#verse 2: for all of your kisses turned to spit in my face / for all that reminds me which is my place | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shhhlikeme · 4 years

Note

hello!! i really loved your hq writing and i think they were pretty spot on! do u mind writing abt a reader who’s basically a first year version of kiyoko (like everyone is attracted to her) and all the first years are just into her but come to find out she’s been dating yamaguchi all this time ? jealous yams maybe? sorry if it’s too specific🥺👉🏼👈🏼

Yamaguchi Tadashi x Really Sexy Yoga Instructor S/O

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A/N: Thank you so much anon! You’re speaking my language with this request😍

It sounds a lot like the first ever request I got here, so this can be seen as a part two, or read as a stand alone. I hope you like it!!!

Not NSFW, but please only read if you’re over 18 y/o.

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Yams, your beloved boyfriend of a few months will be the first to admit that he made a mistake volunteering you to help his volleyball team

About a month ago, Coach Ukai felt as though the team was way too pent up and ordered his players to indulge in some calming activities on one of the no-practice days with the goal of making the team less irritable

The coach found that Yoga would be a great solution

Coach Ukai had read that the benefits of Yoga include but are not limited to: increased flexibility, increased muscle strength and tone, improved respiration, more energy and vitality, maintenance of a balanced metabolism, improved athletic performance, protection from injury, overall relaxation and stress relief.

Ukai thought that yoga was a no-brainer because if Karasuno was going to win the National tournament, then they had to adopt unconventional means in order to get an edge on the competition

Unfortunately, Takeda, the volleyball club’s advisor, couldn’t exactly find the budget to get the entire team signed up for weekly yoga sessions at the big studio downtown

Aw man :(

But fear not! smh

Your boyfriend to the team’s rescue! Great 😑

Thank goodness for your sweet baby 👍🏾 not

He’s just too caring for his own good isn’t he? You wish he’d stop

Because he..... well, lucky for Karasuno, your boyfriend Yamaguchi happily suggested that the team goes to the Karasuno High School’s Yoga Club sessions at the local community centre. The community centre hosts great swim, cooking, and even archery lessons! It would be perfect because it would be within budget and the 7am yoga sessions were always empty, because not many people knew about them.

“How do you know they’re legit? I don’t want my players getting hurt because some kids think it’s fun to twist n’ contort their bodies —“ Inquired coach Ukai. The entire team turned to Tadashi, awaiting his response.

Your annoying sweet man explained that all of the Yoga club members are certified by Japanese Health Standards and they are well-versed in their instructing, it was kind of the point of the club. He was sure the club would love the volleyball team’s company

Your boyfriends’ coach’s face lit up. When Ukai’s next question pertained to how tf Tadashi knew all of this, that’s finally when his face fell

Oops.

He’s so cute He wanted to help so badly he forgot that this could be a bad idea

How did he know all this? Well, maybe because his girlfriend of 3 months, you, run the damn club. And he knows everything about you because he’s whipped.

However, Tadashi couldn’t exactly tell them that was the reason because he is very private and didn’t want to introduce his beautiful girlfriend to guys that were sure to drool over her

Plus he wanted to make sure you weren’t in a daze when he confessed to you, testing whether one day you’ll wake up & realize you made a big mistake

Yamaguchi, quick on his feet, just said that you were his friend and you ran the club.

They believed it obviously, and that’s how it all started

Since there were multiple morning Yoga sessions, Coach Ukai divided the team into years for mandatory session attendance. The first years were scheduled for Monday’s at 7am, the second years on Wednesday’s (same time) and the 3rd years were on Fridays (same time).

You were late to your first session with the boys because even though Yams told you the team would start coming (and to keep your relationship a secret) you were used to being the only one here doing Yoga

You were only slightly startled when you opened the door to your beloved studio and saw Karasuno volleyball’s first years: Tsukishima, Kageyama, Hinata and your beautiful man Yams sitting down on Yoga mats patiently.

You cheerily introduced yourself and greet everyone, finding yourself happy to have the company

Yamaguchi was the only one to verbally greet you back, because the other boys were staring at you with what you would deem odd expressions

Yams noticed his solo greeting too and looked over to his teammates. He frowned because he knew the look on their faces and the lack of a voice very well.

How could he not? It was the same reaction he had when he saw you for the first time he was sure you came out of his wet dreams

You are so hot, and now his fellow first years were noticing

Yams pouted inside

Anyway, the same way you didn’t notice when Yamaguchi had that stare when you two met, you just got straight to business, setting down your pink yoga mat and water bottle and explaining all the rules.

It’s a good thing yoga sessions are supposed to be silent with only the sounds of the rain forest playing loud through the rooms speakers because I don’t think the boys could have spoken anyway

You did basic yoga stretches and had the boys follow your every movement

As you showed them the simple beginner poses, Tadashi caught Hinata and Kageyama sneaking glances at your figure with heavy blushes on their faces

If Tsukki thought you were attractive, which omfg did he ever, he didn’t show it in the slightest

Yamaguchi was happy to call him his best friend

The quick-attack boys could not say the same

Like the schoolboys they are, they relished in seeing a gorgeous female’s flexible body easily contort in front of them

Tadashi noted that, for two of the most intensely competitive people he knew, the two were peculiarly a little TOO happy with not doing any of the yoga poses correctly, he could guess why

You, still clueless, walked around the room to help the boys get into correct positioning platonically, the way every Yoga instructor does.

Tadashi on the other hand, was doing so well and you badly wished you could kiss him whenever you moved his body but you were respecting his wishes to keep you two a secret

Kags and Shōyō almost had internal panic attacks when you touched them or got close

They weren’t the greatest with girls but they were especially bad when one of the prettiest and fittest girls they’ve ever encountered was touching them and whispering in their ears to ‘turn like this’ ‘open up a bit more’ because of how quiet yoga should be

The combustion train has left the building! Choo choo 💨

You laughed when volleyball duo boys started shoving each other when Hinata fell out of a pose and landed on Kags

Tadashi’s eyes narrowed because he selfishly didn’t want you laughing at anything those boys did. Nevertheless, he shook it off

Maybe it will get better once the initial shock of your hotness wears off, Yams thought to himself when he left Yoga that morning.

Sure, because that’s how it worked with Kiyoko right?

Yeah, right. The following Monday you were still hot and the boys were still drooling over you.

At real volleyball practices and at lunch time Yamaguchi has to constantly hear the team (minus Tsukishima) gush about how attractive you are and how it wasn’t so bad waking up early in the morning if you were the view they were getting up to see

Now, Tadashi would definitely describe himself as a pretty calm guy......as would anyone who knows him......

But hearing his friends gush about you like you weren’t the smartest, most creative, genuine, conscientious person...... just an ideal body and gorgeous face not that they would know evoked jealous emotions deep within him

On dates with you he would inquire about the other volleyball yoga sessions you taught and you would tell him truthfully that your class of 3rd years were always fine, well behaved and very quiet because they were too busy fantasizing about you in their heads to talk dkm

and then you told your boyfriend that 2 of the second years were pretty flirty take a wild guess who? But that the one boy named Ennoshita got them to simmer down and then stop with the comments completely

Tadashi made a mental note to do a favour for his future captain

He was beginning to get irritated with the way these strong amazing athletes that he looked up to were reduced to goo when his girlfriend came around

He knew it was irrational to be so upset because he was sure they would chill out if they knew she was his girlfriend but

He just wasn’t ready for that yet.

So he endured the comments because even though the team was full of hormonone-crazy males, they never were vulgar or disrespectful in their remarks that was saved for all of their dreams and shower time

Either way,

None of that could stop the locker room talk.

“Did Y/N teach you guys the puppy dog stretch too this week?” Chirped Nishinoya as he bounced on the balls of his feet. The boys nodded. “Man is she s-m-o-k-i-n-g or what?? Don’t you think so, Asahi?”

Yams looked over from his locker to see the quiet and timid Ace of the team unable to help sporting a blush and nodding in agreement to Nishinoya.

Tadashi did NOT like this conversation. He took to chugging his water in order to distract himself from saying something he was sure to regret

“I-I really like Y/N’s yoga pants. They’re really cool!”

Kageyama rolled his eyes at Hinata's comment. “Of course you do, Boke.”

“Keep dreaming short stack!” Hollered Tanaka as he hopped in a super man pose on top of a bench. “For I will one day marry Y/N!”

Uncontrollably, Yamaguchi’s entire liquid contents in his mouth drenched Sugawara’s back in a spit take. Everyone laughed.

Let’s just say Karasuno’s vice captain made Yams do laps until his legs felt like they would fall off

By the third week, poor Yamaguchi had it up to HERE with the team’s pining after his girl.... be it Daichi’s subtle suggestion to the coach to extend AND increase the amount of yoga sessions, to Nishinoya’s memorization of the exact colour of your lip gloss per session

Yams actually growled under his breath when he heard both I swear to God

Yamaguchi felt like he was going to burst if he didn’t wring any necks first .

The entire team was smitten with his secret girlfriend and it made him insanely jealous. He couldn’t deny it anymore.

You were his. And only his. He wished he never volunteered you to help the team in the first place!

On your dates as a couple, you noticed that Yams was much more tense than he used to be before you started instructing the team. You told him over and over that you would quit this very second because he was so much more important than some silly club. You even suggested easily swapping with your second-in-command as instructor but

He wouldn’t have any of that. Apparently the team was already improving significantly in skill from Yoga like the Coach predicted. You are the best instructor your club had, and his team needed the best.

Plus he knows you love doing it and he puts your happiness before his own

The situation just sucked!

On the final yoga session before nationals, you arranged for the entire team to conjoin in one single morning session that would be longer at two hours instead of one, to go through everything they have learned in a mass session. It was also to make sure the numbers were even because today would be strictly focused on Partner Yoga!

The crows filed in to your studio, excited to see you and set up as usual

You walked in and told them about the partner yoga, and before they could volunteer to be your partner and upset your boyfriend, you told everyone you already had a partner and gestured toward the studio entryway:

Kiyoko walked in with a wave at her introduction and she spread her yoga mat next to you facing the class

They said 😳😳😳😳🤯🤯🤯🤯

The entire room was silent. Everyone minus Tsukki and your boyfriend combusted. Like they were done

Remember that combustion train? Yeah it just arrived at its destination: Nosebleed Central.

The boys’ little minds couldn’t fathom two extremely hot girls in compromising, stretchy positions that would look anything but innocent in their male minds

It was kind of a dream come true

You didn’t care that they were acting weird and you started the session, telling the boys to pair up and follow yours and Kiyoko’s lead

Even Yams started to feel hot and bothered at the sight of the multiple positions

he always felt horny watching you instruct yoga but he was able to satiate his lust by reminding himself that you told him you want to sleep with him when he was ready, even though you were taking it slow. he’s always blushing so none of the guys ever thought anything if it

Satiating himself with that thought again, though, flew out the window as an option because you just looked too incredibly hot in partner positions. It got to the point where he wanted to kick Kiyoko out so you could practice these yoga positions with him

He wanted to be the one to put your leg on his shoulder as he pounded into your heat, not Kiyoko no matter how hottttttttt it was to look at

Suga used his fingers to flick Tadashi on the forehead to get his attention away from his secret girlfriend and back to the yoga positions he should be trying with him

“Dude.... trust me, I know, and I agree...” Suga nods in understanding as he glances over at the beautiful girls once more. It takes a good amount of effort for him to peel his eyes back to Yamaguchi. “But we have to do this. Try to pretend they’re not as hot as they are.” He gives your bf a thumbs up for encouragement

Yams didn’t smile back even though he commenced yoga again like his vice captain requested. Yams just wanted all of this to be over so he could somehow sneak you into one of the abandoned rooms in this community centre and take you right there.

Since Kiyoko was only there to demonstrate the positions and not join the class because she had other commitments, she had to leave pretty early

You went around helping everyone like you usually did, and now you definitely noticed how red all the boys’ cheeks were. Yams couldn’t even look at you the entire time he did yoga with Suga and you started to wonder if you did something wrong. Hm.....

Yams couldn’t look at you because he was using every ounce of his restraint to keep from jumping your bones

Before long, Y/N’s final yoga session was nearing completion until you realized that you had forgotten to demonstrate the final pose when Kiyoko was here.

Glancing at your boyfriend who was giving you the cold shoulder, you timidly asked if anyone minded being your partner to demonstrate—

Like zoo animals, all of the boys volunteered!!! You yelped because of how loud they got in the quiet room in a split second.

Does it matter who you choose?

Yamaguchi felt himself boil over in jealousy. These boys were throwing themselves at the woman who means everything to him, and that was enough to drive any man to the brink of insanity.

While the boys bickered about who would be your partner Hinata and Nishi already started the Rock Paper Scissors tournament, including the usually collected captains, Tadashi briskly made his way towards you with purpose. Without even thinking about it he cupped your face with one of his hands and tilted your lips towards his for a deep kiss.

You felt your knees weaken at the intensity of the unexpected kiss from the love of your life.

Yams wrapped an arm around your waist to hold you steady when he felt your knees weaken.

You two barely heard the collective gasp in the room...

...Nor did you hear Tsukki mutter a flat “I knew it.”

When you finally pulled away from your boyfriends perfect lips, you were still drunk off the kiss while he remembered where you two were

With an aura of manly confidence that could only come from the overwhelming satisfaction of giving into the animalistic urge to claim your mate in front of other males, Yamaguchi turned to his team. Shoulders back and confident, he smiled smugly

“Did I forget to tell you all that Y/N is my girlfriend? I’d appreciate if all the endless comments about how beautiful she is would cease to exist, at least around me. She’s very much taken. Oh, and I, ONLY I....will be her partner. Thanks.”

Ok can you imagine how fucking sexy shy Yams would look being strict, intimidating and completely territorial over you? 🤤

Karasuno’s team was stunned into silence before Nishinoya started a slow clap applause like they do in the movies.

Only Tanaka joined in with him. The rest of the team is not that lame

You, on the other hand, got so turned on by your boyfriend display of protection and jealousy that you muttered that class was over and you used your hand to turn Yams attention back to you. You got on the tips of your toes to pull him into another passionate kiss again.

You loved it.

Seeing this side of him stirred up a lot of emotions in you and you couldn’t help but ask your boyfriend if he wanted to skip school today. Your parents weren’t going to be home for 2 days and you had the house to yourself.

With half lidded eyes that only served to turn you on more Yamaguchi agreed.

I hope he knows that he was in for a really long and pleasurable day and night.....you were about to put those years of yoga training to good use, and your boyfriend couldn’t be luckier.

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sincerelynamkook · 4 years

Text

Studio M

Yoongi x Reader POV

Genre: Smut 🔥

Word Count: 1.4k

Playlist: “People” by Agust D. Honestly the whole D-2 mixtape

He sits in his chair, eyes intently focused on whatever is on his computer screen. Every now and then he’ll close his eyes and listen to the beat, mouthing a few words here and there softly before nodding his head and writing words down on his beat up journal, the one I gifted him on his birthday. I asked him once why he didn’t just type things on his phone or in his computer, he told me there was something cathartic about writing lyrics in his notebook. Now I make sure to pick up unique journals whenever I’m at the store, because it’s a special feeling knowing he writes his lyrics on something I gave him before sharing it with the rest of the world.

I’m laying on his couch in his studio, waiting for him to finish up to go out to dinner, but the way he cracks his knuckles tells me he’s struggling with something. I get up from the couch and walk behind him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and drop a kiss on his temple.

“Babe what’s wrong?” I ask him softly. He grabs my hand and brings it to his mouth, leaving a soft kiss on my palm.

“I’m just missing something for this song, but I don’t know what it is.” He clicks on a few icons on his screen, it all looks like gibberish to me.

“Anything I can do to help? You feel tense.” I say as I start to massage his shoulders and neck, feeling how knotted his muscles are.

Instead of replying he swirls around in his chair to face me, bringing his hands up to my waist, he begins to softly caress my body under my shirt. With one hand on my back he pushes me forward until I’m sitting on top of him. He wraps his other hand around my neck and pushes his lips on mine. His tongue makes its way into my mouth, dominating my movements. I bite his tongue gently, smirking when he hisses. He sucks on my bottom lip, biting down hard on it before licking his way down my neck, sucking gently on the nape, most likely giving me a hickey.

I start to roll my hips against his, looking for some type of relief. He reads my body like if he were the one that wrote me. Grabbing my thighs, he pushes himself off the chair and brings me with him. I take the moment to wrap my legs around his hips, not once stopping my movements. He sweeps everything off his desk before placing my now naked ass on it. He lets go off my mouth for a few seconds, I hear some clicks from his computer mouse but I don’t pay any mind to it because I’m so focused on the salty taste from the sweat on his neck. I start to remove his shirt off of his body and he does the same to my dress. I unbutton his jeans and bring them down his hips so I can free his dick from its constraints.

My mouth waters when I feel his veins and heat against my hands but I know I have no time to taste his sweet cum when I hear his moans against my ear. I pump his dicks a few times, making sure to spread the precum around himself. He pushes my hips against him, entering me in one swift move. I moan, hard. Throwing my head back, he takes advantage of my exposed neck and begins to lick, suck, and bite on my neck and chest. I hold on to him, to the desk, anywhere that’ll give me a strong enough grip to withstand the strength of his fucking.

Our moans are loud and deep, fueled by the hunger we have towards one another. We fuck raw, with unfiltered passion. I whine when I feel his dick leave my warmth, but I smile when he brings me off the desk to stand, flipping me over to face the computer screen. He pushes my torso down to the desk, I stick out my ass towards him, inviting him to enter me from behind. I yell “fuck” when he accepts my invitation and hits just the right spot. My moans become even more guttural, deep, passionate. He resumes his whispered adoration of me, whispering things like “damn baby you’re pussy was made for me” or “you’re the only that can make me feel this way.” My walls clench harder when he tells me he loves me. You don’t know the power of those words until you hear it from someone that barely says them.

He starts rolling his hips slower, more gently, taking his time so that he can fill me deeply. I start to match his movements, moaning at the feel of every inch leaving and entering my pussy. He picks up the speed, my heart racing even faster telling me I’m about to cum. “Yoongs, babe slow down, I’m gona cum” I moan. Instead, he speeds up even more, my moans spreading throughout the room. I cum, hard, but he doesn’t stop his movements. He switches up his speed, slow, fast, my body not being able to take it so I cum again. A loud “fuck” makes it’s way out my mouth when he cums with me. He holds my hip tight, riding out his orgasm. I wipe my tears from the intensity of his lovemaking. He leans his torso against my back, kissing his way up my spine until his mouth is at my ear. He whispers a gentle “I love you” before dropping one last kiss against my neck. He brings me up to face him, kissing me softly on the lips. I wrap my arms around his shoulder, kissing him back and tell him I love him. With one last kiss on my forehead, he sits on his desk chair and places me on his lap.

We sit in silence for a few beats, catching our breath, gathering our thoughts. I slowly start to doze off, feeling so sedated from multiple orgasms and his gentle caressing. I hear him get back to work, shown by the sounds of his mouse clicks here and there.

“So I have a confession.” He softly says, waking me from my almost slumber. I lean my head back to look up at him and hum a “hmm”.

He smiles his innocent smile, telling me he’s up to something. My curiosity is piqued so I sit up. “What’d you do?” I ask him with a raised eyebrow. His innocent smile turns into a smirk.

Without answering, he turns to his computer and starts to click on a few things. The room is then filled with a song, the one I’m assuming he was struggling on. It’s a sensual beat, his deep lustful voice spitting out a few verses. I close my eyes smiling at the sound of his sexy voice, but they spring open when I hear moans in the background. Not just any moans. But MY moans. I freeze in place, mouth open. These were the moans I let out not even 20 minutes ago. I freeze even more when I hear his moans mixed in with mine.

“What. The. Fuck.” I whisper yell. His body shakes in laughter.

“I found what the song was missing, and that was a piece of you.” All my anger disappears at those words.

“Babe…” I whisper.

“I won’t apologize for recording us, not when it made this song perfect.” He replies seriously.

“I can’t believe you recorded us. What will people think?!”

“It’s not like they’re gona know.” He smirks.

“Maybe, but your friends, my friends, our FAMILIES PROBABLY WILL KNOW OMG YOONGI WTF?!!!” I yell my anxiety increasing.

He has the audacity to laugh again. I smack his chest in anger and his response is to kiss my forehead.

“Babe, admit it, it’s a good song.” He rubs my back while clicking some more on his computer.

I sigh in defeat. It IS a good song. A GREAT song actually. A song I know will kill Army everywhere. I have no doubt I’ll be reading tweets and watching tik toks about them imagining what Yoongi is like in bed. Let’s just say I’m glad I’m the only one that really knows what he’s like in bed.

“It is. It is. But you should know all your music is great babe.” I sigh again. “I’m not looking forward to getting shit from Jin, Jimin or Jungkook though. Those fucking bastards LOVE to make me blush.” He laughs before dropping a soft kiss on my lips.

He stares at me for a few seconds before saying, “I love you babe. You’re my muse.”

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stiltonbasket · 3 years

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So. My mother just told me the story of how I broke a fever at only a few months old - I apparently caught a cold, nothing major, and it was over in about two days. I just thought that this must be a pretty scary situation for parents, even if the baby isn't in any real danger. How, do you think, Wangxian would react? I wouldn't want anything dangerous to happen to any of the tiny babies, but parents tend to overreact. This would be for the Renouncement Verse - you're a godsend!

prompt 2 @enter21: So much love for Baby Wei! Can we get some bonding time with new mom WWX and his little girl. Both the difficulties and the joy new bundles of love bring. And maybe just the extended family being majorly impressed with WWX's skills with children. Baby Wei, Xiao-yu, baby Mianmian, just all the babies.

(brief author’s note: please please reblog if you can, since that’s how we get prompts for future chapters!)

In later years, Wei Wuxian will remember his daughter’s birth as the most exhausting moment of his life. Bringing a child into the world is a painful business no matter how one goes about it, even when said child was being transported out of an empty dantian with nothing but pure magic and willpower to guide the way; the process taxed his spiritual veins so badly that they began to collapse in on themselves, and his head pounded in sheer misery like it did when he first fell into the Burial Mounds, and all the power Lan Xichen forced into his body made his dantian burn as if someone had lit a fire in it before he finally sank into the blessed oblivion of sleep.

But then someone shook him awake again, and put A-Lan into his arms, and Wei Wuxian fell desperately in love the moment he first laid eyes on her.

Now, on the second day after A-Lan’s arrival, Wei Wuxian busies himself with tracking the movement of her small chest (smaller than his palm, and so much more delicate) fluttering up and down with her soft breaths, and watching the faint sucking motions she makes with her tiny pink tongue when he puts a finger close to her cheek. She isn’t hungry yet, or at least he doesn’t think so; babies suck on everything that comes near their mouths, so he ignores the bottle of milk at his elbow and pokes her feathery little eyebrows instead.

The baby frowns and squints at him, just as he expected she would. Her dark eyes delight Wei Wuxian every time he sees them, because they are exactly like Lan Zhan’s: deep and clear and slanted at the corners like a pair of black phoenix’s wings, and her gaze is her father’s, too.

(Or at least it is until she begins to cry, at which point A-Lan reminds him a great deal more of a three-year-old Jiang Cheng.)

"Shuilan," he whispers now, scarcely aware of the physician measuring the baby's pulse at his right; they called Lan Feihui to see if the weather was responsible for A-Lan’s coughing, since she was born in the midst of an ongoing summer thunderstorm. "Don't cry, Lan-bao. I'm here, sweetheart, I'm here."

"How many times did she eat last night?" Lan Feihui asks, from somewhere over his head. "Did you keep note, xiandu?"

Wei Wuxian ignores that particular query, because he has no idea how often A-Lan needs to eat after he goes to bed. Lan Zhan lets him sleep the whole night through with A-Lan nestled against his side, refusing to disturb him no matter how often A-Lan wakes up, and he feeds the baby her milk every other hour as skillfully as the trained nursemaids from the healing halls.

"Three times," Lan Zhan replies, consulting a slip of paper tucked into his sleeve. "She did not object to my blood in the milk spell, so I saw no need to wake Wei Ying."

"It's a godsend, that spell," the doctor mutters, referring to the talisman Wei Wuxian constructed to transform goats’ milk into something suitable for babies to drink with the addition of a little human blood. "Do you have any plans to distribute it, Xinhua-jun?"

Wei Wuxian finally looks away from the baby's dimpled hands and nods. "En. I couldn't sleep these last two months for worrying about how we were going to feed her, and if the spell could come in useful for another child without a mother to feed it, then…”

"You could still use it yourself," the healer reminds him gently. "Using Hanguang-jun’s blood would be safest since you’re a non-cultivator, but if you would like to use yours instead, you can."

Wei Wuxian shakes his head. "It's better this way," he sighs. "She's so little, I—I don't want to take any chances."

The healer objects to this on the grounds that A-Lan is not little at all; she weighs nearly six jin, with a very healthy appetite, but Lan Zhan still refuses to let Wei Wuxian be the one to feed her.

"The spell requires a full shao of blood every day," he protests. "And babies need to eat so often. It will hurt you if you do it, Wei Ying."

“It won’t hurt me,” Wei Wuxian argues back, before blanching as Lan Zhan makes a cut across his hand and activates the milk talisman. “Lan Zhan!”

But it hardly matters who feeds her in the end, because A-Lan is chubby and strong and tries to eat everything that gets near her, from milk bottles to her own thumbs and Xiao-Yu's pudgy fingers, and all her parents' fears vanish when the healer finally declares that her fragile little lungs are handling the cold perfectly.

“She’s only been breathing for two days, Xinhua-jun,” is all Lan Feihui says, when Wei Wuxian gives her a sheepish apology for summoning her across the Cloud Recesses in the rain. “If she breathes in a grain of dust, she might sneeze. If the air is a touch too dry or too warm, she might cough. There is no need to worry unless her skin turns blue, but if that does happen, summon me or Zewu-jun at once.”

After the healer takes her leave, Wei Wuxian stares down at his daughter and covers her little face with kisses.

“Serves you right,” he scolds, when she gives him an aggrieved baby glare and sucks violently at her milk. “How could you worry me so much, A-Lan? Your A-Niang has a delicate heart, you know. You can’t scare me like this again.”

“I think I should be called A-Niang,” Lan Zhan tells him, petting Xiao-Yu’s sleepy little head. All four of them are curled up together in the marriage bed, since Xiao-Yu refused to leave his new sister, and insists on being allowed to feed her at least once or twice a day. “Did you not say once that the one with the milk was mother, and the one with gold was father?”

Wei Wuxian throws his head back and laughs. “All right,” he declares, turning so that A-Lan’s beady little eyes are fixed right on Lan Zhan’s. “Shuilan, this is your A-Niang. You can tell because you have my name—your A-Die’s name, that is—and because your A-Niang spills his own blood ten times a day so you can eat without a wet-nurse. Greet him properly, Wei-xiaojie.”

Unfortunately, Lan-bao’s idea of a greeting is spitting up onto Xiao-Yu’s robes. “Yuck!” A-Yu cries, jumping away and bursting into tears at the sight of the pale stain on his chest. “A-Lan, bad!”

And then, of course, A-Lan starts crying too. “Welcome to fatherhood, for the third time,” Wei Wuxian tells his husband, patting the tears off Xiaohui’s nose and biting back a giggle as Lan Zhan goes to find a wet cloth and a new gown for their son. “Do you think you’re ready, Lan Zhan?”

Lan Zhan looks at him across their children’s teary red faces and smiles.

“With you, xingan? Always.”

#wangxian #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #renouncement verse #wangxian arranged marriage au #my fic #wei shuilan

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nuclearnik · 3 years

Text

When the workin' day is done by nuclearnik

Pairing: Nina/Matthias

Rating: T

Summary: Nina’s chance and unexpectedly literal run in with a giant blond boulder of a man is the start of a series of encounters she never saw coming.

Chapters: 2/2

A/N: Written for @helnikweek2021 Day 7: Modern AU

There is nothing quite like the kiss of sunshine on bare skin. Nina is a summer child; she revels in the sun, worships it, pays homage beneath its rays every afternoon.

She nears the corner where a massive lilac bush perfumes the air and takes in a deep breath as she rolls by.

Her roller skates are her most prized possession, cherry red with pitch black wheels, and now they carry her smoothly around the corner and down a walking path. The chunky headphones perched atop her hair are ancient and on the fritz, static every so often swallowing the lyrics of the song they are pumping out, but Nina doesn't mind.

The immediate area is clear, and she tips her head to the sky as she flies down the sidewalk, losing herself to the music and the warm caress of the sun.

"Girls, they wanna have fun, oh girls just want to have fun."

Truly, she couldn't hit a note correctly if she had a gun pressed to her temple, but she loved to sing regardless, and the walking trails had become her own personal outdoor amphitheater over the summer.

"It's all they really want!"

Spinning in a tight circle, she belts out the lyrics, smoothly transitioning into long sweeping strides that carry her forward into a narrow pedestrian tunnel. The path ahead looks clear, and she's in the middle of the second verse when she lets her eyelids flutter shut for just a moment before she's cleared the opening.

A deep voice shouting "Halt!" echoes around the cement walls, and her eyes fly open to see a giant blond boulder of a man trying to flatten himself against the side of the tunnel as she comes barrelling towards him at full speed. Her toe stops skid over the sidewalk, slowing her momentum but propelling her right into the man.

"Shit!"

She smacks into his chest, her face slamming into the unyielding surface, and she hears a dull thud as he is pushed backwards, his skull connecting with the cement wall.

Large hands land at her hips, keeping her from ricocheting and falling backward, and she blinks blearily up at a scowling face and the bluest eyes she's ever seen.

He seems to realize he's still grasping at her waist even though she's steadied now, and he snatches his hands back, looking far sweeter than he ought to with a blush painting his cheeks and the tips of his ears visible through the soft hair curling at his temples.

Something trickles out of her nose, her knuckles coming away red when she swipes at it with the back of her hand. Her headphones have fallen down around her neck, jarred in the scuffle, and the tinny sounds of Cindy Lauper in the background play like a theme song to a terrible sitcom.

She's about to ask him if his head is alright when he spits out, "Idiot. Can't you look where you're going?" in Norwegian, clearly assuming she won't understand him.

"You came out of nowhere!" she snaps back, taking great pleasure in the surprise on his face at her perfectly enunciated response.

“You speak Norwegian?”

“Ja,” she says, a little bit of smugness coloring the word as she continues, “I speak six languages, if you must know. It’s part of my job.” Future job, that is, when she finally graduated but that was irrelevant.

Those ice blue eyes widen and he looks mildly impressed, an emotion she is sure he must not experience often. She lets a bit of pride straighten her shoulders as she stares him down.

Another little gush of blood drips from her nose, and his brows furrow. She watches as he pulls a well worn handkerchief from his pocket and gestures towards her to take it to stem the bleeding.

Resisting the urge to snatch it from his fingers in pure annoyance, she takes it and presses it to her nose, mumbling, "Turn around."

"What?" He switches to English, and his heavy accent combined with that deliciously deep voice sends a shiver down her spine despite his general trollish demeanor, but now is not the time for that. He looks affronted, as if she'd just asked him to strip down and do the chicken dance.

"Your head," she huffs out. "It could be bleeding." When he doesn't move, she twirls a single finger in the air and repeats with far less patience in her tone, "Come on then. Round you go."

Looking as equally wary of her good Samaritan gesture as she was of his, he stares at her for a moment longer, sizing her up, and then he slowly turns, presenting her with his back.

He is ridiculously tall and she has to strain to get close enough for her fingers to gently feel around through his hair, looking for a wound.

There is no way he doesn't have a headache after slamming into the concrete wall, but he isn't bleeding, thank the saints. She's not sure she could take the guilt of body slamming a stranger so hard he needed stitches.

"No blood."

His broad shoulders are completely still under her touch, and suddenly she notices that she's pressed herself against his back to get close enough to his head, every soft bit of her pressed up against the hard muscle of him.

And he is, indeed, all hard planes and sharp angles. Awareness flares in her blood, warming her from the inside out. Unwilling to continue standing there ogling him, she drops back to her heels, fingers free from the silky hair covering his big, dumb head.

They stand there staring at each other, neither one willing to be the first to apologize. But the silence nags at Nina, so she finally says, "I'm sorry you got in my way and nearly broke my nose."

The ghost of a smirk plays at his mouth. "And I'm sorry you weren't paying attention and knocked me into a concrete wall."

Continue reading on AO3

#helnik week #helnik week 2021 #nina x matthias #helnik fanfic #six of crows #my writing #girls just wanna have fun au

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ficsnroses · 4 years

Text

Friends With Benefits Chapter 11 - Keanu Reeves x Reader

Chapter XI ~ Three Daggers.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Word Count : 3.8k

Warnings : lots of angst, nsfw mentions.

Series Summary : What happens when two, lonely friends start seeing each other for sex? A tricky friends with benefits love story, when feelings get in the way.

Notes : Buckle in friends, it’s a bumpy ride from here on out. Chapter 12, [out in the next week or two] will be the end of this fic and I’m already crying thinking of it. It’s been loads of fun! As always, please please do leave feedback, anonymous or not :) your words are what make it all worth it.

Chapter 10 Recap : As Keanu stands outside Y/N’s door, after seeing Matt walk out of her apartment, they both stand in silence, unsure of how to feel. Through thick tension, a series of flashbacks reveal how Keanu and Y/N’s relationship began, and what events lead things to become as messy as they are now. Finally, they decide to talk about the unspoken feelings and things that have been going on between them.

“Did you sleep with him?” He stills, expression strained and down casted stare piercing knives at the floor below. His arms rest heavy by his sides, dread of the coming words churn in his stomach; the fire burns in his belly.

“Excuse me?” You return, arms crossing, stance collective.

“Please.” His lip quivers so slight, gravelled, assertion coated tone less than willing to beat around the bush. “Just answer me, Y/N.”

Your eyes still, connected to his that finally, momentarily find yours. You stay silent for a moment long, and the words that come haunt him. Haunt him before they’ve even settled, had time to absorb in the depths of his train wrecked realization. “Yes. I did.”

The first dagger.

You’ve spent enough nights with his manhood curled inside your legs, to know. Far too many evenings with his fingers dipped inside you; lapping, delighting the honey that seeped just for him.

You know him. And despite you desperately trying to forget,

He knows you. He knows you all too well.

The heaviness to the room suffocates you, claws away at each anticipation scorched crevice of your mind. A resigned silence has fallen across the atmosphere, the mere tick of the clock in the distant kitchen corridors filling the gaping holes. Time moves slow. For the first time, you both stand. You’re both here. You’re here, where nothing but words will heal. Nothing but words will suffice. And when you need them most, when you finally need them, they hinder. They’ve gone. They feel far too heavy, and his shoulders seem far too frail.

For the first time you see, Keanu seems, far too,

frail.

You feel heavy, weighed down. Open your mouth. Let the truth exist somewhere other than inside your body. Let the words that were made just for him,

find him.

A candle burns to the right, set on the wooden oaky coffee table. His favourite scent, something he’d left behind. Attention remains focused on the flickering flame as you continue to observe him from your spot, wondering, desperately scraping to know what thoughts seared his mind. What reveries he wondered, if he’d just reply. If he’d just talk.

His eyes scan the floor; you know there’s a brew fizzing inside his mind. Much to your disappointment, his cocoa kissed hair falters in hues; strands, long and lengthy seem matted, messier than usual. He hadn’t been keeping firm care of himself as usual,

You fear you’re the reason. That you did this to him, when all you wanted was to ease the burn. To do the better for the both of you.

You’d nearly gotten comfortable in the silence that loomed, almost forgotten that a storm was coming. It was bound to. So sudden, to the gravel of his tone, your chest tightens in guard. Defence.

“I thought you only sleep with me.” He starts, voice heavy, rid of that certain uniqueness it normally held for you. That gentle softness that usually shone. Perhaps it was still there, hidden in the grim shadows.

Perhaps your morphed mind refused to acknowledge it. Refused to remember, to confess that he’d always been far too good. Too good to deserve what you’d done. The way you both let it be. “Why does it matter?” You ask lowly, barely returning. The words have seemed to die in your throat before fully falling out; as if they never truly wanted to be heard by him. As if they saw right through you.

“Because. I thought that was our thing.” He reasons, tone firm, defensive in return. Crinkled lines of stress embroider his outer eyes, and you feel your insides plunge at the sight.

Your eyes narrow before a slight defence rings your voice, jaw tightening to his confidence. “Since when do we have a thing?”

The lines to his forehead firm, and his spine unravels in a firmer stance. To his jaw’s signal, his heavy head turns so slightly, taking in the words of your return. He’s stunned, upset, disappointed, irate, a cocktail of all negative emotions that had been crawling to the surface as of late. The emotions he’d swallowed down, allowed to burn inside just to have you near.

Solely to have you stay, even if it meant it wasn’t in the way he wanted you.

But now, there was none to lose. You’d been in the arms of another man. Let another man touch you the way he thought only his fingers could, allowed another man to taste the sap that seeped from your lips, the honey of your body the way only he should have been allowed.

Was he being selfish? He wonders, he ponders. But it burns. The burn triumphs, yet again. “We do, Y/N. Are you doing to deny everything?” he asks, thick hearted. “Everything we did?”

“What do you mean.” You release, the pricks of the sentence taking form of a statement more than a question. “We are- were in it for the benefits. Just sex, Keanu. Those were your words.” Your head lowers for a moment, collecting the words you needed him to hear. The defence you needed to fend. “You don’t get to decide what I do and don’t do. You do not control me.” Your teeth almost grit, lip bitten with affirmation. “You don’t get to decide who I can be with.”

The feeling persists as you try to blink it away slowly, little by little, desperately striving to keep your vomit of words from yelping out. It’s become much, far too much. The blades are cutting, sinking into your flesh.

“I get that.” Keanu waves off, understanding, sympathetic almost. His persona stays, yet seems to melt away in the same breath. Softer, milder tones hue his voice, and his words fall warmer. Warmer than the cold he’d been spitting thus far.

Yet, it’s funny how now, they feel colder.

Despite the sound, they’re piercing into each of your built up, sorrowed seams. They’re real. They’re true. “Y/N, you came to me. You wanted this. I understand that I too let it get this way, I too agreed.” Milder, softer, heavier. “But what you don’t have the right to do, is walk out on me when it’s convenient for you. You don’t get to decide when you want me and when you don’t.”

He bleeds, he too, bleeds. From this close, he looks tired, prominent bags shadow cast under his eyes, stabbing your veins with guilt. “Maybe it was my fault for letting you come back and chip away at me. For wanting you still every single time you came and went.” His words prove sharp, the sharp scalpels you’d never thought you’d hear pour from him. Despite great efforts, your eyes fall weaker and weaker to each word, each vowel, each syllable of his tenor. “Do you think it was easy for me, Y/N? When you disappeared for a week without a word? I was a mess, Y/N. I was ruined thinking I did something to hurt you. You made me feel that.”

The second dagger.

“We had something. Don’t you dare take that away from me and don’t you dare stand there and tell me we didn’t. It was never just sex, Y/N.” He feels your heavy stare, the way your eyes flicker with something so unfamiliar. As if the flip of a button, the tension between your aggravated bodies shifts, thickens, feels as if something that was never meant to flourish between you and him.

“We were…we were more. You were more.” He exhales, slow and sad. “You were never just midnight relief for me,” Cringing, he waves off a heavy palm to the sour words, his face scrunched to the thought of you thinking you were ever just physical need for him. Ever just sex. “You were-- you are a friend. Perhaps my dearest friend.” His words sear. They do hurt. Shackled with dread. You are, chained. Held. Composed of nothing but pure, utter, hurt.

He stands there, and even through the ice of his speech, it’s still him. Still that sliver of hope you’d always held, that dearest comfort in tumbling darkness. Even today, in the scorching gray, he still felt like home. And that was the worst part; home. Being torn, fraying away from you.

You wish he was still human, still something normal. You don’t remember when you started looking at him,

and seeing poetry. A beautiful verse, a well rehearsed lyric, a symphony you remember lipping your tongue.

His words are breaking you, killing you softly. Something surfaces, something you so desperately didn’t want to, but it does. Guard.

;The poisons in our mouths burn holes in our tongues; our cheeks.

The same guard that had perhaps been breaking you thus far. The same guard that made you leave. The same defence that refused to acknowledge out loud that he was more. That he was the one who kept you up at night, the one that crossed your mind each waking of the morning, each dusk of the night. You’d swore the joints in your neck creak when you slant up to the gray ceiling, and the ache at your right temple pounds harder, your veins course with something so icy, so frozen; an agonizing groan barely surfaces before your fingers mould along your temples, the words falling off your lips to an appalling mutter. “No, no, no, no.”

And that’s why you lie. You part your lips,

and lie.

“Keanu!” you almost cry, bones aching, chest hefty and heart pouring. You’re drained, exhausted, the conversation has turned darker than anticipated. The sharp edges only cut further. “We’re no good for each other. We aren’t and we never were.” A slight frown contorts your features.

These words, this stream of misery; you know they’re hurting him too. You know he’s hurting. You’re hurting him.

But they must be spoken. They must be shared. This thread that holds you bound, this cord that draws you back must be shred. Must be broken. It’s what he needs. What you both need.

By now, the river had flowed too far; the water rose far too deep.

By now, if he’d be a part of you still, you fear you won’t be able to settle. You want one hundred percent of him, in the way lovers do. True lovers; the equities that come farther than physical connection. You want all of him, but you fear he won’t be able to give that part of him. Won’t be able to give you more. Just how much more you needed. And so you suffer, you writhe, and you ache some more as the words fall. You fight back sorrow as the façade falls.

A river flows from your mouth, falls, pelts, cascades. The substitute of tears, your eyes won’t bare hold. “You were my first friend, my only friend when I came here.” You sympathize. “Of course you were more, Keanu. You weren’t just a quick fuck for me when I needed one, so don’t you dare accuse me of it.” A faint frown lingers to the planes of your face, and your eyes grow something worse than sad. Something full of pure, utter, melancholy. “We made a huge mistake and you know it, Ke.” Confessing, you watch the way his muscles tense under his signature black jacket.

He’s suffering. You’re killing him.

“We both have issues, and we both have problems.” The ugly truth ultimately falls. But perhaps, you shouldn’t have shed light on it. Shouldn’t have dug up, salted old wounds. “Did we really think sex would fix that?” The truth hurts. It’s sinking daggers into your flesh by each word. You’d never been one to show weakness, yet to him, you let all the vulnerability fall. All the weaknesses that allowed you to get this way. “We made a mistake. And it’s best we just move on.”

There, in his eyes today, right now, you swore you saw something you’d never seen before.

He’s always been admirable, reserved, but confident. Something about him always seemed collected, as if he’d got the entire world figured out and had came to terms with whatever it had to offer. He held poise, self-reliance.

But today- the emptiness inside your chest throbs and your fingers nimble under his intense stare. He doesn’t speak for prolonged moment, only stays,

numb.

Something in him died today. Something felt like withered flowers and caved ruins.

It’s unsettling to see such a sight before your eyes, to see a mountain before you disintegrate, yet refuse to acknowledge it. Eerie, soul crushing discomfort. You saw it in him,

but felt it in you.

Somehow, these things of his, always come back to you. To haunt you.

Keanu blinks slowly, coming back to the present as his head returns. His thoughts flow, rugged, anything but the usual smooth his collected demeanor was used to. It doesn’t matter to her, everything we did. These thoughts, these words, these feelings; they bubbled. She thinks we’re a mistake. Boiled, churned, gasped to be let out. These words needed liberation. Needed to be free.

Does she not remember? He wonders, he ponders. How could she forget?

Tick.

Tock.

Tick--

Even the ticking of the clock in the distant kitchen seems to drown out, seems to fade away unfinished. A heaviness still suffocates the room; feelings still remain trapped inside the depths of your confined hearts. The silence stretches on, the seconds, prolonged moments of quiet rack and add up, and so does your unease.

His expression carefully falters, devoid of anything that shows how utterly hopeless he continues to fall with each jab you take at him. Something so unreadable. Unreadably broken.

He drains too. His silence hurts.

More than the words you’re spewing; the words that cut, slowly slaughter your souls in a gritting slay. Your own eyes crumble, grip tightening in a balled fist similar to the grip that contorts your aching heart.

You feel disgust rip through yourself like a lightening bolt, the pain comes in shooting bolts piercing

Sharp.

Shrill.

It’s slipping through his fingers. It’s all slipping far too quickly.

“Y/N,” Keanu mumbles, urgent yet soft. Heavy voice weighted, plead drowned tone piercing, like lightening. “You-”

He tries again to talk, yet it proves too much. The way he speaks kills you, it’s murdering you cut by cut. It’s impossible to stomach the look on his face.

Dagger by dagger. You’re not strong enough. This mountain you carry on your tongue, in your bones, deep in each crevice of your physical self; it holds too much history, too much vulnerability. This love that laces in each of your veins for him; if it escapes, and the words kiss his skin, into his ears; you fear it won’t be enough. That it wont turn out the way you’ve dreamt all along.

And that’ll be the end. That’ll butcher you for good.

That will be the death of you.

“No, Keanu.” You voice, head shaken gently to a downcast defeat below. You see him tense, back leaned against the gray hallway wall.

Defeat.

You’ve both defeated each other today. Both sunk the needles exactly where it hurts the most.

;Taking throws at the most vulnerable parts of each other. We’re like fingers on thorns of honey;

we know exactly where it hurts.

Ambling up beside his larger frame, you position adjacent; so close to him, where you’d feel lightening in your heart each time you reminisce on being. When you think back to the times when he was this close. When he won’t be anymore.

The hard wall feels cold against your skin, both your eyes intent on the surroundings, anywhere but on each other. Slow, quiet, you sigh a beaten exhale, eyes momentarily shutting to ease the heaviness for just one moment. He slumps, unable to hold the weight of his own two feet much longer. “No.” You mumble, you mutter. You force your tongue to move. Sick to the stomach. It churns inside, the brew of pain, hurt, defeat, agony. The fall in your eyes intensifies, covered by a gloss of realization.

This was it.

This would be it.

Dense, heavy, you glide. Your back slides down the hallway wall as your knees give out, falling to an upright seat on the floor below. Legs crossing with your hands positioned neat in your lap, weary shoulders slump; and your eyes find Keanu’s standing tall above you. Patting the spot beside you with one heavy thump, you sigh.

He swallows thick, before gliding down as well.

falling, falling, falling.

There, in the quiet walls, you sit together. Insides burning, hearts twisting. Falling.

The silence endures, your tired hearts rest. Overpowered, overwhelmed, you sit together.

;I’m erasing you from my skin.

“Keanu,” you begin, empathizing; limbs limp with exhaustion. “I can’t be with you anymore. I just can’t. It’s draining, it’s exhausting.”

The third

dagger.

And this one, would hurt in him constantly. Would burn in him endlessly.

Your every word is cruel. Brutally candid; straightforward. Each and every syllable, each vowel, each ring tears something inside him expertly, like deliberately unhurried knives; merciless daggers sinking in deep.

Keanu’s mind wanders still, the words he so desperately wanted to say to you still bubbling. The conversation hadn’t played out how he planned. This was not what he had planned. This is not what the hopes he came with wrote. The burn is so rugged, so intense, and the words fight to come out. They fight to be heard by you. Fight to save your sinking ship.

But they don’t. they ultimately don’t. They still in his throat. They dissolve in his throat.

He couldn’t put himself out there for you to break down again. Couldn’t hand himself over to you again, only to be destroyed, yet again.

His features falter, realization seeps into his bones. In these moments, everything, each second seems so fragile, so precious.

-She’s slipping away far too quickly-

She’s slipped away;

She’s gone.

Keanu’s head falls back, hitting the wall behind you both with an audible thud. He nods gently with a hefty respire, eyes closing for a brief moment. Slain.

Slow and wounded, he removes himself from your side, standing on his own two somnolent legs. The air around has only darkened, except now, there’s no piercing. No lightening, no bolting.

Just flat, dry, unforgiving air.

He stands tall above you, yet your body stays positioned below on the ground. You can’t seem to move, can’t seem to rise. Can’t seem to rise up from the small. From the low.

From the feeling of low.

Staring up, your eyes lock with his as he begins sincerely, head shaking. The phantom, the ghost of him leans above you, looming over with guilt ridden, shattered realization.

He begins, apologizing. “I promise, all I wanted was to help. Not to make it worse.” Thick cut sadness, gloom glazes each word. He’d come with so much hope; he’d come to you confident he’d get it right. That this time, he’d hold you for good.

With nothing, he’d be leaving. Nothing but haunting memories of the sweetest love, that never worked. The ghost of a love he’d lost, without ever really having it.

“I care about you so much.” He tells, one last time. “I’m sorry if I said anything out of line. You’re an amazing woman, Y/N. I still admire you and all the success you’ve earned since you came here.”

Gray. It’s all falling gray. The murals of a once bright and crimson passion; a once rosy friendship, a yellow hope. All grayed.

“I still wish you nothing but the best. You deserve it.” He finishes, a gentle nod and half attempted smile your way. A haunting smile, that would forever remain carved inside your brain. The smile of the heart you slaughtered.

And for a moment; you think, maybe you loved him, in another lifetime. And maybe you promised you’d find him on the other side.

On the other side – and maybe that’s why you can’t seem to escape him, to let him go.

But today, he is going. He’s leaving for good.

Today, it felt as if the flowers beheaded themselves; the sun burnt to the ground. He’d take them away with him, with each drowning step he took.

He won’t come back; the whispers of your crying thoughts linger.

He has to; the weeps of your heart undertone.

And you wonder, that perhaps you don’t deserve good things. Because this, watching him leave with your heart crucified to his chest, felt as if punishment. Punishment for sins you don’t even remember committing.

He shakes his head one last time, before his back turns. Turns to you, leaves you behind as he begins to move away, toward the bulky front door. He’d bid his goodbyes, wished his farewells.

He is the one that got away. And maybe, the one who comes after him; if one ever will; will remind you of how it was always supposed to be. The mistakes that were never meant to be made.

~They will taste like the poetry; you wish you could’ve composed.

For from today, blue skies would fade gray, the birds would cease to sing. The flowers would never live again, and the burn would maybe subside to nothing, but, gray. You will stay empty, stay longing for what he gave you.

The corridors of each room will be empty; and nothing makes the room feel emptier than longing for someone to be in it. And long you would. Knowing the man you love would be gone for good.

And even after all this pain, all this hurt,

His body is still the only one you want to be undressed under.

His weight is the only one you want resting beside you at your most vulnerable, at your worst.

The daggers have been thrown. The wounds have been carved.

“Stop saying things like that to me.” Sudden, your voice cracks from below. You’d been unsure of how the word had even escaped, plummeted out, fearing no barrier. As if your pulsing heart’s last attempt to ease the agony, to stop him. They’d fallen out, leaving your mind little to fend your guard with.

He halts in his tracks, merely turning in his steps to lock you a surrendered gaze. Why? his pleading orbs beg, wondering what more could be left to said. Head shaking, with his lips pursing tight and taut to a thin line, he stands with his arms side by side, eyes coursing into your soul.

Wondering. What you would say.

“Stop saying things like that to me. Things that make me feel like you’re the only good I’ll ever have.” You barely manage, swallowing thick, dense, pure anguish. Gaze faltering, you eye the floor below, unable to lock stare with him just yet. You whisper, audible yet to his ears with an ultimate connect to his earthy orbs; your own filling with seared, stinging wet sheen.

And the words that would fall from your lips from there on out-

Could never be taken back.

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

My taglists will be posted in reblogs from now on. Let me know if you want to be added or removed from either this series, or the permanent!

#keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves fanfiction #Keanu Reeves #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves imagine

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klaineanummel · 4 years

Text

enemies with benefits

Kurt Hummel is the captain of the NYU Violets soccer team. Blaine Anderson is the captain of the Columbia Lions soccer team. They're bitter rivals on and off the field, but that doesn't mean that they can't also be attracted to each other. Right?

Hello everyone!! Welcome to my fic for the @gleepotluckbigbang Glee Potluck Exchange! :) I have been paired with the wonderful @notarelationship, and while I did not receive any official prompt, I did get a bunch of tropes that she enjoys. So, here you go darling! I hope that you enjoy <3

Massive thanks to @mailroomorder for betaing this fic <3 you're the real MVP. Also, I'm fully aware these fics were supposed to be capped at 5K. lmao oops?

A small note, more so for those of you well versed in soccer: I am fully aware that the NYU Violets soccer team is not in the same NCAA division as the Columbia Lions (far from it actually). However, in order for the fic to work, I fudged the facts a little bit. I mean, hey, it's an AU, right? So, apologies to any potential die-hard soccer fans out there for this small inaccuracy.

the seventh time

It’s the first time they’ve done it at Kurt’s apartment. Not because Kurt doesn’t want Blaine here (though, in theory, he doesn’t), but because he lives with four other guys. All of whom are on the NYU Violets soccer team with Kurt. All of whom have a tendency of coming home earlier than expected, and of walking into Kurt’s room without knocking, no matter how many times Kurt begs them to stop.

He doesn’t feel the need to have his roommates and teammates see him having sex with the captain of the Columbia Lions soccer team.

They’re all out today, though, and Kurt knows this time that they will be out for a very long time. They’re celebrating, after all. 3-2 against the Lions, meaning they’re headed for the semi-finals of the NCAA Division I Tournament, whereas the Lions will have to fight for their spot in a few days.

Winning is one thing, but winning against the Lions? Oh, if Kurt could bottle the absolute joy it brings him, he’d never be sad again.

“Fuck,” he shouts, feeling Blaine’s fingers brush against his prostate. Adrenaline and ecstasy flow freely through his veins, and Kurt thinks he should always have sex after winning a big game, because this is possibly the best sex he’s ever had.

Not that Blaine will ever, ever know that.

Blaine pulls out of him, then comes back with three fingers, shoving them in roughly. Kurt presses his face into his pillow and biting down on the fabric to stop himself from shouting out again. Blaine’s fingers are hot inside him, stretching him much quicker than he usually prefers, especially considering how rare it is for him to bottom.

“Hope you’re ready,” Blaine says, leaning his entire body over Kurt’s to speak directly into his ear, “because I’m tired of waiting to fuck you.”

Kurt turns his head to the side, spitting the pillowcase fabric out of his mouth before he says, “Hope you’re better at topping than you are on the pitch.”

It’s a cheap shot, and not even an accurate one, but he’s still high off his victory and enjoying how rough Blaine is being far too much. He just wants a guarantee that that’s going to continue throughout the rest of their tryst.

As expected--he’s so predictable--Blaine lets out a sound that can only be described as a growl before pulling away from Kurt. Kurt keeps his cheek pressed against the pillow, swaying his ass gently, invitingly, as he listens to Blaine struggle to put on his condom.

Soon enough, there’s hands on his ass checks, spreading them a bit further than Kurt usually prefers, and a slick, latex-covered cockhead pressing against his hole.

“Fucking come on,” Kurt grumbles. “See, this is why we keep beating you, because you don’t know when to fucking – holy shit.”

He’s full in an instant, hips arching high, Blaine’s fingernails digging into them. He reaches up and grabs onto the rail at the head of his head just in time for Blaine to pull out and immediately push back in.

“Shit, Blaine,” the rail digs into Kurt’s palm, but he doesn’t care, because Blaine just keeps fucking in and out of him, and Kurt still hasn’t really adjusted to the size of him and fuck it’s good. “Yes, fuck me, come on.”

“Do you ever shut up?” Blaine mutters, so quiet that Kurt isn’t sure he’s actually supposed to hear. “Or does the sound of your own voice turn you on?” Okay, so he was definitely supposed to hear.

He isn’t sure how to respond to that because yes, he actually does like to talk while he’s having sex – not because he likes the sound of his own voice, but because he loves hearing his lovers during sex as well, and him talking is the best way of ensuring that happens. But he’s not sure he wants Blaine to know that. Really, Blaine already knows too much about what he likes in bed. He doesn’t need the man who’s been his biggest rival the entirety of his university career to know everything.

Finally, he settles on, “Fuck me harder and find out.”

Blaine lets out a low half-scoff half-chuckle at that, and Kurt smirks to himself.

“Or, what?” He continues, tilting his head to the side as though that will allow him to see Blaine any better. “Is this as good as you can give? Because if that’s the case, then no wonder we beat you today.”

“You are such,” his thrusts speed up, and Kurt keens happily, letting his face melt into his pillow and his headboard rail burn into his palm, “an asshole.”

The irony of the statement makes Kurt laugh, which just makes Blaine increase his speed even more, putting a definite pause on the laughter.

The adrenaline spiking through him is mixing with his pleasure, and Kurt can tell that he’s going to come soon. It’s the fastest he’s come in a long time, and he can’t stand the fact that it’s Blaine Anderson who brought him there.

He brings his own hand down to his cock, stroking himself quickly.

“You going to come?”

Kurt just nods against his pillow, biting down on his lip to stop himself from saying anything potentially embarrassing.

“Thank fuck,” Blaine says. “Been on the edge since I pushed into this tight ass.”

Kurt bites into the pillow again as his orgasm hits him. He pumps in and out of his own fist, ass muscles clenching tightly around Blaine’s cock.

“Holy shit,” Blaine says, and Kurt can feel his fingernails digging a little deeper into his hips. He’s definitely going to have some kind of mark there tomorrow.

Blaine’s rhythm becomes a little more erratic as he fucks Kurt through his own orgasm. Kurt lets him, sated and boneless after his own.

When Blaine is done, he immediately pulls out and falls onto the mattress next to Kurt, chest heaving, eyes glued to the ceiling.

Kurt watches him for a moment. Watches the way his eyelashes brush against his cheekbones every time he blinks. Watches the way his pink tongue slips out to wet his equally pink lips. Watches the way his amber eyes are never still, not even now, staring at the absolute nothingness of Kurt’s ceiling.

He watches him until his heart gives an uncomfortable tug and he has to stop watching because that’s not a road he wants to go down.

He moves his own gaze up to the ceiling as well, and then says, “You’re a sore loser, huh?”

Blaine immediately elbows him in the side, and it feels better. More normal. The way things have always been and need to stay.

the tenth time

He’s not at all surprised to see Blaine leaning against the wall opposite the door to the Violets locker room. He’s wearing possibly the tightest jeans Kurt has ever seen him in, and a light purple crewneck that’s doing absolutely illegal things to his arms.

“Sucks, doesn’t it?” Blaine asks, not moving from his spot.

Kurt shrugs his duffle bag higher onto his shoulder. “You here to rub it in?”

Blaine stays still, and Kurt really wishes he’d do something with his body, anything to give Kurt even the slightest indication of where he’s going with this.

When Blaine doesn’t respond for a few moments, Kurt says, “Because if you are, you can save it. I already feel fucking awful, and I don’t think I’m up for one of our snipe sessions.”

Blaine still doesn’t say anything, though Kurt notices his left eyebrow has raised the tiniest bit.

“You know how much this sucks for me?” Kurt can’t help it. He feels raw from the loss, and the almost half-hour shower he’d just taken to try and rid himself of the feeling had done absolutely nothing. All of his teammates have left already, quietly expressing their condolences to him, a few reminding him that they’re planning to get spectacularly drunk at their favorite bar a few blocks down.

Kurt doesn’t feel like getting drunk. He doesn’t feel like sitting around with the team he knows he let down while they all try to convince him that it wasn’t his fault. He doesn’t want to be faced with the reminder that it’s actually completely over.

“You have another shot at this,” Kurt continues, one hand gripping the strap of his duffle bag tightly. His other hand points accusingly at Blaine, not close enough to actually push him but wanting more than anything to do so. “You get another year to redeem yourself, to get the win for your team. I’m done. This was it for me. I’m graduating in a few months, and since we didn’t even make it into the semi-finals, I know that not a single scout is going to contact me, which means that my soccer career is over. I’ve fucking peaked. Now I have to finish my dumbass degree, and then get some bullshit office job that I’ll fucking dread going to every day of my damn life, and all because—”

He doesn’t get to finish the outpour of emotions. Blaine closes the distance between them and interrupts him mid-sentence with a deep, forceful kiss on the lips. His hands come up to cup Kurt’s face, bringing him close.

It takes Kurt a moment to catch up, but as soon as he does, he lets himself melt into the kiss. He wraps his free arm around Blaine’s waist, pulling his middle in closer to Kurt and feels his other hand relaxing around the strap of his bag.

Blaine breaks the kiss, separating with a soft smack of the lips. “I know,” he says, hands still on Kurt’s cheeks, forcing him to look directly into his eyes. “I know.”

Kurt nods as well as he can between Blaine’s hands. He licks his lips, then asks, “Is your roommate home?”

Blaine shakes his head.

Kurt nods again, and says, “Perfect.”

the eleventh time

Just an hour ago Kurt had been fucking into Blaine from behind, letting himself be more forceful than he usually was, his anger at the defeat seeping into every single thrust.

Blaine let him. There were no jabs, no snipes, no bitchy or petty comments. He just let out a few, “Keep going’s,” every now and then to let Kurt know that he was okay with what was happening.

Now, Kurt is lying on his back on Blaine’s bed, with Blaine’s head between his legs, gorgeous lips wrapped tightly around Kurt’s cock.

Kurt can’t stop staring at him, heart jackrabbiting in his chest. His curls are still drying from the shower he’d taken earlier and are so soft around Kurt’s fingers. He keeps shifting his fingers through them, wanting to memorize the feel of them in case he never gets this chance again.

They don’t do this. Or, at least they never have before. It’s always either been quick handjobs in shower stalls after games or fucking in one of their apartments. For some reason, to Kurt, going down on Blaine always felt like it was too much. Too vulnerable. Giving Blaine too much power.

Yet, here Blaine is, doing exactly that. He bobs up and down slowly on Kurt’s cock, swallowing around him every so often, tongue caressing the underside of his dick with every movement of his head.

It feels like he’s worshiping Kurt’s cock, and Kurt doesn’t really know how to feel about it.

Because what he’s realizing now is that he isn’t the one with the power here. Blaine may be the one doing all the work, but it’s Kurt who feels vulnerable. It’s Kurt who feels powerless. It’s Kurt whose heart is practically beating out of his chest, begging for him to just hand it to Blaine on a silver fucking platter.

“Blaine, I’m—”

He doesn’t have to finish the sentence. Blaine brings a hand up and wraps it around the base of Kurt’s cock, then increases his speed, bobbing up and down and Kurt’s cock faster, tongue finding the underside of his cock and focusing on the skin there.

“Blaine,” Kurt warns, tightening his hold on Blaine’s curls. “Blaine, pull off. I’m going to—”

Blaine doesn’t stop, doesn’t pull off, and before he can stop himself Kurt is coming down Blaine’s throat, head falling back against the pillow and eyes closing as he feels Blaine’s cheeks hollow around him, carrying him through the orgasm.

As though reading his mind, Blaine pulls off exactly when Kurt starts to feel sensitive, and Kurt flutters his eyes open just in time to see Blaine swallow heavily.

Blaine moves up until he’s directly next to Kurt, staring right into his eyes with an intensity that Kurt isn’t sure he’s ever seen off the field.

“It’s not over for you,” Blaine says. He reaches a hand out and finds Kurt’s, linking their fingers together. “You’re going to do amazing things in your life, Kurt. One loss isn’t the end. You’re right at the beginning.”

Kurt nods, the words warming his stomach and drying out his throat. He can feel tears pricking at the edge of his eyes, and god, as if this whole experience wasn’t embarrassing enough already now, he’s going to, what? Cry?

“That’s, um.” He has to pause to clear his throat, as his voice comes out scratchy and low. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Blaine shrugs, a small, private smile on his lips. “Don’t get used to it, Hummel.”

Kurt’s heart stutters in his chest, and he finds himself smiling as well even as he already starts to sit up, letting Blaine’s hand go to pick up his clothes. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Anderson.”

the fifteenth time

It’s different between them since the Violets got eliminated from the tournament. Not just because they’ve now officially exchanged phone numbers and actually arrange to meet up instead of simply falling into bed together every time they have a match or after running into each other at some sports bar.

No, it’s different because they actually talk to each other now. It’s not just petty insults, sex, a few more petty insults, and see you later. Now Kurt finds himself sticking around for a bit after the sex at Blaine’s apartment to ask about his day, his classes, his life. And the one time they managed to do it at Kurt’s apartment he found himself looking for excuses to keep Blaine around longer than necessary, to the point where his roommate Mike almost caught Blaine leaving.

He can’t help it. He may hate Blaine’s team, and in theory Blaine for being the captain of said team, but as a person Blaine is…

Well, he’s quite possibly the kindest person Kurt has ever met.

“Slow down,” Blaine says, legs coming up so that he can hook his ankles together over Kurt’s lower back. “Sam’s going to be out all night, you don’t need to rush.”

Kurt nods and does as Blaine asks, slowing down until he’s just gently rolling his hips, not even really thrusting. Blaine’s eyes flutter shut and his lips part in a silent show of enjoyment.

And this is the other thing that’s changed – they never fucked face-to-face before. It was always either back-to-chest if they were in the shower, or with one of them on all fours in bed. Yet, this is the third time they’ve done it, and honestly, Kurt is starting to wonder if there’s a way he can request that they stop.

Because actually seeing Blaine’s face while they do this? Looking into his eyes as he talks while they fuck? Watching him as he falls apart under Kurt’s ministrations?

It’s getting to be a little too much.

“Fuck,” Blaine whispers, eyes still shut. He rolls his hips in time with Kurt’s, and a small smile appears on his face. “Don’t know if I’ve ever said this, but you’re fucking amazing at this.”

Kurt’s stomach constricts. “I bet you say that to all the boys.”

Blaine’s eyes open slowly, a slight frown on his face. He reaches a hand up to cup Kurt’s cheek, fingers spreading wide enough to completely cover the left side of Kurt’s face.

With far too much inflection in his voice, he says, “No. I don’t.”

Then, he tilts his head up and presses their lips together, flicking his tongue against Kurt’s in time with the slow movements of their hips.

Kurt lets himself be kissed, lets himself fall into the feeling of Blaine’s warm mouth and Blaine’s ass tight around his cock, loses himself in the emotions it sparks in him.

It’s definitely getting to be too much.

the twenty-first time

Kurt and his roommates decide to celebrate the fact that they’re all back in New York after the holidays by going out for drinks at the bar a few streets down. It’s usually a pretty quiet spot since it’s decently out of the way, which is what makes it all the more surprising when they walk in to find Blaine and a few of his fellow Lions sitting in the booth right next to the door.

“Oh jeez,” Kurt mutters, just as Mike says, “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Blaine instantly stands, eyes flying between the five Violets, only lingering on Kurt for a second longer than on all the rest. “Hey Violets.”

“What the hell are you guys doing here?” Matt is scowling down at them, Mike has his arms crossed over his chest, Jake has a massive scowl on his face, and Kurt is just now realizing how ridiculous this rivalry is. “This is NYU town.”

“We’re not trying to start anything,” Blaine assures, raising his hands with palms out. “Honest. Just heard some amazing things about the wings and nachos here, and we couldn’t figure out where else to go.”

“Bit far for chicken wings and nachos,” Kurt mutters, feeling his cheeks warm, fully aware that he’s the one who told Blaine about this place.

“They’re really good chicken wings and nachos,” Blaine says, eyes meeting Kurt’s, whose blush worsens under his gaze. He looks away, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Whatever,” Elliott, shakes his head. “Let’s go somewhere else. I can’t eat with these guys stinking up the bar.”

“Oh, come on,” Kurt rolls his eyes, putting a hand on Elliott’s chest to stop him from turning around to leave. “The season’s done, and we’re all seniors. We’re not rivals anymore, just… five guys who won’t eat at a bar that some other random guys are at? That’s insane,” he shakes his head and pushes Elliott back a little. “We’ll just go sit in the corner and ignore them. Who gives a shit?”

His teammates grumble about it, but they still follow him toward the back corner of the bar, throwing glares behind them every now and then.

“You’ve changed, Hummel,” Elliott says, sliding into the booth and sitting next to him. “A few months ago you would have forced those assholes out on their asses for even daring to come to our turf.”

“Yeah, well, a few months ago we still had a chance at being NCAA champions. Now we’re just college students eating at a bar. Doesn’t seem worth it anymore.”

“Is it too late to rescind your captainship?” Mike throws out, to which Kurt replies by flipping him off.

His phone buzzes and he pulls it out, eyes widening when he sees Blaine’s name on his screen. He glances over at Blaine and tries to shake his head as subtly as possible, because he cannot be reading texts from him in front of his freaking teammates.

Blaine just widens his eyes and gestures down to his phone with his head. Kurt looks away, but still sneaks a look at his phone, trying to do his best to hide it from Elliott’s gaze without making it too obvious that that’s what he’s doing.

You didn’t tell me you were back in New York already.

Kurt rolls his eyes and shoves his phone in his pocket. He looks over to Blaine, mouthing, really?

Blaine shrugs, and Kurt rolls his eyes again, then turns away to focus on his roommates.

It’s at least twenty minutes before his phone buzzes again. He ignores it, pretty sure that it’s from Blaine. But it buzzes again, and again, and again, until he finally grabs it, already shaking his head at what he knows is waiting for him.

Come over tonight.

Kurt.

Come over tonight.

Kurt.

Kurt exhales sharply, shaking his head to himself as he quickly types back.

Your use of periods at the end of every text is unnerving

He doesn’t bother putting his phone away, as sure enough, within moments he has a reply from Blaine.

Please come over tonight. Sam is going to his girlfriend’s. Please.

He bites down on his bottom lip, then sighs and texts back: Fine, but stop ending all your texts with periods you look like a grandpa

Blaine instantly responds: Scouts honour. Text me when you’re leaving here

Kurt rolls his eyes to himself, then puts his phone back in his pocket.

Elliott elbows him, and when Kurt looks up it’s to find him waggling his eyebrows. “Boy trouble?” he asks.

Kurt just shakes his head and mutters, “Yeah, something like that.”

Blaine rides him that night, gripping his shoulders tightly as he does so, bouncing up and down on Kurt’s cock in a way that makes Kurt absolutely crazy.

He isn’t really sure how he managed to go two whole weeks without this.

When they’re done, Blaine lays down next to Kurt. He doesn’t lean in to cuddle, they still never do that, but he does lie down in such a way that they’re completely pressed together, shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip. Their hands touch awkwardly, and Kurt wonders if he’s supposed to hold Blaine’s hand.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“You ask like I can stop you from doing so.”

Blaine chuckles at Kurt’s response, and his index finger comes out to run down Kurt’s palm.

“I went to that bar on purpose,” he says, voice quiet. “I was hoping to run into you.”

Kurt licks his lips, forcing his eyes to remain on the ceiling, trying to ignore the way the pad of Blaine’s finger feels against the inside of his hand.

“Why?” his voice is a little hoarse, his throat dry, and his heart is beating far too fast in his chest.

He can feel Blaine shrugging his shoulders next to him. “Wanted to see you. We barely talked over the break.”

“I know,” Kurt says. He had purposefully refrained from texting Blaine, even though his fingers had itched to do so every single day. “You could have just texted to see if I was back.”

Blaine shrugs again. “I guess.” He’s quiet for a moment, but then says, “I didn’t want to text you, though. I wanted to see you.”

“But why?”

This time Blaine doesn’t shrug. He doesn’t really say anything.

Kurt sighs, then sits up. “I should probably leave.”

“No, don’t go,” Blaine sits up too, putting a hand over Kurt’s wrist. “Come on, we haven’t seen each other in forever. Just hang out. Tell me about your break.”

“Blaine…”

“Kurt, come on.”

Kurt rubs a hand over his face. “Blaine, what the hell are we doing here?”

Blaine stares at him, lips parted as though on the cusp of words, but nothing comes out.

Kurt shakes his head. “This is insane. You know I genuinely disliked you when we started this? I mean, I thought you were hot, but you were so obnoxious on the field, and the Violets and Lions hate each other, so I just…” His hand goes through his hair, pushing it back. “But now we’re here, and we keep ending up here, and I don’t even know what to think about all this because you’re so…”

“I didn’t like you either,” Blaine says. Kurt meets his eyes, deep amber that he’s always terrified of drowning in. “I really didn’t. You were cocky, and so quick on your feet both on and off the field. So damn gorgeous it infuriated me.” He moves a little closer. “I didn’t think sleeping together would change anything. Just another way to channel our aggression.”

“Right,” Kurt says. “But we’re not soccer rivals anymore.”

“Yeah.”

“But we’re not really friends either,” Kurt continues. “We’re just… two guys who sleep together sometimes.”

Blaine’s finger finds Kurt’s hand again, and he starts tracing a pattern on his palm. “I consider you a friend.”

Kurt closes his eyes, head falling back slightly. “Shit, this is a mess.”

“It doesn’t have to be. It doesn’t have to be complicated, or messy, or any of those things.”

“Blaine…”

“Look, why don’t we, I don’t know. Hang out sometime. No sex, just… coffee, or lunch. Just talking.”

Kurt opens his eyes, but just enough to glare ever so slightly at him. “You mean like a date or something?”

Blaine shrugs. “Whatever you want to call it.”

Kurt sucks on the inside of his cheek, eyes still narrowed at Blaine. He takes in a deep breath, heart pounding in his chest. “Fine.”

Blaine’s face immediately lights up. “Really?”

“Yeah. But it’s not a date,” Kurt holds a finger up. “Just two guys getting lunch. No funny business.”

“Cross my heart,” Blaine does so, grinning widely. He looks over Kurt’s chest, then says, “You’re not still going to leave, right?”

Kurt continues to glare at him despite the warmth spreading through him at the obvious interest Blaine is showing him. He rolls his eyes, then says, “Fuck it. I didn’t have any other plans tonight.”

Blaine goes to lay back down, shoulders doing an adorable little shimmy, and Kurt follows him back down, finally allowing a small smile onto his face.

the twenty-second time

Kurt chooses a hole in the wall pizza place that he knows is just that much more out of the way for Blaine. He asks to meet at one, knowing that Blaine has a class at three-thirty that he can’t skip. He wears a sweatshirt and a loose pair of sweatpants. He barely spends any time on his hair. He reminds himself five times that morning that he will not offer to pay for Blaine, nor will he let Blaine pay for him.

Basically, he does everything in his power to make this as obviously Not-A-Date as possible.

Blaine is already there when Kurt arrives, dressed casually in beige chinos and a warm, soft-looking peacoat. He has his messenger bag hanging over his shoulder, and his hair is gelled back impeccably. He looks nice, and it kind of makes Kurt feel bad for wearing his most casual clothes and for shoving a beanie on his head before walking out the door, telling himself it’s to protect his ears from the cold and not because he knows it’ll make his hair look suboptimal.

He greets Blaine with a smile, then heads into the restaurant before Blaine can try and hold the door open for him. Blaine follows, already happily chatting away about how his day has been thus far.

They place their order at the counter, only briefly arguing over the financial benefits of sharing a pizza (what Blaine wants to do) versus each just ordering a few slices for themselves (what Kurt wants to do). Blaine ends up winning, but Kurt still forces the cashier to split the bill between them as she rings them up.

Not-A-Date.

Blaine starts to lead them towards a table in the back of the restaurant, but Kurt sits down at a table between a large group of college kids and a bickering middle-aged couple. Blaine looks at him a little weird, but Kurt doesn’t let that phase him.

Not-A-Date.

They chit-chat as they wait for their pizza, and it’s way less awkward than Kurt thought it would be. Blaine seems to have an endless supply of conversation fodder, and he somehow makes even the most inane things sound interesting. Kurt doesn’t say much, only chiming in whenever Blaine asks him a purposeful question, but he doesn’t mind at all. He’s actually pretty sure that Blaine could monologue at him for hours and Kurt would be happy just to sit there and watch him do it.

Not-A-Date.

Their pizza arrives and they tuck in. Blaine is a surprisingly neat eater, taking small nibbles and wiping any grease from around his mouth after every few bites. Kurt, on the other hand, practically inhales his pizza. It isn’t even a ploy to prove that this isn’t a date – Kurt’s had to get used to racing through any shared food after growing up with a human garburator as a step-brother and spending the past two years living with four similarly inclined roommates.

Blaine watches him devour his half of the pizza in the time it takes Blaine to finish a slice and half, lips curled into a tiny half smile. Once Kurt has popped the last bit of crust into his mouth, Blaine wordlessly holds out a handful of napkins to him, one eyebrow quirked, and Kurt blushes as he wipes down his hands and a large amount of his face.

“You got a bit on your sweater, too,” Blaine says when Kurt sets down the tiny mountain of napkins on the table. Kurt looks down and groans at the rather spectacularly sized grease stain on his chest.

He dabs at it with a few more napkins, but gives up after a few moments, rolling his eyes and stating, “Whatever, Elliott’s magic with this kind of thing, I’ll just make him fix it later.”

Blaine chuckles at that and takes another small bite of his pizza, eyes dancing as they stay locked on Kurt’s as he chews.

Not-A-Date.

Kurt takes over the majority of the conversation as Blaine eats, and he keeps it as surface as possible. He mostly talks about school, going into as much detail as he can about all the classes he’s taking this semester, how he only has one class with a professor he’s never had before, and how he has at least one teammate in every class, something he didn’t coordinate but is more than thankful for.

Blaine doesn’t seem to react any differently to Kurt mentioning his teammates than he did to any of Kurt’s other stories, but Kurt still decides not to continue down that particular conversation stream. As much as he’s trying to keep this Not-A-Date, he’s also been having a great time, and he doesn’t want to ruin that by potentially bringing up anything that could lead to a discussion about their rivalry.

Barely an hour has passed since they arrived by the time Blaine finishes his pizza. He wipes his lips and fingers down one final time, smiling a bit too widely at Kurt as he does.

“This was really fun.”

Not-A-Date.

“We should do this more often. You know, just hang out.”

Not-A-Date.

“You’re a really cool guy, Kurt.”

Not-A-Date.

“I’m glad you agreed to this.”

Not-A-Date.

“I’m just sorry that I have to head out so soon. My class is at three-thirty, and the Columbus campus is—”

Not-A-Date.

“Skip it.”

Blaine’s eyebrows shoot up, and Kurt’s heart skips a beat. Take it back, take it back, tell him you didn’t mean it, tell him—

“What?”

Take it back. “Skip your class,” the words come out, his mouth seemingly ignoring all commands from his brain. “Come home with me.”

Blaine presses his lips together, but Kurt can still see the corner of his mouth twitching up.

“I thought you said no funny business.”

Kurt swallows thickly, cheeks heating up. He looks down at the empty pizza box on their table and the heaps of napkins tossed around it.

“Right. Well, you have class, so.”

He hears Blaine chuckle and brings his eyes up hesitantly at that. Blaine is no longer hiding his smile, and his eyes are so warm on Kurt’s that it makes his heart ache a little.

“The semester just started,” Blaine says. “I think I can afford to skip this once.”

Not-A-Date.

It’s faster than usual, Kurt feeling pent up from trying to keep things so casual before. They don’t even get fully undressed, basically just shrug out of their coats once they’re in Kurt’s room and fall into Kurt’s bed, pulling their dicks out and jacking each other off like goddamn teenagers until Kurt’s sweatshirt and Blaine’s vest have tiny stains of come dotting them.

“Crap,” Blaine says once they’ve cleaned themselves up and made themselves somewhat more presentable, looking down at his vest with a bit of a pout. “Sam is going to be so mad at me for doing another load of laundry so soon.”

“Sorry,” Kurt replies, purposefully stopping himself from looking down at the various marks now staining his own sweater.

Blaine looks up at him, smiles, leans over and presses a quick kiss to his lips.

“Worth it,” he says with a grin.

Kurt smiles back, then picks up his phone to check the time. “It’s only two forty-five,” he says, chewing on his bottom lip for a moment. “You could probably still make it to your class.”

Blaine scrunches up his nose and says, “Nah. I’d rather keep hanging out with you,” he presses another kiss to Kurt’s lips. “You want to go for a walk?”

Kurt narrows his eyes at that. “It’s freezing out, Blaine.”

“So, change into something warmer.”

His eyes are sparkling, lips spread into an infectious grin, and Kurt chuckles as he stands and heads to his closet.

“Fine. But if I freeze out there, I’m totally blaming you.”

Blaine laughs, shaking his head lightly and says, “Deal.”

Not-A-Date my ass.

the twenty-third time

Blaine keeps up the façade of hanging out as just friends, no funny business, when he asks Kurt to come over for a movie night a couple of days after their not-a-date at the pizza place. Except he’s very clear that Sam will be out all night with his girlfriend, and that maybe it wouldn’t be the worst idea for Kurt to bring an overnight bag just in case things run late and he wants to crash on Blaine’s couch.

Kurt wants to call him out on how Obviously-A-Date this is, but he also wants to go and doesn’t really feel like getting into it with Blaine.

So, he packs his bag, tells his roommates that he’ll be back the next morning (pointedly ignoring the catcalls they send his way) and hops on the subway to Blaine’s apartment.

In Blaine’s defense, he’s done a good job of playing up the excuse for getting Kurt to spend the night. There’s a folded up blanket and a pillow on the arm of the couch, and Blaine is just as dressed down as Kurt was the last time they met up.

It’s still very much Obviously-A-Date, though, because instead of ordering food in Blaine has cooked them dinner. It’s just pasta, but the effort gone into it doesn’t go over Kurt’s head. He’s also bought a fairly nice bottle of red wine to go with the pasta, and after they’ve eaten produces the most scrumptious looking homemade cinnamon buns that Kurt has ever seen out of the oven.

“I like to bake,” is what Blaine says when Kurt tells him that it’s too much for just a movie night. Which may be true, but Kurt also knows that cinnamon buns are tricky and time-consuming as he, too, likes to bake. He, for one, only makes them when he’s trying to impress someone.

Which, if Blaine is trying to do, is definitely working.

They settle into the couch after their dinner and start up on some shitty romantic comedy on Netflix.

At the start of the movie they’re each comfortably on separate sides of the couch, sharing knowing looks whenever something particularly cliché happens. Then, about fifteen minutes in, Blaine stands up to go get another cinnamon bun, and when he sits back down, he is significantly closer to Kurt.

It’s quite distracting having Blaine so close to him, especially when he starts to lick the excess icing off his fingers after every single bite. Kurt spends the next five minutes ignoring the movie in favor of watching Blaine lave his tongue over his own fingers, cock growing hard in his pants at the memory of that tongue on himself.

Blaine catches Kurt looking moments after popping the last piece of the bun into his mouth. He raises an eyebrow, still licking the icing off of his fingers, and then far too innocently asks, “What?”

Kurt practically pounces on him at that, covering Blaine’s lips with his own and licking out the taste of the icing from his mouth. Blaine moans into the kiss, pulling Kurt closer and almost immediately wrapping a leg around his hips to bring them down onto Blaine’s.

The movie is still running, ignored, in the background when they hop off the couch and hurry to Blaine’s room hand-in-hand.

At least they can say they tried, right?

the twenty-seventh time

“Fuck, Kurt,” Blaine is under him, Kurt’s hands splayed over his chest as Kurt bounces on his cock. His thighs burn, but Kurt ignores them, fucking himself faster on Blaine’s cock as he feels his orgasm building.

“I’m—”

“Me, too,” Kurt says, fingers digging into Blaine’s chest. Blaine wordlessly brings a hand up to Kurt’s cock, wrapping his fingers around it as Kurt continues to speed up his thrusts.

“Shit,” Kurt groans, head falling back as Blaine pumps his cock in time with his thrusts. It doesn’t take long before Kurt is coming all over his own stomach and Blaine’s hand, and within moments he feels Blaine convulsing beneath him as he comes as well.

He practically collapses on top of Blaine once he’s come down, causing Blaine’s dick to slip out of him. Blaine groans at the sensation, and Kurt grumbles into his chest.

“I can’t feel my legs,” he mutters.

Blaine laughs at that, gently pushing Kurt off of him until he is lying next to him instead of directly on top. “Soccer season ending has got you a little out of shape, huh?”

“Get fucked,” Kurt mutters, whacking Blaine on the chest with as much energy as he can summon. Which isn’t actually that much, as the action only makes Blaine laugh a little louder.

“Just did,” comes Blaine’s reply after a few moments.

Kurt can’t even sum up the energy to act annoyed about that, so instead he just mutters a string of words that don’t even make sense into Blaine’s chest, resting his face on its warmth.

“I didn’t quite get that,” Blaine teases, fingers coming up to card through Kurt’s hair.

“Me neither,” Kurt says, sighing at the feeling of Blaine’s fingers.

Blaine chuckles and continues to move his fingers softly. It feels like heaven, the gentle feeling against his scalp in contrast to the burning in his legs. He settles further into Blaine’s chest, pressing a soft kiss to the skin beneath his lips, then lets his cheek rest there.

“My mom got me tickets to West Side Story for Christmas,” Blaine whispers, continuing his ministrations on Kurt’s hair.

“Yeah?” Kurt responds, just to let Blaine know he heard him. His eyes flutter shut as he feels himself relaxing further and further into the bed.

“They’re for next week,” Blaine continues, and Kurt can hear his heart speeding up a little where his head is lying.

Kurt’s finger starts to make a circle on Blaine’s side, where it’s been resting.

“Blaine?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you asking me to go to West Side Story with you?”

Blaine’s heart is definitely beating faster now, and it makes Kurt smile to himself. It’s not every day that he can literally feel the nerves that asking him out is making someone feel.

“Just as friends,” Blaine says quietly, fingers stilling. “No… no funny business.”

Kurt’s smile grows against Blaine’s chest at the words.

Because it’s silly, isn’t it? They’ve hung out so many times over the past few weeks, just as friends, no funny business, and every single time has ended with them in bed and Kurt leaving with a mental countdown to the next time they’ll meet up.

He’s starting to wonder what the point of all this “just friends” stuff really is. Other than a nonsensical fear over people’s reaction to the fact that he may actually like Blaine.

After all, it’s been clear since the first time that Blaine asked him to hang out that Blaine didn’t want it to be just as friends. That something had changed for Blaine throughout their time together. And maybe the first time he’d asked him Kurt wasn’t completely certain if things had changed for him too, but ever since the day at the pizza place, their hang out after, and the subsequent Not-A-Date’s they’ve been on…

“No,” Kurt says, opening his eyes slowly.

He could swear that Blaine’s heart literally skipped a beat when he said it, and Kurt instantly regrets playing coy.

“No?” Blaine asks, removing his fingers from Kurt’s hair.

“No, I mean,” Kurt pushes himself up on his hands so that he can look at Blaine when he says it. “I don’t want it to be just as friends with no funny business.” Blaine’s lips part a bit, one eyebrow raising.

“Then what would it be?” Blaine asks, and Kurt would be annoyed at the impertinence, but he guesses he kind of deserves it.

“A date?” He asks, shrugging one shoulder up and sending Blaine a hesitant smile.

Blaine’s face cracks into a happy smile. “Yeah?”

Kurt nods. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” Blaine says, wrapping an arm firmly around Kurt’s back. Kurt takes the hint and leans back down onto Blaine’s chest, happy when Blaine’s free hand goes back to his hair. “A date.”

“A date,” Kurt repeats, pressing another kiss to Blaine’s chest.

the twenty-eighth time

“You’re looking spiffy Hummel,” Mike says when Kurt exits his room. He grins at his friend, doing a little spin for him and Elliott, who are both sitting on the couch in their living room dicking around the PS4.

“Hot date?” Elliott asks, waggling his eyebrows as Mike wolf-whistles when Kurt finishes the spin.

“I sure do,” Kurt says, rubbing his hands down his thighs and licking his lips. “With Blaine.”

Mike and Elliott instantly frown, turning to each other with narrowed eyes.

“Blaine?”

“As in…?”

Kurt nods. “Yes, as in Blaine Anderson, Captain of the Columbia Lions. That Blaine.”

“Kurt are you—”

“Serious? Yes, I am,” Kurt says, glaring at Elliott, who snaps his mouth shut at the interruption. “I wouldn’t be telling you if I wasn’t.”

“When… how…?” Mike glances between Kurt and Elliott as he stammers, then settles his eyes on Kurt. “I don’t understand.”

“A while, and the how is not important,” Kurt says, not feeling like getting into the hate-sex-becoming-feelings portion of this just yet. “What is important is that I like him, and we’re going to see West Side Story, and if any of you give me any shit over this, I will not hesitate to kick your ass to Tuesday.”

Both Elliott and Mike raise up defensive hands, but neither speaks.

Kurt nods, then says, “Great. I’ll see you guys after my date. Or,” he scrunches up his nose, then says, “Maybe not. We’ll see.”

They don’t say anything else as Kurt leaves, and Kurt shuts the door behind him feeling like he just let a huge weight off his shoulders.

Blaine is waiting for him at the subway station closest to the theater, and the first thing he asks is, “Did you tell them?”

Kurt nods, smiling. “Did you?”

Blaine nods as well. “Well, just Sam,” he says. “He said he always thought there was something more than just rivalry between us.”

Kurt chuckles. “I just told Mike and Elliott. They…” he presses his lips together, scrunching up his entire face, then settles on, “I wouldn’t say they took it well, but they also didn’t try and physically stop me from coming, so. I guess that’s something.”

Blaine reaches out and takes Kurt’s hand, interlacing their fingers immediately. “I guess that’s that, then. Our friends know.”

“Our friends know,” Kurt nods. He squeezes Blaine’s hand. “And now there’s nothing hanging over us to stop us from enjoying our first official date.”

Blaine smirks a little, then asks, “Official?”

“Well, yeah, unlike those unofficial Not-A-Date’s we were going on before.”

Blaine laughs, lifting Kurt’s hand up to press a kiss to it. “You’re great, you know that?”

Kurt grins and nods. “Duh.”

Kurt’s apartment is closer to the theatre, and even though Blaine is a little concerned about the idea of flaunting their new relationship in Kurt’s teammates' faces so soon after revealing it, Kurt doesn’t care.

“They’re going to have to get used to seeing you around sooner or later,” Kurt reasons as they step onto the subway. “Might as well be sooner.”

Blaine grins, leaning into Kurt. “Planning on keeping me around for a while, huh?”

Kurt shrugs. “We’ll see.”

Blaine hides his face against Kurt’s shoulder, laughing a little. “We’ll see?”

Kurt shrugs again. “I mean, I kind of like you. A little. Which is weird, because I totally hated you a few months ago.”

“So weird,” Blaine agrees, kissing Kurt’s shoulder lightly. “I kind of like you too, you know?”

“Well that’s convenient,” Kurt says, and Blaine chuckles yet again.

Mike, Matt, and Jake are all sitting on the couch when Kurt and Blaine walk in.

“Oh, shit,” Matt says, eyes widening. “I thought you were joking,” this is directed at Mike, who rolls his eyes.

“I was not,” Mike says, glancing briefly at Kurt before looking back to the TV.

“I think it’s nice,” Jake says, smiling at the two of them. “Plus, it’s not like they were super subtle with the unresolved sexual tension on the field.”

“Unresolved?” Blaine asks quietly, and Kurt elbows him gently.

“Yeah, dude, good for you,” Matt says, giving Kurt a somewhat hesitant smile. “Anderson’s hot for a dude, even if he is a Lion.”

Both Jake and Matt turn to glare at Mike, who doesn’t respond until Jake kicks him swiftly in the shin.

“Ow, fuck,” Mike drops a hand down to rub at his shin, glaring at Jake before turning to Kurt and Blaine and saying, “Yeah, congratulations, I’m happy you’re happy.”

Kurt chuckles at that, shaking his head at how stubborn his teammates can be. “Mike, I think if you put aside our stupid rivalry – which doesn’t even really matter anymore because, if you didn’t notice, none of us play for the Violets anymore – you’ll find that you and Blaine actually have a lot in common. I bet you guys could even become friends.”

Mike waves a dismissive hand, eyes back on the TV. “Yeah, sure, I’ll get to work on that. Just don’t be too loud when you’re sexing it up in there, okay? It’s distracting.”

Kurt rolls his eyes, but figures that’s about as good as it’s going to get for now. He pulls Blaine towards his room, ignoring the way that Blaine is shaking with silent laughter.

“I guess that could have gone worse?” Blaine says once Kurt has closed the door behind them.

“Way worse,” Kurt agrees, then pushes Blaine back onto his bed, wordlessly telling him that he’s done talking about it.

the thirty-second time

Sam is out, and Kurt and Blaine are tangled together under Blaine’s sheets. Kurt is trying to suck a hickey into the hollow of Blaine’s neck as subtly as possible, while Blaine ruts up against Kurt’s thigh, whining at the not-nearly-enough pressure Kurt is providing.

“Kurt, come on,” Blaine says, running a hand down Kurt’s back, fingernails scratching over him lightly.

“Come on, what?” Kurt asks, sucking a little harder at the red spot beneath his lips.

“Just… something. Anything.” Kurt smirks against Blaine’s skin, then lifts his head slightly so Blaine can see him raise his eyebrows at him challengingly.

Blaine huffs, digs his nails into Kurt’s back, and says, “Fuck me.”

Kurt pushes himself up to kiss Blaine softly on the lips, whispering, “See how easy it is to use your words?”

Blaine groans, pushing Kurt away and towards the nightstand where he keeps his lube and condoms.

Kurt goes happily, grabbing what they need and immediately starting to coat his fingers in the lube. He warms it up briefly, probably not enough, then brings two fingers down to Blaine’s hole and presses them in.

“Cold,” Blaine hisses, just as Kurt expected him to. Kurt chuckles, gently pressing the fingers in and out of him.

“You wanted something.”

“You’re a dick,” Blaine mutters, then gasps when Kurt curls his fingers inside him. Serves him right.

“Maybe enough using your words for now, huh?” Kurt continues the slow movement of his fingers, taking his time in a way that he knows drives Blaine absolutely crazy.

It’s at least five minutes before he pulls out to re-apply lube to his fingers, including a third this time. He presses them in far too slowly, and Blaine groans, punching a fist against the mattress as he lifts his hips and wriggles them.

“Come on, Kurt,” he says. “It’s been forever since we did this.”

“Exactly,” Kurt whispers. “Which is why I want to be extra careful to make sure I don’t hurt you.”

“For fuck’s – Kurt. Please.”

Kurt smirks, stretching his fingers out inside Blaine, then bringing them together to gently stroke at Blaine’s muscles with the pads of his fingers. He can feel the way Blaine contracts around him at the motion, and so repeats the action, thrilling at the feeling of it and the thought of how soon, he’ll be able to feel that around his cock.

“Kurt, oh my god,” Blaine says, punching the mattress again. “Do not make me beg, I’m serious.”

As much as Kurt would love to go down that road, he does have to admit that he’s getting a little too worked up himself. With a quiet, “Alright, alright,” he pulls his fingers out. He makes quick work of the condom, rolling it on and then spreading a bit more lube over his cock.

Before long he’s lined himself up against Blaine’s hole and is pushing in slowly, no longer to tease Blaine but out of fear of this being over embarrassingly soon.

“Shit,” Blaine groans. “You’re so big. Don’t know how I always forget you’re so big.”

Kurt barely hears the praise, focusing on not coming instantly as Blaine’s tight, hot body welcomes him in.

Once he’s bottomed out, he pauses for a moment, eyes shut, and hands clenched around the sheets around Blaine’s head. He bites down on his bottom lip, breathing in and out through his nose.

“Kurt,” Blaine whispers, and Kurt’s eyes open to find Blaine’s directly below him, staring up at him with blown pupils and a softness that Kurt can’t really believe is directed at him. “Hey,” Blaine continues when Kurt’s eyes have opened. “You okay?”

Kurt nods, then lowers himself down to press a kiss to Blaine’s lips, his cock shifting inside of Blaine as he does so.

“Fuck,” he mutters at the same time as Blaine says, “Oh, shit,” against his lips. They both chuckle quietly, and then, not wanting to waste more time, Kurt begins to roll his hips in a slow, but steady, pace.

Blaine’s head falls back against the mattress, and he hooks a leg around Kurt’s hips, pulling him in just a little deeper with every thrust.

Neither speaks as they build a rhythm together, their bodies moving in sync. Despite how many times they’ve done this, Kurt still finds himself amazed at how well they fit together. How easy it is to be with Blaine like this. How, even when they hated each other, he couldn’t help but admit that nobody had ever been so perfectly matched for him, sexually, as Blaine is.

Now, of course, he knows that it’s more than just sex. The few weeks he’s been dating Blaine have felt like something out of his high school fantasies. The way their conversations ebb and flow come as easily as the movements of their bodies together. Their plans always line up perfectly, even if they aren’t exactly what either of them planned, and every time he leaves Blaine’s apartment, or wherever they’ve met up, or watches as Blaine leaves him, he starts to count down the minutes until they will see each other again.

It was only months ago that he hated the fact that he couldn’t stop falling into bed with Blaine. Now he can’t imagine why he would be doing anything else.

“I’m not going to last much longer,” Blaine says, bringing up his other leg to full wrap around Kurt. Kurt takes the hint and begins to speed up his thrusts, simultaneously bringing a hand down to jack Blaine off as he does.

He can feel his own orgasm building but does his best to hold it back. Blaine starts to whine as he gets closer, and soon enough he’s coming over Kurt’s fist, his muscles contracting around Kurt in what Kurt is pretty sure is the closest he will ever feel to heaven.

Kurt lets himself follow Blaine, the feeling of the muscles around him just enough to push him over the edge. He fucks Blaine through it, reveling in the sounds of Blaine’s moans as he starts to come down from his orgasm just moments before Kurt does.

He pulls out as soon as he’s finished, careful to go slow. He makes quick work of the clean up, throwing out the condom and grabbing a few tissues from Blaine’s nightstand to mop things up quickly.

“We’re going to have to shower,” Blaine mutters as Kurt tosses the tissues in the general direction of the trash.

“I have no problem with that,” Kurt says, lowering himself back onto the bed and curling into Blaine’s side.

They lay in silence for a few moments, Kurt enjoying the rise and fall of Blaine’s chest under his cheek. He notices that the spot he’d been sucking on early is indeed starting to darken further, and grins to himself at the knowledge that he put that there. That he’s the one who gets to kiss Blaine, fuck him, and give him hickeys to announce to the entire world that there is someone in Blaine’s life who wants to be known.

He smiles, running a finger in slow circles over Blaine’s chest.

“Hey,” he says, turning his head slightly to make sure that Blaine can hear him well.

“Yeah?”

Kurt feels his smile growing a little bit more as he asks, “Be my boyfriend?”

The sound of Blaine’s heart speeding up in his chest is enough answer for Kurt, but the soft, sweet, “Of course,” that Blaine whispers seconds after Kurt has asked is even better.

the first time

The tiled wall of the shower stall is cool against Kurt’s palm, but Blaine’s back is warm against his chest, his hip is hot under Kurt’s other hand, and his ass is scorching around his cock. Not to mention the spray of warm water falling over them as they groan in unison, Kurt pressing Blaine’s body into the cool tile with every thrust.

It happened fast. They were the last two in the Lions locker room, exchanging snide jabs over the tiny dividing wall between their showers. Blaine leaned over a little too far during a retort and his eye travelled down. The longer he stared, the more it affected Kurt, who found himself embarrassingly hardening under the eye of his rival.

Then, they were kissing. First over the shower divider, then together in Blaine’s shower stall, Kurt pressing Blaine up against the wall. Then Blaine was excusing himself and returning surprisingly quickly with a travel-sized pack of lube and a condom. He pushed the items into Kurt’s hand, then pressed himself back up against the wall, ass sticking out invitingly.

And now they’re here. Despite being able to follow the chain of events quite easily, Kurt is still having some trouble believing that it’s real, that he’s actually fucking Blaine Anderson in the goddamn Lions showers.

“Just so you know,” Blaine says, voice breathless, “this doesn’t change anything. I still hate you.”

“Ditto,” Kurt retorts, moving the hand on the wall down to Blaine’s other hip to be able to fuck him a little more forcefully.

“Shit,” Blaine mutters. Then, a little louder, “I’m still going to kick your ass during this tournament.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Kurt replies, thrusting deep into Blaine’s ass.

“And this isn’t going to become a thing,” Blaine continues as though Kurt hadn’t said anything. “We’re not going to become fuck buddies, or something like that.”

“Don’t you have to be buddies for that to work?” Kurt asks, punctuating the sarcasm with another forceful thrust.

“Exact- fuck,” Blaine’s forehead falls forward and rests against the tiled wall. “So, we’re agreed.”

“Yeah,” Kurt says, gripping Blaine’s hips a little tighter. “Just a one-time fuck. Relieve the tension.”

“Great,” Blaine says. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

Kurt continues to fuck Blaine as hard as he can in this position, digging his fingernails into Blaine’s hips, hoping to leave marks that will last at least a few days.

“Definitely,” Kurt manages, pressing his entire body right up against Blaine’s, taking in his warmth, how tight he feels, how perfect he fits against him. If this is going to be the only time, he gets to do this, after all, he’s going to do everything he can to take it all in. Wring every drop of this moment into his mind, where he knows he’ll replay it for at least the entire duration of this tournament every single time he jacks off.

Blaine shouts, “Fuck, Kurt,” and Kurt feels his orgasm growing from the pit of his stomach.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, voice so quiet he’s not sure Blaine can hear him even from this close. “Definitely same page.”

#klaine fic #klaine au #klaineanummel fic #glee potluck big bang #glee potluck exchange #klaine #over 2k under 10k #pov: kurt #one shot #enemies to lovers

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tw-anchor · 4 years

Text

23. The First Battle

Anchor

Stiles Stilinski x Original Character

Episode: 2x11; Battlefield

Word Count: 6,291

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence, therapy, semi-dead Jackson, lacrosse championship, Stiles’ birthday

Author’s Note: After this there’s only one episode left of season 2. I hope you enjoy! Make sure to reblog and like!

Masterlink in Profiles Description!

"You know when you're drowning, you don't actually inhale until right before you black out."

There, that seemed like an appropriate thing to say. It wasn't changing the subject even though Stiles didn't like the question that Miss Morrell had asked him, and it wasn't answering it, either. It was fact, a statement that was true. Stiles knew a lot of facts.

"It's called voluntary apnea," Stiles focused on the net of his lacrosse stick, threading it tightly to make sure that it was game-ready. "It's like no matter how much you're freaking out, the instinct to not let any water in is so strong that you won't open your mouth until you feel like your head's exploding. But when you finally do let it in, that's when it stops hurting. It's not scary anymore. It's...it's actually kind of peaceful."

"Are you saying you hope Matt felt some peace in his last moments?"

How the hell did she get that from his answer? He was just telling her about drowning and how much the people who died suffered until they didn't. He didn't care about the fact that Matt had drowned in the river by the police station that night. There were no feelings, no attachments. Matt was dead and that was that.

Stiles exhaled out his nose. "I don't feel sorry for him."

"Can you feel sorry for the nine-year-old Matt who drowned?"

Morrell's face was blank, her voice was calm. She wasn't judgmental, she was good. Stiles had been going to sessions with her once a month since he started high school when his temper and ADHD had him struggling to adjust to the new environment. She gave good advice and helped him through things that were bothering him. Before his sessions started, he hadn't thought that talking about what he felt was going to work but she proved him wrong.

Still, that didn't mean he had to sympathize with Matt. "Just because a bunch of dumbasses dragged him into a pool when he couldn't swim doesn't really give him the right to go off killing them one by one."

Morrell nodded and went to move on but Stiles wasn't finished yet.

"And by the way, my dad told me that they found a bunch of pictures of Allison on Matt's computer," he shook his head, disgusted. "And not just of her, though. I mean, he photoshopped himself into them. Stuff like them holding hands and kissing. You know, he had built this whole fake relationship. So, yeah, maybe drowning when he was nine years old was what sent him off the rails but the dude was definitely riding the crazy train."

Morrell smiled softly. "One positive thing came out of this, though. Right?"

"Yeah," Stiles nodded, thinking about how Noah got his job as sheriff back. "Yeah, but I still feel like there's something wrong between us," he nervously fiddled with the lacrosse stick. "I don't know, it's just like tension when we talk. Same thing with Scott."

"Have you talked to him since that night?"

"No, not really," he went back to tightening the net. "I mean, he's got his own problems to deal with, though. I don't think he's talked to Allison, either, but that might be more her choice, you know? Her mom dying hit her pretty hard but I guess it brought her and her dad closer."

"What about your other friends, Jackson and Lydia?"

"Jackson..." he wouldn't consider the prick a friend but he'd answer anyway. "Jackson hasn't really been himself lately. Actually, the funny thing is, as of right now, Lydia is the one who seems the most normal."

"How's Olivia doing? Have you guys talked since the night at the station?" Morrell prodded. She was more than versed about Olivia Martin, Stiles' interest in her, and their slow and steady climb toward a relationship.

"Yeah and she seems fine, but," he shrugged. "she always seems fine. She was more concerned about me, to be honest."

"Maybe it helps her come to terms with her own feelings," Morrell theorized quietly. "You told me before that Olivia isn't one to share her feelings."

"I know, but she seemed to be better about that lately," At least with me, he added mentally.

Morrell hummed. "And what about you, Stiles? Feeling some anxiety about that championship game tomorrow night?"

Stiles spit out the small length of rope he had been chewing on, tying it back to the net. "Why would you ask me that?" he didn't miss the fact that she looked pointedly at his lacrosse stick. "Ah...uh, no, I-I never actually play. But, hey, since one of my teammates is dead and another one's missing, who knows, right?"

"You mean Isaac," Morrell realized. "One of the three runaways. You haven't heard from any of them, have you?"

Stiles quickly changed the subject. "You're still doing that no-notes thing, huh?" he pointed at her empty desk. "I still can't believe your memory's that good."

"How about we get back to you, Stiles?"

Stiles sighed heavily. "I'm fine," he lied. "Yeah, aside from the not sleeping, the jumpiness, the constant, overwhelming crushing fear that something terrible is about to happen."

"It's called hypervigilance," Wasn't that what Mad-Eye Moody talked about in Harry Potter? he tried to recall. Livvy would know about it. "the persistent feeling of being under threat."

"But it's not just a feeling, though," Stiles shook his head. He was familiar with what he felt when his anxiety went off the charts. That tight feeling in his chest, that was a panic attack. "It's like a panic attack. You know, like I can't even breathe."

"Like you're drowning?"

Stiles didn't even think about the comparison she was trying to make. "Yeah."

"So, if you're drowning and you're trying to keep your mouth closed until that very last moment, what if you choose to not open your mouth? To not let the water in?"

"You do anyway," Stiles pointed out. "It's a reflex."

"But if you hold off until that reflex kicks in, you have more time, right?"

"Not much time."

"But more time to fight your way to the surface? More time to be rescued?"

"More time to be in agonizing pain," Stiles argued, blinking rapidly. "I mean, did you forget about the part where you feel like your head's exploding?"

Morrell blinked at him. "If it's about survival, isn't a little agony worth it?"

"But what if it just gets worse?" Stiles asked, fears racing through is mind. "What if it's agony now and then...and then it's just hell later on?"

"Then think about something Winston Churchill once said," Morrell leaned forward, demanding all his attention. "If you're going through hell, keep going."

That moment in Morrell's office, that quote that somehow encompassed Stiles' whole world in seven words, would stick with him for the rest of his life.

It smelled like rotted wood, blood, and smoke in the old Hale House. It made Olivia want to vomit and it wasn't just the scent alone that made her nauseous. She hadn't stepped foot in the Hale House since the fire and even when she went looking for Lydia two months earlier, she had refused to go in.

She didn't want the memories that this house gave her. There were good memories, sure, ones where she and Cora used to play dolls, Laura would read them fairy tales, and Derek taught her how to ride a bike. But the fire loomed over those like a shadow. Her mother died in the house, trapped in the basement like the rest of the Hale family. While Peter had escaped his own death, Grace Martin was suffocating from lack of fresh oxygen.

Suffice to say, she hated being there. But for Jackson, she'd spend time there if she had to. She needed to find a way to take care of the kanima without killing Jackson since no one seemed concerned about that anymore, so if she had to spend time in the worn-down house to read a billion of moldy books, she would.

Derek stood at the other side of the table, helping her look for useful information. He was just slapping a book closed and tossing it back on the table when Erica and Boyd entered the room.

Derek stiffened and Olivia paused, looking from Derek to Erica and Boyd. The two betas had decided to leave Beacon Hills, to leave the pack. They weren't cut out for the supernatural war that raged around them, even if Derek had warned them from the start.

"You decided," Derek turned toward them. "When?"

Erica looked reluctant to tell him. "Tonight."

"Everyone's gonna be at the game," Boyd explained. "We figured it was the best time."

"It's not like we want to."

"What do you want?" Derek asked Erica, stepping toward her and Boyd.

"Since I just turned sixteen a month ago, I wouldn't mind getting my license," Erica answered him. "I can't do that if I'm dead, you know."

Olivia bowed her head, thinking about Erica's words. She understood where they were coming from; they weren't family, they didn't know what was at stake, and they had no dog in the fight. They didn't want to die because of who they were or what pack they were in. When Derek bit Victoria Argent and she had to commit suicide because of their ridiculous hunter's code, he had declared war. The Argents weren't going down without a fight, but neither were they.

Still, Olivia would be sad to see Erica and Boyd go. They were pack, plain and simple.

"Well, I told you there was a price," Derek reminded them.

"Yeah but you didn't say it would be like this," Boyd defended themselves.

"But I told you how to survive," Derek raised his voice. "You do it as a pack. And you're not a pack without an alpha."

"We know."

Olivia raised her eyebrows, surprised at Boyd's statement. "You wanna look for another pack?" she knew they could see that she was hurt by that. Hell, Derek was hurt by it. "How are you even gonna find one?"

"We think we already did," Erica told her. "We were running in the woods last night and all of a sudden we heard all this howling. It was unbelievable."

Olivia shared a look with Derek, both of them almost betrayed. Erica and Boyd trusted random howling in the woods over them? Derek was the one who bit them, the one who gave them the gift of lycanthropy. They were Olivia's friends. They were pack.

"There must have been a dozen of them, maybe more," Boyd smiled in amazement.

"Yeah or maybe only two," Derek burst their bubble. "You know what the beau geste effect is?" they shook their heads. "If they modulate their howls with a rapid shift of tone, two wolves can sound like twenty."

Erica huffed, getting frustrated. "Look, that doesn't matter, okay? There's another pack out there. There's got to be," she raised her chin. "We've made up our minds."

"We lost, Derek," Boyd stated. "It's over. We're leaving."

"No, you're running," Derek snapped, getting angry like he always did to cover up the hurt. "And once you start, you don't stop. You'll always be running."

Olivia pressed her lips together as Erica glared at them, grabbed Boyd's hand, and dragged him out of the house. Derek turned back to the table, resting his hands on the warped wood, as his pale-green eyes flickered over to Olivia.

She was distracted, her wide eyes on the spot where Boyd and Erica had previously stood. When he inhaled, he knew why; he grabbed a sharp piece of glass that was resting on the table in front of him and spun around, whipping it at the intruder.

Peter caught the glass just as the point hit the skin of his throat. "I expected a slightly warmer welcome," he stated, lowering the glass. "but point taken."

Olivia narrowed her eyes at her father. She couldn't believe that he was standing right there in front of them. It wasn't a happy kind of disbelief, either. It was the kind that made you want to pull your hair out and punch someone in the face. He wasn't supposed to be alive. He wasn't supposed to be able to hurt anyone ever again.

It had been a shock to find out that Peter had come back from the dead. Derek had told her shortly after the showdown in the police station and she went quiet, not talking for the rest of the night while he stayed in her room, keeping vigil so she wouldn't have nightmares.

Peter had gotten into Lydia's head and manipulated her. That was what all the things that Lydia had been seeing were about. It was him, playing her mind from his grave underneath the floorboard. He got her to do some weird ritual that included drugging Derek with wolfsbane and using mirrors and moonlight—and honestly, it was hard for her to comprehend. Olivia was a smart girl and she believed in science, so how did that explain Peter coming back to life from some alpha blood and light from a full moon. Granted, the existence of werewolves was hard to comprehend, too.

"What are you doing here?" she asked sharply.

Peter grinned at her. "Hello to you, too, pumpkin. It's great to see you," he gave his attention to his nephew. "Quite the situation you've got yourself in here, Derek. I mean, I'm out of commission for a month or so and suddenly there's lizard people, geriatric psychopaths, and you're cooking up werewolves out of every self-esteem-deprived adolescent in town."

His voice was like nails on a chalkboard.

Derek narrowed his eyes at him. "What do you want?"

"Well, I want to help," Peter stated like it was the most obvious thing in the word. "You guys are family, my daughter and nephew. The only relatives that I have left. There's still a lot that I can teach you. Can we just talk?"

Peter finished his statement by placing a hand on Derek's shoulder. Derek stared at it in disgust while Olivia raised her eyebrows. This was going to end in a fight, she was betting on it.

"Sure," Derek agreed way too happily. "Let's talk."

He swatted away Peter's hand and pushed him, sending him flying into the stair case.

"Good talk," Olivia hummed as she stood from her seat. "I'm gonna leave before it get any worse."

She'd rather walk the mile back into town and order a ride from Lyft than stay and watch Derek and Peter fight. No, thank you.

"Liv, I brought your psycho father back from the dead," Lydia hissed at Olivia as they walked through the empty school hallways, heading toward the boys' locker room. "and you haven't said a word about it. It's been more than a week and nada."

"Because there's nothing to talk about," Olivia insisted stubbornly. "Peter's back, so what? I'll just ignore him."

"You used to visit him every week." Lydia thought she was in denial about how she felt about Peter. She knew Olivia was angry and she was justified, but you can't hate your father. Lydia had tried and she couldn't.

"That was before he murdered a bunch of people, bit me and Scott, almost killed you, and then manipulated you until you thought that you were crazy," Olivia pointed out. "That doesn't seem father material to me, Lyds."

"I mean, yeah, he's a psychopath, but—"

"But nothing," Olivia cut her off, sending her a sharp look. "I don't want to talk about him anymore."

"You know, one day you're gonna explode from all those emotions you keep bottled up inside of you."

Olivia snorted, a little amused. "When did you get your doctorate in psychology, Lydia? I think I missed the ceremony."

"Very funny," Lydia nudged her as they turned down the hallway where locker room was located. "All right, change of subject. You got Stiles a birthday present."

Olivia grimaced, looking down at the wrapped package in her hands. She had hoped Lydia wouldn't bring it up, since she was already tripping out about it, but like any older sister, she just had to tease her about it. Yes, it was Stiles' seventeenth birthday and yes, she got him a gift but it wasn't a big deal. It was a friendly gift. People gave their friends birthday gifts still, right?

"Yeah, and...?" Olivia's strategy was to just face Lydia head on.

"And you're giving it to him before the regional championships," Lydia pointed out needlessly. "You're going to sneak into the locker room to give it to him. Sounds awfully like what I would do when I was dating Jackson."

Olivia rolled her eyes as they came to a stop outside the boys' locker room. "I'm giving it to him now because I don't know if he'll be busy later."

"Mmhm..."

"And I don't give belated birthday presents," she huffed. "It's tacky."

"Yeah, sure," Lydia nodded like Olivia was making sense. "Well, you better go on, then. I'll wait by the concessions for you."

"Get me some some—"

"Air Heads, I know."

Lydia walked away and Olivia inhaled deeply before entering the locker room. Boys were in various states of undress as she walked through the aisles but she ignored them. She spotted Jackson and Danny by their lockers, and usually she would have wished them good luck, but she wanted to give Stiles his present and get out of there before she could get in trouble with Coach.

She found Stiles by his locker, pulling his maroon jersey over his gray compression shirt. "Hey."

Stiles flailed at the sound of her voice, almost tripping backward over the bench he stood in front of. He quickly found his balance and fixed his jersey before plastering a cheesy smile on his face at the sight of her.

Olivia's heart practically turned to goo.

"Hey, Livvy!" he greeted her enthusiastically. "What—what are you doing here?"

"I wanted to give you this," she held out his present, looking more confident than she felt. "Happy birthday, Stiles."

"What?" he quickly took the present from with her a grin. "I can't believe you remembered my birthday."

"Oh," she shrugged awkwardly. "um, yeah, you told me a couple weeks ago."

"Yeah, I guess I did," he ripped away the wrapping paper and gaped at what was inside. "You didn't, Olivia."

Apparently, he liked the present. She had won an auction online where she was able to score a signed mini bat from the Mets. It was Stiles' favorite baseball team and when she saw the low price for an item she knew he loved, she didn't hesitate to get it for him. She also made a joke in the card about how crazy he was for cheering for the Mets, knowing it would get a laugh out of him.

Olivia blinked in surprise when Stiles wrapped her up into a tight hug. It didn't take even a second for her to respond to his affection, burying her face into his warm neck. She couldn't help but notice that his skin was soft and he smelt really good.

"Thanks, Livvy," Stiles breathed when he let go of her. "This is—this is great."

"You're welcome," Olivia smiled at him. "So, are you nervous for the game?"

"Nah," Stiles shook his had nonchalantly. "I probably won't play, so..."

"I don't see why you wouldn't. You're good."

"Have you actually seen me play or are you trying to make me feel good about myself?"

Olivia opened her mouth to respond and paused when Stiles quirked an eyebrow at her.

"I knew it."

"You did not!" Olivia protested, playfully slapping his arm. "I do think you're good."

"Why'd you hesitate then?"

"I wasn't hesitating, I was taking a breath."

"Who takes a breath for that long? It was like you were getting ready to perform some dramatic-ass Shakespeare monologue."

"I don't even like Shakespeare."

"You got a perfect score on your essay about Othello."

"How'd you know what grade I got?"

Suddenly, there was some loud feedback as Coach readied his megaphone. Olivia and Stiles jumped apart in shock, not even realizing that they were moving closer together during their playful banter, to look over at him.

"Good morning," Coach spoke into the megaphone, dead serious. "In less than an hour, aircraft from here will be joining others from around the world. And you will be launching the largest aerial battle in the history of mankind."

What the hell? Olivia mouthed to Stiles, completely confused.

Stiles just shook his head at her.

"Mankind," Coach mused. "That word should have a new meaning for all of us today."

"Does he do this every year?" she whispered to Stiles.

He nodded. "Every year."

"Dear God."

"No kidding."

Coach continued on, "We are fighting for our right to live!"

"Yeah!" most of the team shouted.

Olivia perked up in realization. "Wait, isn't this?"

"Yeah," Stiles confirmed. "it's the speech from Independence Day. It's his favorite movie."

"But as the day the world declared in one voice, we will not go quietly into the night!"

"I mean, the speech from Braveheart would be better than this," Olivia snorted. "Couldn't he rip off Friday Night Lights or something? Glory Road? You know, anything from any sport movie?"

"I don't think he cares," Stiles chuckled.

"Today," Coach ended his dramatic speech. "we celebrate our Independence Day!"

"Yeah!" the players cheered once again, sufficiently hyped up for the game. Olivia couldn't believe that the speech actually worked.

She and Stiles stiffened at the same time as Gerard slithered in next to Coach. "Well spoken, Coach," he praised the man. "I might have chosen something with a little more historical value but there's no denying your passion."

Coach gave him an offended look but Gerard completely missed it.

"And while I haven't been here long, there's no denying my pride in having a winning team for this school," the Argent patriarch continued, looking around at the lacrosse players. "I know you'll all be brilliant tonight, even with only one co-caption leading you."

Olivia gave Stiles a questioning look but he furrowed his eyebrows, not knowing why Scott wouldn't be playing, either.

"Now, I'm your principal but I'm also a fan. So, don't think I'll be content to watch you merely beat this team," Gerard grinned creepily. "Get out there and murder them."

"You heard the man!" Coach yelled. "Asses on the field!"

Olivia shivered at the menacing look on his face as he smirked and left the locker room. "He's probably the worst person on this earth," she mumbled, turning back to Stiles. "This is going to be bad."

Stiles' expression turned worried. "You think?"

"Yeah, I do." She wished that it wouldn't but everything seemed to point in that direction. The whole day, her body had been on edge, like she was waiting for someone to get hurt. The feeling was unsettling and had looking over her shoulder wherever she went.

Argent hunters were brutal. They had proved it time after time.

"You're gonna be careful, right?" Stiles grabbed her hands, squeezing them nervously.

"You don't have to worry about me," she shook her head, squeezing him back. "There's not really anything I can do."

"You can still get hurt, though."

"I won't," Olivia assured him. "Just focus on the game, yeah? Good luck, Stiles."

Stiles smiled lightly, not liking the fact that she was brushing off his concern. "Thanks, Livvy."

"And I'll be careful, okay?" she noticed the look in his eye.

Stiles nodded in satisfaction. "Good," he let go of her hands and ran a finger across the right shoulder of the jersey she was wearing. "Nice jersey, by the way."

Olivia's cheeks flushed; she had forgotten that Lydia forced her into a mock-up of Stiles' jersey, complete with his last name and the twenty-four on each side. "Oh, um, yeah," she nodded nervously. "Good luck, Stiles."

She practically sprinted away from him and out of the locker room, cursing Lydia the whole time.

Stiles nervously bounced his leg as he thought about what Olivia had said to him earlier. Things were going to get bad. He knew that, yet he couldn't shake the feeling he had inside of him. He was nervous, scared that someone he loved would get hurt, and angry that there was even a situation like this to begin with. Most of all, he felt helpless. There wasn't anything he could do to help. He couldn't help Scott. He couldn't help Olivia or Derek. He couldn't even help himself.

It frustrated the fuck out of him because he had that determination inside of him, he just couldn't act on it. He couldn't go up against a hunter or a werewolf, let alone a kanima, and make it out of the fight. He couldn't even protect his dad from Matt, so how the hell would he be able to protect Olivia when the Argents came after her?

He couldn't just stand by and watch the action unfold while people got hurt. He had to do something.

"Is your dad coming?" Scott broke him out of his thoughts.

"Yeah," Stiles looked to the bleachers for a second, seeing his dad already settled in a row near they bottom. "he's already here."

Scott nodded. "You see Allison?"

No, he hadn't, and he didn't think they would at all. Allison had been absent since the night of the full moon when her mom had killed herself. She didn't respond to Scott at all, she was angry with Olivia for siding with Derek—though he didn't know what Allison expected Olivia to even do in that situation—and she was determined to get revenge on the Hale pack. She had dived into the deep end and Stiles was worried she couldn't swim.

"No," Stiles shook his head. "You know what's going on?"

Scott exhaled heavily. "Not yet."

"But it's going to be bad, isn't it?" Stiles knew it would but hearing it from Scott made if feel more real. "I mean, like people screaming and running for their lives, blood, killing, maiming—that kind of bad?"

It was quiet for a second as Scott looked over at him; it unnerved him. "Looks like it."

Stiles inhaled shakily, his eyes starting to sting. "Scott, the other night, seeing my dad get hit over the head by Matt while I'm just lying there and I can't even move," he sniffed and looked back at his best friend. "it just—I want to help, you know? But I can't do the things that you can't do. I can't—"

"It's okay," Scott's voice was soft as he nodded at Stiles in assurance.

And Stiles was glad that out of every other guy in their class, Scott was the one who was his best friend. Because Scott got it. He got that Stiles was afraid but willing to do anything to help. He knew that Stiles felt trapped, sitting on the sidelines while everyone else fought. He understood Stiles. And Stiles knew Scott just as well.

They were lucky to have the relationship they had. It wasn't often that kind of loyalty came around and there it was, each of them sitting next to it.

Stiles tried to make the topic lighter, even if he failed. "We're losing, dude."

Luckily, Coach was there to pep things up. "What the hell are you talking about?" he asked him incredulously, having only heard the last statement of their conversation. "The game hasn't even started. Now, put on your helmet and get out there. You're in for Greenberg."

"What?" Stiles perked up, looking around for Coach's most-hated player. "What happened to Greenberg?"

"What happened to Greenberg?" Coach scoffed. "He sucks. You suck slightly less."

Stiles raised his eyebrows in shock. "I'm playing?" he pointed to himself. "On the field? With the team?"

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.

"Yeah, unless you'd rather play with yourself."

"I already did that today, twice," Stiles told him absentmindedly, too shocked about the fact that he was playing to notice what he had just revealed.

Scott snickered, making him realize what he said.

"Just get the hell out there!" Coach ordered him.

Stiles squeaked nervously and gathered his lacrosse stick and helmet, running onto the field with the rest of his teammates. On the bleachers, Olivia and Lydia had just taken a seat next to Melissa and Noah, when they noticed what Stiles was doing.

"Oh, no," Noah groaned. "Why is my son running out to the field?"

Olivia perked up, finding Stiles immediately. She knew that he'd get to play today. It was a great opportunity for him to show that he was actually athletic and good at lacrosse. She wasn't lying when she said she thought he was good.

"Because he's on the team?"

"He is," Noah confirmed blankly before realizing the excitement of the situation. "He's on the team. He's on the field," he stood up, throwing his arms into the air as he cheered, "My son is on the field!"

Okay, that was adorable, Olivia mused, sharing a grin with Lydia.

The game started shortly after Stiles ran onto the field and it wasn't going well, to say the least. The first quarter went by fast, with the opposing team scoring two goals within eleven minutes. Every time the Beacon Hills players had the ball, it was a bad play or someone would foul out. When the ball went to Stiles, it always seemed to miss his net.

The next time he got the ball, he actually caught it in his net. Unfortunately, he was too busy celebrating to notice the two large defense players sprinting his way. There was an audible thwack as he was tackled to the ground.

Olivia winced while Melissa sighed. "He's probably just warming up."

She nodded in agreement but her hope was quickly dashed when the ball was tossed to Stiles yet again. He ran backwards in hopes to get it, but ended up tripping over his own feet.

Okay, maybe she hadn't seen Stiles do anything but run fast. In her defense, she thought that would translate into being good on the field.

"He's just a little nervous," Lydia tried to console Olivia and Noah, who were both cringing in on themselves. "There's plenty of time to turn it around."

As if the world was disagreeing with her, Stiles was tackled. The crowd booed loudly; Noah hid his face in his hands.

The new quarter started and when Scott went to enter the game, Coach pushed him right back onto the bench. Luckily, Isaac appeared, dressed for the game and ready to enter.

Olivia sighed in relief, glad that he hadn't gone with Erica and Boyd. She was closest to Isaac out of the three of them and she had been pretty sad when she learned that he was planning on leaving with the other two. He didn't, though. He was here to help.

Erica...Boyd...Erica...Boyd...

Olivia winced when she heard the whispers, the tingling that she had been feeling all day getting more intense in her stomach, chest, and legs. Erica and Boyd were in trouble and she didn't know if it was this so-called pack they had discovered or if the Argents got to them.

She quickly pulled out her phone and texted them both, asking if they were okay. She also messaged Derek, giving him a heads-up on what she was feeling.

Isaac entered the game for the second quarter and it was chaos. Instead of actually playing the game and trying to score, he spent the time tackling players from his own team. As more and more of his teammates went down, Olivia figured out what he was doing. He was making sure that Scott could play—there was no way that Coach would forfeit instead of putting Scott on the field.

It was smart and she was impressed. Until Jackson tackled Isaac and the team paramedics had to run onto the field. From what Olivia could see, Isaac couldn't move anything, which meant that Jackson had used the kanima venom on him.

Isaac, Isaac, Isaac...

Melissa had jumped off the bleachers to run onto the field in order to talk to Scott but she stayed put. She already knew that something was going on and she had learned from Scott earlier that Gerard was now in control of Jackson, the old bastard. This was part of the war, a battle to be won.

The rest of the quarter went by quickly and then it was halftime. The whispering of Isaac's name had gotten so intense that she had to run down to Scott as he rested, telling him and Stiles that something was happening to Isaac inside of the school.

Scott had assured her that he'd take care of it, since there wasn't really a way for her to defend Isaac on her own, and took off inside of the school. Olivia told Stiles that he was doing a great job with a horribly fake smile that he quickly saw through before going back to her seat on the bleachers.

The third quarter started and Scott was still absent. Beacon Hills were down by two points. And then, the fourth quarter started and everything changed. Players from both teams clashed together, sending the ball rolling down the field. It stopped right in front of Stiles, who stared at it like it was a foreign object for a moment.

And then he scooped it up into his net and took off down the field. None of the other players even knew he had the ball, the field between him and goal wide open and clear. Olivia jumped to her feet, cheering loudly with Lydia, as he raced to get there before the other team's defense could catch up.

Olivia was pretty sure she could hear him screeching as he looked back at his huge opponents and when he paused just in front of the goal, she yelled, "Shoot it, Stilinski!"

Stiles whipped the ball into the net, scoring his first goal in his first game.

Olivia screamed in excitement, hugging Lydia as they both jumped up and down. Next to them, Noah was going crazy with pride and Melissa was equally excited, yelling Stiles' name.

With two minutes left in the game, Stiles was on fire. He caught the ball from his teammate and sprinted down the field, twirling around the opposing team's defense like he was made for the sport. He easily scored, tying up the game. The whole crowd was on their feet, cheering him on. Olivia was so proud she felt like crying. Like, actual crying. What had love done to her.

Holy shit, she paused in realization. Love? I love Stiles Stilinski?

She didn't have time to focus on that. There was a minute left in the game and one goal to win.

Stiles didn't disappoint. He scooped up that lacrosse ball and took off, his teammates running after him and shouting in encouragement. Olivia waited anxiously and then screamed excitedly when he scored the winning goal, goosebumps erupting all over her body.

He won the game. He did it. Did she fucking call it or what?

And then the buzzer rang, signaling the end of the game, the crowd roared in excitement, and the lights around the field all went out at once.

Jackson...Jackson...Jackson...JACKSON!!!!

"Jackson?!" Olivia screamed, pressing her hands against her tingling chest.

The crowd was screaming as chaos erupted. They were running down the bleachers and heading toward the field and the parking lot. Lydia was tugging on her arm, and Melissa and Noah had taken off, seeing if they could do anything to help the situation.

Olivia was frozen. Something was wrong with Jackson, something worse than she ever felt.

"Liv, you're crying," Lydia said frantically; Olivia hadn't noticed. "What's wrong with Jackson? Is he okay? Liv!"

Everything sped up at once. Olivia grabbed Lydia's hand and jumped off the bleachers, running onto the field as the lights came back on one by one. There was already a crowd in the middle of the field, surrounding something.

"Somebody's hurt," they heard a guy say as they passed him. "Somebody's down on the field."

Olivia's stomach dropped. It was Jackson. It had to be.

She and Lydia pushed past the crowd in order to get to the middle to see what was going on. Jackson was on the ground, unconscious, with Melissa hovering over him, doing chest compressions.

"He's not breathing," she said rapidly. "No pulse."

"Oh, my God, there's blood," Lydia whimpered, her breath catching. "There's a lot of blood."

Olivia shook her head in complete shock. Jackson wasn't supposed to be dead. He was the kanima, the kanima that Gerard controlled. And now he was dead? He couldn't be dead.

He couldn't be.

"Get down here!" Melissa barked at her, in full nurse mood. "Get down her and hold his head."

Olivia scrambled to obey, dropping to her knees right by Jackson's head. She tilted his head up just as Melissa instructed her to do and tried not to shed anymore tears. Lydia was watching. Lydia was watching Jackson die and she had to be strong for her.

And then all the breath left her as the whispers started up again.

Stiles. Stiles. Stiles. Stiles.

"Where's my son?" Noah shouted from a few feet away, looking around the thinning crowd. "Where's Stiles? Where the hell is my son?"

(Gif is not mine)

#teen wolf rewrite #stiles stilinski x oc #stiles stilinksi x reader #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski fanfiction #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles stilinski x original character

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darkdevasofdestruction · 4 years

Text

Platinum Cherry Blossom - Kujo Jotaro (2/2)

MULAN x STARDUST CRUSADERS & VENTO AUREO (just a tiny bit)

Cast:

Fa Mulan - Reader Li Shang - Kujo Jotaro Fa Li (Mulan’s mother) - Bruno Buccellati (You had it coming...) Fa Zhou (Mulan’s father) - Leone Abbacchio (Godamn it, me...) Little Brother (Mulan’s dog) - Ghirga Narancia (Wtf am I doing?) Grandmother Fa - Guido Mista (By this point, you can go ahead and throw me out of the window) The Matchmaker - Trish Una (Sorry, girl, I never liked you) Chi Fu (Annoying Advisor) - Enyaba The Emperor - Joseph Joestar General Li - Sadao (Jotaro’s dad that’s not busy playing the sax anymore) Shan Yu - Dio Brando Yao - Jean - Pierre Polnareff Ling - Kakyoin Noriaki Chien-Po - Avdol Muhammad Mushu - Iggy Cricket - Sex Pistols (Mainly #5)

This is so much fun omfg, hope you’re enjoying the ride as much as I am!!!

CLICK HERE FOR:

PART 1

---

After such an exhausting day, she just wanted to take a well deserved bath to scrub off the dirt and sweat, while Iggy kept looking left and right, worrying that someone might see her.

She obviously didn’t want to stink like some corn chip man, so she jumped into the water, letting the cool feeling sooth her sore muscles, telling Iggy to stand watch if he’s so worried, as he wouldn’t stop pestering her.

“Yeah, yeah. Stand watch, Iggy, while I blow our secret with my stupid girly habits! Pffft! Hygiene!” Iggy farted next to #5 shamelessly.

However, just as he said that, some cheers could be heard from the distance, and a pair of heart patterned briefs were thrown at Iggy’s head, only to notice the 3 idiots throwing themselves in the water.

As Avdol jumped, he made a canon-ball, making it look like a tsunami took place in the lake, as the girl looked at them horrified, using a lily pad to hide her face while silently swimming behind a rock.

“Oh, hey, it’s Fugo!” Polanreff pointed out, making the girl grin awkwardly, taking the lily pad away from her face. “Oh, uh, hi, guys! I didn’t know you were here!” she tried to do a masculine voice. “I was just washing. So now I’m clean, and I’m gonna go. Bye-bye!” she chirped, trying to hide even more behind the rock. “Aww, come on, don’t leave! I know we were jerks to you before, so let’s start over. Hi, I’m Kakyoin.” he shook the girl’s hand, dragging her forwards. “And I’m Avdol.” she heard the other man say as she unconsciously hit her hand on his chest as she tried to take it away from Kakyoin’s grasp. “Hello, Avdol.” she said softly, before covering her face, realising that Polnareff was butt naked on top of a rock. “And I am Polnareff, King of the Rock! And there’s nothin’ you girls cand do about it!” he put his fists on his hips, rocking proudly. “Oh, yeah? Well, I think Fugo and I can take you.” Kakyoin did some silly karate moves. “I really don’t wanna take him anywhere.” she declared, swimming away to the shore while covering her chest. “But Fugo! He challenged us, we have to fight!” Kakyoing gaped at her. “No, we don’t really have to. We could just...Close our eyes and swim around.” she tried to swim closer to the shore, only to have Kakyoin follow. “Awww, come on, don’t be such a gir-...OUCH! Something bit me!” he shrieked as Iggy bit his butt. “Eww, what a nasty flavour...” Iggy spit in disgust. “AHH! WATER MONSTER!!” he gasped, swimming the hell away from there.

She then took advantage of the commotion to whistle for her horse to come and help cover her up as she left to the shore.

“Boy, that was close...” she sighed, putting her towel closer to her. “No, that was vile!” Iggy brushed his teeth with a lot of mint tooth paste, only to start chewing on coffee gums. “You owe me big!”

“I NEVER want to see a naked man again.” she declared as she started squeezing her hair of water, her horse rolling his eyes, agreeing with her.

Only as if on cue, however, the rest of the soldiers started running and cheering naked past her, making her stare in shock and horror at the display, while her horse and Mushu were already dead inside.

“’Ey, don’t look at me, I ain’t bitin’ no more butts.” Iggy groaned, getting away from there.

As they walked back to her tent, they noticed Jotaro and Enyaba arguing, the hag throwing crude, poisonous words at the young captain, completely undeserving, and as soon as he left his tent, trying to cool off his head before Ora Ora-ing the advisor with Star Platinum, she tried to smile at him.

“Heey, I’ll hold her and you punch!...Or not.” she tried to cheer him up, but he only gave her a glance before walking away. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re a great Captain!” she spoke louder, hoping it would help in any way.

For a split second, he stopped and spared her one more glance, before going on his way, making the girl smile softly.

“Heey, I saw that!” Iggy looked at her with a knowing glint in his eyes. “Huh? Saw what?” she blinked, looking at him with confusion. “You like him, don’t you?” he asked, with a weird smirk. “No, I -” she tried to deny everything, but she was quickly cut off anyway. “Go to your tent!” Iggy scolded, but she could only smile back at where Captain Kujo stood before going to sleep.

Without her knowledge, Iggy and #5 made the masterplan of writing a scroll from the General, informing Enyaba that he needs Jotaro’s troops, and then went to make a dummy out of spare armor and cloth, found a random panda bear and went to deliver the scroll to Enyaba, who was out, taking a bath.

Of course, Iggy had to sass the annoying hag, speaking to her aggressively, while the panda went up into the tree, seemingly “vanishing” altogether.

And so, Enyaba rushed to Jotaro, telling him that they are needed in the front, and the next day they packed everything and made their way to the fight.

“For a long time we've been Marching off to battle” everyone started singing, trying to get their mind off the long road.

“In our thundering herd We feel a lot like cattle” Polnareff sighed, hearing the cows moo in the distance.

“Like the pounding beat Our aching feet aren't Easy to ignore” the rest continued their chant.

“Hey, think of instead A girl worth fighting for” Kakyoin smiled, putting his arm around his 2 friends ”Huh?” Y/N looked at them weirdly. “That's what I said A girl worth fighting for I want her paler than the Moon with eyes that Shine like stars” Kakyoin sang, showing a scroll of a beautiful lady, imagining kissing her.

“My girl will marvel at My strength, adore my Battle scars” Polnareff flexed, imagining as he would boast to his beloved.

“I couldn't care less what she'll Wear or what she looks like It all depends on what She cooks like Beef, pork, chicken, mmm” Avdol wondered, smiling softly.

“Bet the local girls thought You were quite the charmer” Polnareff smirked at Y/N as they passed the river.

“And I'll bet the ladies love A man in armor” Kakyoin flex, his clothes filled with so much water, making him buff like Jotaro, only for him to deflate quickly.

“You can guess what we Have missed the most Since we went off to war” everyone sang happily, watching the women work in the rice fields.

“What do we want?” Kakyoin asked, hyping everyone up.

“A girl worth fighting for” they all chanted, as Y/N realised some girl were batting their eyes at her, making her blush and walk away.

“My girl will think I have no faults” Polnareff flexed once again.

“That I'm a major find” Avdol grinned as they all got closer to Y/N, waiting for her verse.

“How 'bout a girl who's got a brain Who always speaks her mind?” she tried, but they quickly stuck their tongues out.

“Neaaaaaah!” they laughed, continuing their own verses.

“My manly ways and turn of Phrase are sure to thrill her” Kakyoin fixed his hair with a charming smile.

“He thinks he's such a lady killer” Polnareff nudged the girl as he slapped the horse, making the poor red head fall face first into the mud.

“I've a man back home who's Unlike any other And that’s my son!” Enyaba boasted, thinking about her son.

“Yet the only boy who'd Love her is her son.” Polnareff mocked the hag, earning lots of chuckles.

“But when we come home In victory they'll line up At the door” they all chanted as the 3 started making very beautiful snow-women.

“What do we want?” Kakyoin asked once again, as everyone was grinning and cheering.

“A girl worth fighting for” they all sang simoultaneously “Wish that I had” Kakyoin enticed everyone for the last time.

“A girl worth fighting for A girl worth fighting” everyone was cheerful, until they stopped in their tracks, realising that the whole village was burnt to the ground and everyone, including women and children, were dead.

Everyone was dead silent as they tried to search for survivors, but the only thing they found was a little puppet that belonged to a little girl, and General Kujo’s helmet, which only made them realise the massacre that took place, slaying his father.

Everyone gave Captain Kujo his space to mourn in silence, watching him use his father’s sword as a grave, putting his helmet on.

“I’m sorry...” the girl made her way to the Captain, resting her hand on his shoulder, offering her condoleances.

Composing himself, he gave her an appreciative nod before going to his horse, mounting and informing everyone that the Huns were moving quickly and that they were the Emperor’s only hope, so they had to go through the pass.

Before she left, she put the little doll to the General’s grave, offering a small prayer, then rushing to catch up with everyone, despite the exhausting snow.

On their way, as Y/N was guiding her horse along the way, a firework was sent through the carriage, and upon further inspection, Iggy had to blame #5 for his own mistake.

“What happened?!” Jotaro galloped to her, staring with a mix of emotions. “Uhmmm...” she was trying to explain how a dog lit a firework, but she had no time to answer. “You just gave away our position!” he yelled at her, and as if on cue, he got shot by an arrow that he was too slow to realise to stop with his Stand, and he fell off. “GET OUT OF RANGE!” he ordered everyone.

As they all tried to run away to cover, more and more fire-lit arrows were sent their way, one of them hitting the carriage, which made the poor horse jump around in fright, and it took 7 people to save the cannons and get the horse away from it, as Y/N jumped on it, riding away, only for the carriage to explode, making the horse and the girl fall over.

“Oh, sure, save the horse, not me. Thanks.” Iggy glared at her as he fell down.

She started running to where everyone else was, helping them fire the firework cannons until there were none left, as Polnareff shot it before Jotaro could stop him.

As the smoke cleared, an infinite army of huns were battle-roaring, and all Jotaro could tell his soldiers was to prepare to fight.

Yeah, as if that was going to lead in anything but defeat.

They watched in horror as the army started descending back at them, and as Jotaro was getting everyone ready to fight, Y/N noticed a snowy mountain peak she could use.

Without telling anyone, she started running closer to the middle of the battlefield to aim better, taking out her Stand and shooting a massive fireball at the peak, not caring about how much everyone was shouting.

Thankfully, she managed to hit it just as the blond enemy reached her, but unfortunately, he was quick enough to slice her torso. Jotaro was there too, but it was too late for any battle, as she grabbed his wrist and ran away from there, not wanting to get stuck in the avalanche, but even that, even with them riding on Y/N’s horse, it was no use, the snow was simply much faster than humanely possible.

She could hear Iggy yelling out her name as he snowboarded down the mountain on a shield, but as soon as she noticed a semi-conscious Jotaro was being taken away from her, almost falling down the cliff, she used her Stand to grab him by his armor, pulling him on the horse with her, and also, Iggy and #5 jumped on.

With the failed rope-arrow that was shot by Polnareff, she shot it back at them, thankfully him catching it, as she used her Stand to keep her horse and everyone safely. She could only watch in happiness as Polnareff and Avdol used their own Stands to get them back on the surface, as Kakyoin’s Stand’s tentacles secured them even better, helping to pull them up.

“I knew we could do it! You the man! Well...Sort of.” Iggy cheered in victory, praising the girl.

As they were pulled to safety, they left Jotaro and the girl some air by backing away.

“Yare Yare Daze...Fugo, you are the craziest man I’ve ever met.” Jotaro got into a sitting position, looking sternly at the panting girl. “And for that, I owe you my life. From now on, you have my respect. It’s not often I see someone with a Stand, especially as powerful as yours, or that can be used to do such witty tricks.” Jotaro put his arm on Y/N’s shoulder, praising her gently. “Let’s hear it for Fugo! The bravest of us all!” Kakyoin cheered loudly. “You’re the King of the mountain!” Polnareff put his arms up in the air as everyone chanted and Jotaro helped her to her feet. “Fugo! What’s wrong?!” his eyes widened as the girl cried in pain, putting her hands over her stomach, falling back to the ground. “He’s wounded! Get help!” he ordered, seeing blood seeping through her clothes

He tried to call out her name more, but she fainted on the spot, not able to keep more of her strength.

They quickly put on the medical tent and had her inside, the doctor working on her, and just as she briefly regained consciousness, the physician went outside, whispering something to the captain, while the trio was waiting, almost as burnt, to see if their friend was okay or not.

Shocked at the news, Captain Kujo stormed inside the tent, seeing as she slowly and weakly fluttered her eyes open.

She looked at him with a soft smile as she mustered enough strength to raise, only for the blanket to fall off and reveal her bandaged chest.

Poor Y/N realised she was screwed in that instant.

“I can explain!” she tried to reason, but just then, Enyaba also burst into the tent. “So it’s true!” she screeched like a banshee. “Jotaro, wait, please-” she tried to call out and explain, only for the hag to drag her out of the tent. “I knew there was something wrong with you! A woman!” she took off Y/N’s hair from the bun, making everyone gasp as the hag threw her on the snow. “Treacherous snake!” she kept spewing venom at the girl. “My name is Y/N! I did it to save my father. I never had any ill-intentions, I promise!” she pleaded to Jotaro, but the hag kept shrieking. “HIGH TREASON!!!” she echoed through the mountain. “I didn’t mean for it to go this far! I just didn’t want my injured father to have to die!” she begged for understanding. “ULTIMATE DISHONOUR!” she continued screaming around, annoying the brunet man. “It was the only way, please believe me! I couldn’t send my little brother, he’s barely 5 years old! And my father can’t even walk without a cane!” she almost started crying on the ground.

Jotaro looked at the girl on the ground, looking at him with pleading eyes as she kept the blanket around her, and he made a decision. He strutted to her horse, taking her sword and walked to her, while someone had to restrain her panicked horse and Enyaba had to scold her 3 friends that were freaking out and trying to plead for her life.

Seeing the look in his gorgeous aquamarine eyes, she realised the had no life ahead of her, so she hung her head down, awaiting decapitation... Only to see her sword in front of her.

“Yare Yare...You put me in a horrible situation. A life for a life. My debt is repaid.” was the only thing Jotaro could say as he turned his back to her, unable to look at her pitiful form, commanding his troops to walk away, leaving her there, alone and wounded. “But captain-” Enyaba gaped at his decision, only for the man to take her by the neck of her robes, glaring at her harshly. “I said. Move. Out.” he growled, throwing her away harshly.

All the girl could do as she watched everyone turn her back to her, was to get dressed and spend the harsh night with her companions, as she was wallowing in self pity, hatred, disappointment and a gazillion of other emotions.

“I should have never left home...” she sighed, looking with dead eyes in front of her. “Hey, come on, don’t say that. You went to save your father’s life. Who knew you’d end up shamin’ him and disgracing your ancestors and losin’ all your friends? You know, you just gotta...You gotta learn to let these things go.” Iggy tried to explain, while also close to tears. “Fuck the ancestors and all that honour shit...Also...Maybe...Maybe I didn’t even go for my father. Maybe that was just an excuse. Maybe all I really wanted was to prove that I could do things right...So when I looked in the mirror, I’d see someone worthwhile....But I was wrong. I see nothing.” the girl shed a tear, throwing away her helmet and huddling closer to her blanket.

Poor Iggy tried to make her feel better by joking around, saying the helmet wasn’t clean and that’s why she didn’t see what she desired, but she couldn’t even look at him, because of the shame.

“Okay, maybe we’re both frauds. The ancestors didn’t send me, they don’t even like me.” Iggy sighed, looking annoyed at her. “That makes both of us.” she managed to whisper. “I mean, you risked your life to help people you love. I risked your life to help myself. At least you had good intentions.” Iggy tried to console her, earning a little smile. “Huh?! What do you mean you’re not lucky?! You LIED to me?!” Iggy gaped at #5 who was crying on the helmet. “And what are you, a sheep?!” he yelled at the horse in frustration. “I’ll have to face my father sooner or later...Let’s just go home.” she sighed, looking down. “Yeah...This ain’t gonna be pretty.” he agreed with a self-deprecating groan. “But don’t you worry, okay? Things will work out. We started this thing together, and that’s how we’ll finish it. I promise.” he hugged the girl with a wholesome grin. “Thank you, Iggy. I needed that.” she smiled, kissing the top of his head.

As Y/N was readying her horse to go home, she heard a loud roar, and upon further inspection, she saw the Hun leader, Dio Brando, was still alive, along with some of his trusted men, making their way to the Palace.

She quickly jumped on the horse, ready to alert everyone, before Iggy stopped her by clearing his throat.

“Home is THAT way.” he pointed with his paw in the opposite direction. “I have to do something!” she reasoned sternly. “Did you see those Huns?! They popped out of the snow! Like daisies!” Iggy yelled at her to get her shit together. “Are we in this together or not?” she asked for the last time. “Well, let’s go kick some Hunny buns!” he smirked, along with #5, as they both jumped on her horse and made their way to the palace.

At the Palace, there was a huge festival, to celebrate the Heroes of China who managed to defeat the Huns, Captain Jotaro being in front of everyone.

However, the girl galloping there earned quite a few gasps from her peers.

“Jotaro!” she called out, riding besides him. “Y/N?” his eyes widened at the sight of her. “The Huns are alive! They��re in the city!” she warned him quickly. “You don’t belong here, Y/N. Go home.” he grunted, riding further ahead. “It doesn’t matter, I’m here to warn you! I saw them in the mountains, you have to believe me!” she, once again, tried to reason with him. “Why should I?” he glared at her, speaking in a low tone. “Why else would I come back?!” she asked, frowning at him as she blocked his horse with her own. “You said you’d respect and trust Fugo, so why is Y/N any different? You think she’d lie about something as grave as the Huns?!” but the man looked away from her, galloping further. “Keep your eyes open. I know they are here.” she warned her friends as she rode away from there, thinking up a plan to alert someone who would believe her.

In the middle of the plaza, where the Emperor’s stairs were, everyone was gathered, watching the fireworks and cheering. She saw Jotaro and the others making their way in front of Emperor Joestar and as she tried to warn random citizens, she realised that, once again, her words had no meaning, as she was a mere woman.

Emperor Joseph waited until the drums fell silent, so he could speak for everyone present.

“My children, Heaven smiles down upon the Middle Kingdom! China will sleep safely tonight thanks to our brave warriors.” he spoke as everyone started cheering loudly. “Your Majesty, I present to you the sword of Dio Brando.” Jotaro bowed in front of the elderly man, showing him the sword of his enemy. “I know what this means to you, Captain Kujo. Your father would have been very proud.” however, just as he was going to get the sword, the nasty hawk, Pet Shop, snatched it away with a loud screech, making everyone gasp in shock.

Up, on the room, disguised as one of the dragons, the sword was given to Dio Brando. As if on cue, the huge red dragon was torn apart, many more huns getting out of there, fighting the soldiers, while 2 of them stole the Emperor away, and many others guarded the inside of the palace.

Only Dio’s taunting laugh could be heard everywhere.

Jotaro and his soldiers tried to use a stone statue as a ram and open the doors, but it was to no avail. As soon as she realised they were wasting time, she ran up to them, whistled for their attention, telling them that she has a much better idea and to follow her.

Of course, her 3 friends shrugged at each other, and with large smiles, they rushed after her, letting only Jotaro the Fool bother with the impossible stone statue.

She took away their armors and gave them women clothing, hairstyles and make ups, and so, they all used their sashes as whips, looking at each other confidently, mischievous glints in their eyes, ready to take action...

And hopefully keep the fruits replacing their boobs on their chest, unlike Kakyoin’s moving apple.

They used their sashes to climb up the pillar, just like they did before with the weights, grinning at each other, only for her to feel a tap on her shoulder as she was tying of her sash on the pillar -

It was Jotaro, looking at her with a confident smile, using his cape to replicate what she was doing, obviously proud with her witty plan.

The 4 of them looked with glee at their captain as they started climbing up the pillar with ease, ready to take down the huns and save the Emperor.

As they reached the top, they could see 2 huns looking alike guarding the balcony where the Emperor was held captive.

“Okay, here we are. Any questions?” she asked them in a quiet voice. “Does this dress make me look fat?” Polnareff asked, fixing his dress. “Yes.” Kakyoin chuckled, only to earn a slap.

And so, Y/N and the 3 ‘women’ started walking towards the huns, giggling and looking at each other.

“WHO’S THERE?!” one of the brothers asked loudly. “Concubines.” the other one replied with a disgusted look. “Ugly concubines.” he rolled his eyes, lowering his weapon. “Awww, he’s so cute!” the girls giggled behind the fan as they got in front of the brothers, and while they managed to charm one of them, Kakyoin’s half-eaten apple- boob fell from his robes, and for some reason, Pet Shop noticed Jotaro hiding and facepalming at the scene as well.

Thankfully enough, the stupid Hawk could do no further damage as Iggy started biting and munching on it, making it looked like a featherless chicken as it tried to fleed the scene in embarrassment.

The charmed older brother bent down to pick her apple, only for everyone to take out their boob-fruits. Avdol his his watermelons on their heads, making them hit each other, Kakyoin shoved the un-bitten apple in Sett’s mouth, hitting his legs, making him fall to his knees as he hit him with a well aimed head hit, while Polnareff was getting rid off Vanilla Ice and Y/N was fighting Anubis, using the bow to strangle him, yelling out for Jotaro to go ahead and rescue the Emperor, as he was the only one powerful enough to do so, nobody knowing Dio’s Stand powers.

---

Up there, Dio looked at the elder Emperor, hanging upside down, saying a mocking “Boo!” as he jumped down on the railing, looking down at him with a mocking grin as he ordered the 2 D’Arby brothers to guard the doors.

“Your walls and armies have fallen and now it’s your turn. Bow to me, Joseph Joestar!” Dio ordered loudly. “Sorry, Dio, but I have some sad news for you. Your next line will be : I tire of your arrogance, you old jeezer! I said BOW TO ME!...Am I correct?” Joseph smirked, feeling proud for using his younger self’s gimmiks. “I tire of your arrogance, you old jeezer! I said BOW TO ME!....Huh?! What the-” Dio sneered in rage, realising that he fell into the old man’s trap and so, he put his sword to the Emperor’s chin, only for him not to flinch. “No matter how the wind howls, the mountain cannot bow to it. Or so my grandfather Jonathan, the previous Emperor, said.” he shrugged, feeling confident. “Then you will kneel in pieces!” he was ready to to stab the man, only to have Jotaro use Star Platinum to throw open the doors and punch the enemy away from the Emperor.

Taking out The World, Dio punched Jotaro out of the balcony, but he was quick to grab the pillar and rotated well enough to jump and punch him with his own fists, straddling him. In retaliation, Dio punched him back, getting on top, and so, they wrestled for dominance back and forth.

While Jotaro was trying to defeat the enemy, Y/N told Avdol to rescue the Emperor and get him to safety, while she tried to think of a way to aid her Captain.

She showed her friends the rope with paper lanterns, and apologising, Avdol used his Stand to pick up the Emperor and slid down the rope using his sash, while Dio roared in anger, giving Kakyoin and Polnareff enough time to slide down the rope as well.

“THE WORLD!” Dio yelled, and the next thing anyone knew was that Jotaro was on the ground, bleeding, and nobody had any idea how that happened. “Y/N, come on, hurry!” Polnareff kept yelling at her, but she couldn’t let the man she grew so fond of die by the hands of the enemy.

As she saw Dio approaching, she quickly picked up Dio’s discarded sword and cut the rope, giving Dio no chance to get closer to the Emperor. Everyone was cheering for that success, while Dio could only stare in shock and horror at the infinite crowd, not able to spot the Emperor no matter how hard he tried.

“You! You took away my victory!” Dio roared as he used the hilt of his sword to punch Jotaro again, picking him up by the front of his armor, ready to stab him in the heart. “NO!” Y/N yelled to take away his attention, as she took out her Stand, burning his cape. “I did!” she declared, looking at him sternly as she pulled her hair up to show that her and Fugo were the same person. “The soldier from the mountains. Oh, so it looks like you’re finally approaching me!” Dio gasped in complete disdain seeing the person in front of him, and so, he threw Jotaro away and started chasing after her, as she left the balcony, locking the door.

Of course, it was to no avail, as his Stand was powerful enough to punch through the door, and so, she had to run even more while thinking of some new scheme.

“So, what’s the plan?!” Iggy managed to catch up to her, and as soon as he realised she had no idea what she was doing, he gasped in horror. “YOU HAVE NO PLAN?!” “Hey, I’m making this up as I...Go! Iggy!” she grinned at her companion as he used his Stand to fly himself and #5 to the other tower in front of him.

Just as he got away, Dio jumped next to her, punching away pillars, even the one that she managed to climb on, which in turn, broke through the wall, and she almost fell, were it not for her Stand helping her back up on the pillar.

The only thing she could do was jump and grab on one of the wooden ornaments of the roof, climbing up on it, while waiting for Iggy to fire away the fireworks.

She managed to get up on the top beam of the roof, and looked in the horizon, picturing her plan unfold, only for Dio to punch through the roof behind her, making her squeal in shock and walk away from him.

She tapped herself for any weapons, realising that she couldn’t rely much on her Stand, since it wasn’t as powerful as Jotaro’s or Dio’s, but the only thing she found was her fan.

Jackpot!

“It looks like you’re out of clever ideas.” Dio smirked down at her mockingly, as he stabbed through her fun.

Shockingly enough for him, she closed the fan and twisted it away, managing to easily disarm him and get his sword, getting in a battle stance.

“Not quite! Ready, Iggy?” she yelled, noticing her companion in the far back of the roof, a huge firework roped to his back. “I AM READY, BABY! LIGHT ME UP!” he cackled as the girl used her Stand to fire up the firework. “Bold of you to assume I can be defeated! THE WO-” he tried to say, but the girl started punching him, using his sword to stab his cape through the roof, rendering him unable to move, as the firework blew him away into the Firework tower.

The last thing echoeing throughout all China, that night, was a high-pitched “WRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY” left by Dio Brando, the now defeated Hun Leader.

And then he died.

“Get off the roof! Get off the roof! GET OFF THE ROOF!” she kept yelling to herself, running away, as she was thrown off the roof by the explosion, and Iggy managed to get to her just in time, getting her down on the ground to safety.

Well, not quite...

The Sand for his Stand quickly got used, and he dropped her, making her fall on Jotaro, and they both hit the ground, soon followed by Dio’s sword and Iggy with #5 who kept crying.

“DID YOU SEE HIS DUMB FACE?! Hahahaha! You, #5, are one lucky bullet!” Iggy grinned, chewing on some well deserve coffee gum.

And so, the sky was filled with fireworks of thousands of shades and colours, everyone cheering for their greatest enemy’s defeat.

“That was a deliberate attempt on my life! WHERE is she?! Now she’s done it! WHAT A MESS! STAND ASIDE! THAT creature is NOT worth protecting!” Enyaba screeched in rage, her hair barely escaping being completely burnt, as she walked down the stairs, hitting Jotaro with her cane, all while her friends and the captain were glaring at her. “She’s a hero.” Jotaro glared at the hypocritical old woman. “‘Tis a lying snake!” she retorted in disgust. “She’ll never be wroth ANYTHING!” she grinned at him condescendingly. “Listen, you fucking hag-” he picked her up, ready to use Star Platinum on her, but the Emperor’s voice boomed as he also descended down the stairs, looking sternly at everyone. “That is enough!” he spoke, catching everyone’s attention. “Your Majesty, I can explain-” Jotaro wanted to protect the girl, at least this time, but the Emperor raised his hand for him to be silent and for everyone to step away, allowing the girl to step forward and bow down lowly in front of the Joestar. “I’ve heard a great deal about you, Y/N. You stole your father’s armor, ran away from home, impersonated a soldier, deceived your commanding officer, dishonoured the Chinese army, destroyed my palace...And!” he kept trailing on, making everyone cringe at everything he was saying, fearing for the girl who could only look down in shame and guilt. “And...You have saved us all.” he spoke in a much gentler voice now, patting the girl’s head, as he, shockingly, bowed to her, making the hag follow his action, but bowing on the ground, followed by her friends, Jotaro, who tipped his hat at her, before kneeling in front of her...

And the whole China bowing down on the ground for her.

“Enyaba?” Joseph called out to his advisor. “Yes, Emperor?” she quickly asked. “See to it that this woman is made a member of my council.” Joseph smiled gently at the girl, making the hag gape at his orders.

“Member...WHAT?! B-But-...?! There are no council positions open, Your Majesty!” she stammered over her words, feeling sweat go down her forehead. “Very well. You can have her job. After all, she is the...To quote her, ‘Treacherous Snake’ that sold valuable information to Dio Brando.” he chuckled, making us all gasp. “Wh-Wh-WHAT?! H-How could you p-possibly insinuate s-something like th-that?!” Enyaba stuttered, trying to say something. “My spies found enough proof. And, to go even further, your next line is going to be : That wretched girl planned it all, just to steal my position!” Joseph smirked, awaiting the result. “THAT WRETCHED GIRL PLANNED IT ALL, JUST TO STEAL MY POSITION!” she kept hitting aimlessly with her cane, only to stop abruptly as 2 guards picked her up. “Throw her in jail, for now. We will away public execution, a fate fit for a traitor and a liar. Until then, we should celebrate our true heroine.” the Joestar declared as his lackeys removed the hag from that place. “With all due respect, Your Excellency, I think I’ve been away from home long enough.” she smiled up at him with thankfulnes. “Then, take this.” he took off his star necklace and put it around her neck. “So your family will know what you have done for me...And, this.” he handed her the sword. “So the world will know what you have done for China.” hearing those words, she couldn’t help herself and she threw her arms around the unexpecting man, who only laughed mirthfully, patting her back in amusement.

After she was done hugging the Emperor, she went for a group hug with her lovely 2 friends who stood by her all the time and still looked as gorgeous as any ugly concubine would.

When it came to walking in front of Jotaro, however, the man was looking at her, trying to find out what to say.

“Yare Yare Daze...You...You fight good.” he patted her shoulder awkwardly, looking away, not without catching a glimpse at the girl’s disappointed face. “Oh...Uh, thank you, I guess.” and walked away, getting up on the horse. “Come on, darling, let’s go home.” she patted her horse as they descended the stairs, taking in all China’s cheers.

As soon as they couldn’t see her anymore, the Emperor stepped next to his Captain, clearing his throat.

“The flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of all.” he tried to sound wise and all, but Jotaro only looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “I’m saying, go get her, already! You don’t meet a girl like that every dynasty!” he advised, pushing him to go after her, as he only chuckled, put on his Emperor hat and left the place.

---

It took a while for her to return home, but the first thing she saw was her father, sitting on the same stone bench under the Cherry Blossom, looking at the pond, waiting for her return, as the flower petals kept swaying in the wind, reminding him of his daughter.

She softly stepped in front of him, making him gasp out her name in disbelief, almost fearing that he was hallucinating or seeing ghosts.

“Papa, I brought you the sword of Dio Brando.” she quickly kneeled on the ground in front of him, passing him the enemy’s sword. “And the crest of the Emperor!” she took off the necklace, giving that one to him as well. “They are gifts, to honour our family.” she tried to explain, unable to read her father’s expression.

As she hung her head, Abbacchio could only shed a few tears, throwing away the gifts and falling to the ground, hugging his daughter tightly to his chest.

“Silly girl, to hell with honour and whatever, it was all my fault that you went to war, only for my sake and my stupid words, nailed into my brain. The greatest gift and honour is having you as my daughter, Y/N.” he declared, caressing her cheeks, wiping away her tears, yet unable to do so for himself, before putting her in yet another loving hug. “I missed you so much, you have no idea.” he kept stroking her hair, trying to sooth her, as they both let all their emotions flow with no blockage. “I missed you too, papa...So much...” she ushered, hugging him tightly, not realising that the other family members came as well.

As Bruno could only sigh, feeling his heart finally at peace, seeing his daughter and his husband finally reunited, safe, getting along, and happy, the same couldn’t be said about the grandpa, who scoffed in annoyance.

“Great! She brings home a sword, veeery useful. If you ask me, she should’ve brought home a man!” Mista looked at the man next to him in annoyance, only to be interrupted by a rough voice.

“Excuse me, that Y/N live here?” he asked, holding the helmet to his chest.

The 2 men could only stare in shock at the man who magically appeared in front of them, able to only point at the girl and her father who were embracing each other in the garden.

“WHOO! Sign me up for the next war!” Mista grinned, not being able to peel his eyes away from the Captain.“Well, I suppose the Acenstors are finally doing their job.” Mista blinked, almost as if struck by lightning. “Now I have to start wedding preparations! Pistols, get ready for a nice feast!” he grinned from ear to ear, getting a hold of Bruno’s sleeves. “Come on, give them intimacy! Let’s go!” he dragged the younger man away from there.

Jotaro walked in front of Leone, nodding respectfully and tipping the front of his hat in front of him, trying to figure out what to say.

“Yare Yare, to think I’d actually be doing something like this...Ahem. Honourable Abbacchio Leone...Uhmm...Ah, Y/N.” he noticed the girl peeking stepping from behind her father’s tall figure. “You...Forgot you helmet.” he tried to hand her the helmet, only to stop mid-way, giving it to her father. “Well, I suppose it’s actually your helmet, isn’t it?” he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Go get him, girl.” Leone whispered in her ear, patting her hair, nodding at her to take the reigns in her hands.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” she stepped in front of him, taking the helmet in her hands, smiling up at him. “Would you like to stay forever?!” Mista’s voice echoed throught he garden, making them hum in amusement as Bruno’s voice followed, scolding the man for being a hypocrite and spying on them. “Dinner would be great.” he smiled down at her with a tender smile that he never offered anyone but his mother. “Great.” the girl grinned at him, taking him by the neck of his armor and getting him to her level, kissing him tenderly. “Nice, very nice. But I think I liked the sight from back at the Palace...If you catch my drift.” the girl smirked mischievously, winking at him. “Yare Yare, what a troublesome woman.” he chuckled, putting his hands on her face and pulling her in another, even more tender kiss.

What they didn’t know what that the party already began at the shrine, as Iggy hit the gong for all the Zeppeli, Speedwagon and whatever other ancestors they had to join, all while annoying the hell out of Kars.

Somehow, Iggy hit himself enough to bounce back and find himself on the shrine stairs, and soon, Narancia’s childish giggles could be heard as he started running around him, and Y/N bent down to kiss the top of his head, thanking him for everything he’s done for her.

Of course, the chickens followed Narancia to the shrine.

CLICK HERE FOR :

PART 1

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crushcandles · 4 years

Note

OMG SO RELATED TO JOE AS A POET. Can you just imagine Joe and Nicky traveling around and then hearing about this new poet on the scene Rumi and like, after they get through 1-2 translations they start desperately trying to learn Persian as quickly as they can so they can read the originals? Quoting their favorite verses back and forth to each other? Arguing over modern translations??

Anon, thank you for sharing this wonderful idea with me. It’s so lovely! Much more clear and thought-out than any of my current TOG ideas. Which are, in descending order of importance to me: nape kissing good, spooning!, and 2:00am at a grocery store in the middle of nowhere, exhausted under the yellowed lights and stunned by the choices.

+++

“A translation is always a transgression,” Nicolò says in cutting zeneize after they have crossed the threshold of the generous woman’s house to the street.

Yusuf resists the urge to slap at his hand as if he’s a misbehaving child. “You and your sensibilities. What are we to do, spit the tea back in her face, upend the food she gave us, just because she cannot speak Persian and instead tells us beautiful poems in her own language? As you do for me, and I for you?”

“Of course not,” Nicolò responds. He pushes at Yusuf’s hand between them, invisible to the crowd around them. “I am only saying that nothing beautiful survives being forced through a basket. It would be better to hear them as they were truly written.”

“It appears you’ve set yourself a task then. Take your time.” Yusuf flicks Nicolò’s hand back, the tender place where his fingers join his palm. Nicolò turns his face away so Yusuf will not see him smile.

“From now on I will make burning my aim,” Nico says, drawing his finger from the sweating inside of Yusuf’s elbow to his wrist, dry-skinned until Nico puts his lips there, kissing the place where the blood thrums. “From now on I will make burning my aim,” he says again in his careful, practiced Persian.

“Uh-huh.” Yusuf would close his eyes, but that would deprive them of the sight of Nico, bent over his wrist like a map of the world, his own eyes closed in pleasure and concentration as he recites the beautiful poem he worked so hard to learn.

“For I,” Nico says to Yusuf’s skin, accent slippery like the touch of his tongue, “am like the candle: burning only makes me brighter.” His other hand cups Yusuf’s cock between his thighs. He pauses there, drawing it out until Yusuf can hardly remember what he just said.

He finally continues, his breath hot on Yusuf’s damp wrist as he says, “Abandon sleep tonight,” and squeeze’s Yusuf’s cock in a way that could keep Yusuf up for days. He lifts his face, grinning at Yusuf, enjoying his own small joke. His face is glorious in the candlelight, glowing, his smile beautiful no matter what language it speaks.

“What have you got there?” Nicky asks. His shoes didn’t make a sound on the ground-down carpet in the bookstore, but Joe knew it was Nicky at his back before he opened his mouth to speak. He turns the book in his hand so Nicky can see the spine.

“Ah,” Nicky says. “Rumi. An old friend to us.” He’s leaning over Joe’s shoulder, playing at needing to see the book. As if he hadn’t painstakingly transcribed the poems he liked the best in his own hand and carried them with him until he could say them in ten languages by heart.

“Mmhmm.” Joe flips through the book, too fast to catch anything other than the odd word reaching for the edge of the page. He doesn’t need to read any of it. He has his own favourites, in ten languages, more. Nicky doesn’t need to read it either, but leans further over his shoulder anyway, so deep in Joe’s space their bodies are overlapped and touching in a way that could been taken for impolite in a public place. But there is no one else in the aisle with them, no one in the poetry section at all.

No one but Nicky to hear him say, “These words I'm saying so much begin to lose meaning: existence, emptiness, mountain, straw.” He says it in Persian, how he first learned it. It comes out slowly, not because he’s forgotten it but because he’s savouring it, feeling each word fill his mouth before it goes free.

Listening, Nicky puts his palm on Joe’s stomach. He rubs his thumb back and forth like a metronome. Says to the beat of it, to the skin of Joe’s neck, in his gentle, considerate English, “Words and what they try to say swept out the window, down the slant of the roof.” Once he’s finished speaking, he kisses Joe’s beating pulse, finishing the poem in the language they speak best together.

#joe/nicky #the old guard #my fic #crushcandles answers YOUR asks #i have the best anons

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scentedsongrebel · 4 years

Text

Waiting for light (1/3)

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female! Reader

Summary: After a mission gone wrong, Bucky finds himself living in his worst nightmare.

Warnings: Cursing maybe?, sexual references but no actual smut, Violence, memory loss, gun use, incorrect medical terms (maybe), angst, so much angst, Mentions of faith and god (no talks of religion), please tell me if I miss any...

Word Count: ~7k

A/N: So this is my entry for @xbuchananbarnes ‘s Dani’s Awesome Writing Challenge Mix Vol. 1, #danisawesomewcmix. Congratulations on your milestone, you totally deserve it! My prompt was 7.“I’m gonna die surrounded by the biggest idiots in the galaxy”.

This would be a 2 part series because it got too long and I had to split it. I’m so sorry for the heavy angst in this one but this story was in my mind for a while and it fit perfectly in my prompt.

Also sorry if it gets too dramatic. I live for the Drama!

This story is not edited yet.

The sun shines with the remnants of a hectic day as it prepares for its slumber. Right in the path that is eliminated with the last specks of light, a Man drags a Woman.

One arm around her neck keeping her close, the other holding a gun to her head. He slowly moves back, dragging her with him until they reach a point where there was no going further.

The Avengers surround them from all sides, weapons raised and warnings screamed. The Man seems to not care as he presses the revolver harder into your head, eliciting a groan of pain from your lips.

Your legs hurt from the bone you're sure you've broken and blood runs down different wounds, locations of which are unknown.

"You gonna kill me" he smiles devilishly "I'm gonna take your girl with me"

An increase in the pressure around your neck causing you to see black spots.

"Listen Castle" Steve moves in closer "We can work through this just let her go"

"Work through this huh Captain?" Castle spits blood on the ground "I know how this gonna work, I leave her, you kill me"

"No you leave her and we let you live" Tony raises his hand, the mask of his iron man suit opening up.

"I would consider that option of course Stark but what is life really" The guy muses then laughs menacingly "I serve Hydra, my purpose is Hydra and what better way do die than by serving Hydra"

"I can name so many better ways" Tony tries to move forward but a warning glare and pressure of the gun against your head is warning enough to stop him

Castle shakes his head, a wicked smile staying on his lips "Taking the Soldat's girl with me, punishing him for everything he did to Hydra after his betrayal, seems like the best way to go and because I love to increase the pain, you got any last words sweetheart?"

You cringe at the use of the name only Bucky is allowed to call you as you try to pull away the last time before looking the love of your life directly in the eyes.

"Bucky" you whisper, eyes shining with tears you use everything in you to hold back. He tries to reach out to you, tries to say something but the only sound coming out of his petrified mouth his a whisper of your name, so faint you may have missed it if you weren't so acquainted with every movement of his lips.

"Bucky listen" you whisper as a drop of tear rolls down your eye "You have to move on, take care of my babies please."

"Y/n"

"Nat, you take care of my girl and boys. Help him move on, move forward, use your Nat skills to force him into dating again"

Natasha shakes her head, her gun raised at the perpetrator. They all stand hopeless, you are at the end of the cliff, one shot, one wrong move and its over for you. Her eyes give you an answer but you still smile. Assuring her through it that you want her to do that for you. You know she will come around someday.

"And at least I’m gonna die surrounded by the biggest idiots in the galaxy”

And you can see how that one line affects everyone of your friends, your family. For 10 years you've said this exact line before every mission. As a little stress buster, a hammer on the ice that embraces the entire atmosphere in its cold clutches before every single mission. Because no matter how easy a mission, a fear of this being the last one for someone pertains.

The idiots, your idiots you are gonna die surrounded by would be Steve, Natasha, Tony and your Bucky. Maybe if there were more there was a chance for you but you know at this point it isn't. These are the last moments and you wanna make sure they know you were yourself when you leave.

"Bucky take care of m yourself and my babies please"

"No Y/n you are not-"

"That's ENOUGH" the guy screams in your ear readying his gun and Bucky reacts on instinct. It was now or never. Pulling out his gun and shooting directly at the Man's face, another one at his hand, making sure to miss you.

The man falls back off the cliff, taking with and Bucky lets out an ear piercing scream.

"Y/N" be runs to follow you down the cliff before being harshly grabbed by Natasha and Steve. He is sobbing, openly now like the rest of them are before a gush of wind shoots out through and up flies a figure from the end of the cliff.

His wings flap a last time before Sam lands down on the ground. An unconscious figure in his arms.

You.

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

The loud voice rings through the open air as many people cringe and nonchalantly try to cover their ears so as not to offend the source of the noise.

You sit on Bucky's lap, between his legs on the front most table (a little away from the stage thank god!) because he insisted that now he is legally certified to keep you as close to him as he wants.

Steve tried to remind him that is not what marriage means.

Bucky tried to remind him he was an irritating punk.

A loud screech reaches your ears and Bucky buries his face in the back of your neck trying to muffle the sound.

"Why would you put me through this" he whispers in your ears from behind.

"Shhh" you turn your head to the side a little to talk to him "He was so excited to do this performance. What was I supposed to do? Tell him no?"

"That's what any sensible bride would have would. You are ruining our wedding"

You roll your eyes and turn more in his lap to get a better view of his face

"Our wedding is perfect. No one can ruin it"

Bucky shakes his head, smiling and taking your kips in a soft kiss which is broken up when Sam plays a very high note and Bucky has to take a wincing break.

"You know, I hate the let anyone do anything they want for our wedding rule"

"But Honey" you say turning back to look at the happy Sam trying and horribly failing at playing the bagpipe "It makes them so happy. They are all excited for us and I wanted them to be able to take part in this however they like"

Bucky groans and turns you to face him again as nuzzles into your neck.

"You are gonna be the death of me Mrs. Barnes" he places a soft kiss on your jaw

You let out a soft laugh just as the instrumental noises get louder and now people have started covering their ears, leaving behind any thoughts of discretion.

"I love you" you say, moving your arms around his neck.

"I love you too" he says and then gives you a kiss on the lips and then whispers in your ear "And I can't wait to get you away from here and all to myself"

You laugh at that whispering a me too in his ear before turning back as Sam reaches his ending verse.

When the performance is over, the round of applause is so loud, you are sure people on the streets can hear it despite the fact that you stand on the roof of a very tall building.

Bucky even gives a standing ovation and you know all this is because the thing is over. You just shake your head as Tony is whistling

in excitement and Clint is popping champagne in celebration. God these guys were so extra sometimes.

Just as the applause dies down Sam beams at his audience, not really understanding the reason of the clapping.

Just as Sam comes down the stage and Bucky thinks he can celebrate the end of his ear being tortured. There is a new person getting on stage.

Steve smiles at the audience as he plugs in his electric guitar that he has been taking lessons for. Bucky's eyes widen and for a moment he thinks maybe it will be fine but then Steve hits the first note, singing too this time and he gets back down on the chair, pulling you to his lap again.

You give him a small guilty smile "Its not that bad"

Bucky sighs

"Your gonna be the death of me Mrs. Barnes"

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

Bucky sat at the fluffy chair Steve had bought for him saying if he's gonna spend all his free time here the least he can do is keep him comfortable and back pain free. Bucky is not sure he can even have back pain.

He leans forward, holding your hand close to his heart as he speaks "and then she asked me If plants need rain and sun to grow, and rainbows are made of light and water, are rainbows plant food?"

He laughs as he tells you that, looking over at your bed laid body for a sign to want to say something back. When you stay still he sighs and continues "What did I say you ask? I just nodded and agreed with her" a deep laugh "I mean what else am I supposed to even say right? God Y/n our little girl is getting so smart with age-"

"Definitely taking after and mother than"

Bucky swiftly turns around, taking up a protective stance in front of you as he turns to look at the intruder.

"Geez chill Barnes. Its just me" she raises her hands, then crosses them before leaning on the door frame sideways for support.

"What have I said about sneaking up on me" Bucky asks with a sigh, sitting down again

"Not to do it or you may end up killing me" she says nonchalantly

"Yet you don't stop"

"Yet you don't kill me"

Bucky just shakes his head, taking hold of your hand and placing a soft kiss on you knuckles.

"How is she?" Natasha asks from behind him

"Like she is everyday" he says plainly

She just nods her head, staying quiet for a while before moving forward and taking a seat herself on the other side of your bed

"Buvk we need to-"

"No"

"James listen we need to-"

"Don't you dare say it Natalia" he growls at her, eyes holding so much anger any other person would have ran for their lives. But Natasha was not any other person maybe that is why she was the one here for this talk

"Well Steve is too concerned about you to say it, Sam is too emotional, others don't have the courage to do it which means I have to be the one to say it"

He glares at her which she returns with concerned eyes. They stay there looking at each other for a while before Nat sighs and starts

"We have to decide if she would have wanted this"

"I have to decide and my decision is made"

"James its been 6 months"

"They said there was brain activity" Bucky screams at her

"They also said that she may always be in vegetative state. Do you really think Y/n would want that?"

At the mention of your name he quickly turns to look at you. His beautiful girl, his wife, lying of the bed, lifeless. Your hand is connected to an IV and a ventilator provides air to your body. Your head bald and bandaged after surgery and a feeding tube going in your nose. Your eyes are closed and Bucky had to close his too because its getting too much. He turns back to Natasha.

"I don't care what she would have wanted"

"James-"

"No don't James me Natalia. You won't understand. I will not let my kids grow up without their mother"

"A mother who may never wake up"

And that is enough for Bucky as he suddenly gets up from his chair pushing it back causing it to fall down with a loud BHOM!. He turns to Natasha, eyes blaxing with her anger he moves closer to her.

Natasha takes a step back, scared for her well being for the first time since she entered the room. He comes closer until he is just inches from her and looks down at her figure

"What do you want me to do huh? Kill her" he growls "Add the love of my life to the list?"

"James" Nat can feel the tears form in her own eyes as a single drop falls down Bucky's. She knew this conversation was going to be hard. It was hell for her to even think about the mere possibility of having to pull the plug on you but in times like these someone had to be a voice of reason, to hold everyone together.

"Natalia" he whispers through more tears "I can't tell my Matilda and Nixon I didn't fight for their mother when they grow up and ask about her. I can't let go until the doctors tell me there is no chance for her to wake up. Not the she may never. I want the she will never before I even think about it ok? Because if I have to, I am okay, completely happy to live with this hope, to be able to hold her hand and smell her scent, to listen to her heartbeat. So please let me have this for a while before I think of other things and if you or anyone has a problem with this then tell me and I will take my wife and kids and get away from your lives".

Nat just shakes her head as a sob escapes her lips and she moves forward, engulfing Bucky in a hug as she lets out cries. He stays still for a second before hugging her back, letting out his own silent sobs.

"She will be okay" He says pulling away from Nat and looking at you "I know she will"

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

All the avengers look up at the door when someone barges in. Nat's shoulders are slumped and her usually stiff posture is crumpled as she takes a seat at the table of the conference.

Tony moves to ask her something but she is faster to speak

"I can't do it" she sighs shaking her head. Her eyes bloodshot and the only indication of her previously crying state. "I thought I was ready but I'm not"

"None of us are ready" Steve moves to place his hand on hers "We just need to talk about this as a possibility so as if one day-" he stops to take a deep breath "if one day, if we have to we are prepared to be their for Buck and the kids"

"Bucky also needs to think about this possibility" Pepper points out shaking her head "We need to say this to him no matter how much it hurts because its not just him, he would have to hold it together for the twins"

"I hate this" Sam grumbles looking at his hands on the table in front of him

"We all do birdbrain" Tony sighs from his place looking around at the dejected faces of his team mates, friends and family minus two "Well all hate this with a passion"

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

The birds were chirping in welcome to the early morning sun while Bucky was looking at your sleeping form.

There were very few days that would start this way. Usually you both were not early birds in any chance and tried to stay in bed as long as you can before yoh needed to get off and get to work.

Bucky lets the soothing rhythm of your steady heartbeat calm his mind as he closes his eyes in bliss. He loved these mornings with you. Even if you two would move away sometime during the night, by the mornings you just found your way back into his arms.

He listens to the steady dhap dhap fhap dhap before something catches his ears and he swiftly opens his eyes.

Moving to get a clear sound and yes he can hear it. He carefully moves your hands away from his waist as he starts to move away ignoring from whining groan.

He moves the blanket covering your naked body and moves his hand over your stomach before bending and placing his ear on it.

And his heart skips a beat as he hears it. Loud and clear. He hears it.

"Bucky" you groan as you move to sit up, leaning against the headboard "What happened"

Bucky ignores you as he moves to place his ear against your stomach again and yup its still there.

His eyes fill up with tears he can't control and he looks up at you wifh those shining blue eyes.

"Hey baby what's wrong" You try to move closer to him, moving your hands to his cheeks

Bucky shakes his head, trying to process, trying to let out words but all he can do is give you a soft smile as a tear rolls down his eye.

"I hear heartbeat" he says slowly

Your eyebrows knit together and a frown makes home on your face "Umm. Yeah I know you can hear my heartbeat. It stopped being creepy long ago"

"No" Bucky shakes his head, trying to pull himself together, to control the sea of emotions going through him right now

"I-I-I hear a-a heartbeat" he says slowly, smiling at you and pointing at your stomach

You look at him in confusion for a while, clearly early mornings are not good for you and now he is gonna make sure you get as much sleep as you want. A moment before understanding draws on your face and you move your hand to cover your mouth

You look at your husband with wide eyes and he nods his head through the tears and suddenly you let a little happy sob

"I'm pregnant?" You look at him questioningly

Bucky nods his head excitedly "There is a heartbeat right here" he points at your stomach "faint but it there".

You try to move your head towards your stomach, to have a listen yourself but failing of course before looking at Bucky again

"And and you are okay with this?" You ask slowly

"Could not be more happy doll" he whispers moving closer and taking your lips in his "you have given me everything I never thought I could have"

You smile at him before pulling away "Wait" you say holding up a finger to stop him from kissing you again "We can't celebrate until we are sure"

"I am sure doll" he moves a string of your hair that was falling on your face behind your ear.

"No no" you laugh trying to speak as he keeps kissing you again and again "We need a doctor confirmation"

"Whatever you want" he says as he lays you down on his bed and starts his expedition of your body

"Just be ready to be pampered a whole lot more now my love"

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

"And this one" his little girl moves another piece of drawing in front of him as he scans through all the drawings previously laid in front of him. Pictures of what he could only guess are of the four of you together. His family in stick figures. One of all the Avengers and their kids. One of him and his metal arm, one of the black widow with her symbol besides her, captain america with his sheild, the falcon flying in the sky, the iron man and so many other drawings that would be nothing but ugly for someone outside these four walls. But within, these were masterpieces that were all gonna be pinned at the pin board you had specially bought to pin these drawings to when the fridge doors were full.

"Wow these are all so pretty sweetie" he says with adoration "it seems like they were made by an artist"

She laughs at that moving another piece of art near his face and he feels his heart stop "This one is Mom"

She says brightly looking at his face for another compliment. He looks the drawing over, a woman with her hair pulled up because you never understood how girls like Nat didn't get irritated by the hair constantly falling on their faces. The stick figure rendition is a little weird but the little Mom besides the figure makes him smile.

"This one is the best" he gives her the biggest smile she can nodding his head

"It is isn't it" she says taking hold of the picture and waving it up and down "that's because its of mom"

Bucky fakes a look of shock, looking at the picture again "oh yeah that's why it looks so good. Because your mom makes everything she is a part of beautiful doesn't she"

Matilda nods her head vigorously before giving the picture back to her father "So can we put it up on the board"

He nods his head "All of these belong on the board. These are all brilliant. You're gonna be a little artist like your Uncle Stevie aren't you?"

She nods her head following him as he moves to pin the pictures on the board "Yes and Uncle Steve said he would buy me that big water color set for my birthday"

"Uncle Steve loves to spoil you doesn't he" Bucky mutters, moving to pin every single picture on the board. His eyes fall on every other picture previously attached to the board you had made sure covered an entire wall of the kids' playroom so there was always room for their art. There were works of both the kids from school and some they made at home themselves. You had always taken pride in everything your children created and never let anything be put anywhere except for this board.

Just as he attaches the last piece of drawing on the board a thought pops in his head

"Hey you didn't draw a picture of your brother?" Bucky asks curiously looking down at her "You always draw one of him too"

She frowns at the mention of her twin and looks down at her shoes

"I don't like Nixon". She mutters angrily

"Well of course you don't like him he's your brother, you love him" Bucky teases, bending down to reach her level

Her face scrunches at his comment and she shakes her head in disgust

"No, I don't love him, I hate him"

Bucky shakes his head "What does mom say about that word?"

"That we should not hate anyone" she mutters still looking down "but-but Nixon just makes me so angry"

Bucky can't help but smile at that, his kids just can't seem to go a day without fighting it seems

"And what happened this this?"

"I showed him the picture of mom I drew" she starts to say looking at Bucky with shining eyes "And when I said I will show it to her when she wakes up, he said she won't wake up"

Bucky feels his heart stop at her words and he freezes on the spot. 'How did- What did he-' . A million thoughts run down his mind. He had worked so hard to keep his kids happy and feel everything was alright. He had made sure they don't have to bear the burden of the harsh situation. He had made sure they don't have to worry about this exact possibility then how did he find out? Who the hell told his little boy things they didn't deserve to tell him.

Anger shoots through his veins which he tries to control as he looks at Matilda with a smile, trying to mask his real emotions like every time

"What?" He shakes his head "That's not true"

Matilda nods at him and moves her arms around his neck and he takes her in his arms

"I said that but he said he heard doctors talking about her in the medical area"

Bucky had made sure their were no talks about your condition in front of his kids. He made sure there was no doctor near the room when he brought his kids over for visits with their mother and kept and eye and his ears alert to make sure they don't hear anything they don't need to.

Then who the hell was this doctor that told this to his son. Bucky felt rage again only calmed by the crying daughter in his arms. Someone was gonna loose their job for making his daughter cry like this.

He rubs his hands on her back, trying to keep himself together for her sake and muttering soothing words of its fine, mom's fine in her ears.

He talks to her, reassures her of her mom's well being for atleast 10 mins before the 'when will she even wake up' and 'I miss her's' quieten down she starts to fall asleep in his arms, tired from an entire hectic day of school, drawing and crying.

He hates that his children have to go through this. He hates that his bad luck, the beef that the old ladies of faith have with him is affecting his wife and kids like this. Hates how he tells his kids he would protect them from anything yet not being able to protect them from this heartbreak.

He picks Matilda up and moves to her room - separate from her twin's because you and Bucky could not deal with more fights of which color would the walls be and what bed would belong to which child-

He tucks his little girl in her bed, kissing her forehead and wishing her goodnight before switching off the main light and turning on the night light.

He looks at his daughter one last time before sighing and leaving the room.

He needs to have a talk with a little man.

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

"Will you stop pouting like that" you say from your place on the bed

"I don't like this" he says with a frown

"Well you don't have to" you give him a small smile "What do you want me to do? Not get the life saving operation"

"Well I need you to take care of yourself" he moves forward in his chair to hold your hand

"Then what would you do?" A cheeky smile. Bucky is not amused

"This is not a joke Y/n" he says seriously "Its not just you anymore, what would I say to the kids if something happened to you. You can't be so reckless during missions"

You sigh moving to make space on your hospital bed so he can lie besides you. When you pat the bed, gesturing for him to join you in he seems hesitant before he sighs and gets on the bed with you, moving his arm to place it around your shoulder

"I'm so sorry James" you say moving closer to him and resting your head on his chest "You know how long we were hunting Castle for. He was the last one of those after our kids, I couldn’t have let him get away and if I hadn’t had been injured, you know there was no chance he could have pulled something like that”

Bucky sighs nodding his head "Now we can be free, maybe I can finally retire"

Your hand that was rubbing circles on his chest stops its motion and you move away to get a clear view of his face. He gives you a small smile before he pecks your lips

"I've been thinking about it, about being a stay at home dad" he says "I am tired of fighting. I am done with this business. Maybe I was for a long time but I never knew how to stop and now I do. I wanna take care of my kids and wait for my wife to come home from saving the world"

"Bucky" you whisper moving your palm to rest on his cheek

"I know you love the fight and I don't want you to stop but for myself I just want to be a house husband. I have enough money from the government to not be short on money. And well with my beautiful hard working bread earning wife, I would never have to work"

You laugh at that, resting your head back on his chest and smiling

"I like that idea, if that is what you want"

"I do, more than anything doll"

There is a knock on the door and you both look up to see the nurse "We have to start the pre-ops" she says giving you both a sad smile "I'll be back in a minute"

The fear that Bucky thought had melted away returns as he moves to get up from your bed

"James"

"I'm okay" he looks at his feet as he sits down and starts wearing his shoes, avoiding eye contact

"Hey look at me" he shakes his head "I will rip off my IV if you don't"

This makes him quickly look up "Don't you dare"

"Good now that you can see me" you say moving a little in your bed to get comfortable before gesturing for him to give you his hand which he does "Whenever your mind takes you to dark places just pray"

Bucky rolls his eyes "You know I don't believe in all that"

You nod your head "And I am not telling you to, just I don't know who you do it to maybe the sun, the moon, to someone you lost, god, anyone, just pray"

"And everything will get better?" asks sarcastically

You shake your head "It will give you hope to hold onto"

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

Hope he was holding onto like his life depended on it which it did. Head trauma they said. Surgical complications leading to a coma. The hit that you got on the head by the rock protruding out of the mountain before Sam got you was more severe than any of them thought.

The doctors said the labs don't always show the exact situation until they are in the Operating Room and so you never woke up from the surgery.

There was significant brain activity that they could say maybe you would wake up but not enough to tell when that maybe would come or if it ever would. Bucky was ready to wait as long as it took.

He knocks on the door twice before a little come in is sounded from the inside and he pushes the door open.

His son sits with his own drawings, using the water colors Steve had bought for both of the kids to share which did not end well and Steve had to buy two new ones. Having gotten a very important lesson in raising twins. Always get two of everything.

Nixon keeps his head in his drawing as he dips his paint brush in the black color paint.

"What you got there" Bucky asks as he sits down in front of his son. With both his kids as tiny artists, he had learned to respect their dedication to their works.

"I'm painting" Nixon nods his head, still not looking at Bucky "I know you are here to scold me"

"Hey" Bucky calls out to his son who does not look up from his painting, having abandoned coloring on the paper "Hey honey look at me"

Nixon shakes his head before his eyes fill up with tears. Bucky moves the paints and painting from between them and moves to take his son in his arms.

Whoever did this. Which ever irresponsible person told all this to his son, whoever did this to his baby has another thing coming for them.

"Hey its okay hey buddy" Bucky rubs soothing circles on his son's back, trying to calm him down. This was the second time today he finds himself in this position and the hopelessness he feels is beyond anything. He couldn't lie to his children, couldn't look them in the eyes and say something even he was not sure about. So reassurances it was. Words he told himself every night.

His children needed you. Just like he did.

After what seems like a while of just his son crying and Bucky trying to hold it together, Nixon pulls away, muttering through his sobs.

"I wanted to tell Mom about my new friend Tyler and show her the star Miss Huffman gave me and and-"

Another sob and Bucky pulls his son into another embrace,

"Its okay"

But Nixon pulls back again, going on

"So I went to see her when you went to the store and Aunty Wanda thought I was sleeping and I went to mom's room in medical and when I was hiding the people there were telling each other that she may not wake up"

Bucky shakes his head, moving both his hands to cup his son's cheeks as he looks up at the ceiling for a minute. Hold it together Barnes. You can't let him see you cry and scare him more.

"Hey Buddy?" Bucky whispers after a moment, wiping away his son's cheeks of any and all tears. Nixon just nods his head, sniffling his nose.

"You know Mom and I never lie to you" a nod "So I will tell you the truth, okay?"

Nixon nods his head again "okay"

"Mom is sick" Bucky starts moving to sit both himself and his son on the bed and pulling the covers over themselves "She got hurt on the head. You know how we always tell you to wear a helmet or take care of your head when playing?"

Nixon nods his head "Yeah"

"That is because when we get hurt on the head, it takes a lot of time to get better"

The boy sniffles his nose and Bucky pulls out his handkerchief from his pocket, giving it to him

"So Mom got hit in the head"

"Yes, while fighting the bad guy, her head was hurt and so she will take a little longer to wake up"

"But they said-"

"Its the doctor's job to say that" Bucky tries to come up with a convincing reason "That is because they don't know how strong your Mom is now do they"

Nixon shakes his head at that "She is very strong"

"That she is and that is why she would wake up"

"But when?"

Bucky sighs at that. A question he asks himself every single day. If only he had an answer.

"I don't know" his son frowns at that and Bucky pulls him close "But do you know who does?"

Nixon looks at him questioningly

"God" Bucky shakes his head. His memories taking him to you "When you don't know what else to do, just pray. To anyone you want to, just pray"

"And Mom would get okay?" Nixon asks excitedly

Bucky shakes his head smiling "You would have some kind of hope to hold on to"

"Huh" the little boy mutters, clearly not understanding anything Bucky says.

"Nothing, come on its your bed time. How about I stay right here with you tonight"

Nixon nods his head excitedly and moves to make space for Bucky to lie down with him. He starts to talk about his day and telling him things he wishes to tell his Mom when she wakes up. Bucky hears patiently to every word the little boy says before falling asleep in his father's arms.

Bucky looks at his sleeping form, moving away the hair strings falling on his forehead and sighs.

He needed to be more clear with both the kids about things. Because as much as he wants it to, he can't control everything they may find out and its best if they hear it from him.

-----------

"Sergeant Barnes, Captain Rogers requests your presence in the Medical Wing"

Bucky jerks awake from his bed as F.R.I.D.A.Y 's voice announces through his bed room walls.

"Y/n" he whispers before hastily putting on a shirt and running out the room.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y can you please ask Wanda to come to my house to look after the kids please" Bucky says as he hastily puts his shoes on and opens the main door of his apartment in the Avengers compound.

"No need I'm here" Wanda says as she stands on the other end of the door

"Wanda what-"

She shakes her head "I don't know its just, I got a message from Nat to look after the kids"

Bucky nods his head, his heart beating wildly in his chest "They are asleep in their rooms, Thank you so much"

She puts her hand on his shoulder in reassurance. Bucky looks at her and she nods her head, he nods back before running out his apartment and towards the medical wing.

By the time he reaches the medical wing, he is completely out of breath and wheezing. All his thoughts focused on one thing. He prays to whoever he can that its not something bad.

Steve is standing outside your room and when he sees Bucky coming his way he tries to stop him

"Buck-" Bucky is having none of that as he tries to push Steve away and get inside

"Steve what is it" Bucky growls angrily "Let me go see my wife"

"Bucky listen" Steve says shaking his head and putting his arms on Bucky's shoulder to hold him back "Before you go in you need to listen to me-"

But before Steve can say anything any further Bucky's eyes move through the open door of your hospital room and your form sitting on the hospital bed, looking at Natasha as she says something.

Bucky feels his heart stop as tears of joumy start to fill his eyes. This was the moment. She was awake and even though he feels a tinge of sadness in his heart that he was not the first person you met after waking up, he feels elated beyond belief that you were there is front of his eyes awake and responding.

Steve words reach deaf ears as Buvky pushes him away and runs into your room before Steve could stop him.

You look away from Natasha and towards him and Bucky can feel his heart stopping.

You were awake. This is real.

There is a recognition in your eyes and before he can think anything, Bucky finds himself running towards you and taking you in a bone crushing hug. You seem to have stiffen, not responding to the hug initially before you move your hands towards his shoulders and push him away with as much force as you can master.

He looks up at you completely confused before you look at him too, holding eye contact for a moment, before your eyes seem to go distant. After what seems like minutes of silence and staring, you let out and ear piercing causing the occupants of the room to over their ears, everyone except Bucky who is frozen in place.

"Natalia" you turn to Nat, pointing frantically at Bucky"he is the one who tried to kill me, that man is the one who shot me"

"Wha-" before Bucky can say anything, Steve pulls him away from you and out of the room, Bucky does not give much of a fight as his eyes stay fixed on the door that your nurse closed after Steve pulled him out.

"That is what I was trying to tell you Buck" Steve says sadly running his hand through his hair "We think she has something called Partial Amnesia, she does not remember us, she only remembers her past, only remembers Nat as Natalia"

Bucky feels tears roll down his eyes freely as he looks at Steve hopelessly

"And she remembers little bits and pieces of things" Steve says sadly "She remembers you shooting at her not at the person behind her"

"She thinks I tried to kill her" Bucky says before he completely breaks down and loses his balance as Steve runs to catch him.

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

I'm so sorry but I just realized, I didn't specify the kids' age. They are twins and are 6 years old.

PART 2 Coming Soon....

#danisawesomewcmix #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky imagine #bucky fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky angst #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #james barnes × reader james barnes × you #james barnes fanfic

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dodger-sister · 3 years

Text

Disclaimer: I stopped watching mid S9 & only just came back for this last run of episodes, post-the-Covid-break. So I’m not well versed in the current mythology, though I gather Becky says there will be two endings. Ever since the end of Despair (s15e18), I’ve had this visual in my head of an ending. I’m not quite sure how to get there, since again, I’m not up on current mythology. But I wanted to write this down for myself. It's not a Dean/Cas romance ending, but a friendship ending, and a good ending for everybody and yeah, kinda Dean heavy, but I know what I'm about, idk. But I just had a visual and for the first time in what feels like 1,000 years, I had something in my head that I had to get out through writing, and once again it's SPN, so like...here’s what I’m picturing:

First of all, Jack defeats Chuck. But it drains all his power and leaves him powerless & more or less human. Idk who becomes God then…Amara? Michael? No one? But when Chuck is defeated, everyone comes back – all the people Chuck deleted, all the Apocalypse World people, all the people like Eileen who died & came back. Everyone. And The Empty, as a gift to the boys for ending this nonsense, spits Castiel back out – (as a writer, I know it was actually a good ending for Cas, his pure happiness, but as a fan I won’t stand for it to end that way). Then angels & demons are suddenly sucked back up into Heaven & Hell, to put things right. As this happens, Dean turns wild-eyed to Castiel, thinking he’s being taken…but he doesn’t go. He stays. And it’s in that moment they realize he is human now, blessed to be part of the humanity he loves now. (From this point on Cas’ outfits consist of button-up shirts with the top 2 buttons undone, black slacks, no tie & no trenchcoat). And then somehow we find out – if Amaara is God or whatever, she gives them the 411 -- that angels & demons are on lockdown and unable to return to Earth. “At least for a millennium or so. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t still things that go bump in the night, boys.” (Also, idk enough about what’s up with Adam, but pls insert your own happy ending in here for that boy, he fucking deserves it, the poor kid).

Then, for some reason – idk, maybe when they came back all the people in the world realized something had happened, things don’t just pick right up where they left off, everyone is a little dazed – a bunch of people are at the bunker with the boys, Apoca-World people & stuff. And there’s kind of this montage, with a score, maybe a folk-rock song, idk, but like people slowly getting their bearings and heading out; the family with the two daughters, bags slung over their shoulders, shaking the boys’ hands in thanks and then heading up the stairs /fade them out to the next scene/ Sam & Eileen sweetly kissing /fade them out to the next scene/ Jody & Donna & the girls hugging the boys goodbye, heading up the stairs /fade them out to the next scene/ Dean setting a burger down in front of Cas, who smiles softly because there are some things he missed about being human /fade them out to the next scene/ Garth saying goodbye to the boys, heading up the stairs /fade them out to the next scene/ Sam & Eileen having amazingly hot sex /fade them out to the next scene/ Jack trying out his powers on a houseplant, nothing happens, he nods, accepting this is permanent /fade them out to the next scene/ Charlie & Stevie, with one of those great Dean-&-Charlie hugs where he cradles her head, omg /fade them out to the next scene/ Sam & Eileen in bed together, facing each other, hands pressed palm to palm, fingers interlocked, gazing loving at each other /fade them out to the last person/ Bobby gets a hug from Sam & then Dean, Cas goes to shake his hand and Bobby gives him a gruff look and then pulls him in for a back-slap hug. “You boys stay in touch.” Sam’s all, “Always, Bobby.”

Then all that’s left is the four guys + Eileen. Sam says to Dean, “I’m gonna take Eileen home, get her settled. I’ll be back in a few days.”

Dean says, “Or you could stay, you know?” He looks like it’s hard to say, but he’s also happy for Sam. “It’s not that far.” (Is it, idk, where does she live?)

Sam’s all, “You mean, like move in with her? Naw, man, naw. We aren’t there yet.”

Dean goes, “That’s not how it’s seemed this last week around here,” with a waggle of his eyebrows.

Sam blushes, so soft, a soft baby. “No, Dean. I mean…we aren’t there, *yet*.”

“Attaboy,” with a slap on the arm.

Then we get Dean hugging Eileen goodbye, she and Sam head up the stairs, Dean turns to Cas & Jack at the table. Cas stands up awkwardly, says, “I suppose I should consider getting a place of my own. Humans do that, yes?”

Dean goes, “What? No. Are you kidding me? Sam’s gonna be spending a lot of time – and I mean a *lot* of time /suggestive tone/ with Eileen. You’re not gonna leave me to clunk around this place on my own.” Then he pauses, can’t quite meet Cas’ eyes, so not good with emotions that he knows what Cas said before The Empty took him but Dean can’t quite acknowledge it. “Unless, like, that’s something you need. For yourself, I mean. To not be here. If you wanna move out…”

Cas, firm and sure, “I do not.”

Dean looks up, a smile of relief on his face, “Well, alright then.”

Then Dean turns to Jack. “What about you? You gonna try to bail out on us?”

Jack, confused, says, “No, not at all.”

Dean asks, “Then what’s your plan? One day at a time?”

“Actually,” Jack says, and slides a pamphlet over that’s been sitting with a stack of papers on the table, “I hadn’t had time to give it much thought, but I was thinking this.”

Dean picks it up. It’s a college pamphlet. “College, huh? Following in Sam’s footsteps?”

“*Community* college,” Jack emphasis. “So I could live here &, idk, try it out. See what I want to do next. The pamphlet says there are many options ahead of me.”

Dean gives Jack his patented half-smirk/half-smile. “Alright, we can work with that. What do you need?” He reaches in his back pocket for his wallet. “Money for books? A credit card?” He may have taken a while to get onboard the Jack-train, but he’s there now, proud Uncle Dean.

“I think I’ll need a birth certificate and a, uh,” he glances at a list he’s been making on a piece of paper, “a social security number?”

Dean nods. “Okay. I can take care of that. I know a guy.”

He’s happy with both Cas’ and Jack’s answers.

/fade out to the next scene, scores starts back up, idk maybe we use a rock song here?/

There are a few wide shots of regular people going on about their lives, animals in the fields, people walking the streets, life going on, etc. Then we start to see all the people we know who are still alive, living their lives…Garth, Charlie & Stevie being happy and domestic, Jody & Donna & the girls, Bobby, other people idk, Jack walking onto campus with a backpack over his shoulder & smiling on his first day of college, Sam and Eileen cooking in her kitchen & cute-kissing & being adorably cute together like so smushy cute.

/fade into the next scene/ Cas is at the kitchen table researching, Dean walks in and heads to the fridge.

He asks, “You got anything, Cas?”

Cas says, “I think there is a nest of vampires in ***insert place*** and a poltergeist in ***insert place***. You could probably take care of one and hit the other on your way back. And for your pleasure, you will pass by ***something like the world’s largest ball of string***.”

Dean grins, thrilled about the cheesy tourist trap idea, “Oh, I’m down with that. You in?”

Cas gives his doubtful face. “It’s Jack’s first week of school.”

Dean nods, “Say no more. I’ll call Sammy.”

/Final scene – music starts, Ramble On by Led Zeppelin/

Dean is standing outside Eileen’s apartment, at the back of the Impala, with the trunk open. Sam comes out with a duffel, tosses it in the trunk among the other weapons. We see the classic shot from the trunk POV of the two boys. Sam smiles, content, ready. “We got work to do.” The trunk slams shut. We see the boys get in the Impala, shut their doors at exactly the same time. The view is from the back of the car as it revs up and starts off down the road.

Ramble On plays as we watch the Impala drive off until we can no longer see it.

Cut to credit screen that reads – “Carry on, my wayward sons & daughters. Thank you for 15 years of memories.” - Love, Eric, Jensen, Jared, Misha and the entire SPN cast & crew.

Boom, bam, credits roll.

(Sorry, I can’t for the life of me figure out a Read More break)

#my post #spn fic #spn ending #supernatural #spn #spn finale #spn fanfic #fanfic #fic #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #jack #deanxcas #samxeileen #my fic #my thoughts #spn thoughts #my writing

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stiltonbasket · 4 years

Note

Aaaaaah!!! Please please please write about wedding clothes, I need more of the Yearning

(note: please reblog, since that’s how we get prompts for future chapters!)

anon 1: Prompt for the renouncement AU. Surely the happy couple (plus assorted Huaisangs and juniors, if you like) need to meet with some chefs and sample a gazillion interesting things to decide on the banquet menu. WWX, of course, samples all the wines...It would also be lovely if you wrote them getting dressed and having their hair done to match the gorgeous fanart of the two of them kissing one another's hands...

anon 2: renouncement verse prompt for the wedding arc: sizhui and xiao-yu help wwx with a practice run for his wedding hair, and lwj has a surprise for each of them!

Despite Wei Wuxian’s insistence that Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen were going to far too much trouble for the union between their two clans, his brother and future brother-in-law refused to do away with the wedding rehearsal--a grand event in its own right, with a reception for the two bridegrooms’ families and an official exchange of gifts--and set the date for the longest day of the summer, a fortnight before the actual marriage ceremony.

“You’ll enjoy the party,” Jiang Cheng scolds, when Wei Wuxian tries to complain. “And you don’t even have to do anything, so be good and let me and Zewu-jun handle it.”

In the end, Wei Wuxian spends the rehearsal morning tasting wine, because three kinds of liquor are usually served at weddings in Yunmeng: with the sweetest and most delicious drinks poured out alongside the food, and the stronger, sourer ones reserved for later in the night, after the newlyweds retire to their bridal chamber. Surprisingly, Lan Xichen tags along to help him choose the first liquor, and approves of the golden honey-plum wine so highly that he buys a whole case to take back to Gusu with him.

“I leave wine bottles as offerings when I burn incense for Mingjue-xiong,” he explains wistfully, as the two of them go back to the clan quarters with enough fengmi jiu for the dinner party. “He would have liked this, I think.”

After Li Shuai and Yu Zhenhong finish sorting the liquor, Jiang Cheng displays Wei Wuxian’s wedding dowry, and Lan Xichen hands over the bride price, while Wei Wuxian tries not to choke on his own spit from his place at Lan Zhan’s side. He knew about the dowry Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling were settling on him, of course--there was a trunkful of silk sheets in violet and blue, and three deep chests of new gowns and slippers tailored to fit his height and slim shoulders, and then a tea set and a box of gold jewelry. There was also a larger case of jade and silver trinkets for him to wear after moving to the Cloud Recesses, where gold was largely forbidden for the sake of breaking the law against extravagance, and Wei Wuxian had to promise not to touch any of it until he and Lan Zhan officially start living together in the jingshi.

Jin Ling decided to present him with a box of baby’s essentials, which Wei Wuxian thought was ridiculous--the only children he and Lan Zhan will ever have are A-Yuan and Xiao-Yu, both of whom are far too old to actually use the gift, but his nephew looked so pleased when he presented his dajiu with the tiny shoes and dresses that Wei Wuxian shut his mouth and accepted them without protest.

After all, he and Lan Zhan might really end up with a new baby sometime in the not-too-distant future, if Wei Wuxian’s propensity for acquiring small children is anything to go by.

But none of this prepared him for the delivery of the bride price, which turns out to be six thousand golden taels from the Gusu Lan treasury to make up for the loss of Lotus Pier’s newly-instated head disciple and the zongzhu’s elder brother, not to mention the only legitimate heir to Yunmeng Jiang. Jiang Cheng doesn’t even bother to look gracious when he sees it, as Wei Wuxian notes with a cough that sounds more like a strangled scream than anything else--because his shidi seems to believe that a small fortune in gold is his due for having to part with Wei Wuxian, even though Lan Xichen will be compensated for about a fifth of the bride price on the actual wedding day,

“Did your brother just bankrupt your sect so you could marry me?” Wei Wuxian demands, half-crazed as Lan Zhan ushers him back to his bedroom to bathe and dress in his freshly-tailored bridal robes. “Lan Zhan!”

“My uncle set aside a bride price for me before I was born, since he guessed that I would require no less than five thousand gold whenever I decided to marry,” his intended shrugs. “Hurry up and dress, sweetheart, or we will be late.”

Wei Wuxian relents and takes a hurried bath while Lan Zhan goes off to tend to his own ablutions, watching Sizhui and Xiao-Yu play together from behind the privacy screen as he scrubs his back and arms and pours perfumed oil into his hair. Sizhui seems to be trying to wrangle A-Yu into an embroidered green coat and trousers, but the baby looks far more interested in Wei Wuxian’s clothes: namely, the red and purple wedding gown, since he manages to snatch the shining silk robes out of his xiongzhang’s hands before building a nest in his pillow-basket with them.

“Xiao-Yu is a bird,” he insists, as Wei Wuxian drops his cake of soap and laughs himself hoarse at the sight of him. “It’s my nest! Go ‘way!”

“A-Yu!” Sizhui cries, nearly stunned speechless. “Didi, those are A-Die’s wedding robes! You can’t play with them, so be a good boy and listen to xiongzhang, or--or you’ll make Yuan-gege cry!”

Xiao-Yu only squints at him before turning up his button nose. “No!”

But Lan Zhan arrives a few minutes later and coaxes the baby out of his basket with a stick of haw candy, leaving Wuxian to heave himself out of the tub and draws on his underwear. After that, the three of them lure Xiao-Yu into his tiny silk coat (by feeding him all the candy he can eat, to keep him from running away) before Wei Wuxian finally dons his bridal ensemble: a deep red overgown with lotus blossoms sewn onto the sleeve-hems in lilac and gold, while the skirt and shoulders boast a shower of stray golden petals falling from the heart of a single central flower.

“Let me do your hair,” Lan Zhan murmurs, as if this were their actual wedding day instead of the rehearsal dinner. “You look beautiful, Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian feels his heart quiver at the compliment as A-Yuan steps forward with his lotus headdress, pinning it into place in front of his high-combed bun so that Lan Zhan can secure the tiny gold chains fastening it to the back of his head. He often noticed his friend’s good looks before they were engaged, of course, which is the only reason why Lan Zhan finding him beautiful in return has flustered him so--and he tries to put the thought from his mind, or at least shove it away so that he can examine it later in private.

Anyone would find it pleasing to hear such a compliment from their bridegroom, he thinks, before blushing himself half to death when Lan Zhan leans down to kiss the side of his face. Get it together, Wei Wuxian!

#renouncement verse #wangxian #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #wangxian arranged marriage au #my fic

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piratewithvigor · 4 years

Text

Love Break My Heart: Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Summary: A half-life relationship is disintegrating at the seams. Neither of them is good for the other, but after 14 years together, they don’t know how to be with each other anymore.

Word Count: 2059

A/N: A prize story written for @slashscowboyboots that I keep putting off working on until I have massive fruitopia-fueled writing bonanzas when I’m supposed to be going to sleep because I work tomorrow. Enjoy!

I can remember back to the first days we spent in the studios. Cutting demos, the silence punctuated by growling stomachs. We were hungry literally and figuratively. Daily scrapings of cash were what we ate from and some days, sleep was all we could afford for dinner. Working on the first album was much of the same, but not quite as desperate. We had a bit of an advance. Something we could eat off of, but nothing that was keeping us in the lap of luxury. We still all shared a shitty house with a carpet full of burn holes and not a single piece of furniture that didn’t boast an array of stains, dents or scrapes. But we weren’t starving for anything except success.

It’s different now. You didn’t have to look beyond the people occupying the studio to know the energy felt different. Steven was gone, to begin with. He’d struggled along with the rest of us, and now he was gone because he found something that meant more to him than we did. Success got to his mind and gave him the delusions of invincibility I had seen so many of my heroes succumb to. My mind drifted to him sometimes when nothing else was occupying it. Call it a happy place, if you will. It’s simply a corner of my mind I can go to when the reality around me doesn’t live up to my expectations of it.

The other difference is everyone’s attitudes about the albums-in-process. Our collective passions were what created the first, but this? The passion here lay in something besides music. Slash is doped up, hiding behind his curtain as if he thinks we can’t tell. He used to share this passion with Steven and me, but times are different now. Duff’s baby is in the bottle. How his liver hasn’t exploded yet is beyond me. His passion lies somewhere deep within his endless bottles, in drinking them down like he’s trying to find it. Axl? His passion lies in control, in perfection. In a way, it always has, but it’s begun to overpower him and, in turn, the rest of us. His demand for perfection drives everyone to their respective new passions as well. As for myself, I’m no saint. I’ve drank my fair share and I took part in every drug I could get my hands on. But they weren’t my passions. The struggles I went through to kick all of them were in the honour of the one thing who held control over me: the bitchy redhead who’s barking orders at everyone in the studio.

I’m trying to comply with what he’s saying and follow directives. Axl’s in no mood to hear anyone’s ideas but his own. Neither Duff nor Slash seem eager to offer any. Matt and Dizzy look more inclined to lick peanut butter off his ass than to offer constructive criticism. It’s no one’s fault the day is going this way; simply the cycle that’s been constructed during these albums. A single mistake in the morning leads to an outburst, which leads to stress, more mistakes, more anger and fear which leads to shit being taken secretly to cope, then playing gets sloppier, and eventually, something will break. It’s as certain as any law of motion.

I’m not even sure who messed up when Axl pauses us again. I started tuning him out after we did a perfect run-through and he still found problems. As much as I love him, sometimes a tune-out is the only way to cope. It’s the only way I can keep loving him. He’s in the control room, arguing with our producer. I can’t hear his exact words through the soundproofed glass, but I can see his lips moving and his body language isn’t screaming “I’m in a fantastic mood; please approach.”

It takes five or so minutes for our producer to eventually lean into his mic to be heard in the recording booth.

“Iz, Axl thinks you might be flat.”

I purse my lips and make a show of checking my tuning quickly. I’m not flat. Axl knows I know I’m not flat. He’s lashing out because something isn’t living up to his grand vision and he isn’t sure what it is. I’d have heard if someone was flat. He would have too, without having gone through an entire shouting match with the producer to wreck his voice.

Satisfied with my efforts, Axl returns to the booth and we start another take. They’re numbered, for some reason, but we’ve done so many, I don’t know why anyone would bother to keep track. It’s the same for every song. Every song on these twin albums that we thought would be a great idea. No one had anticipated just how much of a pain they would grow to be. A single album takes months. We’ve been at both of them for over a year. Almost a year and a half, by my count. A year and half of my time spent being yelled at by a man who just wishes he could yell at the universe, but instead chooses to whittle it down to who he used to consider his universe.

I’m playing again, but I don’t remember beginning. Everyone is playing, but no one looks like they’re actually here. Mentally, anyway. We’re all in our respective happy places. Axl stops us again and the room heaves a collective mental sigh. The take was as perfect as he’s going to get. For tonight, anyway. Time passes in a different way in the studio. The lack of windows and clocks ensure it. Once the exhaustion sets in, minutes seem like hours, seem like seconds. I know I ate breakfast with Axl this morning, but nothing since. I can easily bet that it’s beyond lunch time.

Once Axl’s back is turned in the control room, I pull my neck strap over my head and place the guitar on one of the stands in the corner, unplugging it in the process. The minute details of imperfection have Axl swamped sufficiently that he doesn’t notice when I leave the recording booth. Nor does he notice that I’ve left the studio.

It’s late evening when I walk outside. Full moon on the rise and everything. For the first time today, my movements aren’t planned. Sure, I’ll eventually have to return to the studio and face Axl’s wrath, but for a few moments, I’m free. It’s yet crowded enough that Axl would be a fool to walk in the streets. Moments like these are when I respect Kiss and everyone who had the same idea as them: when you become famous, your face is no longer your own. It belongs to the public to use as they please. So they created new faces to give to the public and keep the ones they were born with for themselves. Staying out of the spotlight gives me a variation of the same luxury. A fan could identify me if they tried, but a casual viewer never could like how they would be able to with Axl. Being the frontman, everyone knows his face. He’d get swamped the instant he set foot outside the studio. I’m walking with my hands shoved into my jean pockets to keep them a little warmer. It might be Californian May, but it’s still nightfall and growing colder. Not enough that I’m wishing I had something warmer on, but enough that it’s starting to grow unpleasant.

The first time I remember my intentions for leaving the studio is when I reach a cheap diner a few blocks away. The kind that looks like it employs people who spit in your food if you order anything more complicated than a burger and a soda. In short, the perfect place for a hiding musician.

The diner is empty save for a couple of skeevy patrons dotting the bar stools and other booths. A pretty sorry dinner rush, but the food looks edible enough to spend money on. Playing safely gets me a coke and a cheeseburger served in a plastic basket, somehow both looking like the most beautiful things I’d seen all day. Grease is seeping through the parchment paper lining the basket and the coke is a little flat, but it’s quiet. No strings cutting into my fingers while I played the same two minutes of a song over and over, no screaming, no more little bubble of resentment that was building up deep within me. Just soft conversations between patrons. For the first time in almost a year and a half, it’s quiet enough that I can let myself think.

A little scrap of paper’s been metaphorically burning a hole in my pocket since we began writing for the album, but I never knew what to add to it. My original idea was to write a love song for Axl, but the frustration of having nothing to say only got me more depressed. I hadn’t even tried to put anything down since I got clean.

I uncap a pen and begin to write. Nothing in particular, just a few words that could maybe be something some day. I eventually finish the cheeseburger and start dedicating my brain power to scribbling while I sip on my flat coke. The chorus is starting to come together and the verses are well on their way when someone slides into my booth across from me. I know without looking up. A pair of aviators join my field of vision of the table, but I’m not giving Axl the satisfaction of acknowledging him yet. It’s what he wants; to have the proof that I know I wronged him. So I keep at the task at hand. If he’s able to read my handwriting upside-down, he’s not saying so. Just sitting as uncaring as I am. As soon as I leave the diner, shit is going to fly. If I’m lucky, my nose will stay intact, but I’ve never been known to be that lucky before. All I do know is that the longer I sit here, the worse I’m going to have it. It’s the little quirks like that that you pick up on after 14 years with someone.

The final verse closes up under my hand as I awkwardly slurp up the last few drops of coke hidden under semi-melted ice cubes. I fold up the scrap of paper and put it back into my pocket as I get up, leaving most of my spare change on the table as a tip. I still haven’t looked Axl in the eye, but I can tell he’s been staring me down ever since he entered. When I push open the door to exit, he follows, no more than an arm’s reach away.

The first time he touches me is when we pass an alley and he grabs my by the collar to pull me in. The jolt is strong enough to startle me, but not strong enough that it hurts. He shoves me so my back is against the grimey alley wall before socking me across the jaw.

“You… Izzy, you…” He looks like he wants to saw something else, but he punches me again instead.

“…you backstabbing son of a bitch!” He figures out what he wants to saw as he swings again, but I’m ready for him this time. Ready enough that I block his arm with mine.

“Cool it, Fireball.”

“Cool it?” He chuckles like he’s in a strange sort of delirium. “You fucking throw me under the bus to deal with those fucking dipshits and you tell me to cool it?”

“I didn’t throw you under any bus you weren’t already swan-diving towards,” I counter, keeping a firm grasp on his wrist. I’ve both thrown and received my share of punches, but it doesn’t mean I’m fixing to get any more. Especially from Axl.

“You’re as bad as they are! Are you all fucking trying to mess up and delay the albums?” He’s struggling against my grasp enough that I let go. Right now, he’s not planning on hitting me anymore. Just yell a little bit and maybe pace some before the steam will be all out. We’ll kiss and we’ll go home together and we’ll call it love when deep down, we know it’s anything but.

#Writing #Love Break My Heart #GNR #Classic Rock #Axl Rose #Izzy Stradlin #Izal #Fanfiction

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