came back.

Suddenly there were hands.

Warm hands.

Hands that were trying to take him from his nice dry place.

Nooooo

Wet. Icky. Rainy. Sleepy. Cold.

Cold.

Warm hands. Cold everything else.

He didn’t like it.

He fussed.

“Hang on a second.”

But it was icky!

A sound of cloth moving.

The hands were putting him down. The warm hands. The only warm and dry thing! He clutched them desperately.

Suddenly—soft below him. Warm everywhere else.

He opened his eyes. Pillow below him. Soft fluffy nice feeling. Blankets hanging around him. Enclosing him in warm dry comfy-ness.

Chaton sighed in contentment and nuzzled into the nest of pillows and blankets, surrounded by even more blankets to keep out the icky feeling. He was feeling sleepy now—but a good sleepy! Not the icky sleepy. What was this? What had Papa done?

Adrien knelt in the enclosed space, looking rather pleased with himself.

“There we go! One blanket fort for a rainy day! What do you think, Chaton?”

He liked it.

Chaton purred.

Papa curled up next to him inside the enclosure.

“The storm should pass in an hour or two. I think we can do with a nap until then.”

Chaton liked that idea.

The warmth before was nice but this was better.

Then Papa started to purr.

Chaton shifted to get closer to the vibrations. It was nice. Soothing.

Papa’s arm curled around him, making Chaton feel even more nice and good sleepy.

“I don’t know why you were panicking so much, kid. Cats are easy to please.”

“I just don’t want to mess up, Plagg.”

Papa was silly. He wasn’t messing up at all.

Chaton loved Papa bunches. Bunches and bunches!

Before he completely nodded off, Chaton’s tail curled over Papa’s arm.

In a couple hours, they could play. But for now, Chaton liked spending his time with Papa just fine like this.

#ml fic #ml fluff #dolls au #littlebug and chaton noir #littlebug #chaton noir #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #plagg #Tikki

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pawfulsofmischief · 2 years

Text

Little longer than an hour cause I got side tracked, but here's ficlet number 2 in the little 'series' and for my celebration sorta.

- Remus is always the one to care for Sirius and Harry when they're sick, but of course they return the favor when Remus needs it most.

Outside was cold and dreary in the aftermath of the recent storm. Clouds still hung in the sky and the ground was wet and mushy. Off and on rain would fall, but it no longer came down in the pelting sheets that had absolutely drenched them the day before when they’d been hurrying to get into Grimmauld after returning with Harry from the train platform. Why it had started storming as summer was encroaching, Remus had no idea, but it now meant he was nursing his two favorite men while they dealt with their colds.

Sirius wasn’t hit quite as badly as Harry was, which was a tad surprising given Sirius’s body still wasn’t totally recovered from his time in Azkaban, even now two years after escaping. Remus supposed it might’ve been because Sirius had a long history of being obnoxiously healthy before Azkaban, while Harry had been mistreated and underfed just about his whole life. The thought still rankled Remus, and he would’ve taken it up with the Dursleys personally if Dumbledore hadn’t made him and Sirius promise to leave The Dursleys alone if he gave custody of Harry over to them instead.

Remus sighed and pushed those thoughts away, leaning forward to feel the back of Harry’s forehead. He was burning up still, but it had settled down a bit from when it had peaked an hour earlier. Harry mumbled something in his sleep as he shifted a bit closer to Remus’s touch, causing a small smile to bloom on his lips. Gently, Remus ran his fingers through Harry’s damp, sweaty hair. The bedroom door creaked open and Sirius came shuffling in, causing Remus to look up.

Tired but alert eyes scanned over Harry for a moment before locking onto Remus, a smile fluttering over Sirius’s lips. “Hello, love,” Remus greeted, voice quiet to not wake Harry. Sirius simply hummed in reply as he carefully shut the door behind him and made his way over to sit down sideways in Remus’s lap. He was facing the bed, to keep an eye on Harry, but he practically melted into Remus’s torso as he let his head rest on his shoulder.

“How’d our pup doing?” Sirius asked, voice a little raspy. Remus picked up his wand and summoned a small tea service for them.

“A little better. I think his fever should break soon,” Remus replied, setting his wand back down to wrap an arm around Sirius’s waist. He was still thin, too thin really, even after numerous meals from Molly. “How are you feeling?”

“Good as new,” Sirius joked, even as his voice rasped and he had to clear his throat slightly.

“Mhm, I’m sure,” Remus mused, pressing a soft kiss to Sirius’s cheek. It had taken time for them to return to such close intimacy after twelve years apart and so much the war had put between them. Thankfully, they’d worked it out, and while it was still rocky and the pair had yet to do more than cuddle in bed and have lazy snogging sessions, Remus was relishing in having his lover back.

“Moony.” Harry’s voice stole their attention, slurred a bit and full of sleep still.

“I’m right here, cub,” Remus quickly replied, soft and easy as he reached over to run his fingers through Harry’s hair again. The tenseness that had quickly begun claiming Harry’s body fled as soon as the familiar touch was felt. Hazy green eyes blinked open slowly to look up at Remus and Sirius, barely moving his head. “How are you feeling?”

Harry worked his mouth a bit like it was too dry, prompting Remus to make a cup of tea for Harry while waiting for an answer. “Wha’ time iz it?”

“It’s early evening, babe,” Sirius replied gently, sipping his own tea from the floating tea service. “We’ll have dinner for you soon.”

“Any requests?” Remus asked, carefully sliding Sirius off his lap as he got up so he could help Harry sit enough to drink some tea. Harry did so without complaint, though one of his hands latched onto the hem of Remus’s sweater and forced him to sit down on the bed beside him.

“Mrs. Weasley’s potato stew,” Harry said quietly, eyes half closed and brain half asleep still. He leaned heavily into Remus’s side, who settled an arm gently around his back to keep him steady.

“We’ll see if she can manage some for you,” Remus agreed easily, pushing some of Harry’s hair back from his sweaty forehead. “Do you need anything else, love?”

Harry slowly shook his head, telling Remus right away he likely still had a headache. Remus raised a brow slightly, “mhm. I’ll go floo call Molly and bring you have a pain potion. Can you two live without me for a few minutes?”

“Of course not, Moony,” Sirius said, voice heavy with his cold but full of amusement. “We’ll be dead and buried by the time you return.”

“You’d better not,” Remus teased back, gently pressing a kiss to Harry’s head before standing up slowly. He helped Harry to lay back down before leaning down to kiss Sirius softly. “I’d be awfully worried if you managed to bury yourselves after you die.”

Sirius laughed, not quite his usual laugh, too sick right now for the loud, barking sound that echoed in rooms. But a low, warm laugh that still managed to fill the room. “Go on, Moony. I’m starving.”

“Right away your highness,” Remus chuckled before making his way out of the room to do just that.

---

As always, Remus was repaid for taking care of Sirius and Harry by them caring for him after a full moon. With Padfoot there to entertain Moony- though it didn’t work completely anymore, locked away in a small cellar rather than a wide open forest- he didn’t come out of it as bad as he had been for years, but his old body was weakening with each passing moon and some transformations were left not fully finished at times. Sirius would be there through the transformation and would be quick to help Remus heal up anything he could before taking Remus back to their room to rest.

When Remus would wake next, Harry would be there with him. Just as he was that morning as Remus blinked his eyes open. Harry was curled up in an armchair right beside Remus’s bedside with a comic book in hand, as had become tradition, and a small pile of chocolate was lovingly stacked on the bed beside Remus. He smiled softly and let his eyes shut again to bask in the warmth he always felt from such small signs of love. After a few moments, he carefully began to stretch himself out, limb by limb, accounting for where pain was.

Harry shifted and quickly closed his book up, setting it to the side as he turned his attention to Remus. “Sirius is down in the kitchen making some grilled cheese and soup,” Harry informed, smiling warmly at Remus. “How’re you feeling?”

“Sore,” Remus chuckled, rubbing at his shoulder that he faintly remembered hadn’t fully popped into place before Sirius had to attend to it. “But good. You and Sirius make it easier to handle.”

“Good,” Harry nodded, snatching up one of the chocolates- one of the smaller ones, never the big bars that they always let Remus have- and began opening it. “So, want to tell me why you didn’t warn me about the big reveal that would happen?” Harry asked, nodding towards the comic book he’d been reading, and Remus was once again warmed by Harry’s care. Because Harry and Sirius both knew Remus hated to dwell on his full moons, so whoever was there when he woke up would strike up a conversation about something completely random and helpfully get his mind off it.

“Well, I didn’t want to spoil it,” Remus said with a small grin, nestling down a bit deeper into his pillow to wait for Sirius to arrive with food. “You’d not be able to fully appreciate it had you been expecting something.”

#ficlet #drabble #100 follower celebration #sort of #wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #harry potter #wolfstar dads #just ignore the fact i make no reference to what happens in gof #even tho this is technically right after 4th year #it didnt cross my mind until after i finished

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bitsandbobsandstuff · 4 years

Text

Ink on his heart

Summary: Here’s how Bucky Barnes got a haircut and then decided it was about damn time he controlled his own destiny - starting with a bit of ink.

Star Spangled Bingo Square: “A thoughtful gift”

Characters: Bucky Barnes x TattooArtist!Reader

Words: 7,400 Warnings: Tattoo experiences, a couple stories about war. Some swearing. Mostly lots of feels and fluff.

A/N: This one has been in my head a long time, I love tattoos and I love the idea of Bucky getting them! While I desperately wish I could draw the designs in my head, hopefully you get enough of a word picture to imagine. And yes, it is kinda long (I know, I know), but I couldn’t stop myself!

Want to find all my stories? Search #bitsmasterlist or try the link in my bio!

*****

Not that Bucky’s counting, but it’s been three days, 18 hours and 26 minutes and he can’t get over it.

In the damp, chilly hours before dawn, he sits on the floor of the tower living room, watching the marshmallows in his hot chocolate melt in white swirls. Now and then, he lifts his eyes to the windows, finds the faint edges of his reflection in the dark glass, and tilts his head. Tentative fingers scratch through close cropped hair and a slow smile appears. Even now, he expects long strands trailing through his fingers. Believes he can feel the phantom tug of a snarl.

It was just a haircut. What a simple, ordinary thing.

But Bucky Barnes has never been ordinary.

That small act triggered a startling transformation. Decades of heartbreak fell away with that dark hair, revealing the shape of a man he begins to remember, and it makes him think. About small things, about change. About simple acts making an extraordinary difference.

The last haircut Bucky remembers before the beginning of his first ending, was January 1945. The memory came back one evening, of a tent in Austria, the heavy silence of snow drifting down. He remembers Steve with a dull scissors, snipping carefully along his ear, remembers the catch of a knife gently shaving his neck. It was a ritual they shared for years. When pennies were tight and life was tough, they took care of each other.

And then? Then there was after.

After the fall, after capture, after the world went pear-shaped. Hydra wasn’t concerned with the formalities of self-care, a haircut was functional. Sharp scissors biting into his scalp, rough hands tearing his hair, a harsh slap if he considered resisting. Get it done and get it done fast. The Asset has work to do.

He despised those haircuts.

But now, here he is. No more handlers and horrors. No more running. No more hiding. No more ropes dragging him somewhere he doesn’t want to be.

Wresting back his independence was exhilarating.

When Steve had finished this haircut - because Bucky still preferred a Steve Rogers special to anything - he’d dusted off Bucky’s shoulders and waited. Sam stood behind him, and Bucky rolled his eyes, expecting a barrage of sassy comments.

But Sam just ruffled the freshly cut hair and laughed.

“Not bad old man. Still not as handsome as yours truly, but hey - maybe someday.”

Such a simple thing, a haircut.

It makes him wonder what else he might do, just for himself.

Fuzzy and disconnected, an old memory flickers to life. It buzzes in his brain, images and connections filtering through the cracks and Bucky lets out a breathless laugh.

“Yeah,” he murmurs to himself. “Okay.”

He closes his eyes and sips his hot chocolate.

*****

Steve yawns when he answers the door. Blond hair spikes in every direction and he rubs his eyes, looking for all the world like a sleepy, overgrown toddler.

“Hey, man. Everything okay?”

Bucky leans against the doorframe and chews his thumbnail while he gathers his thoughts.

“Sure, just - can I get a favor?”

Bemused, Steve ushers him inside and Bucky plops in the red bean bag chair Steve keeps tucked beside his dresser. Stretching out his legs, he waits for Steve to flop back into bed and snuggle his pillow, before he speaks.

“Remember back in ’37 when we were coming home from that shitty bar in Midtown, and we saw that sailor getting a tattoo?”

Whatever Steve expected, it wasn’t this. It takes him a moment to conjure the image, but when it comes he belts out a laugh.

“That terrified kid gettin’ a big heart on his arm? Looked ready to shit his pants?”

Bucky grins at the memory, a milk-faced kid with hair dark and shiny as an oil-slick.

“Thought he was gonna puke on the guy.”

“Yeah, and didn’t we stand outside that window arguing while you tried to convince me we both needed one? Something about good girls liking bad boys?”

“Hey, I stand by that statement!”

“Oh fuck off, you know exactly what your Ma would’ve said if we’d come home with tattoos.”

“Yeah,” Bucky chuckles. “God, she’d a skinned me alive.”

“Damn straight,” Steve agrees and they fall quiet, momentarily lost in shared memories of a woman with a voice of steel and a heart of gold.

Bucky leans forward and rests his chin on his knee.

“You know, all these years and I’ve never really - done anything like that,” he admits wistfully. “Gotten something done to me, I mean. Something I decided on my own. If that makes sense?”

Controlling his own destiny, choosing to do something by himself, instead of always accepting things done to him - the idea is intoxicating. He remembers the pained grimace on that sailor’s face and he relishes the prospect.

Pain you choose to feel holds a different meaning, than the torture he knows.

“S’never too late, Buck,” Steve says drowsily. “You can do anything you want.”

Bucky contemplates Steve’s words. He can do anything he wants. Heart beating fast, he takes a deep breath.

“So listen, I was thinking -”

*****

For two straight weeks, Steve works on ideas.

The floor of his bedroom is littered with sketches and concepts, crumpled sheets of paper dappled with flowing lines. Finally, after midnight on a dreary Thursday, he knocks on Bucky’s door. The moment it opens, he shoves his tattered leather portfolio in Bucky’s hands.

“So, I guess, uh - here.”

Steve crosses his arms, his toe tapping nervously, and Bucky chokes down a laugh. Some things about Steve Rogers remain comfortingly unchanged. No matter how incredible his work, all confidence seems to evaporate the moment Bucky lays eyes on anything.

—

“Give it back asshole!”

“God dammit Steve, YOU’RE the one who asked me to look!”

“Yeah well, I changed my mind, now give it back!”

—

Bucky remembers laughing while Steve chased him around their apartment. He remembers the neighbors banging on the wall, shouting at them to shut up, and he remembers the smell of their forgotten scrambled eggs burning. But most of all, he remembers that drawing - he tucked that portrait of his mother in his rucksack the day he shipped out and it stayed there, a good luck charm all through the war.

Steve had cried when Bucky told him.

Because Bucky’s opinion was always the one that mattered. Seventy years changes nothing.

Tonight, he opens the leather case, revealing three separate drawings. Outlines of black ink and a rainbow of colors paint over the curves and breaks of a human form and he pores over each page. Each drawing is utterly unique, telling the story of Bucky Barnes in metaphors and moments.

There are no words.

His throat feels suddenly thick, cotton lodged in his windpipe.

“I can redo them,” Steve blurts out. He snatches at the paper, but Bucky spins sideways, blocking the reach.

“The fuck you will. You ain’t touching these,” his voice cracks. Blinking back the flood of emotion, he looks up. “This is - they’re perfect, Steve. Thank you.”

Steve blushes petal pink and coughs to hide his delight. He fails miserably, of course, but that’s one more reason Bucky loves the little punk.

*****

One week later, Bucky stands before a demure brick storefront on a slow Brooklyn side street, the portfolio housing Steve’s three precious drawings clutched tight in a sweaty hand. Glancing at the address in his hand, he looks up to find stenciled letters curving across a glass window.

BROOKLYN INK ESTABLISHED 1973

“Here we go,” he mutters. Before he can lose his nerve, he shoves forward.

Three steps inside the tattoo parlor, he pulls up short.

Wow.

Black iron chandeliers hang from the ceiling, splashing sparkles across plush velvet chairs, rich violet and bright turquoise. The floor is an eclectic mix of reclaimed barn board, full of knots and whorls in every shade of brown. Artwork in black and white frames line the brick wall, tattoo designs, letters and fonts, photos of finished work. The entire space overflows with warmth, and Bucky feels instantly at ease.

The front desk is empty, but he hears someone rattling around back, so he takes a seat. Piled high on an end table are bundles of photo albums, full of work; he sinks into the cushions and starts flipping through.

Immersed in the images, he misses the sound of quiet footsteps.

“Are you James?”

The voice startles him and in one swift move, he manages to throw the album on the floor and tumble from the chair. Pages of photographs spill everywhere and he crawls over, hastily scooping them up and babbling one inappropriate apology after another.

“Shit! Sorry, I’m sorry! Shit, I mean I’m sorry for saying shit. Fuck, I didn’t - oh my god, I’m sorry, I’m not usually so - ”

Soft laughter greets him and he looks up in panic, a more refined apology on his lips, but the words evaporate.

Crouching beside him, graceful hands gather up the mess of photos, slipping them back into the album. Dropping it carelessly on the end table, she bounces back to her feet and offers him a hand.

“No worries,” she says with a breathtaking smile. “I shouldn’t have startled you.”

Although he has no need for the support, Bucky reaches mutely for her outstretched fingers because he can’t help but take them. When she tugs, he allows her to pull him up.

“I’m, um - Bucky. Please, call me Bucky.”

“Hello Bucky,” she says. She shares her name and he repeats it slowly. Clearing his throat, he takes a deep breath.

“Thanks for meeting me so late, I know it’s after hours.”

“Sure,” she says lightly. “So, what can I do for you?”

This is the tricky part.

“On the website, it mentioned you had experience with - with tattooing around scars,” he begins carefully. “Scar tissue I mean. Is that right?”

With his question, her expressions turns serious. She observes him for a long moment.

“Yes, I do. Can I ask how long you served?” she asks delicately and Bucky acknowledges her perception with a short nod. He toys with the zipper on Steve’s portfolio, debating his response.

“Seemed like forever,” he finally says, and it’s the most honest answer he has.

Nodding silently, she motions him behind the counter.

“Come on back, let’s see what you had in mind.”

Hugging the pictures to his chest, Bucky follows, eyes saucer wide as they weave through the work area to her space. The shop smells like the woodsy smoke from the candles sitting along her table, mixed with ink and latex and an odd sterile tang. He inhales and discovers he likes it, the strange scent lighting him up.

Dropping to her stool, she gestures for him to have a seat. Bucky sits gingerly, wide eyes still staring. When she catches his eye, he flushes.

“Sorry. First time I’ve been in a shop.”

“That’s okay, there’s lots to see,” she says easily. Looking at the portfolio still clutched against his chest, she grins. “Did you have some ideas already?”

He thrusts the portfolio at her. Propping it on her knees, she flips it open and he beams when he hears her astonished gasp.

“I like the colors there, if you think they’re possible?”

“Sure, might take some extra time, but I can do it,” she murmurs, pinching her lip. Turning the page sideways, she examines every minute detail, shaking her head in disbelief. “This is exquisite.”

“I’ll tell my artist. He’s a real diva sometimes.”

“I’d say he’s earned that right,” she laughs, tracing the paper with a light finger. She flips to the second picture and tilts her head. “The grays and silvers might look nice with midnight blue for contrast?”

Bucky nods eagerly. “Yeah, I love that idea.”

She looks again, examining the intricate design.

“Can you tell me about your pain tolerance? The designs are beautiful, but they’re complex. Each will take multiple sessions to finish.”

Bucky drops his eyes. He heaves a sigh at the obligatory question.

“It’s high,” he mutters. “Very - high.”

Silence follows his admission. When he dares to look up again, he feels a twinge in his chest at the compassion he finds. He offers a rueful smile and she slowly returns it.

“Would you like to come after hours? It can get noisy during the day, if you prefer things quieter. Most soldiers like that better.”

There is a sweep of relief at her casual acknowledgement. He huffs out a shaky breath.

“That would be great. If you don’t mind, I mean.”

“Not at all. I’m a night owl anyway.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says quietly. “Me too.”

She looks back to the portfolio, carefully shuffling the pages.

The third picture appears.

And Bucky sees it, that precise moment when realization sinks in. When she realizes exactly who is sitting in her chair tonight. There is no doubt the drawing gives that fact away. Heart pounding, he flinches, steeling himself for the inevitable.

But nothing happens.

She meets his nervous gaze head on and yet - that gentle smile remains.

“Bucky,” she repeats and this time she understands. “Oh. It’s nice to meet you, Bucky Barnes. Come back tomorrow night, 9pm. Don’t be late.”

He leaves the tattoo shop feeling lighter than he has in years.

*****

TATTOO 1: FOREARM

“Show me a man with a tattoo and I’ll show you a man with an interesting past.” - Jack London

*****

Perpetually early for everything, Bucky arrives at 8:45pm the next night.

The bell over the door tinkles when he enters, and she looks up from the front desk and waves. His stomach unexpectedly leaps and he thinks it must be nerves.

“Hey, Bucky,” her voice is soft.

“Evening,” he says shyly.

“You ready to do this?”

“Could hardly sleep last night,” he confesses with a grin.

Sliding timidly into her black leather chair, he watches her arrange tools on a shiny silver tray. An arm rest is attached to his right side, and he dries his sweaty palm on his jeans before easing his arm onto the cushion, palm up. When she drops onto her stool at his side, he offers a weak smile.

“You got the email I sent with all the information, right? Did you have any questions?”

He scrunches his nose, recalling the long, detailed summary she shared. For each of the three tattoos he requested, she gave him a detailed analysis of the process for creating each design; broke down how long each session would take; gave explicit instructions on the healing and care process; confirmed each individual color and how it would be applied; clarified the tools that would be used, including their brand names and how each one worked; she even provided floor plans of her shop - outlining entries and exits and bathrooms and locations of fire extinguishers.

It was a novel of information that must’ve taken her hours, and he was inexplicably grateful for the time she spent just to make him comfortable.

“No questions, I just, uh - thanks. For putting all that together. It was helpful to have all the information. Helps me keep my head on straight.”

“Of course,” she says. “So this first design should take probably 5-6 hours. Since you’re new, we’ll start with short blocks and see how it goes.”

Bucky gives a jerky nod and she pauses, pressing her fingertips against the smooth skin of his forearm.

“Here are the rules. You’re in charge, okay? We can go as fast or as slow as you need. This is not a race, and I have nowhere to be but here. Any time you want to stop, you say the word and I stop. We can take a breather, grab a cup of coffee and start again - or we can call it a night. This is your experience, Bucky. You’re in control. Understand?”

There is a fierce surge of gratitude at her words. Gratitude for her kindness, for her acceptance. Gratitude for her.

“Got it,” he whispers.

And with that, they begin.

Bucky follows each step, while she measures his arm, while she considers the contours and angles of his muscle, while she cleans and preps his skin. When she finally applies a stencil, his heart is hammering so hard his teeth are chattering.

The low buzz of the tattoo machine fills his ears with a click.

When the needles touch his skin, sweat instantly beads his neck. Adrenaline drenches his tongue and for one wild moment, Bucky panics. Wonders if this was a terrible idea, because what idiot asks for pain, seriously Barnes, what the hell is wrong with you, why’re you so stupid all the -

And then - oh.

Huh.

Interesting.

Wide-eyed, Bucky follows her careful strokes, black lines appearing on his skin.

It does hurt - sort of. Obviously nothing he can’t handle; in the grand scheme of his life, this would register as a minor inconvenience, but there is a pinch.

But that spark of pain vanishes, when the raw symbolism behind Steve’s design hits him full force.

Holy shit.

How many times through the decades did Bucky Barnes die? And how many times did he rise, born again from the frozen ash of oblivion? It was simply what the Soldier did. But it was a shadow-life, nothing more. Bucky never knew how close he was to giving up, until that day above the Potomac, Steve’s bloody face beneath his furious fists. He was so far gone, so lost and forgotten, until those memories cracked the Soldier’s fierce veneer.

And suddenly he was Bucky again. Awake and alive. For the first time in 70 years he felt fire in his soul. For the first time in 70 years he could breathe.

Tears inexplicably fill his eyes.

“All okay?”

Through a tunnel, Bucky hears her voice. Hypnotized by the metaphor inking itself into his skin, his head feels waterlogged when blinks up at her.

“Sorry?”

She scans his face, her thumb rubbing the pulse thrumming at his wrist.

“Everything okay?” She asks again and Bucky feels a potent rush of euphoria.

“Yes,” he says slowly. The excitement bubbles over and he lets out an ecstatic laugh. “Yes! This is incredible. This is - fucking hell, this is amazing.”

Chuckling to herself, she bends back to her task.

“So I guess we’ll keep going?”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Yeah, let’s keep going.”

Two hours later, the outline of the Phoenix is inked into his skin, crisp black lines like fresh paint. Long tail feathers are curled around his wrist, the lush feathered body splashed over his forearm, her wings spread open and curving around his arm, her head reaching toward the sky.

Born from ash. Alive again.

Bucky hates to cover it up, but she insists.

“Follow the cleaning instructions and it should be fine. We need to wait between the sessions, give you time to heal.”

At that comment, he fidgets.

“Actually, I heal pretty - fast.”

“I assumed you might. Usually I say 2-3 weeks between sessions, so how about you come back in 1 week and we can see. Let’s just make sure. Does that work?”

Bucky glances at the crisp white bandage on his arm.

“Okay, that works,” he says.

She squeezes his hand and he meets her eyes.

“You did great,” she tells him.

Bucky smiles in return. And he doesn’t stop for the next six days.

*****

When he walks into the shop for his next session, he carries a large coffee for himself and an extra large iced peach green tea for her. When he gets to the front desk, he thrusts the cup at her.

“Evening. Um, here. Saw you had one last time, so - anyway.”

“Bucky, thank you. I’ve been craving one all day.” She gives the straw an experimental bite, before taking a long drink and for some reason, the silly quirk makes his heart bounce.

After a quick check on how he’s healed, she declares him perfect and they get started, settling into a comfortable silence. After an hour of buzzing, Bucky clears his throat.

“Is it okay to talk while you work?”

“It is,” she affirms, dabbing at the ink. Glancing up, she sees hesitant blue eyes. “I’m good at listening too. Sometimes it’s nice just to listen.”

Bucky figures that’s a fair statement. He fiddles with a stray thread on his shirt.

“Do you read much?” He asks hopefully, picturing the teetering stack of books beside his bed. She perks at the question.

“I love to read. Have a pile of books on my nightstand waiting for me to find time. What about you? Are you reading anything good now? Any favorites I should know?”

Bucky swallows the happy surprise. If he could, he’d be content to spend the rest of his years with a comfortable chair, a cup of coffee, and an unending supply of stories. He could talk about books for days, he just normally keeps quiet, because most people aren’t interested in that facet of Bucky Barnes.

So he begins to talk.

He tells her how Natasha lent him all her Russian copies of Pushkin and Tolstoy and Dostoevsky, insisting that reading in the original language was infinitely better. He describes how he found a copy of Rumi’s poetry at a yard sale, and what an incredible treasure it was. He flusters recounting how much he cried reading ‘A Fault in our Stars’ and says he was scared shitless to even see a clown for a full year after reading Stephen King.

He talks and talks and talks, and when he finally stops to breathe, she glances up.

“It’s nice to hear a man who’s so well read,” she says and Bucky preens at the compliment. “Do you have an all time favorite? Something you never get tired of?”

A favorite? No question.

“Yeah, I do. Something I read during the war and kinda fell in love. It’s about here, I guess. About Brooklyn.”

At the description, her mouth quirks, but she keeps working.

“Did you ever think about a book quote for a tattoo?”

Now there’s an idea. He makes a mental note to think of a quote he could add as another tattoo. Or maybe another couple tattoos. Hell, one session in and he’s already addicted.

The comment tumbles free before he realizes he’s spoken out loud. He blushes at her laughter.

“It can be addicting,” she agrees. Bucky understands completely, seeing the vibrant crimson ink soak into his skin, painting the bird’s feathers. And then she pauses, meeting his eyes with a peculiar expression. “The right words can make you feel invincible.”

Setting the tattoo machine down, she rolls her chair back a bit and sits up straight. Lifting the hem of her shirt, Bucky sees a line of gold text inked below her ribs, his eyes following the flowing cursive.

“She was all of these things and of something more,” he reads aloud.

“‘A Tree Grows in Brooklyn’ is my favorite book too,” she says quietly. There is a long, unbroken moment where they stare into each others eyes. He should say something, he thinks. Something intelligent or witty or anything, but instead he just thinks about the fact that he found a woman in Brooklyn to permanently carve pictures into his skin and she has the same favorite book as him.

Bucky always was a sucker for fate.

“That’s - that’s really - I love that,” he finally says instead.

*****

A week later, Bucky arrives with a bundle of folders and an exasperated expression.

“This is really annoying, but do you mind if I finish some reports while you work? Got behind, someone’s gonna have my ass.” Bucky raises the papers apologetically.

“No problem,” she says easily. “Let’s keep your ass safe.”

Bending back to her task, Bucky snorts a laugh. They’re just a handful of mission reports, normally he types them soon as he returns, but lately he’s been slacking, because lately he has other things he finds more interesting.

Like the scene in front of him.

Together they work, each with their own pen. Bucky writes, she colors, and the clock on the wall ticks along. After awhile, she takes a break to stretch. Rolling her shoulders, she observes him.

“Are you left-handed?” she asks curiously and it takes Bucky a moment to think.

“Oh. Uh, not really,” he says. “But I can switch. Never been a problem.”

At the confession, she raises her eyebrows.

“That’s impressive. I wish I had a talent like that.”

He ducks his head at the praise. And he keeps writing, of course. Maybe adds a bit more flair. After all, the old Bucky Barnes did like to swagger.

*****

“Well, I think that’s it.”

It takes a beat before Bucky understands what she means. Confused, he peers up at her with a dopey expression and she gestures at his arm.

He feels his heart lurch.

It flames to life along his arm, painted in vibrant ruby red and rich crimson and deep plum, highlights edged in shining gold. Mesmerized, Bucky stares down at the lines of ink and he flexes, the tendons of his arm shifting, and the bird moves. For one wild moment, he believes if he stays still, it could leap from his skin and take flight.

It leaves him breathless.

“God, this is better - fuck, it’s so much better - than I ever imagined. How did you - wow. I don’t know how you did it, but - thank you. Thank you so much.”

Unanticipated emotion makes his voice tremble. Because this is the first time Bucky Barnes chose something permanent for himself. Serums and metal arms and bullets and blades, those were always forced upon him, his pleading refusals met with violence and sneering indifference.

But this?

This.

This is all his.

*****

TATTOO 2: BACK

“Wear your heart on your sleeve in this life.” - Sylvia Plath

*****

“So, uh, how exactly does this work?”

Standing beside the leather chair while she organizes her inks, Bucky wrinkles his nose. She looks up and motions for him to turn, straddling the chair with his chest pressed against the back.

“Are you comfortable completely removing your shirt? Or would you prefer to leave it part way on? I’ll just need it out of the way for the right side of your back.”

Bucky grimaces. Eventually she’s going to see his shoulder - he knows that - but he’s not in the mood to rip that band-aid off yet.

“Uh - let’s do part of the way if that’s okay?”

“That’s okay,” she confirms and he awkwardly tugs his right arm free, baring the broad expanse of his back. Tucking his arms in front of him, he slings a leg over the chair and rests his chin carefully on the headrest.

He says nothing, simply stays still while she absorbs the sight. Littered up and down his back are a litany of scars, puckers from the occasional bullet, thin lines from errant blades, and a few other marks he prefers not to define. His voice is muffled when he warily asks.

“Are you able to - work with it?“

“Absolutely,” she answers firmly and Bucky warms at the decisiveness in her tone. Her confidence makes him feel infinitely more positive.

This is the largest of his three tattoos, stretching from the tip of his shoulder blade and flowing down to his waist. It will also take the longest, but Bucky assures her he has no issue sitting perfectly still for hours.

It’ll be worth it. He can’t wait to show Sam - he’ll get a kick out of this one.

Once she applies the stencil over his skin, she goes to work, dropping into that headspace of deep focus. She works so quietly for so long, he falls into a trance, lulled by the melodic buzz.

When she speaks, it startles him.

“What made you decide you wanted a tattoo?”

He lays his cheek along the edge of the chair so he can see her from the corner of his eye when he answers.

“S’random, but back in ’37, me and Steve were out and I remember walking by this old tattoo shop over in Midtown. They had one of those big glass windows with the chair in front, so people could stand and watch. Anyway, we walk by and there was this kid sitting in the chair, and no fuckin’ joke, he was getting a big heart on his arm with ‘MOM’ written in the middle.”

“Ah yes, the ever popular ‘mom’ tribute. I’ve done a few of those,” she says and Bucky grins.

“Well anyway, I always kinda wanted something, you know? Thought about getting one before I shipped out, but I didn’t, and then it was - “ he pauses for a moment, but she encourages him with a questioning hmmm? and Bucky bravely pushes forward. “I had lots of years where I didn’t get to make my own decisions. And there was so much - bad shit that happened to me. Anyway, I guess I thought if someone’s gonna do something to me, I wanted it to be on my own terms. You know?”

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “I think that makes perfect sense.”

Bucky sits quietly, contemplating. The question has been rattling around his brain for awhile and it spills free before he can stop himself.

“The whole process, it feels sort of - intimate, doesn’t it?”

He flushes at the insinuation, but intimate is the best way to describe it, he thinks, this practice of someone permanently carving their art into your skin.

“It is intimate,” she says softly, leaning closer. “It’s almost like you’re - leaving a piece of your soul under someone’s skin? I don’t know if that makes sense, but that’s what it’s always felt like.”

Bucky nods, watching her capable, artistic, beautiful hands as they move, slowly transferring bits and pieces of herself to him.

What a gift. He holds on tight.

*****

It was bound to happen at one of the sessions.

It’s been dark and rainy for days, buckets dumped from the heavens, the perpetual grumble of thunder always near. When Bucky comes through the front door, he feels like a wet dog. He shakes out his jacket, stomps his boots. He feels off base tonight, the result of bad sleep, bad dreams, and one particularly bad mission. He’s frustrated with himself for bringing it with him, thinks maybe he should’ve cancelled, but the thought of skipping his session - both the ink and her - was too depressing.

So instead of holing up in his room and moping under the covers, he braved the storm.

The one inside and out.

Searching for calm, he licks chapped lips.

“Hey,” he says, cringing when his voice cracks.

“Hey, Buck,” she turns cheerfully, but when she sees him squinting at her through the droplets cascading down his face, his shoulders hunched and tense, she stops. Looks him up and down and her expression softens. Beckoning him back, she digs up a towel and a dry t-shirt with ‘BROOKLYN INK’ stamped across the front, ushering him to the bathroom.

“Take all the time you need. No rush.”

Bucky mumbles his thanks and shuts the door. Gripping the sink, he glares at the mirror, at the smudge of dark beneath his eyes, at the clench of his jaw. Closing his eyes, he breathes slow and deep.

“You’re okay. You’re okay.”

He repeats the mantra, determined to settle. He’s been eager for this session all week, he’s sure as hell not ruining it because he can’t get his idiot brain to stop spinning.

When he finally emerges, he finds her arranging her work space. Halting in front of her, he keeps trembling hands stuffed in his pockets, eyes downcast.

“I’m afraid I’m poor company tonight,” he admits quietly.

“That’s okay. We can reschedule, Bucky,” she says softly and Bucky feels the disconcerting sting of tears. He rubs the heel of his hand against watery eyes.

“If it’s okay, I’d - I’d rather go ahead. Been looking forward to seeing you - uh, seeing you work, all week. It was just - “ he pauses and fights the temptation to spill his guts. No, he snarls internally, she doesn’t need to hear all your shit.

He clamps his mouth shut and shrugs instead.

She says nothing, but when she gives his hand a comforting squeeze, Bucky feels that familiar surge of gratitude. She guides him carefully toward the chair and he slumps into the seat, automatically tugging up his new shirt.

“Just close your eyes and breath. You’re okay.”

Bucky rests his chin on the edge of the chair. Troubled eyes flutter shut, and the comforting buzz of the tattoo machine fills his ears, muting the sound of the storm raging outside. When he feels the prick of the needles, he lets out a weary breath. And when he feels the easy pressure of her fingers, he begins to relax.

For hours, she works. Firm strokes, painting the story across his skin.

The dark night begins to fade before she finally sets her tools aside. When he climbs to his feet, she pulls him into a gentle hug.

Bucky sinks into her arms.

That morning, the sun begins to shine.

*****

Bucky’s been sitting for a couple hours now, eyeing the brick wall behind the chair. A question pops into his head and he feels like a jerk for not asking sooner.

“Hey - all these hours together, and I never asked you - what made you want to draw on people for a living?”

She hums at the question, and he can hear the happiness in her reply.

“Well, I always wanted to be an artist. For my eleventh birthday, my best friend Mike gave me this set of gel pens, there were a million colors. When I told him I wanted to be a tattoo artist, he let me draw pictures all over him for practice. He insisted on being the first person I inked, once I got my license. Would always tell people he was the ‘original canvas’ for my brilliance.”

When she laughs, Bucky chuckles with her; it reminds him of Steve.

“Sounds like a good man,” he says.

“Yeah, he is - he was,” she quietly corrects herself. “He was an EOD specialist in Afghanistan. Right before he left for his last tour, I drew up plans for the arm sleeve he always wanted; he planned to get it when he finished. A month later, he was in a convoy that was moving through the Gereshk Valley in the Helmand Province, when an IED hit his vehicle. He didn’t make it home.”

The story hits home like a kick in the face.

Too many soldiers, too many lives. Bucky reaches back to still her hand. He slowly turns to face her, gently tugging the tattoo machine free and setting it aside. Wordlessly, he offers his hand and she accepts it gratefully, weaving her fingers through his. It takes a few attempts before she speaks again.

“It took me a long time to get through that. One day I met a friend working down at the VA, and I heard a vet talking about the scars on his legs. He sounded so - sad about them, you know? Kept saying he didn’t recognize himself anymore. And I just stood there thinking, maybe I couldn’t help Mike, but I could still do something.” Staring resolutely down, she considers her fingers still entangled with Bucky’s. “I did some research and took some classes and - learned how to tattoo on scar tissue.”

Bucky gazes at her. He feels a sweep of pride at the way she turned her tragedy into something beautiful.

“I’m so sorry that happened,” he says and she finally looks up, meeting blue eyes bright with compassion. “But you should know, what you’re doing for people, it’s incredible. And if you don’t mind me saying, I think he’d be real god damn proud of you.”

A tear slips down her cheek and she ducks her head, her whisper so low he nearly misses it.

“Thank you Bucky.”

*****

Hours later, Bucky hears a clatter of tools and her huff of relief.

“All done.”

Wiping her hands, she pops excitedly up from the stool and Bucky pushes back from the chair to follow. Without a thought, she grabs his metal hand, tugging him impatiently over to a set of floor length mirrors along the wall. Bucky grips tight and obediently follows, his pulse racing. When she positions him at the mirror, she adjusts the panels so he can see himself from all angles.

“There, have a look.”

Along his spine, the single metal wing bursts free, so intensely realistic, Bucky’s jaw drops. It arches gracefully up, curving over his shoulder blade and sweeping down his back, razor sharp feathers tickling his rib cage before billowing out above his waist. Made from silvers and grays and shaded hints of midnight blue, it glows in the light. When Bucky reaches toward the sky, the muscles shift beneath the ink and it creates the strangest sensation of feathers unfolding.

All the scars littering his back, a flesh and bone patchwork of memories left by vicious handlers and fights too close for comfort, have disappeared. Blending into the steel of his new wing, their only purpose is to strengthen the image.

After all this time, he’s come to terms with the metal arm so unwillingly gifted all those years ago. But it’s remained a relic of a past life, something heavy, to drag him down.

But now, he rolls his shoulder back and his new metal wing lifts him higher than he’s felt in a long, long time.

*****

TATTOO 3: SHOULDER

“I can bear any pain as long as it has meaning.” - Haruki Murakami

*****

“So our last session.”

“Our last session,” he murmurs.

Bucky thinks for a moment that she seems glum, but maybe that’s wishful thinking.

“This is a tough one,” she warns, “but I think we can do it in one session. I won’t try and cover them up, it won’t work. The best solution is to incorporate your scars into the design. Make sense?”

Bucky pictures the pattern Steve drew, bright green leaves and vines tracing the seam of his arm, melding with the thick ribbons of raised tissue. It doesn’t matter, but he timidly asks anyway.

“Will it hurt?”

“No,” she says gently. Pressing her hand to his galloping heart, she shakes her head. “It won’t hurt much there, but you need to tell me if it hurts here. You need to tell me if I should stop. Remember, you’re in charge, okay?”

“Okay,” he whispers.

Steeling himself, he whips off his shirt, balling it up in nervous hands. The cool air blowing through the shop is a relief for his overheated body.

“Do you mind if I feel the skin here? So I can make sure I approach it right?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Bucky mumbles. Staring at his hands, he waits.

Leaning close, her fingers brush over him, feeling the lines and ridges, assessing the canvas. For ten minutes, she tests his skin, lightly pushing and pressing, observing the scars and bumps where metal meets man.

“Does it still hurt?”

She doesn’t want to ask, but needs to know what she’s working with. With a grim smile, he shrugs.

“Not really. Aches sometimes, but doesn’t hurt. Can’t feel much there besides some pressure.”

Nodding, she pinches her lip. “I was thinking last night, um - would you want to add anything else into the design? Nothing big, but a few flowers? Some daisies maybe?”

“Sure, I’d like that. Any reason for daisies?” Bucky asks curiously.

Pulling out a few additional bottles of ink, she absently touches the necklace at her throat, and Bucky sees a silver daisy spinning.

“Daisies represent new beginnings. Thought it might be a nice way to end, if you like?”

Does he like it? The idea of having this small thing in common?

Hell yes he likes it.

Maybe - maybe he even more than likes it?

“Yeah. That sounds perfect,” he says softly. He swallows hard and she nods encouragingly.

“Okay. Remember - stop me if you need a break.”

This one, Bucky knows will be hard. It was the reason he left it to the end - the mental fortitude required here is much different.

As she begins, he contemplates the pink furrows gouged into his skin. The memory of how they got there flashes before him, a sick image of shredded skin raked bloody beneath his blunt fingernails. Faint screams of a past life echo in his ears, the smokey cry of his own voice desperate for relief from the pain.

Cold sweat slides down his face and he slams his eyes shut, but that seems to make it worse. The images glow technicolor bright, and he grunts a frustrated breath.

And then, through the thin latex of her glove, he feels her cool hand press against his pounding heart. Cracking an eye open, he finds her calm face and he focuses on her, until his breathing begins to ease. Blinking rapidly, he drinks in the curve of her nose, the shape of her mouth, the beauty of her eyes.

His heart stutters, stunning him into a different kind of breathless.

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, wide eyes locked on hers. “Yeah, I’m okay. You can keep going.”

When she bends back to her task, Bucky melts. It occurs to him, that perhaps if she might let him, he could be content watching her forever.

But for tonight, this forever lasts only a few hours before she’s done.

And there it is.

Shades of green line his shoulder, the vines curling and winding around his scars, blending them seamlessly into the foliage covering his skin. Spidering vines trail across his chest, and it seems incompatible in a way, something alive bursting from the stark metal, but the leaves look so real, he swears they flutter with each breath he takes. Strewn throughout the greenery, small splotches of yellow and white reveal her daisies and he sucks in a breath.

For the first time in his life, Bucky stares at his scars and a foreign word comes to mind, one he never, ever thought to use.

“Beautiful,” he breathes. “They’re beautiful.”

*****

And so, after 3 months and 30 hours together, they were done.

Hands in his pockets, Bucky gazes at her. Ink on her hands, ink on his heart. It hits him then, this is it. They shuffle, making small talk, neither ready to say goodbye.

“Promise you’ll come back if you decide on anything else. Tattoos, piercings, anything,” she teases and Bucky laughs.

“Told you, I might be a little addicted,” he admits, knowing full well he means to tattoos and to her. “Soon as I can think of a reason, I’ll be back.”

“I hope so,” she says. There is a brief moment where she seems to gather her courage and then she leans in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “You’re a work of art, Bucky, but - you were before any of this. Remember that.”

Dazed, Bucky touches his cheek.

Indelible and perfect, the tattoo of her lips inks itself straight onto his heart.

*****

When she arrives at the shop the next day, there is a new sight sitting on the front desk.

Daisies, their white petals and yellow faces as fresh as the afternoon sunshine filtering through the window. Bemused, she looks around the bustling shop and spies the card propped beside the overflowing vase, her name scrawled across the front.

“When I got home, I stood in front of the mirror for hours, staring at your artwork. Every time I told myself to go to sleep, I found something new I loved. The tail feathers on my Phoenix or the petals of your daisies. What you’ve given me is more than I ever hoped - I can never thank you enough.

But anyway, I remembered what you said - how this kind of art is like leaving a piece of your soul under someone’s skin.

Well, I won’t lie - you must have done, because I miss you already.

So at the risk of being forward (although I did break into your shop and leave this, so maybe this won’t seem that forward), would you have dinner with me?

I think there’s another new beginning waiting out there, if you’d like to find it with me.

Yours,

Bucky”

At the bottom of the note, a phone number is printed.

Brushing her fingers over the delicate white petals, she pictures him, that dark haired man with eyes like blue ink, so heartbreakingly beautiful inside and out. She feels the unconscious pull of her heart, telling her all she needs to know.

A new beginning.

She says yes.

*****

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #SSB2020 #bucky fic #bitsmasterlist #tattoos #tattoo trope

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killian-spey · 3 years

Text

Death Would Be Kinder [Ch. 2]

Prev. Ch.

[Drusilla/Spike/Calendar!Reader]

Words: 2276

Fic Concept: Jenny Calendar’s sister spends some “quality time” with the Season 2 Vampire Squad. This chapter takes place during [BtVS S2:E15]

TW/CW: violence, kidnapping, chains?

AN: Idea came from @prose-for-hire ‘s submission to the fic title game. Taglist is at the bottom, let me know if you want to be added!

You’d been sitting silently, watching Spike wheel himself back and forth across the factory. If you didn’t know better he looked like he was pacing. In reality, he was probably checking behind the pillars and corners of the factory for any sign of your friends. It seems the vampires were expecting Buffy to come looking for you. As the time dragged on, your suspicions became reality; Buffy had prioritized the threat of the Judge over saving you. You had to admit, it stung a little, but it was only logical.

Spike peeked his head into each doorway adjoining the main factory floor. You could tell he was getting restless. You contemplated your odds carefully before you decided on taking a calculated risk.

“You lose a sock?” you yelled.

“Did I what?” Spike wheeled back into the room, an odd expression on his face.

“I asked if you lost a sock.” You paused, his intense glare caught you off-guard. “You know… Because of all the pacing. And popping your head in and out of every room in the place. Somebody’s going to think you lost a sock.”

“Well, I didn’t.” He chuckled a bit before going quiet again and stalking around the factory in his wheelchair. You nodded to yourself, deciding to quit while you were ahead. After that, the only sounds left in the factory were the spinning of wheels and an occasional bumping of door frames and frustrated curses.

It had only been a couple hours of his pseudo-pacing before Angelus and Drusilla stumbled their way into the factory. Spike took one look at the state Angelus was in and hid a smirk under his hand by scratching his nose.

“Well, you’re home early. Slayer hasn’t even tried swiping the girl yet.”

Spike’s good mood vanished as he watched them come down the steps. Drusilla was beside herself, and for a moment you found yourself feeling bad for her. Then Angelus opened his big fat mouth and you remembered who these people were.

“Yeah, well things didn’t go exactly according to plan, Spikey.” He prowled the room, circling like a big cat before he gravitated towards you. Your nerves peaked and you swear you saw a glint of pride behind Angelus’ eyes as he heard your heart pick up. He stepped within arms’ reach of you and sneered.

“What I can’t figure out is, why would she abandon you like this?”

“Where’s your big blue friend?” You swallowed your anxiety and stared up at him in challenge, you weren’t going to tell him a goddamn thing. Might as well give yourself a fighting chance. If he figured it out, you were dead already. You were going to be careful, of course, but that didn’t mean you were going to let him win.

Angelus roared, grabbing your face by the jaw. He was suddenly wearing his game face front and center. ‘Buffy really rattled him, huh?’ You remained stoic, as statuesque as you could muster. If you had misjudged his mood, this might be one of your last moments alive.

Drusilla had floated her way over, leaning into Angelus and hugging his arm to her side. Your staring contest interrupted, Angelus pulled away from you. You took the free moment away from the spotlight to run your fingers against the grain of the armrests, trying to ground yourself in the feeling of the wood underneath you. Your panic was bubbling to the surface, tension and pressure building in your ribcage. You caught Spike’s knowing glance towards you as your eyes flickered between the vampires. You dropped your eyes to the floor, frozen as Drusilla subtly coaxed Angelus away from you. Before long, Angelus had stormed out of the factory again, mumbling about sending Buffy a message.

You were grateful and more than a little stunned. Drusilla saved your life. In her own, subtle way she’d dismantled Angelus’ rage and directed it somewhere else. She’d spun him out of the factory towards Buffy with little more than a subtle flirtatious gesture. You practically gawked at her as she made her way into Spike’s lap. She had these men wrapped around her finger and they didn’t even know it.

Well, maybe Spike knew, but he certainly didn’t mind. He was running his fingers through Drusilla’s hair, comforting her as he spoke.

“If you like the hostage so much, maybe you should have a little fun, Ducks.” He wrapped an arm around Drusilla’s waist to steady her as he wheeled towards you, continuing. “She was supposed to be the distraction for the Slayer, after all. That is what went wrong with the plan, wasn’t it?”

Drusilla lifted her head, gears turning as she looked between Spike and you. Your mind rushed with your fears of what she was contemplating. You didn’t put it past them for ‘playing’ to mean something rather unpleasant for you. Drusilla hummed under her breath excitedly, springing from Spike’s lap and practically skipping out of the room. Spike nodded at you, raising his eyebrows as if to say “Hey look, I fixed it!” and wheeled himself into a good position to watch from, a smug grin on his face.

Drusilla returned with two fistfuls of chains and your heart dropped. She fussed with them somewhere behind you and left the rest in a pile as she ducked off again to the other room. Spike flicked his eyes between the chains and his girl curiously, but said nothing as she flurried about the factory. When she returned, she was holding a long carrying case and a small over-the-shoulder bookbag. She dropped them beside the chains and left again without a word.

“Ducks, what is all this stuff?”

Spike called out to her and wheeled over to the bags. He unzipped one when she didn’t answer. You couldn’t see into the bag from your position and Spike’s exasperated reaction didn’t help you either.

Drusilla returned one final time, holding a large blank canvas in each hand. The left was maybe a 20”x24” and the right was maybe a 24” square. (50cmx60cm or 60cm square).

“Which one does the artist like best?”

You paused, unsure if there was a right answer. After a couple moments you pointed weakly to the left canvas. Drusilla smiled at you and put the square canvas down. Spike scoffed as Drusilla set up an easel from the carrying case and put the bookbag on a table beside it.

She dragged the chains over to your chair and kneeled, carefully untying the knots around your right leg. You studied her face; she bit her tongue lightly as she worked, pulling at the ropes with deft, perfectly manicured fingers. After she’d untied your legs and shackled them, she let your arms off the armrests.

She took your hands in hers and pulled you up to stand for the first time in almost a day. You scanned her expression and glanced backwards towards the easel, then back to her with trepidation. She glided you in front of the daunting white canvas and left you, sinking backwards and sitting in Spike’s lap.

You stood, dumbfounded at the prospect of Drusilla wanting you to paint, of all things. She seemed unimpressed by your inaction after a few moments, and had begun whispering into Spike's ear. He'd leaned into her, pulling her closer and snickered at what must have been a rather amusing comment. He flicked his eyes at you through his lashes, a predatory glint flashing behind his eyes as his smirk grew. He straightened in his seat with satisfaction, head held high.

“Paint for the lady or get eaten. Your choice.”

Drusilla’s eyes wandered back to you and provided no comfort, but then again, why should it? You turned back to the canvas, feeling both their eyes staring at you. A calming breath later, you assessed the materials on the table.

The canvas bag she'd brought had a full set of oil paints- far nicer than you'd ever been able to afford. You didn't dare think of the poor shopkeeper she'd probably killed for them. A person just like your Uncle. He was just another obstacle in these people’s way, and for that he was murdered. You shoved the paints to one side of the small table and began assessing the tools. A somewhat rudimentary selection of spatulas and brushes. You could make do just fine with these.

You set up a palette with some blue, red, white, and black to start. A color palette often was the first thought you gave to a painting. This painting would be mostly blues, purples, and grays. Without turning your head, your eyes flicked towards the vampires just off your left shoulder in the periphery. You had never really let anyone sit and watch you paint. It was hard enough showing a finished piece to someone other than family.

You mixed a deep lilac and raised a palette knife to the canvas. You paused, unsure where to place the landscape. The creeping feeling of being watched was throwing you. The white snow canvas was taunting you, paralyzing you. But you weren't about to let it win. Any of them. You closed your eyes and just swiped the palette knife confidently in a bold first stroke. Now you had a puzzle. How does this fit into a landscape? There was no going back now, it had to work.

It was a mountain slope. The hue you used was suitable for a distant fixture seen from a twilit glade. You could lean into that, thinking on how to keep the morbid whimsy of the piece consistent as a theme. You blocked out the clearing and plotted out the forest behind and around it. It fell silent in the factory as you worked, only the scraping of palette knives and brush strokes echoing in the room. Pieces fell in place as you added gnarled willows at the tree line, white ghost pipes and fungi crawling on the foliage, and sickly green fireflies in the weeping branches and crooked thorn bushes. You didn't like how the overall feel of the piece was so damp and dreary. It felt too muted, too blue for what you'd envisioned. You added nettles to the glade in a redder purple, almost magenta, to tie the piece back into the mystical tone you wanted. A few more touches, a ray of silver moonlight here or there, and you stepped back. You contemplated the piece, for some reason feeling unfinished. The glade felt completely untouched, too alone by itself.

You almost jumped when you heard Drusilla shift off Spike’s lap behind you. You froze, dropping your gaze to the floor, unsure of her intentions. With three clicks of her heels against the concrete flooring, she stopped just behind you. So close you would have felt her breath on your neck if she were human. She leaned forward and pulled your hair behind your ear. She placed one hand on your shoulder and raised your head with a finger under your chin, guiding your eyes back to your work.

“Don’t you like it?”

“It’s not bad, actually.” Spike wheeled forward a pace or so to take a closer look at it. Drusilla still seemed to be waiting for your own answer. You studied it again silently.

It did feel telling, in an odd sort of way. It was invisibly and indescribably alive, despite the darkness and isolation. Could be a good metaphor for vampires... Alive and free only after their own deaths. Sure, they may not exactly live up to society’s expectation of a good neighbor, but you couldn’t say they let being dead keep them from living.

Still, the painting felt unsatisfactory, felt incomplete. You shook your head and pondered. You drew up a couple new colors, a ghostly blue and a red-brown clay. You loaded a palette knife with the clay tone and hovered over the painting, indecisive. The central piece as of now was a large, twisting willow on a small inclined mound of earth. The whole painting felt like background to an invisible subject. Nothing tied the eye to the painting, there was nothing to follow. No movement in a living place.

Drusilla took the palette knife from your hand and set it down. She pulled you lightly to step away from the painting, lightly petting your hair.

“Let it rest, you’ll do more later. With a clear mind,”

You let a heavy sigh escape your lungs. She was right. If you kept going now, at the end of your rope, you’d risk doing something that detracted from the painting entirely. You jerked your head up at a loud scraping sound from above you. Angelus had swung the door open on the mezzanine of the factory. He had a vicious grin and a playful look in his eyes, leaning on the guardrail and looking down at the three of you.

“Did you have fun with the Slayer, then?” Spike called up to him.

“Oh, she makes it so easy!” Angelus threw himself at the spiral staircase and rushed down them with glee.

“I barely had to lift a finger to throw a wrench in her little puppy problem.”

Drusilla twitched her head and glided towards him. She was staring at his face, fixated on something you didn’t pick up on. She swiped her thumb across the corner of his mouth and brought it to her own lips.

“Did you bring any home, Angel? I taste a young one on you.”

“Not today, darlin’. Besides, you have that one.” Angelus gestured to you and sauntered off, calling back as he left. “She wasn’t really any use anyway.”

[Next Chapter Soon!]

Tags: @prose-for-hire @soggy-enchilada @misselsbells06

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mooniefics · 3 years

Text

— all the quiet nights you bear

pairing : reiner braun / reader

word count : 1.3k

tags : bathing / washing, mild hurt / comfort, mild angst, semi-fluff, mental health issues, tenderness, non-sexual intimacy

warning : brief description of the aftermath of a physical fight

summary : you always wanted to be there for reiner, to take care of him, no matter how many quiet nights it took of you staying by his side. no one needed to know they were there, you would hold them for him—all you ever wanted was always him.

— originally posted 1 / 19 / 21 on ao3 —

it'd always surprised you how small reiner could look at times.

when you were out at dinner with his friends, or wandering around town together on errands, he always stood tall, not proud, but gave off an unapproachable air to anyone besides the people who knew him. he would easily part the crowd, creating his own path for you to follow behind his broad-shouldered, stocky form that had been built up from years of rigorous training.

but now he seemed so delicate, almost vulnerable, knees curled in his chest, arms wrapped around his legs, pale skin flushed from the warm water of the bath. you could see his face from your place beside him in on the lip of the tub, his eyes closed, head tilting back into your hands as you worked the shampoo into his hair. that morning he said he was scheduled for another round of combat training, you'd come to learn how unsavory those were for him, especially when he was paired up with porco. the sun had long set by the time he made it home, and the fresh bruises blossoming over his back and shoulders only made it more apparent that today had been another hard day.

but you didn't ask, and he didn't go into any detail as you helped him shed his clothes and ran the bath for him, nor while you gently ran the washcloth over his marred skin. you were more focused on helping him relax, getting him all cleaned up so he could fall asleep without having to ruminate on all of his dreary thoughts while he stared up into dark of your shared bedroom. you knew he had the tendency to lay awake, not wanting to bother you by waking you up to keep him company despite how you assured him that you wouldn't mind if he did.

the feeling of his soft hair, slick with soap, felt good on your fingers, nails gently scratching at his scalp like you did when he would rest his head in your lap. just being able to touch him and reassure yourself that he was here helped to soothed the anxieties that never failed to chip at your heart's resolve. you leaned forward, not minding how his damp skin wet your cheek as you pressed a soft kiss over his shoulder, smelling the soft scent of bergamot that lingered on his skin.

"tilt your head back a bit more." you whispered, reaching for the cup on the stool at your feet. he complied wordlessly, allowing you to carefully wash away the suds in his hair, making sure to not let the water spill onto his face. you appreciated that he allowed you to do this, to take good care of him.

you remembered the first time you'd gone through this routine, how you'd been waiting anxiously at the table by yourself, his and your dinner you'd made hours ago sitting cold before you. instead of hearing the metallic click of the house's lock unlatching, you had heard a few slow knocks that didn't at all sound like his when he forgot his keys in the pockets of one of his coats. zeke jaeger had been at your door that night, reiner's arm slung around his shoulder as he leaned into the older man, face and hands a steaming, bloodied mess.

"disagreement with porco." that was all the explanation zeke had offered as you rushed up to the two, shaking hands reaching out for reiner's limp figure, tears spilling down your face before you'd even realized they were welling in your eyes, "just give him a few hours, he'll be good as new in no time."

and so you'd shouldered his weight and brought him into the house, barely able to weep out a warbled thank you to zeke before he saw himself out without another word. you had cried all night for the remainder of that day, eyes unable to cease their steady drip, body wracked with silent sobs even as you'd guided him into the bathroom to gingerly wash away the dirt and caked blood on his healing skin. you regretted how you'd fallen apart before him, that you couldn't offer any sort of reassurance to him besides the quivering "i'm here, i'm still here" you repeated over and over, unable to form any other words aside from those.

zeke's assertion that his wounds would close was correct, but that empty, defeated look still weighed heavy on his tired features, eyes vacant and unseeing as they stared straight ahead into nothing. you had helped him into bed that night, not bothering to fetch a blanket or change out of the clothes you'd been wearing all day before you crawled onto the mattress beside him, wrapping your trembling arms around his heavy body and tugging him impossibly close, crying silently into his chest until you finally fell asleep, the only sign that he was still there being his slow, steady breaths, rhythmic and weary as if it was arduous to even manage just that.

you were grateful that there hadn't been another day that could compare to the misery of that first incident, that these quiet nights had become something more cathartic and tender rather than an urgent attention borne of fear and necessity. you reached across him to pull the stopper free from the drain, watching the water begin to slowly disappear as you unfolded the towel that you'd left sitting on the counter. you settled the soft fabric over his shoulders first, then down his back and chest, gently directing him to step out of the tub and stand on the small placemat you'd laid out as you dried off the rest of his body with care.

you passed him his clothes and waited for him to pull them on before you rose to work at mopping the water out of his short hair, feeling his gaze wandering aimlessly over your face as you did. though he didn't speak, his golden eyes were filled with an unending gratitude, looking at you like you'd put the star in the sky even if all you did was keep the house tidy, provide some of the things he couldn't provide for himself despite how he tried, waited dutifully at night for him to return when he could, and remain even in the months when he was gone.

"ready for bed?" you asked him softly, tossing the used towel into the hamper by the door. he nodded, and you took his hand, hearing his usually brisk steps slow to match your stride behind you on your short journey down the hall into your room. he obediently followed you into bed, slipping under the covers and turning onto his side, letting you slip your arms around his waist and hug his back into your chest.

his clean scent was comforting, your eyes shutting so you could bask the warmth of his large hands settling over your own, clothed body radiating a familiar heat that always lulled you to sleep so much faster than when the bed was empty. you cherished every moment that you could spend in his presence, never knowing when his next overseas assignment was but always sure of how you dreaded his absence. the house felt vacant without him, not entirely like home when you didn't find yourself tidying away his things, or pinning up his uniform on the clothesline outside, or cooking enough food to serve two rather than one.

you hoped he knew that there was no need to be brave when he was here, that nobody had to know of his vulnerability as long as you were here to help him through it. all you ever wanted in return was here, resting in your arms, warming your body, smelling faintly of bergamot and lime—all you ever wanted was for him to return home.

#reiner braun #reiner braun x you #reiner braun x reader #reiner fluff #reiner angst #snk x reader #snk x you #aot x reader #aot x you #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction

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fadedseas · 2 years

Text

inconsistent flowers: part iii

Druig x Makkari

Part 3 of __: african violets

Tags: Flower Shop AU, Modern AU, No Powers, Canon Divergence

Summary: Druig is a cantankerous flower shop owner trying to get through his day. Makkari just wanted flowers for her new apartment. Or the flower shop AU no one asked for.

Chapter Summary: But not right now. Not at the moment as he wandered around the well-paved brick roads, keeping an eye on the plaques of the buildings, as well as searching for any hopefully knowledgeable security guard or perhaps even a less hostile-looking student.He was absolutely not looking for Makkari.

or Druig finally leaves the shop.

TW: cursing

Word count: 5705

A/N: This is going to be a long one - it's over 5,600 words but there's a lot of character work in here, and you get some more insight into Druig's thinking and some fluff between him and Makkari!

There are also three flashback scenes in here - I like to separate them using italics, so any signing that Makkari does in those scenes are going to be within quotes and signaled with a dialogue tag to avoid confusion!

In retrospect, it was all Kingo’s fault.

He was the one who had insisted that Druig make the delivery this time; he had said something about the “unnatural paleness of his skin that would frighten even the most sickly Victorian child.”

“One in five adults in the UK suffer from Vitamin D deficiency, Boss,” Kingo had said with faux sympathy, “I’m just looking out for you.”

Druig looked out the store window at the characteristically English weather with persistent cloudiness that blocked out most sunlight and threatened rain.

“I’m sure you are,” Druig replied dryly.

So here he was, wandering around University College London, pulling a wagon full of multi-colored roses, orchids, daffodils, and other rapidly wilting flowers. He had parked his old, slightly rusted bike at the row of bike racks at the edge of the entrance to the campus, and was trying to maneuver between harried students clutching at their iced coffees like they held the secrets of the universe and exhausted professors that still wore elbow pads.

The delivery was deceptively simple, just drop the order off at the Darwin Building for a genetics professor’s retirement party. But in practice…Druig glanced around at the nearly identical brick buildings…it very much wasn’t.

The frigid dreariness of the recent rain hung heavy in the air as the smell of petrichor tickled Druig’s nose. He couldn’t say Ireland’s weather was much better, but when he had first moved to the city, he hated the damp cold that crept inside and nestled deep within him. But he had grown to be fond of the complete apathy that it inspired from Londoners.

But not right now. Not at the moment as he wandered around the well-paved brick roads, keeping an eye on the plaques of the buildings, as well as searching for any hopefully knowledgeable security guard or perhaps even a less hostile-looking student.

He was absolutely not looking for Makkari.

At least that’s what he told himself as he scanned for the telltale burst of red amidst the dreary greyness of the student body.

She had come into the shop intermittently within the past few months, for her friends’ birthday, the opening of her friend’s coffeeshop, and once, for her roommate’s dog’s birthday.

“And this is for your dog…?” he asked, wrapping up a bouquet of pet-friendly African Violets.

Makkari squinted at his lips, reading them quickly before nodding. “Dumpling rules our lives, and we love him for it,” she had signed to him seriously before typing it out on her phone.

Druig couldn’t help the snort that erupted from his throat. Makkari glared, “Don’t tease!” She signed ferociously without any real malice.

“I’m sorry,” Druig said as he smirked at her, “I’m sure he’ll appreciate the tasteful arrangement of leftover daisies in there as well.”

Makkari pursed her lips in mock outrage. She pulled out her phone, swiping through her photos to land on one of her, her roommate and their dog.

He finished tying the colored bow (it was blue - Druig figured that Dumpling should at least be able to discern the color of the bow, if not the flowers). He leaned over the counter, pressing his forearms into it to lever himself closer. He suppressed a smile as he examined the photo.

It turned out that their Dumpling was a large pitbull mix that was sprawled across their laps with his tongue lolling out in complete bliss. He studied the tall figure that had her arm thrown around Makkari, which Druig surmised must be Sersi. His eyes lingered on Makkari, tracing the joyful squint of her eyes and the curve of her smile.

“I stand corrected. He seems like a worthy beast for these,” he said as he looked up to meet her gaze, jolting when he realized just how close he was to her.

Her eyes widened at the proximity as well. From here, Druig could see the slight flush of her cheeks, the cupid’s bow of her upper lip, and the dark brown ring of her eyes. He couldn’t help but remember the random Feng Shui class that Kingo had forced him to attend; brown flowers symbolized the beginning of new life, of hope and health.

Druig had stood in the rubble of his life at some point. Rebuilt it into something new with his own hands. But, for a moment, he could see it. The promise of…something in her eyes.

He had never wanted anything more. And wanting was a dangerous thing.

His heart squeezed as he opened his mouth -

“Boss, Mrs. Anderson has been losing it over her peonies -” Kingo complained as he stumbled from the backroom with their landline in his hand.

Druig jerked back quickly, “Grand. Thanks Kingo,” he cleared his throat. Thank you for absolutely nothing, Druig wanted to add. The weight of disappointment sunk low in his stomach as Makkari straightened.

“I’ll let you get back to work then,” she typed, shrugging ruefully at him before sweeping out the door, allowing everything that was left unsaid to dissipate in her wake in the weak English sun.

Druig’s jaw clenched. Fuck.

As mildly ridiculous (and completely adorable) Druig found the fact that Makkari and her roommate celebrated their dog’s birthday to be, he wasn’t going to complain about seeing Makkari. He had been learning more sign language during the slow turns at the store, scribbling down words and phrases that he wanted to learn how to say to Makkari after each of her visits on the backs of old customer receipts: historical conservation; where do you run?; what are your favorite parts of history?; what fascinates you about humanity?; Dumpling; beautiful… His pen had trailed off at the last one, pausing for a moment and leaving a large ink stain on the page (he hadn’t brought himself to look up the last one in the copy of his BSL online dictionary just yet).

Slowly, their conversations had morphed into a mix of lipreading, speaking, signing (clumsily on his end), and her rapid typing. He had learned that she was completing her graduate degree at UCL, and that she had moved to London recently with a worrisome mother back home that was highly concerned about how much she was eating and whether her apartment was warm enough or not.

She told him little stories with a mix of sign language and typed notes of visiting her old running coach, Thena, in her home just outside of the city and tasting her husband’s culinary concoctions; of her genius older brother, Phastos, who was attending Imperial College London for engineering; and of being an accidental third wheel to Sersi and Dane’s date nights in the apartment.

Druig would offer a little sarcastic comment here and there, but he was mostly content with watching her speak. There was something mesmerizing about the way Makkari experienced the joy in her little slice of life stories, and he was hooked.

In return, he offered anecdotes about customers that came in during the day (including the man who returned to complain about his delivery making him sick while omitting the fact that he had a pollen allergy), and Kingo’s newest venture for fame, and the minor car accident that led to a random screaming match between two heavily accented Welshman at 6AM.

It had taken him a while before he realized that he had been mentally cataloging various events throughout the day that he wanted to tell Makkari about; her visits had just effortlessly slotted into his life.

“You know, you could just ask for her number and text her rather than have her stand here for half an hour gabbing at each other. It’s what the cool kids do now.” Kingo said after Makkari’s last visit (he had given her a bundle of jasmines for her next visit to Thena’s house. It seemed fitting, flowers that represented elegance, nobility and grace for a woman that Makkari had described as nearly godlike).

“She’s a customer, Kingo,” Druig replied. He was not about to admit that he had learned how to sign “what is your phone number” a while ago; however, everytime Makkari flashed her smile and turned to walk out the door, his fingers just seemed to fumble and fold.

“Yes, but she’s a cute customer -” Kingo raised his hands up in defense at Druig’s cold glare, “And I wasn’t aware there were any conflicts of interest with a florist and his customer dating,” Kingo continued, raising an eyebrow.

Druig shrugged, failing to answer as he filled another vase with water. Ikaris had always complained about his dourness and his cutting sarcasm - Druig was sure that Makkari had better things to do than be subjected to that.

But he couldn’t deny that his heart had seized at the mention of Makkari and…meaning something to her in that way.

Fuck. He was fucked.

There was a lightness in Makkari’s step as she left the Wilkins Building. It was the heady sense of euphoria associated with finishing the assignment that she had been grinding over for the past week. Makkari wandered down the familiar paths of campus, intent on finding any form of sustenance (preferably the unhealthy and fried variety) to celebrate.

Maybe Seri would like a trip to the greasy spoon they both occasionally indulged in, the one with the fried bread rolls and crab curry - Makkari’s mouth began to water as she pulled out her phone to text her, sidestepping the aggressive bicyclists that had emerged from their winter hibernation. Not a moment too soon either. The weather was gradually warming and Makkari could feel the giddiness inside of her rise as winter shed its blustering winds to make way for the green shoots that signified spring.

The farmer’s markets would be returning soon, and as was common these days, Makkari’s thoughts inadvertently turned to Druig and whether he would be trolling them for local flowers. But then that turned into thoughts of long, elegant fingers delicately handling fragile stems, and flexed forearms to carry heavy watering cans, and bright blue eyes that pinned her in place - and maybe she deserves flowers for completing her assignment.

She shook the thought out of her head; Sersi was beginning to chafe under the weight of all of her flowers.

“Does the florist have incriminating evidence on you and your family or something?” Sersi signed slowly as she turned and took in flowers that Makkari had placed into the two vases they had, as well as in a variety of mugs and water jugs.

Makkari shrugged, flipping her scrambled eggs onto her plate, dodging Dumpling as he weaved between her legs for scraps. “You did say we could use a little pop of color here,” Makkari signed.

“Right I did say that,” Sersi signed. She breezed behind Makkari, snatching a piece of toast off her plate as Makkari playfully attempted to smack it out of her hand, “I meant more like a nice painting from a flea market or a pretty rock from the beach or something. But I support your attempts to turn our apartment into the Royal Botanical Gardens.”

“They’re just pretty,” Makkari swirled her finger quickly around her face. She flushed as she tossed the used pan into the kitchen sink. Sersi caught Makkari’s expression, glancing excitedly at Dane, who was immersed in the morning paper at the table.

“As beautiful as they are, I’m not sure that’s the only thing that’s going on,” Sersi signed. She huddled up to Makkari’s side, “Spill! Who is he? What does he look like? What does he do?” she commanded firmly with her fingers.

Makkari pursed her lips in thought, tossing an underhand piece of egg to Dumpling, who harrumphed in satisfaction, “He owns the shop -”

Seri smiled knowingly, signing slyly “So there is someone…go on.”

Makkari rolled her eyes, “He’s…Irish and has a wicked sense of humor and seems…” Beautiful. Mysterious. A little aloof and cold at times, but always kind. “Interesting,” she signed lamely. She bit her lip in thought and grinned, “And he’s learning BSL; he’s definitely a beginner,” she laughed softly.

“Oh lord, you’re smitten, Makkari!” Sersi’s hands were joyously frantic as she gleefully examined Makkari’s expression.

Makkari rolled her eyes as she wolfed down her breakfast, “We haven’t even known each other for that long. I’m just a customer!” She futilely protested, as Sersi relayed their exchange verbally to Dane. Dumpling raised his head from his morning treat, invested in the drama.

“I did love the flowers from his shop,” Makkari read on Dane’s lips as he nodded in approval as he sipped his morning tea, and Dumpling barked in agreement.

Makkari hid the amusement in her sigh as she stepped out of the room to get ready for class. As she exited, Sersi stopped her in the corridor alone.

“I’m happy for you,” Sersi signed earnestly, “You deserve a hot shopkeeper at the very least after…everything that happened last year,” she waggled her eyebrows, “and a little bit of Irish brogue doesn’t hurt either.”

Makkari laughed, hugging her quickly, “Thanks Sers,” she finished Sersi’s name sign before sauntering out the door.

Makkari smiled at the memory, beginning to type out a text message to Sersi. Yes, maybe a trip to Olympia Flowers was due soon, after all the yellow daffodils from her visit were beginning to die…and the flash of a dull silver caught her eye. What on earth was that? Was that a wagon?

Makkari turned around, expecting to see some first year student struggling to transport their latest physics experiment or perhaps that one student that used to walk around in a suit of armor (it was a very strange weekend). Instead, her eyes landed on the source of the noise, and she smiled.

Speak of the Devil…

Druig felt a tap on his shoulder and repressed his grunt of irritation.

God, it better not be another lost tourist or prospective student. He thought he had effectively scared them off with his silent dead stare, but they were persistent.

Whatever happened to the British stereotype of being cold, unfeeling and not giving a shit?

He fought the urge to roll his eyes and he turned, “Look, I know I’m not supposed to be here or whatever. But if you’d just give me some fucking directions -”

Her chuckle made him freeze. He fully whipped around and found Makkari standing there, looking like a vision in her sweatpants and a cropped white t-shirt with her hair braided down her back. Oh fuck those look good on her, but oh thank god she’s here, Druig thought silently.

Security around here is obviously very tight, Makkari already had her phone out and typed the message rapidly.

Druig snorted in derision, “Obviously,” he repeated, “Those bastards have had me wanderin’ around for the past twenty minutes trying to deliver this fucking thing,” he gestured towards his wagon.

Makkari’s eyes flicked in amusement, Where are you headed? Maybe I can help?

He relaxed in relief as his heart rate increased at the thought of spending more time with her outside of their usual context. Maybe I should thank Kingo after all… Druig wondered before shaking his head, Stop. Oh god, what the hell is wrong with me?

He cleared his throat, “Cheers. Thanks Makkari. It’s somewhere in the Darwin Building?”

Makkari perked up a bit in recognition. Yes! I know where that is! I can walk you there; I was headed that direction to drop something off anyway.

It turns out he was around two blocks away and wandering in circles from his destination. He dropped off the delivery in a grandiose lecture hall to a crowd of distinguished professors that exclaimed at the colors of the blooms, and layered on compliments that made Druig shift uncomfortably, running a hand through his hair repeatedly while nodding awkwardly in thanks as Makkari looked on in amusement.

Druig closed the door to the festivities with a sigh of relief before turning around.

Thank you, Makkari. he signed.

She nodded and paused, looking at him almost shyly. Do you have any plans after this? She typed.

Druig stopped for a second. Kingo could handle the shop on his own for a while as payback for sending him on this odyssey. Besides, this could technically be considered business development by building relationships with his customers, could it not?

He shook his head.

Makkari grinned, Do you want to see something cool?

Druig smirked and splayed his hand out in front of him, “Lead the way.”

Makkari led Druig out of the massive building, and into the brisk late London afternoon. They trailed through the maze of pathways the Druig didn’t even bother to track, with his empty wagon rattling behind them.

“So have you figured out the origins of that emerald tablet you were working on?” He asked, as they strode together, recalling her excited ramble about a recent excavation that was being sent over to her department from Iraq from one of her previous visits.

Makkari raised an eyebrow, You remembered! She typed.

Druig glanced at her, his lips curving into a smile despite himself, “Well I’d like to know if my best customer is in danger of being cursed by some ancient ancestral spirits or mummies.”

He could see the softening in her expression as she took in the title he bestowed upon her in the moment. Her responding grin made the cold and damp weather somehow more bearable. Nothing like that so far - I’ll let you know if my chairs start floating and if there are ominous messages left on my bathroom mirror.

“Hopefully they wouldn’t be so cliche,” he mused.

Sadly, it just seems like a standard writing tablet with Hermetic text; we dated it to about 1000 BC from Babylon. I just finished an essay on it, Amusement flickered across her face, Probably not the precursor to The Mummy happening in reality. She shrugged helplessly.

Druig sighed mournfully, “What a shame. Great movie though.”

Completely inaccurate… Makkari typed, and one of my favorites, of course.

He chuckled as he read the message. It was strange just how frequently he smiled around her. Their eyes met for and Druig quickly shifted his focus to a pigeon picking at discarded scraps of bread. He didn’t see Makkari’s satisfied grin as she gave cursory waves to a few of her classmates as they turned a corner.

“So, how much do you think it’d go for at Sotheby’s?” He asked suddenly, turning to her with a teasing glint in his eye. He nudged her gently with his arm.

She shot him a stern glance. She didn’t have to say anything for him to know the reprimand that she wanted to give. Instead, she pulled her arm out of her jacket pocket and without slowing down or missing a step, socked him in the arm.

“I’m just saying, I have the wagon here. You could sneak it out the back and I could be your getaway…delivery guy. We could be the UK version of Bonnie and Clyde.” He chuckled, as he rubbed his arm.

You’re an absolute animal, Druig.

Their residual laughter dropped gradually off into silence. But it was a comfortable one. It was one that allowed him to study Makkari out of the corner of his eye, who was tilting her head towards the sky trying to absorb the filtered sunlight that broke through the cloud bank. They strode past the row of bare birch trees, their white bark standing sharp against the dulled timeless grey of the street.

Druig swallowed, flexing his hand and resisting the urge to do something insanely stupid. Like reach out and touch her to feel the imprint of her skin on his.

She was just so comfortable here, like she just fit . Druig could imagine her handling artifacts with calm and practiced hands; ordering a bunch of undergraduate students around, who were absolutely terrified by her competence; grabbing lunch with Sersi; taking walks with Thena, her old coach.

Druig imagined that there was nothing more beautiful than Makkari in her element.

She just had this confidence about her, like she had always known that this is exactly where she wanted to be and what she wanted to be doing, like the people in her life had always believed in her enough to support whatever she wanted to do, as they should’ve. There were moments when that made Druig’s heart constrain in discomfort.

It wasn’t that Druig was intimidated or put off by Makkari’s demeanor or intelligence. In fact, it was the exact opposite. He wanted to watch Makkari describe artifacts from god-knows-where from god-knows-when for hours, absorb every drop of information she would shape with her frantically beautiful hands, watch the bright spark in her eye as she rehashed the excavation and dating process.

Druig knew that Makkari was no gentle summer rain, no persistent dreary London shower. She was a thunderstorm, tearing through the halls of the past, hungry for the stories of the forgotten.

But when Makkari would mention her mother bringing up her favorite dish (chicken biryani) for her final exams, or Phastos gifting her tiny gadgets that he had made for her…his mind wandered to Ajak and Ikaris, and while his hands still fisted at the thought of his mother and brother…Druig found himself quietly yearning for something he didn’t particularly understand.

Makkari caught his eye and ripped him from his thoughts. Would you ever consider going to university? She signed, Now, I mean. I know that your brother went.

He felt the urge to roll his eyes. Ikaris had not only gone to university; as with everything in his life, he had excelled. He could imagine Ikaris sauntering around campus like one of those pretentious bastards in suits that were power walking past them at the moment. He imagined himself in comparison at the moment in an old shirt and worn jeans that he had thrown on half-asleep that morning.

“Don’t see the point of it to be honest. I’ve learned pretty much all the skills I’ve needed on the job. Not sure what I would do anyway - get smashed and pull all-nighters?” One side of his mouth pulled up in a sardonic smile.

Makkari smiled at him earnestly, I could see you here. Staying up late at the cafe, perusing the stacks.

He snorted, “Nah, this is all too posh for me honestly.”

But for a second, just one small second, he allowed himself to imagine what it would have been like if he had gone to university. He’d roll out of bed at noon and sprint to class. He’d spend his weekends with his mates, drinking at the pub and going to snobby art shows to take the piss out of a banana taped to the wall or whatever mundane thing that’s passed as art these days. He’d be…carefree. Safe. Allowed to be a complete idiot for a time. Forgiven for his mistakes.

Maybe he could’ve met Makkari here. Maybe their eyes would have met at a bar, or they would have been paired up for a group project, or they both reach for the same bread roll at the canteen. Maybe in some alternate universe, he could also feel as comfortable, as sure of himself in everything that he was.

But that didn’t happen. That would never happen.

Makkari continued. You could study botany -

“Botany for a florist? Real creative.”

Or psychology. Or psychiatry?

He raised an eyebrow. How unexpected, which was typical for Makkari. “What makes you say that?”

Makkari stared thoughtfully at him, You’re a part of some of the largest moments in people’s lives: weddings, anniversaries, funerals. People depend on you in a way, at their most emotional highs and lows. It takes a certain amount of empathy and skill to navigate that…it takes a large amount of compassion as well. She studied him closely, You do it well, Druig.

He turned away from her gaze as it stripped him bare.

“Maybe you just have too much faith in me, Makkari.” He smirked at her like he always did. Like it was all some big joke.

They reached a building with the same brick facade as all the others and a large wooden door. They stopped briefly to park the wagon at the side of the entrance. He reached out and opened it for her before she could touch it, grabbing the door with his hand above her head so she could walk through.

Makkari wasn’t smiling. She paused, holding his eyes for a moment. No, I don’t think I do, she signed, I think you don’t have enough faith in yourself.

Makkari ushered Druig down the corridors until she reached the artifacts room. His silence told her that he was still reeling from their conversation; but Makkari didn’t regret saying it. She knew very well that Druig didn’t need a university degree to achieve anything or prove anything. She had seen the way he navigated sticky situations from missed deliveries to angry customers from her visits.

But there was something about the way that Druig spoke about himself at times that was just so…limiting. And that didn’t sit well with her. She knew he walked with an almost chilling arrogance that deflected any attempts at warmth directed his way. But she didn’t buy it. She didn’t buy that facade for a second.

Makkari had never been the one to lay down in the face of discomfort anyway and ignore it. Thena had told her that, and Makkari had taken it as a compliment. She was always moving. Always going forward.

Makkari wanted to continue to push but she arrived at the door of the artifacts room.

She swirled around, holding a finger to her lips, trying to ignore the way that Druig’s gaze lingered on them. Technically, only university staff and students had access to the room, but what was life without a little bit of excitement? She pushed the door open.

She had always loved this room. It was well-lit and filled with shelves of wooden crates and counters that matched the characteristically historic coziness of the rest of the campus. Makkari had always felt like she was safely ensconced within the folds of history here, where none of the noise from modern life could touch her.

She ushered him to a gallery table that had glass protecting whatever was inside from any external elements. Anxiety filled her veins as Druig drew closer to peer over the table at what was inside.

There is a certain intimacy in sharing the things you love with others.

She shook it off. Look at this! She typed excitedly, gesturing to the faded manuscript with heavily yellowed writing and faint black text in a foreign language that was kept in a climate controlled container. She held her breath in reverence, as she always did when she neared it. It’s one of the original manuscripts written by Ibn Al-Nadim. He was a Muslim bibliographer that recorded the intellectual and cultural developments of the Islamic world during the tenth century. She touched the glass gently, It has one of the only records of Baghdad’s House of Wisdom.

She looked up at him to find that he wasn’t studying the manuscript - he was just staring at her, his eyes an electric cobalt. The House of Wisdom is one of my favorite things in history. It was a huge public academy during the Islamic Golden Age that collected scribes and books and knowledge in the arts and sciences from all over the known world at the time.

Excitement rolled off of her in waves as she typed quickly, Scholars, scribes, translators, authors, intellectuals would come to debate ideas. It was said to have rivaled the Library of Alexandria. She closed her eyes and sighed, It was destroyed during the Siege of Baghdad by the Mongols in 1258. But can you imagine it? Sitting in the warmth of the Baghdad sun, sipping black tea and listening to scholars learn about the world in at least seven different languages.

She inhaled deeply, as if she could smell the spice of the tea leaves in the room, and finally opened her eyes. Druig was still staring at her intensely with the corners of his mouth tipped upwards ever so slightly.

She couldn’t decipher the emotion on his face. With anyone else, she would have collapsed in on herself in an embarrassed puddle. She probably would have made a joke like fuck the Greeks or something, anything to draw attention away from herself.

But Druig wasn’t just anyone. Not at all.

“It’s beautiful,” he finally said. She watched his mouth form the words. Simple. Honest. Stripped of any artifice. The response was so Druig that she had to smile at him softly. They took a moment of silence, gazing at each other and absorbing the moment, the closeness, before Makkari tilted her head.

That’s not the only thing I wanted to show you. She walked over a few tables to another one. He had pressed closer behind her this time. Makkari could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, and felt the warmth of his body against her back that strangely made her want to shiver.

The item itself wasn’t too visually impressive. It was a dusty mass of long-dead blooms and stalks that had rotted into a mess of molted greys, blacks and dead green. But Makkari still thought there was something beautiful about the bouquet.

Archeologists found four of these in what used to be Teotihuacán near Mexico City. They were found under a pyramid - amazing really - plant matter is rarely petrified in a state like this. Archeologists think that they may have been a part of a ritual - some sort of bonfire for Quetzalcóatl, a serpent deity.

She typed as she angled her body and lifted her face, People were still leaving flowers for people, things, places that they cared about - even 1,800 years ago Druig. It’s amazing how very little about us has changed, even as time moves on. A smile tipped her lips, We’re like stones amongst the sea in a way.

Makkari sighed, relaxing as if she had finally purged herself of the information that she had been holding inside of her. And that’s a pretty good sign for your job security, she typed.

Druig didn’t smile.

Instead, he furrowed his brow and turned that intense gaze to her again, and her breath caught as he pinned her like a butterfly under his scrutiny that fought from drawing in the depths of blue. His arm moved slowly, so slowly, until his hand rested on her hip.

Those long long fingers gently stroked the sliver of skin that was exposed between her cutoff t-shirt and her sweatpants. He pulled her closer and Makkari placed both of her palms on Druig’s very well-defined chest.

Jesus, how heavy are the flowers he’s lifting? Her scattered brain wondered for a second. She was suddenly highly aware of his sleeveless top that he was wearing that exposed his muscular arms.

Her thoughts skittered to an abrupt stop as Druig’s other hand reached up to cup her face, brushing his thumb against the smooth skin of her jaw. His scent muddled her head with coffee, woodsy sandalwood, and the faint scent of flowers and forest that reminded Makkari of the clean air in the woods behind her childhood home.

His eyes flickered to her lips and his thumb moved to trace the outside curve of her bottom lip. She didn’t have to hear him to understand what he was murmuring to himself. The words shaped themselves so clearly, and imprinted themselves within her soul.

Beautiful, beautiful Makkari.

Her stomach twisted in excitement as her fingers twisted into the frayed edge of his shirt, feeling the strength of his arm as it tightened around her waist. She wondered for a moment if he could feel how quickly her heart was beating.

In a room that preserved memories of the dead, Makkari had never felt more alive.

She fluttered her eyes closed and leaned in, allowing herself to float in the feeling of him, him, him. She was ready to accept whatever was going to happen next.

And that was absolute confusion as she felt Druig jerk away from her.

Her heart leapt to her throat. What had happened? Maybe she had misread the entire situation. Her eyes flew open…to land on Ben, one of the undergraduate students in the department staring at them with wide eyes and an embarrassed flush in his cheeks.

“I-I’m so sorry,” Makkari read on his lips, “I didn’t realize anyone was in here. I’ll just go. Sorry Makkari.” Ben rushed out the door, slamming it closed in his wake.

Oh fuck. She literally got caught, just about to make out with the hot flower shop guy in the artifacts room of her university department. Makkari could feel the shock wearing off of her body as she took a deep breath, and willed herself to look at Druig.

He was still staring at the closed door with a clenched jaw and dark eyes. But it was over. The moment was broken. The disappointment was going to kill Makkari if the embarrassment didn’t.

She huffed, drawing Druig’s gaze to her. She smiled half-heartedly, That was my undergraduate student, Ben. Guess who’s getting grunt work for the next two weeks?

He stared at her for a moment before slowly chuckling. And then the ridiculousness of the situation caught up to Makkari. Oh god, she literally got caught…just about to make out with the hot flower shop guy…in the artifacts room of her university department. By a fucking undergrad of all people.

She began giggling as well, partially at how absurd everything was, but also partially out of relief that it wasn’t the head of the department or her advisor that opened that door. It wasn’t long before they were both laughing hysterically at the situation.

As their sniggering subsided, Druig turned to her. She braced herself for the inevitable awkward goodbye.

Are you free for an early dinner right now? He signed instead.

Makkari’s stomach flipped. Yes, she responded.

There really wasn’t another answer to give.

ii. daisies

iv. sunflowers

__________________

A/N: I'M SORRY! Thank you so much for reading and getting through this chapter!! I appreciate it so much!! There’s also a taglist now! Please DM/comment if you'd like to be added to the taglist for inconsistent flowers! *dives behind a rock*

*pokes head out to give cool historical information and behind the scenes fic writing details*

1. The House of Wisdom was actually a real place during the Islamic Golden Age, where scholars did gather to record all the scientific developments and debate philosophy and learn from each other. Baghdad was located at the crossroads of trade routes between Europe and Asia at the time.n addition to spices, furs, jewels, etc. traveling in between these two regions, ideas and knowledge spread as well. Unfortunately, there is very little archeological evidence of it remaining after the Siege, so most of what we know about it is from the writings of contemporary historians at the time. It's one of my favorite places in history; I think it really challenges the idea that intellectualism and technological development was solely centered in Western Europe (because screw eurocentrism), and my headcanon is that canon!Makkari absolutely traveled there to participate in all the debates (and probably nick some scrolls and manuscripts before it was destroyed forever).

2. The bouquet was also a real discovery from Mexico in 2021. As described in the fic, archeologists think that they were probably used in some sort of ritual. I think it's neat that they found this in the remnants of Teotihuacán, which canonically has a lot of significance to the characters - what a happy coincidence!

3. I'm not going to tell you how much time I spent trolling University College London's website and campus maps to try to figure out where everything was (the answer is way too much). I visited the campus briefly once when I was in London, so my perception of campus was limited. But the Octagon looks very pretty; I like classical architecture on university campuses!

4. I loved American Animals with Barry Keoghan and couldn't help throwing in a reference to it! Highly recommend, if you haven't seen it already!

Thank you so much for reading!! We're going to find out more about Druig's relationship with Ajak and Ikaris, as well as what happened with Makkari last year in future chapters - don't worry!

As always, please like and review!

Links

masterlist

ao3

Taglist

@wooya1224

@wanda-my-beloved

#eternals #druig #makkari #druig x makkari #drukkari #druig fanfic #makkari fanfic #eternals fanfic #drukkari fanfic #flowershopau #flowershop!au #inconsistent flowers

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mctherofdragons · 4 years

Text

In the Afterglow | 1 | F.W.

moodboard by @minty-malfoy.

Summary: The reader is married to George Weasley, and for all intents and purposes, he is the perfect husband. But, despite her best efforts to resist, Fred presents temptation she never knew she’d fall for.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem! Reader; George Weasley x Fem!Reader

Alternate Universe: No Voldemort AU

Rating: Mature, Future Chapters will Feature Explicit Content

Trigger Warnings: Angst, alcohol, cussing, mild sexual content

Author’s Note: I want to start off by thanking @oh-for-merlins-sake for being my sounding board for the past several days as I’ve prepared this fic! Also, to @sunflwrnarry for giving me an opinion on whether or not to go ahead with penning this. I cannot tell you how much this idea lives in my head ABSOLUTELY rent free. This might be my favorite fic I’ve written to date. PS: I have a taglist! Let me know if you’d like to be added for this story, all Weasley twins content, or for all Harry Potter content. Thanks loves!

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

August 15th.

Summer mornings always felt particularly comforting. However, the mornings spent on a beach vacation felt especially wonderful. Heading out onto the balcony, you smiled contently, taking a sip of the coffee you had just brewed. George, your husband, was inside still asleep. The night before had been quite tiring as you’d spent all day on the beach before returning to your hotel to play board games and drink. It was the annual vacation you, your husband, and his brother took. It provided days worth of laughter and a much longed for break from the daily grind of work. Occasionally, Fred would bring a lady friend along, but not this year.

You worked for the Ministry of Magic, using your academic skills to contribute toward the greater good of Wizarding society. Meanwhile, your doting husband and his brother worked tirelessly in their joke shop. They actually fared quiet well, despite never completing their classes at Hogwarts. George was able to spoil you to absolute bits. Your wedding had been charming, complete with a send off of blue butterflies before you entered the reception. Everything about your marriage to George was a fairytale.

You watched the waves lapping against the shore. The smell of sea salt and wet sand tickled your nostrils. You pulled your tan cardigan closer around your torso, noting that it was still chilly in the morning, despite it being August. The silence gave you time to reflect on the beauty of the past two years. It felt as though barely any time had passed since you kissed George at the altar, vowing your forever to him. You had developed a calm and comforting rhythm to your life together. It consisted of cozy mornings with your cold feet touching beneath blankets. Your nights would end with dinner together and then finding some sort of movie to watch. You never felt thrilled anymore, but in a way, that’s what you had always dreamed of.

Settling down comfortably in the deck chair, you opened up the novel you’d been reading. Just then, the deck door slid open and your husband walked out. His red hair was messy from sleep and his voice was still raspy, not yet fully adjusted to the morning. He bent to kiss you softly on the head.

“Morning, Mrs. Weasley,” he smiled, moving to lean against the balcony railing. He crossed his legs and took a sip from his coffee mug. His nickname for you always made you smile. You adored it, because you were still head over heels about the idea of being his wife. George was safe and strong. He loved you in the ways other men had failed to. His adoration was clear through bouquets of flowers that would show up on your work desk, lavish birthday presents, and the sweet nothings he whispered to you in bed. George was never pushy. He never spoke out of turn. In fact, you couldn’t even recall a time he had raised his voice at you. George was - as a husband - predictable.

“Mr. Weasley,” you chirped back, turning to the next page of your book. You two sat in silence for a while. George watched the waves crash into the shore, thinking to himself that this was bliss. Even if he wasn’t at the beach, he reasoned, it would be paradise because he was with you.

The sliding glass door opened again and Fred appeared. “Mornin!,” he announced, stretching.

Fred was quite the opposite of George in a number of ways. You knew of Fred’s romantic escapades, which often ended in him bedding girls in his flat. He sometimes had a short temper and still lived on the high of getting into bits of trouble - even as a grown man. His spirit was more untamed. Where George craved peace, Fred strived for adventure. You would be lying if you hadn’t sometimes thought about what Fred would be like as a lover. But then the guilt would hit you. He was your brother-in-law, for Merlin’s sake.

“How do you have this much energy in the morning?,” George chuckled, watching as Fred sat down in the other armchair.

“I just like the beach,” he shrugged, looking over at you. Placing your book onto your lap, you glanced over at Fred. His brown eyes twinkled back at you affectionately. You and Fred had always been close, even before you started dating George. It was Fred that you had befriended first at Hogwarts. But of course, where one Weasley was, there was the other. Fred was thrilled when you began to date George. He thought you were - as he put it - ‘a total fucking catch, George’. Fred had even helped George pick out your engagement ring. He was over the moon to have you as a permanent part of his life - for you to finally and officially be a Weasley.

You looked out at the beach, eager to get some sun and finish your book.

“Then, let’s go.”

_______________________________

George had made the choice to stay at the beach house, wanting to hit the golf course. He had begged Fred to join him, but his twin was craving some time in the sun and surf, so he declined. George grumbled a bit as he packed up his golf bag. He tried until the very last minute to get Fred to come play at least a round but it was to no avail.

You were lying on your back, trying your hardest to catch some color. The normally dreary days at home wouldn’t provide the tan you wanted. Fred was walking back up to your umbrella. He had gone down into the water for a while. You realized then that you probably should reapply your sunscreen, but couldn’t reach yourself.

“Hey, Freddie, can you get my back?” You had thought nothing of it. Fred had obliged, picking up the tiny bottle next to you.

Fred knelt down in the sand, sitting back onto his heels to keep from tipping other. He squirted a bit of the sunscreen into his palm, rubbing it together quickly to warm it up. You had to press your tongue to the roof of your mouth to keep from gasping as you felt his calloused hands hit your bare back. He was being painfully slow, moving to massage the sunblock into your shoulders. The man’s concentration seemed to have drifted from assuring you didn’t get burnt to making you feel good. Fred kneaded a bit and that time you couldn’t resist, letting a tiny gasp escape your lips. It was painfully obvious that you had been wound up tight due to work and it felt incredible to feel your muscles loosen up.

Fred’s fingers danced beneath the strap of your bathing suit and you felt your heart rate quicken. He took a moment to run his finger across the thin, damp strap. You swore you heard his breath stop for a moment. You shook it off, assuring yourself it was you who was making this into something it wasn’t. Just then, he slid his hands down to the center of your spine before getting dangerously close to the elastic of your bikini bottoms. Neither of you were speaking, and for some reason, you felt a familiar feeling between your thighs. Shit, shit, shit, you thought. Thankfully your head was laying in your arms, face down, or else Fred would no doubt see you blushing.

“Okay that’s good, Fred, thanks,” you said quickly, moving so his hands were no longer on you. You couldn’t tell if the sun had reached its brightest point or if you were sweating because of your brother-in-law. But either way, you rolled back over to stand up, leaving Fred confused as you headed out toward the water to distract yourself.

•·················•·················• •·················•·················•

October 31st.

George was standing up front at the cash register of Weasley Wizard Wheezes, counting the nightly deposit. Halloween was always a particularly busy day as both old and young wizards alike grabbed their last minute bits of mischief.

You were sitting in the back room, giving Fred your opinion on his Halloween costume. Each year, the Weasley twins put on the best Halloween party, complete with costumes, outlandish decorations, and overflowing fire whiskey and butterbeer. Getting an invite to the Weasley Halloween Bash was something highly sought after. Therefore, the twins always made sure their costumes were up to snuff. Fred was close to you, showing off his ensemble for that night. A black velvet cape was draped over his shoulders, complete with a white button up shirt and black pants.

“What is it you’re supposed to be?” You cackled, adjusting the middle button on his shirt, which he had overlooked. Fred swallowed hard as your hands touched his abdomen. You noticed how as you laughed, your eyes locked on one another. You diverted your eyes quickly, cursing the butterflies that were some reason threatening to burst in your belly. The redhead stepped back a little, doing a little twirl so that his cape swooshed.

“A vampire!,” he sounded exasperated, using his hands to gesture to himself. You cocked your head to the side, figuring he just didn’t have the makeup or fangs on yet. It was decided in your mind that once that was all done, the costume would look much better.

“It looks great, Freddie,” you finally conceded and he grinned.

“I’m going to vuck your vlood,” Fred joked, wiggling his fingers as he leapt closer to you. You shrieked, jumping back as he attempted to begin tickling you. Once you had both stopped giggling, Fred began to speak again.

“What are you and George going as?”

“Pirates,” you said excitedly, clapping your hands together. Fred rolled his eyes.

“I know you picked that out.” “I always pick. George is horrible at decision making, and if I’m being honest, his ideas are sometimes quite stupid.”

The bells on the back door jingled as George entered. “Oy, we getter get going if we want to set up for tonight,” he said to you, coming over to wrap his arms around your waist. A smile graced your lips as he planted a loving kiss on your cheek. He smelled like warm cinnamon - the perfect addition to fall.

_______________________

You descended down the stairs, your heels clicking with each step. Fred was at the bottom of the stairs, busying himself with filling a tray up with some sort of side dish. He heard you coming and turned, his jaw going slack.

You were wearing black fishnets complete with thigh high leather boots. Your dress was candy apple red with a tight black corset. It left little to the imagination as it showed off the perfect teasing amount of cleavage and sat just below your bum. The look was complete by a black pirate’s hat and flawless makeup, which you were certain to spend at least an hour on. You had taken the time to curl your h/c hair as well, which lay perfectly on your shoulders.

“Aye, aye, captain,” George gawked, coming around the corner. His costume was a little less detailed, but none the less fitting to match yours. You giggled as he swept you up in his arms, giving you a few kisses on your face. “Please make me walk to plank tonight,” he whispered in your ear, giving your lobe a little nibble. You giggled, pushing him off a bit. “Now, now, sailor. We have company,” you gestured to Fred, who appeared to be blushing redder than your dress. You ignored it, pushing back any thoughts that began to stir in your mind. You had hoped, somewhere deep down inside of you, that Fred was just as taken by your look as George was.

Fred had doctored up his costume quite a bit, adding eyeliner smudged around his eyes, a bit of face powder, and some fake blood below his lip. He had gelled his hair to look more Victorian, too, which gave the perfect finishing touch. “You look awesome, Fred,” you remarked, giving him a pat on this shoulder. You began to help finish the snack table. The tension could be cut with a knife, you noted. There was something different between you and Fred ever since the beach. A lust hung in the air whenever you two were in close proximity. It was enough to strangle you, and the worst part was, you were convinced it was all in your head. It was bloody wrong, too, you had told yourself.

_________________________

The night went off without a hitch. Ron and Hermione had shown up, dressed adorably as a cop and a robber. Ginny and Harry had come, too, of course, wearing their most ghoulish ghost bride and groom attire. Even Draco Malfoy and his wife Astoria made an appearance. Dozens of other witches and wizards had passed through the night, sharing in the imbibing and laughter of the evening. By midnight, the party had thinned out. For those in attendance with children, trick or treating was over now, which meant it was time to return home.

You had had quite a few shots of fire whisky, which had now left you sleepily sitting on the couch. George had gone up to bed due to the fact that the shop would still be open in the morning and it was his turn for the morning shift. You yawned, stretching out to lie down. Fred was still over and he sat down, pulling your boots to sit on his lap. This closeness normally would be nothing but platonic, but tonight the tension began to rise again. Maybe it was the alcohol, but you suddenly felt a wicked dizziness in your head. Your heart felt like it had risen into the bottom of your throat when Fred began to talk.

“You know, y/n, I’ve always thought you were very, very....gorgeous. Even when those stupid, snotty Slytherins would pick on you in school. Too beautiful for me, but perfect for George,” Fred was mindlessly watching a horror movie you’d put on the television. His words were slurred. “And tonight, I mean talk about a smoke show.”

“Thanks, Freddie,” you smiled, thankful for the compliment.

“Do you ever wonder...what if it would have been us?”

The question caught you off guard and you sighed a little, looking up at the ceiling. “Sometimes,” you had never admitted it out loud. But it was often that you did wonder - what if you had fallen in love with Fred instead of George?

“My feet hurt,” you allowed the words to tumble from your mouth. You were never one for a filter when drinking, either. It was just one more thing you and Fred had in common.

“Lemme help,” Fred whispered, reaching over to unzip your leather shoes from the top of your thigh to the ankle. He pulled each of them off, and then looked up at you. He placed on hand at your ankle and ran his hand up to your thigh, feeling the fabric of your fishnet stockings. Again, he ran his hand down your leg. He cleared his throat, clearing coming unglued by the feeling of your smooth legs and the course, patterned fabric of your fishnets dancing beneath his hand. Instinctively, you allowed your legs to open, tempting Fred to move his hand up further. But just as he moved his hand toward the inner part of your thigh, you swung your legs around and sat up.

You bent over quickly, grabbing your shoes and standing up. “You should go, Fred,” your throat felt dry. Nothing happened, you told yourself. You’re overreacting. He was just helping you take your boots off.

“Right, it’s late,” Fred said awkwardly, standing up and grabbing his keys off the coffee table. He didn’t drive, luckily, because it was apparent the he had also had a few too many beers.

[To Be Continued.]

#fred weasley x you #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley #weasley twins #fred and george weasley #fred and george #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley x oc

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thewildomega · 3 years

Text

Broken but not Shattered Ch.13

Looking all around the unfamiliar place you held your bag to you as you walked through the station. Just where the hell were they? Growling when you got to the entrance and found no one there you sighed. So much for meeting you here.

"Can I help you there miss, you've walked through here several times now."

Glancing to the station workers when he spoke to you, you stiffened. You couldn't exactly tell the no-maj that you were supposed to meet your parents here instead of taking a portkey or Floo back to your home in America . Nor how you had no way of contacting them or vise versa because witches and wizards didn't use phones. When he walked closer to you with his brows raised you swallowed hard.

"Are you lost? I can call the police and they can help you get sorted out."

No not the police. Then you really would be in a mess. Quick think of something. "Spinner's End. I need to get to Spinner's End."

Coming to a stop in front of the young woman he rose his brows. "You want to go to Spinner's End?"

He sounded skeptical. "Yes. M..my friend lives there."

"Ugh-huh." Looking over the girl he let out a sigh. "Spinner's End is in Cokeworth, there is a bus that will take you there and from the stop you will want to go the whole way down, last street before the river."

Grinning you nodded. "Thank you sir. And ugh... when does the next bus leave."

Sighing and adjusting his footing he looked to his pocket watch. "The next one will go out in a little over an hour."

"Alright then. Thank you again." Quickly walking away from the man you moved out front to sit on the bench. Looking over the city you sighed. It was a nice looking city, maybe one day you and Severus could walk around and he could show you some of the places. Feeling eyes on you you cast a sideways glance to the right and saw a few sketchy men looking your way. Clearing your throat you crossed your legs and reached into your bag to pull out your book. Might as well read until the bus gets here.

You weren't expecting the bus ride to take so long and when you stepped off along with only one other person you had to stretch your back from where you had been sitting so long. It was nearly dark now and you bit your lip as you looked around the strange place lined with brick homes that were pretty much all alike. Lily lived somewhere here, you recalled her saying she lived in Cokeworth. You would think about finding her home but well she hadn't really went out of her way to talk to you all school year. The one time she had been paired with you in divinations she had quickly shut you down when you tried to talk to her about Severus. No it was best to find your alpha, you only hoped he was home.

Walking down the streets you watched as the lights came on as the sun started going down. Reading over all the street signs you kept your eye out for Spinner's End. Making your way down to the river which you saw was extremely polluted, you looked down the road and saw the streets lamps there flickering, only a few working at all. Turning to the sign you walked over and sure enough that was it. Making your way down the road that had many potholes and dying grass growing up in between cracks you licked your lips. You didn't exactly know how you would find Severus's home, you didn't know the number but you did have one trick up your sleeve. Focusing on that pulling feeling in your heart you walked along the run down houses. Glancing from one to the other you startled when a hackling cough sounded from your left. Ignoring the woman who eyed you like you were trespassing you took a deep breath. About midway down you felt that pull leading you a different way and blinked. Turning to the left you saw the same house as the others, this one having a trash can out front with the lid partially on. Titling your head a little you swallowed hard before making your way to the front door. Making sure your hair and clothes were in order you took a deep breath as you raised your hand and lightly knocked three times on the door.

There was no answer or sound from the other side, the whole street deathly quiet. Looking down you felt your hopes dwindle and let out a sigh as you moved to step off the platform but before you could take that step the door was opening. Turning around you straightened up when you saw a woman standing there. She was a medium height woman with a thin build and long face. Her hair was inky black and instantly you knew where Severus got it from. Her brown eyes looked very solemn down at you but still you smiled nonetheless.

"Can I help you?"

"Hello ma'am my name is Y/n L/n. I.. well I was wondering if I could see Severus."

"You go to school with Severus."

"Yes ma'am." Watching the woman nod her head before she turned to look back inside the home you felt your nerves eating at you. Feeling the start of rain you glanced up to the dark sky.

Looking back to the female she sighed when she saw it was raining. "Come inside."

Seeing the woman open the door for you to step in you thanked her and saw her nod again but not say a word. As she called out for Severus you looked around the home. It was small, like really small. The floors were wooden and the walls mostly bare except for the bookcase that held so many books it looked like the old shelves would crumble. As far as furniture went there was an old couch that looked higher on one side than the other, an armchair that had seen better days and a small end table with a full ashtray on it and a lamp. The doorway that was open led to what you guessed was the kitchen by the small amount you could see through the crack. The home was very dreary looking and smelled old, damp. When the creaking of old floorboards caught your ears you looked to the small staircase to see familiar long legs making their way down. he obviously wasn't expecting to see you as his eyes went a bit wide and his lips parted. "Hi." you greeted with a smile and wave. "Long time no see."

"Yo... you are here." quickly making his way down the stairs he came to stand in front of his omega. "Why are you here?" he questioned, still trying to process her being in his home.

"Long story, not too sure myself actually." you shrugged. "I did get to take my first bus ride though... not something I care to do again."

Blinking he glanced to his mother who was standing in the doorway to the kitchen looking to them. Clearing his throat he took Y/n's hand in his and turned to his mother, pulling his female into his side and placing his hand on her lower back. Looking down to his love and then up to his mother he took a deep breath. "Mother this is Y/n... my mate."

You saw the woman's eyes go wide for a second before the returned to their normal look, he had not mentioned you before. While it did make you feel a little hurt you quickly shrugged it off, knowing Severus was a private person. When she turned her eyes from her son to you, you smiled again.

"Y/n, this is my mother Elieen." Watching her walk closer to them he kept he stood tall and watched silently as his mother looked his female over before the smallest of grins came to her face, something he had not seen in many years.

"It is a pleasure to meet you Y/n. You are American?"

"Yes ma'am."

"You look familiar"

"Well my mom said that you and her went to school together, Leatha l/n or well Macmillan back then."

Humming she nodded. "Yes that is what it is. Your father is American then?"

"Yes ma'am, she moved to Montana with him when they were married."

"I have not seen her since we graduated."

"Yea she doesn't really come back here that often. She did say that she would like to have dinner together one day."

Nodding she looked to the female "Perhaps." Glancing to the clock and then to her son she blinked, "Your father will be home soon. Today is Saturday."

Watching the woman walk back into the kitchen after that you furrowed your brows some before looking up to Severus, noticing his lips were set in a straight line. "Sev?"

Taking a deep breath he dropped his eyes to her blue ones and blinked. Seeing confusion in her eyes he lifted the corner of his lip to give her a small grin before pulling her to the couch. Moving her to sit on the side that was in the best shape he took her bag from her and sent it to his room.

"Show off." you said wanting to make him smile just a bit.

Chuckling lightly he looked around the room before rubbing the back of his head, "Um would you like some tea?" he asked. He had never had anyone over to his home, in fact he wasn't sure this place had ever welcomed a guest. When she smiled softly at him he nodded. "I will be right back just stay here alright?" when she gave him a small nod he made his way into the kitchen, shutting the door back behind him. Seeing his mother at the table, reading with a cup of coffee in front of her he sighed and moved around to make his darling a cup of tea with the help of his magic.

"She seems nice."

Snapping his eyes to his mother as the tea steeped he licked his lips. "She is." There was silence for a few more moments as he grabbed the only other clean cup, wiping it out just in case, and moved to pour her tea.

"A Macmillan... do they know what you are?"

A half blood. "Her parents do yes." he answered and heard her hum. That was all of the conversation. Walking out of the kitchen he carried her cup and pulled the door back closed as he moved over beside her on the couch, seeing her eyes looking over the dusty books.

Taking the cup when he held it out for you, you smiled at him. "Thank you."

Looking her over he noticed her hair was a bit wet but then again it was raining out, other than that she looked fine. "So are you going to tell me what happened? Why you are in England and not America."

Swallowing the tea in your mouth you hummed and looked to him. "I don't know. I had said goodbye to you and was on the way to the Hog's head Inn to use Mr. Dumbledore's floo when this owl dropped a letter in my hands. It was from my parents, something about them having errands to do here in London and how they were staying at some place called the Leaky Cauldron and that they were going to pick me up at the station. I ran back to the train and just did make it on in time but when I tried to find you one of the prefects pretty much shoved me into one of the compartments which just so happened to have Alice and Frank in it."

Raising a brow he saw her nod.

"Yea. I guess it could have been worse."

"And then?"

"And then when I got off the train I still couldn't find you or my parents and I got lost, this no-maj train worker kept watching me and asking questions, saying he was going to call the police so I quickly told him I was trying to get to Spinner's End... because I remembered that's where you said you lived. He told me to take the bus which was horrible by the way and so now I'm here."

Humming he thought over everything she had just said. "You are sure your parents said they were going to pick you up there?"

"Yes but they weren't there, I walked around that place like four times and then waited around for a long time they never showed up."

"So what are you going to do now?"

"I don't know probably just go to this Leaky Cauldron place and see if I can find them there."

"Well the Leaky Cauldron is back in London."

"Of course it is." Humming you gave a large smile when a idea popped in your head.

"What?"

"You could always just Apperate me there."

Smirking he looked down at he with a raised brow. "Using me are you darling?"

"No but if you don't want to that's fine, I will have to just catch the next bus and deal with the No-maj men trying to talk me into going home with them for a fun time."

His smirk instantly fell, a deep frown with tightly knit brows overtaking his features. "What?" he growled and watched her drink more of her tea but not say a word. "You are joking."

Humming you grimaced, "I wish I was."

"You are never riding the...." before he could finish his sentence the front door was opening and he stiffened.

Looking over to the door you saw a man hurrying in out of the rain that looked to be stopping. You only saw his back for a moment as he shut the door and noticed he was wearing a pair of dirty navy blue pants with a white button up shirt and suspenders. He had short dark brown maybe black hair and as he turned to you, you saw his face was shaved and he had a cigarette in his mouth. As two familiar black eyes looked to you, you saw one of his brows raise.

"Who is this? Why is she here so late?"

Swallowing hard he stood from the couch and looked to his father. "This is Y/n, my girlfriend." Seeing the man look to him through his always lidded eyes before he looked back down to his female he felt anxious.

Puffing on the cigarette before he removed it from his mouth he stared over the girl, looking her over from head to toe as she stood beside his son. "Girlfriend huh, didn't think you would be able to get one of those."

Feeling your brow twitch you masked it, taking Severus's hand and looking to his dad before smiling. "Well he did, that's me." you spoke trying to lighten the mood. Taking a deep breath when the man's face remained the same you gave another smile although this one was harder to hold, "Like Sev said my name is Y/n, Y/n L/n, it's nice to meet you sir."

"You're American." he spoke and heard her hum softly, continuing to study the girl he put his cigarette back between his lips. She was cute, he would give his son that but it still didn't account for her being in his house. "You a witch too?" he huffed

"Yes." you answered, stroking the back of Severus's hand when you sensed him becoming irritated.

Looking back to his son he blinked and breathed in his lung full of smoke. "When did you get back?"

"Well considering this is the first time you have seen me in seven months I thought it would be obvious." Seeing Tobias's eyes narrow at him he stood tall.

Biting down on the tobacco he caught sigh of something on the table and noticed it was his cup, filled halfway with his tea. Snapping his eyes back to his son he let out a puff of smoke before turning and walking into the kitchen.

As soon as his father was out of the room he turned to her, he had seen the look in his father's eyes, a look he knew all too well. "Come on." Pulling her towards the stairs he stopped when he heard his father call for him in his deep voice. Licking his lips he took another breath. Leaning down to speak into her ear he closed his eyes. "You go up to my bedroom and you close the door. You stay there, do not come out no matter what you hear."

Furrowing your brows you looked up to him "Sev?"

"Do as I say." Hearing her barely audible gasp at the tone he had spoke in he knew she understood that he had given her an order. He hated doing it but he knew he had no choice.

"SEVERUS!"

Tensing he ran his nose up her jaw, breathing in her scent for a moment to help give him strength. "Up the stairs and to the left. Go now and stay quiet." When she nodded slowly he let go of her hand and watched her make her way up the rickety stairs. As soon as she made it to the top he hurried over and grabbed her tea cup, swallowing the rest of it down and walking to the front door. Opening and closing it loud enough they could hear he took his wand from his pocket and cast a concealment charm towards his room. Taking a deep breath he walked into the kitchen and was instantly struck so hard he stumbled slightly into the oven.

"You come the first time I call you boy!"

Standing back straight he looked up to see his father's angry face starring at him, his mother still sitting at the kitchen table ignoring all around her like she always did. Sitting the cup on the oven he heard as Tobias lit up another cigarette.

"You think you can bring your little whore into my house and give her the tea I pay for?"

Snapping his eyes up to the man he glared at him. "Do. Not. Call. Her. That." he growled but the air was quickly knocked from him when his father's fist collided with his stomach so hard he felt sick.

"Who the fuck are you talking to?!" he roared. "Every year it's the same with you, you get back from that damn freak school and you think you're mister high and mighty. Well let me tell you something you fucking chav..."

Sitting on Severus's trunk that was tucked into the corner of the small dingy room with your knees pulled up to your chest, you had to cover your mouth to hold back your cries as you listened to what was going on bellow you. With every slam, thump and yell you felt more tears roll down you cheeks and across your fingers. There was an awful pain in your heart, the pulling more intense than you had ever felt but you could not move. You had to stay in his room, your alpha had given you an order and had to follow it, you had no choice. When a pain filled groan that you could not mistake for anyone else but your beloved floated up through the old floorboards you felt your heart shatter.

"Where did she go?! She needs to see what a pathetic skiver you are! If the bitch is smart she will find a real man!""

Stiffening when you heard the No-maj man yell you felt your eyes go wide as he started stomping his way up the old stairs.

"S.ssshe l...left!"

Severus's voice, it sounded so pained. Hearing the boots coming up the stairs you held your breath as the door slammed open, your hand gripping your wand. Seeing the horrible man walk into the room some and look around and then to you, you shook with fear but when his eyes only narrowed and did another sweep of the room you furrowed your brows. Did he not see you? Then it clicked, Severus. Hearing Tobias huff as he turned around and left you listened again as he walked down the stairs.

"Elieen!"

Hearing a scuff on the floor and then footsteps, one heavy and one light you breathed slowly.

"Clean up this mess boy."

The slamming of another door downstairs was heard and then the house fell silent. Sitting on the trunk, your whole body shaking, you waited and listened but heard nothing for a while. You wanted to call out for him, for your alpha but the fear that his parents were still here stopped you. A small thump and then another forced your body to tense up again and you waited to hear more yelling but none came. Spaced out footsteps slowly sounded on the stairs and the closer they got you could also hear what sounded like labored breathing. As the door pushed open slowly again from where it had swung shut some you jumped up from the trunk when you saw it was your Severus. "Sev."

His whole body hurt but he still relished when she hurried over to him, wrapping her arms around him in a hug. Standing in the middle of his room he slowly moved his arms around her, resting his sore cheek on the top of her head and closing his eyes. He would have been happy to stay like this for a while but all too soon she was pulling away and he heard her gasp.

Feeling more tears fill your eyes as you looked at the man you loved you shook your head lightly. How could a parent do this to their own child? You didn't know if his mother had been a part of it but even if she hadn't she had still allowed it. "Sev.."

"It's alright." he spoke, trying to assure her. Opening his eyes some he saw her crying and shaking her head. "Darling..."

"No. This is not alright, this is not okay." you told him, your voice thick with emotion. "We have to tell someone, we have to..."

"No Y/n." Swallowing hard he looked down at her and tried to stand more straight. "Three months. I only have to put up with it for three more months and then we go back to Hogwarts for our last year and then I am free." Seeing the way she was frowning at him he sighed. "Love I have been putting up with this my entire life, I can take three months more."

Still frowning you looked away from him, closing your eyes you took a deep breath. Without a word you walked out of his room and across to where you had seen a bathroom. Glancing to the cabinets you started going through them until you found a washrag. Turning on the tap you waited until the water turned hot which took a bit before wetting it and wringing it out. Walking back into his room you shut and locked his door. Spinning around you saw him standing where you had left him, his eyes quickly lifting to yours. Seeing him look down to the rag in your hand and then go to speak you quickly cut him off. "Hush."

Snapping his mouth shut at the tone of her voice he allowed her to pull him over to his bed, sitting on it when she gave a small push. Feeling her lift his chin and tilt his face to the side before she went about cleaning the no doubt bruise there he gave a small wince but said nothing.

Dabbing gently at the small cut along his cheek bone, neither of you said a word. Once that one and the one along his jaw was clean you glanced down to his body and licked your lips as you dropped your fingers to the buttons of his shirt. He seemed to stiffen a bit when you started undoing his shirt but with one look from you he dropped his eyes back down and allowed you to do as you wished. Helping to ease his shirt off his shoulders you hard to swallow hard at the lump returning in the back of your throat when you saw the deep colored bruises already forming on his ribs and stomach.

Reaching up to cup her cheek he brushed away her tears with his thumb. "Shhh... please do not cry my girl. You know it hurts my heart to see you cry."

"Yea well it hurts my heart to see you hurt so." you whimpered and saw his head tilt some and his brows furrow.

Sighing he pulled her to him by her shirt hem, spreading his knees so she could stand directly between them. Hugging her middle he laid his head on her chest, "It is not that bad darling.." Hearing her scoff he grinned sadly, "Truly it is not." And it wasn't. He had endured worst, so much worst, like the time he had woken up hours later on the floor, barely able to move for the next week. "Having you here with me makes up for any pain."

Taking a deep breath you sighed softly and wrapped your arms around him, threading your fingers through his hair after a bit. When he decided he wanted to lay down you quickly followed him as his hand pulled you down onto the old bed with him once the both of you had kicked off your shoes. Laying beside him you scanned your eyes over his handsome but beaten face, your fingers tenderly stroking his jaw and neck as he just seemed to stare at you.

There wasn't much light in his room, just a small ray where the distant street light was and then the occasional strike of lightning from where it was now storming outside. Still he was able to see her enough, watch her lashes flutter when she blinked slowly, watch her beautiful feral blue eyes roam over his own face. Dropping his eyes to her lips he felt that craving ignite. Oh how he loved those luscious lips, the way they looked, the way the felt, the way they tasted. Not being able to help himself any longer he dipped his head to kiss her.

Spreading your hand so it laid flat against his bare chest, you kiss him back with just as much passion. When you feel his tongue ask for entrance you are quick to grant it, opening your mouth for his warm muscle to explore. Rolling your tongue in time with his you felt his hand move to your hip, pushing under your shirt to rub your skin with his hand. You loved the taste of him, loved how it made you feel slightly dazed. The first time the two of you had made out like this you had wanted nothing more than to keep your mouth connected to his forever. However this time you were feeling a bit more held back and you knew why. That damn amulet around your neck. It's pressure grew in times like these and you knew it was the magic trying to hold back all the true desires and feelings you were supposed to be experiencing with your alpha. Feeling Severus's hand move to your lower back to pull your body flush to his you breathed in sharply through your nose when you felt his obvious arousal push into your thigh. As the amulet became almost like a weight you broke from his mouth.

Snapping his eyes open he knit his brows. "Y/n?" Going to question what was wrong, if he had done something wrong the question was quickly answered when he saw her pulling the leather cord over her head. Blinking he swallowed hard, "Luv I don't think..."

Freeing your hair from it you dropped the accursed thing to the floor and instantly pushed your lips back to his, cutting him off. Hearing him breath in before he let out a small growl, his hands moving to pull you back to him you smirked around his mouth. Rubbing your own hand up his chest you couldn't hold back the small mewl at being able to taste him fully again.

Kissing down her chin and along her jaw he felt that need for more taking over. As his mouth moved down her neck he started placing open mouth kisses accompanied by small sucks and light nips along her skin. When her shirt collar suddenly blocked his way he growled and tugged on the thing. Lapping at his claiming mark he gave a slightly harder bite making her gasp softly. All too soon though her shirt was in the way again and the alpha in him had had enough. Grabbing the hem he began pulling it up.

Getting the hint you helped him remove the article of clothing from your body, watching out of the corner of your eye as he tossed it somewhere behind you. You thought he would go back to kissing and sucking your neck but his eyes were stuck on your chest, you were happy you had decided to wear your black bra today.

Admiring her chest he licked his lips as he leaned forward to kiss along her collarbone, flicking his tongue out to trace her throat. He could feel her hands on him, rubbing his side and gripping his shoulder. Kissing his way down her sternum to the middle of her breasts and then over each as much as he could with her bra on he rubbed his hand up her hip and around to her back. Nipping at her soft mound he heard her gasp softly again and chuckled softly. Trailing his hand up her spine to the clasp of her bra he unhooked it, taking a few tries to do it successfully. He waited for her to ask him to stop but she didn't so he slowly rubbed his hand up her arm to pull the strap from her shoulder. Rolling her to her back so that her bra could be taken off easier he felt his mouth water when he was finally able to see her breasts with his own eyes.

He stared at your chest for some time but he must have learned his lesson from last time because he was soon dipping his head down to kiss, lick, do anything he could do with his mouth to give your breasts attention.

Peppering her fleshy mounds with kisses he closed his eyes and felt his cock harden even more, if it were possible. "Oh my beautiful, stunning girl..." Getting to one of her nipples he first licked at the nub with the flat of his tongue and grinned a little when he felt her flinch. Opening his mouth he took the whole of her pert nipple into his mouth and gave a suck. Bringing up his arm that wasn't holding himself up he cupped her other tit, gently massaging it in his palm.

Gasping softly your eyes slipped close and your head fell back to the thin pillow in bliss. When his hot mouth sucked at your nipple and bit down gently you couldn't stop the soft moan from leaving your lips but as soon as you realized what you had done your eyes went wide and your hand moved up to cover you mouth.

Hearing her moan had to be one of the sweetest sounds he had ever heard and it in turn caused a low growl, purr like sound to rumble in his throat. Kissing across her chest to give her other nipple the same treatment he was confused by the muffle sound to this moan and looked up. Seeing her hand covering her mouth with her eyes closed tight and a blush about her cheeks he knit his brows. Reaching up to grab her wrist he pulled her hand away from her mouth and pinched her nipple between his teeth. Hearing her let out a noise that was a moan and whimper together he pinned her wrist down beside her, looking her in the eyes when she tried to pull it away from him. "I want to hear you." he told her, licking over where he had just bit.

Still embarrassed by the noises he was bringing out of you, you tried to hold them back still but he seemed to take this as a challenge and soon he had you gasping and moaning from the work of his mouth. Crying out at one particular hard suck you looked down at him as he pulled away, watching him lap over the area to sooth the pain away.

While he loved her breast the alpha in him was persistent to have more of his omega and in all honesty he wasn't much trying to hold the urges back. Peppering her chest and neck with kisses he moved his one hand down to the button of her pants. Easily unbuttoning the jeans and slowly pulling down her zipper he lapped at his claiming mark. Tracing the top of her knickers with his fingertips he grit his teeth and took a deep breath, giving her the chance to tell him to stop. When she said nothing he kissed over her neck and back up her jaw to find her lips. Slipping his hand into her pants he let out a low growl at the wetness he found there.

Moaning into his mouth when he began touching your most intimate place you gripped his bicep harder. When his finger slowly entered you, you had to break from his mouth to gasp out. Tilting your head a bit as Severus kissed along your neck and throat you heard him growl low and deep.

Slowly working his finger in and out of her he sucked at her neck and grinned when her fingers clung to him. "Does it feel good darling?" he asked and felt her nod. Smiling he continued for a few moments more until he removed his hand from her pants and pushed himself up to kneel on the bed. Grinning at her when he saw her worried look he pushed his fingers in the waist of her jeans and peeled them off. Dropping them to the floor he looked over her bare legs and licked his lips as he reached out to rub them. She was so soft, her skin was smooth and he couldn't get enough of it. Stroking his hands up her legs he saw her watching him and grinned softly. Dropping his eyes to her last item of clothing he felt the alpha rattling the bars. Hooking his fingers into the black cotton he eased them down her legs, her knees staying bent as he removed them from around her ankles and dropped them to the bed behind him.

Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest and you were sure your face was as red as a tomato. He hadn't said anything, his hands going back to rubbing up and down your thighs. When one of his hands rounded your knee to caress the inside of your thigh and gently urge you to part your legs you swallowed hard. You looked anywhere but his face as your legs were placed on either side of him, giving him full view of your body. Feeling his hand return to stroking your legs, inching their way further south you closed your eyes as that warmth spread throughout your body.

"You are so bewitching my love." he praised as he took her all it. His cock was now throbbing but he wanted to take this slow, savor their first time.

"Not really fair that I am the only one naked." you spoke softly.

Seeing her avoiding his eyes he chuckled softly at her bashfulness. "Then I shall even the odds sweetheart." Rubbing up to her knees he pulled his hands away from her for a moment so that he could unbutton his own pants. Pushing both down to his knees he saw her eyes glance to him before she quickly looked away when she realized she had been caught making him smirk. Leaning over her he saw her eyes look up to meet his as he kicked off his clothes. Stroking her cheek with his knuckles he stared into her mesmerizing eyes, what they were about to do hitting him. Licking his lips he pressed his forehead to hers, "Are you sure you want to do this? We do not have to Y/n, I do not want you to feel pressured into anything." While yes he wanted nothing more at the moment he would stop, he would force himself to stop if she wasn't ready.

Taking a deep inhale of his scent you let it out in a shaky breath as you looked up at your alpha. His eyes were closed and his black hair was falling down around the both of your faces like curtains. Brushing his jaw with your fingertips you smiled and let them move down his neck and over his collarbone so you could wrap your arm under his to hold his shoulder blade. "I want this. I want you, to be one with you." Kissing lightly over the bruise along his jaw you grinned. "So long as you promise it won't bother you that I'll no longer be a virgin when we are married."

Chuckling he lowered his body to hers and peppered her cheek with kisses. "I think I will be able to forgive you if you can forgive me." Hearing her light giggle he looked down at her one last time and took a deep breath, her untampered scent making his brain cloud with haze. "I love you."

Smiling softly you looked into his lustful black eyes, "I love you too."

Feeling his heart swell he dipped his head to catch her lips in a kiss. Deeping the kiss to distract her moved the arm that wasn't holding him up down between their bodies so that he could line the head of his member up with her sex. He could not stop the low growl in his throat as her warm wetness coated his sensitive head. Ever slowly he entered her and felt her tense slightly under him. When the two of them broke from each other's mouth he grit his teeth at how tight she was around him.

At first it was an odd feeling, a pressure invading your body but then suddenly something stuck you and you gasped.

He felt her tense but he thought it was only her adjusting so he continued in, his own pleasure clouding his mind for a moment. Then however he heard her let out a cry of pain and he stilled. Looking down he saw her lip trembling and a tear roll from her eye causing his heart to constrict. He was such an idiot, a selfish idiot, he had been so caught up in his own pleasure that he had forgotten about her. He knew women had hymens and he had just tore hers, no wonder she was in pain. "I am sorry, I'm so sorry my love." he said, placing kisses over her cheeks and lips. Keeping completely still he let her adjust to his girth. "It is alright darling. It will pass. Shhh." he told her gently and felt her nuzzle her face into his neck and hold onto his back. Purring for her to help sooth her he rubbed her hair and continued kissing her face. He waited until she softly whispered that she was ready before he pulled back almost completely out of her and agonizingly slow rolled his hips forward. Feeling her tense a little he quickly purred and kissed her neck.

When Severus took one of your hands with his free one to hold it down by your head, lacing his fingers with yours, you felt the pain easing away. All too soon you felt pleasure overtaking the pain. Holding onto his back you felt your mouth fall open when he thrusted in a little deeper this time. Each time he pulled out and rolled his hips back into yours he let his cock go deeper inside of you until soon you felt his lower half meet yours. Moaning when it rubbed against a sensitive area inside of you you let your eyes flutter close.

He groaned and grunted with every thrust of his hips. She was so perfect, she fit him like she was made for him. Kissing her neck and over his claiming mark, he caged her in with his body and felt the alpha in him now bending the bars. Sucking on her soft skin he growled when her walls tightened around his cock. He wasn't going to last long, not with the way she was squeezing him.

Whimpering when an intense pressure built in your pelvis you dug your fingers into his back. Kissing him back as his mouth found yours again you wined for something although you didn't exactly know what only that your mate could give it to you. Severus thrusted into you only a few more times before that pressure became too much and it felt like something in you snapped. All you felt after that was a pleasure like you had never felt before.

Hearing his omega make the most seductive noises sent him spiraling over the edge without warning. With a loud grunt he pushed in as deep as he could and filled her with his seed. A sharp pain on his neck made him tense but it didn't stop the immense bliss he was feeling, if anything the alpha in him seemed to relish it. Holding her tightly he growled into her shoulder and lazily rolled his hips, riding out the last of his climax. Soon she went limp under him and released his flesh, feeling her lightly lick over the claiming bite he now realized she had placed on him. He hissed as he pulled out of her. Rolling beside her before his body could fall on her, he pulled the covers over them and helped her to cuddle up in his side with her head on his chest. His bed wasn't big, it barely fit the both of them but it just meant they would have to be closer. Breathing heavily he looked down at her and smiled softly, she was sleeping. Lifting his heavy arm to brush the hair out of her face he noticed the slight red stain to her lips when the flash of lightning filled the room and grinned. Now they truly were bonded mates. The bite was painful now that his high was dwindling down but he didn't mind. Settling down he drew patterns on her back with his fingers "I love you, my omega."

....................................

Waking up early the next morning he opened his eyes and blinked away sleep. Seeing only a small amount of light coming in through the window he knew it had to be around six or so. He had woken once last night when he heard the front door close downstairs and the sound of his mother and father making their way up the stairs. From the stumbling sound he knew his father had been drinking and held his breath when he got on the landing of the stairs. To his luck though they had simply went to their own room, the sound of the door closing making him relax.

Feeling a pressure on his chest and side he glanced down to his omega and smiled when he remembered what had happened last night. She was still nude now, her arm thrown over his body with her legs wrapped around one of his and her cheek on his chest. How he wished they could stay like this forever but he knew they couldn't. He also knew that he needed to get her out of his house before his parents woke up, more importantly his father. Taking a deep breath he gently rubbed her back and bent his head to kiss her forehead. "We have to get up my girl." he told her in a low voice but saw her only nuzzle his chest more, contempt on sleeping in. Sighing he brushed back her hair and hugged her to him. "I know you want to sleep my love but we can not. Come on darling I have to get you to the Leaky Cauldron remember?"

Whimpering you tightened your hold on him and heard him sigh out your name. Forcing your heavy eyes open you looked across his room before raising your eyes to his. "We make love and now you want to kick me out."

Frowning he kissed her pouting lips. "I do not want to but I have to get you out of this house before my parents wake up. It will be the only time, I promise you dearest the next time we make love I will shower you with all the care and attention you deserve." Kissing her once more he rubbed her shoulder. "Come on now darling."

Sitting up you winced and so did he but you knew it was from two different reasons. Sitting on his bed with the thin blanket wrapped around you for a moment to get your barings you watched him get dressed, enjoying the view but furrowing your brows when you saw the bruises that spotted his body from where his father had beat him. When he came to you with your clothes in his hands you grinned sleepily at him.

Helping her dress he swallowed hard at the sight of the love marks on her body and the few on her neck. Her father was going to skin him alive. When she moved to pull on her pants he grabbed his wand and pointed it to the hickies on her neck. Healing them the best he could he used a concealment charm on the rest of them. Crouching down to help her put on her shoes he froze when he felt her brush his hair to the side to and lean down to lick over the bite she had placed there last night. Breathing out slowly he closed his eyes for a moment.

Kissing your claiming mark tenderly you smiled at him when he lifted his eyes to yours. Wrapping your arms around his neck when he finished tying your shoes you both took a second to take in each other and all that had happened. Kissing him slowly you felt your heart throb with the love you felt for your alpha. But all too soon the both of you had to get on with the day and he stood back up, holding out his hand for you to take.

Grabbing her bag and putting it over his shoulder for now he looked around the room to make sure she had everything. Quickly catching sight of the amulet just under the bed he moved over to grab it for her. "Do not forget this."

Fixing yoru hair as he slipped the leather cord back over your head you looked down at the amulet and furrowed your brows.

Seeing her look he knit his brows, "What is it?"

Opening and closing your mouth you tried to think on what to say. "I..." Something was different, it was like that weight was no longer there. Come to think of it the stone wasn't even shining anymore. Taking a deep breath you shook your head and looked up to him. "Nothing." Seeing him still looking at you you took his hand. "Ready?"

Nodding he wrapped his arms around her and focused on the Leaky Cauldron before aperating there. Releasing her as they arrived he looked around to see not many people there yet this early in the morning.

"Can I help you two?"

Looking over to the woman you grinned. "Good morning. I am supposed to be meeting my parents here, L/n."

"Ah yes, room four my dear."

Nodding and thanking the woman you turned to look back to Severus with a sad grin. "As much as I would love for you to stay I don't think my dad is going to be very happy when he finds out I spent the night with you last night."

"Nor the fact he can smell me on you." he added making her blush.

Standing there for a moment you looked up to him and the bruises on his face. Bringing your hand up to cup his cheek you furrowed your brows. "Sev I can talk to my parents, I know they will let you come stay with us this summer if they knew."

Shaking his head he placed his hand over hers. "No Y/n. I will not burden your parents."

"You're not a burden..."

"No." Taking a deep breath he took her hand in his. "My father is going to get me a job with him at the mill, as much as I despise the thought of working in the muggle world I am going to take it." Seeing her confusion he grinned. "If I work this summer then I will be able to save up some money for when we finish school. If I can keep my grades up all year then I will graduate with honors and then I will be able to get a good job and rent an apartment or somewhere. Then we will get married and start our life together, the life we have talked about."

Smiling with a mixture of happiness and sadness you looked up to him. "Then I will save up my money from the bar this summer too." Seeing him grin you squeezed his hand. "Promise me you'll write, I know you won't be able to come see me as much with both of us working but you have to write."

Pushing his hand into her hair to cup the back of her skull he pulled her to him and kissed the top of her head. "Everyday my love." he promised her. Closing his eyes he breathed in her scent, it wasn't blocked like it normally was but he just figured was the leftover scent from where they had sex. Hugging her close he dipped his head to kiss her lips. "I love you my girl, so very much."

"I love you too Sev. Always."

Smiling he kissed her one last time. "Always."

Standing on your toes to kiss him again you pulled away and saw him stand there for a moment watching you as you made your way to the stairs. Blowing him a kiss you saw him smile before he was gone.

.......................................

That had been the last time you had saw him, or at least your Severus. That wonderful night of passion had been one of your last moments of happiness before everything went to hell. He himself had changed so much in those three years, no longer was he the man you remembered. But you wouldn't think about those events now. No, you wanted your last thoughts to be of him, of the man you loved so deeply. How you wished the plans the two of you had would have become reality. What you wouldn't give to go back to that last moment and change things for the better. But alas you couldn't and this would be how your story would end. Swallowing more of the blood coming up you used your last remaining strength to glance down to your frozen hand. Snow had fallen to cover most of you in a thin sheet but still you could just barely make out the small vial in your hand. Always. If only it were true. Feeling a few last tears roll down your cheeks you struggled to keep your eyes open, "I..llove..yyou..sssevv."

Then there was nothing.

.....................................

Bursting through the door to the run down home he looked around as he panted for air. It was pitch dark inside, the only light coming from the full moon. The agonizing pain in his chest had stopped now, leaving him with only a cold emptiness where his heart was. Swallowing hard his chest heaved as he looked around, running from one room to the next. "Y/N!?" Hearing no response he ran up the stairs three at a time. Checking all the bedrooms and even the bathroom he found them empty as well. Growling he gripped his hair and pulled. Just where the hell was she?! She hadn't been at the bar, he had checked all the bodies and none of them were her but there was so much blood and her wand had been there. Checking her old nest just to be sure he found it empty, only dust laying there. "Y/n?!" Bending over he tried to slow his hammering heart and then it hit him. Running from the room he practically jumped down the stairs and ran out of the house, not bothering to close the door.

The snow was knee deep in some places but he refused to let it slow him down. Running faster than he ever had in his life he hurried down the path towards the river. Seeing the reflection of the moon on the frozen surface he felt his blood run cold when the sight of a small figure beneath the willow tree grew closer. Even before he got to her, dropping to his knees in the snow he knew it was her. "No." She was hurt, she was hurt bad and she wasn't moving. Her clothes were torn at and ripped in some places, the black material sticking to her side. Snow had fallen on her telling him she had been out here for sometime. There was bruises and cuts along her beautiful face along with blood staining her lip and chin. Reaching out for her he hissed when he felt how cold she was. "Y/n?"

There was no answer, she didn't make a sound and he felt his heart drop. Cradling her in his arm he cupped her cheek "Y/n look at me. Open your eyes." Swallowing hard he moved his head to her chest and let out a sob when he heard nothing. "NOOO! Y/n wake up! Y/n you look at me right now, that's an order!" She made no signs of life and he couldn't stop the agonizing sob to fall from his mouth nor the tears that were now running down his cheeks. Hugging her to him he kissed her frozen cheeks and cried. Opening his eyes he caught sight of something in clutched tightly in her hand. The vile he had given her, his promises to her. Crying out he closed his eyes tight and nuzzled her. "Please! Please my love, don't leave me again!"

When the smallest of whines met his ears he stiffened, that emptiness in his chest dulling just a bit. Pulling back he stared down at her and saw she was still not moving. Licking his lips he looked down to her, watching her carefully. "Omega?" It took a few seconds but he heard it, that weak whimper that told him his mate was alive. Knowing he had to act quickly or else he might loose her entirely he stood with her in his arms and took a shaky breath. "That is it my darling, you hold on, you keep fighting." Apperating to just outside of the gates he ran with her in his arms towards the school. It should have came as no surprise to him when he got to the front entrance to see Dumbledore and McGonagall there.

"Good heavens what happened?"

"Hurry inside get her to the hospital wing."

He had planned on doing that anyway but he said nothing as he hurried down the hall with the other two professors right behind him. When the doors opened he assumed it was Dumbledore's doing and quickly moved to lay her on one of the beds. Slowly pulling away from her he shook and breathed heavily, his lungs feeling like they were on fire. Before he knew it Poppy was there and he was being pulled away by two sets of hands. Still his eyes stayed on her, on the woman he loved. With the lanterns quickly being lit he was able to see her clearly and his heart clenched painfully at the sight.

"Come on Severus dear, you have to let Poppy work."

"Severus..."

He couldn't think straight, couldn't process what they all were saying, all his attention on his dying omega. This was all his fault, everything was his fault.

"Severus."

Closing his eyes he felt more tears fall from his eyes, "What have I done?"

A/n: YASSS! We are finally here, we are finally in the present! So what do we think? I know there is still a lot left unanswered but all will be revealed in due time.

Tag List: @once-upon-an-imagine @dope-shit-bro

#severus snape #severus snape x reader #alpha severus snape #alpha severus snape x omega reader #severus snape fanfiction #young snape #snape fandom #harry potter fanfiction #angst #HEAVY ANGST #Child abuse #triggering content #Smut #fluff #teenage sex #feedback would be appreciated

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