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buckysgoldenheart · 4 years ago

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The Ways We Meet

Henry Cavill x Reader

Summary: While trying to avoid another man at an A-list event, you accidentally bump into Henry who has no interest in letting you go despite not even knowing your name.

Notes: idk, I thought it was kinda cute. Pov changes back and forth between Y/N and Henry A LOT. Implied smut (because I’m so damn bad at writing full smut).

Words: 2211

Y/N:

These events pissed you off, they really did. Despite being only a director’s assistant, you were forced to attend. And it wasn’t the tight, sparkly dresses you had to wear that made you miserable, nor the heavy makeup or the overcrowding in rooms that far surpassed fire department code. It was more that you felt out of place and always managed to have one creepy man sense that from a mile away with the intent to pray on what looked like your innocence. You weren’t innocent, by far, but you supposed the impression you gave off by the way you stood away from others, sipping the same drink for a half hour, made sense.

Usually, drinking in a dark corner at an A-list event by the time midnight came around kept you safe. Those creepy men surrendered to your disinterest in them, and ventured to find an easier, more desperate woman. But not tonight. Tonight, this one was persistent.

You didn’t know his name; never let him get close enough to tell you, but he followed you around, not so subtly watching you with a look in his eyes that had you nauseous. Every step he neared you was a step you took in the opposite direction hoping to evade his creepiness.

Henry:

It had been a long night, too long, and Henry wished he could just go back to the hotel and watch a stupid movie until the early hours of the Sunday morning, since there was no way he would get a good nights sleep with the jetlag still wracking his body from the morning before.

He was saying goodbye to a couple coworkers, patting them on their backs in a friendly gesture when his shoulder roughly shoved forward. He stumbled a step, and before he could turn to see why, a woman passed him.

Her body was wrapped a snug, shiny red gown, and she had curls pinned back into an elegant bun, and when she turned to apologize, she lightly touched his bicep, smiling politely before continuing on her path. His breath hitched but she didn’t notice as she was gone a half-second later, buried somewhere in the mass of bodies.

His lips were still parted, stunned, until a friend tapped his shoulder.

“Hey, are you ok?” The friend asked, to which Henry only nodded, then walked away in the direction the woman went.

It took time to find her, but when he did, something in his chest seemed to both tighten and lighten in sync. He watched her from a distance as she took a gulp of the drink in her hand then placed it back on the counter and ducked. Henry chuckled, but then spotted him: A smallish man slowly making his way toward where she was unsuccessfully hiding.

Henry quickly shuffled his way through the crowd, and just moments before the other man could’ve spotted her, Henry snatched her by the arm and pulled her into a corner. With his back to the wall, he faced the crowd, his arms holding her snuggly, chest to chest, until the man passed them by.

Y/N:

“You’re safe now,” A man said, drawing your attention upward, and your eyes couldn’t help but widen. Henry Cavill was looking at you with a playful smirk on his handsome face that you never in a million years would have imagined be directed toward you. “Remember me?”

“Shit,” You cursed yourself. “It was you I bumped into earlier.” What a way to make a first impression. How was it that you always managed to look like an idiot in front of the hottest actors at these parties? This certainly wasn’t the first time. Chris Evans could confirm that, and probably wouldn’t hesitate to.

“It was.”

“Oh God, I’m so sorry. I’m not normally so rude. I can explain.”

Henry’s shoulders shook as he laughed, and it reminded you that he still held you tight, with an odd protectiveness. “I think I’ve caught on to the situation,” He said. “Do you know that guy?”

You shook your head.

Henry casually nodded at your confirmation, that smile still on his face, but it slipped a moment later and you didn’t have to guess why. He looked back at you. “Do you think you could trust a stranger for a brief minute?”

“W-What?”

“Yes or no?” He quickly asked.

You blinked. “Yea, I guess.”

“Good,” He said, then slammed his lips to yours.

It shocked you but the feeling of having every part of your body pressed against his made you dizzy, and what was meant to force the creeper away, lasted much longer than the minute Henry promised. Many minutes longer. Enough minutes to give you the time to slide your hands up his chest until they settled on the back of his neck. Enough minutes to have him groaning when you softly nibbled on his bottom lip. Enough minutes to have your heart pounding.

You pulled back first when the embarrassment began to flood your body. Chuckling awkwardly, you stepped out of his arms, and said, “Um, thanks for the help…stranger,” then tried to disappear as fast as you could, for the first time thankful of the enormous crowd.

Henry:

She stiffened as his hand clasped around her wrist before she could get away, and when she turned to look at his face, she became no less tense. It made Henry feel uneasy. He liked her a little too much for how long he’d known her—which was nearly no time at all--and when he kissed her with everything he had, he thought it might’ve been enough to get her to stick around, at least for an extra minute or two.

He wasn’t arrogant. Yes, he’d had women tell him he was a good kisser, but he didn’t assume one kiss from him would have her falling on her knees, begging him to take her home. Henry just thought she felt something too. Perhaps more than one should from a stranger’s kiss, but enough of something to make her pause and question why it felt so damn good, just as he had for the millisecond before she bolted. It had him unwilling to give up so soon.

“Now where are you going?” Henry said, trying to hide the twinge of desperation in his voice.

“Sorry, I—”

“What’s your name?” He asked.

She blinked with her big, butterfly-wing-like lashes as if she hadn’t expected him to care. “…Y/N.”

“Ok, well, Y/N, I think that guy got the hint. You don’t have to keep running.”

“You never know.” She shrugged and anxiously bit the inside of her cheek.

“Right then, how about we leave?”

“What?”

“Do you like coffee?”

“…Sometimes,” One corner of her lips hesitantly turned upward. “Not usually at twelve thirty in the morning.”

Henry grinned as his thumb ran back and forth along the inside of her wrist. “Well, decaf is a thing, and I happen to know a place not far from here that’s open for another hour.”

Y/N:

You didn’t know how you managed to be pinned against one of his hotel room walls, but you were. You weren’t drunk from the little alcohol you’d had at the party, and the coffee certainly wasn’t spiked, but you still couldn’t explain how you were now moaning from the feel of Henry’s lips attached to your neck. Not that you were complaining.

“Goddamn,” He groaned against the skin of your collarbone as his fingers bunched the glittery fabric of your gown up until his hand could slip underneath. As it glided up your thigh, his palm left burns from its trail, and your skin grew hotter with each inch he made closer to your core. “You’re like an angel.”

You let out a throaty chuckle. “Hardly.”

Henry lifted his head and his hazy blue eyes met yours. “Hardly, huh?” He said as his index finger ran along the edge of your panties. He could’ve easily tucked a finger under that useless barrier and felt how wet you were.

“Yes,” You smirked, reaching your hand forward and undoing the buckle of his belt. “Hardly.”

Then you lowered to your knees.

Henry:

Henry didn’t even have to open his eyes to know that she was gone. He’d woken up a few times throughout the night, only to fall right back into peaceful sleep when he felt her warm body tucked into him. Each time, he tightened his arm firmly around her waist as she emitted little soft snores. But now, without the weight of her body next to his, Henry felt cold. Only the empty dip in the mattress where she’d laid for hours remained.

Her warmth was gone. She was gone.

And it stung a lot more than it should. He didn’t even know her last name or her age or, hell, anything about her. He knew he shouldn’t be as upset as he was, but he wanted to learn those things. To get to know her. Coffee the night before gave little insight to who she really was. That time was spent throwing flirtatious jokes back and forth, and if he’d have known she wouldn’t have given him the next morning to ask the important things, he’d have slowed himself down.

Fisting his fingers into his hair, Henry groaned at more than just the glaring sunlight streaming through the windows giving him a ripe headache. He shouldn’t be hung up on someone he barely knew. It wasn’t healthy.

Y/N:

God, you hoped you weren’t overstepping your bounds, or worse, being that girl who hangs around after a one-night stand long after the guy wants you to. You just…didn’t want to leave. He surprised you with his sincerity. He seemed to like you, though you didn’t know why, but you liked him, and, for once, you were willing to take the risk of sticking around for the morning after. It could be awkward. It could crash and burn. But if you weren’t going to be brave enough to see how the rest of the day could unfold, you knew you would regret it.

But, staying or not, it didn’t mean you weren’t going to hop down to the hotel lobby as soon as you woke to get your coffee fill. And based on what you saw last night, Henry liked his coffee rich and black.

Henry:

Who was he trying to fool? This was absolutely going to ruin his day. They’d had a rare chemistry that made him feel like he’d known her forever, and the sex certainly didn’t suck. Not even close.

Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, Henry sat up and rubbed his face with both hands. If she wasn’t going to be there, he might as well get dressed and go about his day. At least, that’s what he thought, until he heard the door lock click and the handle turn.

His head shot to the sound, and he was almost stunned when he saw her walk in, shakily balancing two cups of coffee, a danish, and a muffin in her arms. She jumped when she saw him looking at her, still impressively holding on to the breakfast.

“H-Hi,” She said. And, damn, Henry liked that voice.

“Hi,” He smiled back, and at the gesture he could see her shoulders relax.

He stood and walked towards her, neglecting his boxers entirely, just thrilled she hadn’t disappeared forever. She looked down and blushed, then averted her eyes as he began to unload the food from her arms, and one-by-one placed the items on the table. When she still hadn’t looked back at him, he chuckled and tucked a finger under her chin, tilting it up until she was forced to meet his eyes.

“Don’t be shy on me now.”

He ran his hands down her arms and grabbed both of her hands in his when she sighed and said “Sorry, I’m not…” She took a breath,” I don’t usually do this.”

“Hook up with strangers?”

“No, stick around the morning after. I kind of assume I’m not wanted, so—”

“You’re wanted here. Believe me,” Henry said fast, because those thoughts were the last he wanted on her mind.

She gaped, but then grinned wide and bright. “Really?”

“Definitely,” He said. “I want to know you.”

Y/N:

He wants to know you. Those words made your stomach flip. Though you took the risk to not sneak out at the break of dawn, you figured the odds of him not shuffling you out the door were unlikely to be in your favor. But you weren’t complaining about being wrong.

You grew embarrassed when you realized that dopey smile was still on your face, so you quickly wiped it off then grabbed the muffin and offered it to him. One corner of his lips quirked in unison with an eyebrow, and he gently took the offering from your hand.

“Thank you,” he said, pulling the paper down to take a bite.

“So, um…if we want to get to know one another, what do you want to do?”

Henry only smirked and said “Well…I’ve got some ideas.” He took another bite then licked the remaining crumbs off his lips, which was somehow more distracting than the fact that he was completely naked. “Half of them don’t involve clothes, though.”

#henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fics #henry cavill #henry cavill fic #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfics #henry cavill x you #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill smut #kinda #henry cavill oneshot #henry cavill one shot #henry cavill imagine

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whump-a-la-mode · 3 years ago

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“Good Boy” - Starvation Whump

Summary: A desperate villain sacrifices everything, just for a little food.

CW//Starvation, cold, isolation, solitary confinement, imprisonment, collapse, dehumanization, humiliation

Their cell was getting colder.

That was the only way that Villain could rationalize it. It wasn’t them-- they weren’t growing weaker, of course they weren’t. No. It was the room. Someone, somewhere, turning down a knob, ever so steadily. Sending ever stronger chills through their bones.

That had to be it. It was the only reasonable explanation.

The only source of warmth available to them came in the form of the rough, purple-hued bruises along their arms, where the hands of guards had gripped them. Thrown them in here.

How long ago had that been, now?

On unsteady legs, Villain stood. The room was terribly small-- if they stretched out their arms on either side of themself, their fingertips brushed the walls, both long and shortwise. At the very least, it meant they did not have to travel far to reach the concrete bench chained to one wall.

Somehow, the bench was colder. They spent most of their time on the floor.

The guards had taken their shoes, at the same time as they had forced them to change in their thin, grey prison uniform. Without the slightest protection from the cold, they shivered as they climbed onto the bench.

Villain looked out the window; a tiny hole in the wall, half a foot in height and two feet in length, a layer of glass guarded by thick iron bars.

Between them, they could only just barely see the city. The sparkling lights. Somewhere out there, somewhere among those countless streets, there had to be someone who cared about them, right?

Right?

No. Probably not. They were happier, now.

Or was that just the fuzziness in their mind talking? They tried to breathe in, imagine what the air of the city would taste like, feel like in their lungs, but they only caught the stale scent of their cell. The vent, too, was covered by a row of bars, leaving the air stinking of old metal.

Villain’s legs shook. They had been standing for too long. They took one last glance out the window, before-

The clinking of metal. Their chest seized. They had only heard that sound once since the start of their captivity-- the one time they had been allowed water.

The sound of the door being opened.

They scrambled to get back to the floor, off the bench, refusing to be in such a vulnerable position. In their haste, they forgot just how horribly weak their legs had grown.

The moment their feet struck the ground, they lost their balance, collapsing heavily to the concrete floor. A new array of bruises to add to their collection.

A slamming of metal on concrete. Villain’s heart lurched to their throat, flailing limbs somehow managing too get them to their hands and knees, though no further than that. They stayed in that position, panting, having expended their minuscule energy reserves.

“Bowing for me?” That stupid, arrogant voice came. “How nice.”

In Villain’s chest, fury replaced energy. They scrambled to their feet, not needing to keep their balance, as they flung themself forth, at the intruder.

Leader chuckled, moving out of the way with leisurely ease. Villain slammed again to the concrete.

“They told me that you were a little... fierce. Guess they weren’t lying.”

As though moving a piece of debris from their path, Leader pushed aside the fallen Villain with a foot. Distraction removed, they reached just outside the door, dragging in a chair. Metal legs scraped on concrete, screeching.

Leader closed the door, positioning their chair in a corner. Atop it was laid a plate, at least of some sort-- its contents obscured by a wrapping of foil. They picked up the platter, sitting in its place, amused gaze casting down to the floor.

“You’ll at least get up, won’t you? It’s rude to sleep when you have guests.”

Villain wanted to tear their face off, but their limbs ached far too much to consider even standing.

“I didn’t realize you’d be so... weak, I suppose.” Leader flicked their tongue across their front teeth. “I thought a villain of such status would be a little bit more resilient.”

Six days. Five nights. Six times the sun had rose, five it had fallen. Trapped in this stupid box.

But they were a villain. They weren’t weak. Leader was right, they needed to get up. To...

They were just getting upset. They knew that. But they had no energy left to suppress such emotions. No energy left at all.

Yet, they got up. Slowly, shakily, they got up, crawling onto the bench like a survivor to a lifeboat. When only their arms were upon the concrete seat, they could not continue, forced to rest a moment, gasping, before they managed to clamber their way up entirely.

“That’s better.” Leader spoke, voice still tinged with that terrible amusement. This was a joke, to them. “Now, it is only polite to greet your guests.”

“Why-” Villain gasped. “Why are you here? What do you want with me?”

“I only came to visit. How have you been finding it? I figured you should get a little rest, after your capture. It was quite harrowing for you, wasn’t it?”

“You left me in here for a... a week.”

“Only to let you catch your breath. I only want to be a good host.”

“Shut up. What do you want?”

“Well, if you are going to be rude about it. I thought we could have lunch.”

The word alone made Villain’s terribly empty stomach twist in on itself.

“L- Lunch?”

“Of course.” Leader’s hands moved to the platter upon their lap, uncrinkling the foil wrapping.

The smell alone... Oh god. Villain wiped the beginnings of drool from the corner of their mouth. A pile of freshly prepared meats and steamed vegetables, garnished with fruit chunks.

Leader took a fork, slicing off a chunk of meat. Looking to Villain as they chewed.

Their stomach knotted, squeezing around food that had long since been absent. They had given up on stopping their drool, letting it drip off their chin.

“Please.” It was their stomach speaking more than their mind.

Leader swallowed, looking up with a smile.

“Repeat that, please? I didn’t quite hear you.”

“Please. They haven’t fed me-”

“Well, did you earn it?”

Villain blinked, gritting their teeth.

“You can’t expect food if you don’t pull your own weight, of course. Have you earned a meal?”

“N- No. I’ve been here. What was I supposed to do?” Desperation clouded any sense of dignity they had left. “You locked me in this stupid box!”

Leader could not contain their laughter, even though it only slipped out in the form of small chuckles.

“Let’s just say it was a trial period.” They smiled. “Now that you have had your rest, perhaps you’re a bit more... amiable. Would I be correct about that?”

“Anything. Please. I’ll do anything.”

“Now, Villain, that’s exactly what I wanted to hear. Now, hm...” They hummed. “On the floor. Lay down.”

“L- Lay down?”

“On the floor, yes. I should not have to ask you twice.”

Villain’s gritted teeth shook in sheer fury.

They dropped to the floor.

“Good.” Leader smiled. “Now, roll over.”

“Wh-”

“Like a dog. Roll over.”

The smell of food overtook their mind. They rolled over.

“Good boy.” The words were tinged with terrible laughter. “Come here, now.”

They did so. When the morsel of food was offered in Leader’s palm, they did not hesitate to devour it.

Food for dignity. Their dignity for their life.

Was it really worth it?

#villain whumpee #starvation whump #whump #whump community #whumper

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imomomi · 4 years ago

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AN: I imagine it goes a little something like this....

The moment Kiyoomi agreed to meet Suguru for drinks he had regretted it. The ex-Nohebi captain had a talent for getting him to drink far more than he expected. Every time they hung out, Kiyoomi would end up stumbling home, pink cheeked and slurring his words.

A beer bottle was pushed in front of him as Suguru flipped the sizzling pork-belly. Kiyoomi lowered the mask, thankful that they were situated in a corner booth and far from the students loitering in the middle of the restaurant. The slightly bitter aftertaste rushed in his mouth, chased down by a piece of pork belly so crisp it was almost burnt.

As much as he grumbled about Y/N’s band of misfit cheats, he didn’t mind having a break from the fame that surrounded his life as a pro-player. Suguru was never hesitant to poke fun of him or cut him down for a bad game.

“How’s the new team?” asked Suguru, in between bite of food.

“Atsumu is as much of a pig as he was in high school and Bokuto is just as loud as ever,” answered Kiyoomi. A dark look crossed Suguru’s face at the mention of Fukurōdani’s former ace forcing a laugh out of Kiyoomi.

“You shouldn’t have cheated. You might have gone to Nationals, if you hadn’t. Though, from the way Nohebi played, you wouldn’t have made it very far,” said Kiyoomi.

“Shut up. It’s not like we had a top ace on our team.”

“Which is why you should have practiced more.”

“Yeah, let’s end this right there. Hearing this from a V-1 player is just depressing.”

“I beat you in college, too.”

“You’re an arrogant bastard,” Suguru muttered.

“If you put enough effort and practice regularly and with care, anyone can be good. It’s not so much arrogance as an acknowl-“

“Okay, you need another beer and more food,” Suguru said, cutting him off. He waved down a waitress, ordering far more stuff than either of them would eat. There was an unspoken rule that Kiyoomi would pay. It was payback for the money that Y/N regularly forced Suguru to cough up as compensation for being mean to her.

“I wonder what would have happened if you guys met during our last qualifiers,” Suguru mused. Kiyoomi tilted his head in confusion.

“What?” he asked.

“Your second year. We were your opponents during the Spring Qualifiers.”

“I remember. We won in straight sets.”

“Did you really need to mention that?” Suguru grimaced, inhaling a mouthful of beer, “Y/N was injured, so we played without our manager. But, I’m pretty sure we dodged a bullet not having her there. The first time we lost, she spent an hour making fun of us afterward.��

“How did she get injured? Where? How bad was the injury?” Kiyoomi asked in a rush. Had he been paying more attention; he would have noticed the gleam that entered Suguru’s eye.

“It got hot in the gym and they were renovating the central air, so the floor was slick with sweat. You know how Y/N is, she didn’t bother looking and slipped. Broke her collarbone and was yelling at us about it for a month,” Suguru said. He grinned at the memory. Though there’d been some worrying and tears when it initially happened, the scowl that Y/N wore for weeks after the accident had been an endless source of amusement for everyone on the team.

“Open or closed fracture?” said Kiyoomi sharply. Suguru raised a brow, finger tracing the rim of his bottle.

“Don’t remember to be honest. Just ask her later.”

“What are you doing?” asked Y/N. Her feet were propped on the couch, hands steadily applying a thin layer of pink nail polish to her toes. Kiyoomi’s fingers hooked around the collar of her shirt, pulling it down slightly so he could see the sharp edge of her collar bones. Y/N inched backwards, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Ummm, can you wait until after I finish my nails?”

“I never noticed this scar,” he murmured, eyes glued to the silvery line that cut across the bone. Her brows drew together, teeth scraping her lip, as she considered her answer. Kiyoomi fixated on things at random times, like different players or an illness he’d heard about on the news. Unlike his cleaning habit---something she was endlessly thankful for after years of being told she’d make a bad housewife---his pessimism was endlessly amusing to her. In college, she’d often lied awake by his side as he hunted down videos of opposing teams and found out everything he could about their players.

“It’s almost gone, I’d be surprised if you did,” said Y/N, at last. Kiyoomi leaned back, towering over her with a scowl on his face. His brow wrinkled and she fought the urge to smooth it out.

“How often did you get injured before we met? Were you a clumsy child?”

“Not particularly, but I had trouble sitting still.”

“I thought so,” muttered Kiyoomi. He turned sharply, disappearing down the hall. Y/N watched his back in bewilderment, before turning back to her nails. Whatever it was, he’d tell her later.

She put up with it for three days. Three days of Kiyoomi spotlessly cleaning and drying the floors whenever he was home. Of him ensuring that her shoes are double knotted and tight enough to suffocate her feet whenever she left the house. Of him hovering over her whenever she gets up in the apartment. Once, he’d explicitly told her not to move from the bed when she wanted water and had rushed to kitchen to get it for her. Half of her wanted to laugh, the other half was ready to kill him.

“What happened and why am I being baby-proofed?” asked Y/N, folding her arms over her chest.

“Nothing,” mumbled Kiyoomi. His lips pursed, forming a pout as Y/N leaned over the table and took his hand into hers.

“I’m not stupid, Yoomi. Something’s wrong. What did Suguru tell you?”

“You broke your collarbone,” he said. Y/N fell back into her seat in surprise, before she started to laugh loudly. Kiyoomi’s lips twitched reluctantly, the sound fanning the embers of affection that thrummed through his body.

“You didn’t even know who I was back then and even if we did, you went to a different school?” Y/N said.

“All the more reason, we should be cautious now and prevent any injuries.”

“I don’t play sports. An injury isn’t going to end my career,” said Y/N.

“That shouldn’t prevent you from taking proper care of your health.”

“When have I ever been sick?” she asked in exasperation, “Only once in the five years we’ve known each other. If I get injured, I’ll get better. Worry about me dying when we’re old, okay?”

He nodded and turned the conversation toward Hinata’s latest attempt to push his debut up. Y/N let him, but her mind lingered on his concerns. Kiyoomi might not have been the most affection person in the world, but he cared far more than people realized. He did everything with care as if it would break in his hands if he handled it too roughly.

Later that night, they’re resting in bed. Kiyoomi was warm and bright beside her, lips tracing the scar at her collarbone. Teeth nipping at the skin.

“I hope I die before you,” he whispered.

“Don’t say stuff like that,” Y/N said sharply.

“Hmm,” he rose up on his elbow, and rested his head in the palm of his hands. His fingers traced an invisible pattern on her ribcage. “It’s true. It’d be easier not to worry, if I’m dead.”

“You’re so annoying. If you’re lucky, I’ll kill you in your sleep,” she promised

“Wait a couple years, will you? I’d like to make it to the Olympics first.”

Y/N let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head at his absurdity. She wondered briefly what he’s be like if they decided to have children. Overprotective to a fault, but unfailingly awkward when it came to voicing his affection. Blunt as baseball bat when it came to pointing out someone’s mistakes. She rested her hand over his squeezing all her fondness of him into the touch.

#Sakusa x reader #Sakusa reader #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #Sakusa kiyoomi x reader

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echo-hiraeth · 4 years ago

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“I promise I won’t tell anyone” - Javier Peña x F!Reader

Summary: With all the new leads popping up with the new helpline, you and your partners struggle to keep up. On the brink of exhaustion you and Javier spend another late night at the office trying to find at least something useful.

Warnings: swearing, fluff

Masterlist

The clock read 2:47 AM, making you rub at your eyes once again. It was a desperate attempt at trying to relieve the strain from staring at the heaps of paperwork, but it only became more prominent. This new ‘call-in-to-get-a-reward’ measure was going to be the death of you. People called every minute, and most of the time it was just some stupid fucking prank. You had to give it to them though, Pablo was an expert at keeping you off his tracks and miles behind.

A loud thump pulled you out of your stream of thought. Javier had returned to the office, a new stack of papers scattered across his desk. He huffed, locking his eyes with yours, forcing a smile.

“Looks like we’ll be spending the night together again.”

You chuckled softly, almost blushing at the idea of it. He walked over to you, sitting on the very edge of your desk, making you shift in your seat. His hand tangled in his hair as he looked back and forth between you and the absolute mess that was your desk.

“If I need to spend one more fucking day reading through this bullshit I’m going to flip my shit,” you mumbled.

He bit his lip, suppressing a smile as he watched your brows knit together in frustration, you always looked so adorable when you were deep in thought. “When’s the last time you slept? Like, properly slept, as in not during your lunchbreak.”

“You underestimate my powers to nap absolutely anywhere at any time.” You sighed when he didn’t react to your poor excuse for a joke. “I’m sorry Javi – I don’t even know. I’m so tired I could just pass out on the floor.”

The tough DEA agent took your hand in his, slowly stroking his thumb over the soft skin of your palm. “Why don’t we take a little break, I can get us some coffee. Proper coffee, not this office bullshit.”

“As nice as that sounds, the sooner we get back to this, the sooner we can go home. There’s something here, I can just feel it.” You spoke, while trying to supress a yawn.

Javier shook his head, letting go of your hand and dragging himself back to the desk right in front of yours. He groaned while falling back into the chair, grabbing the box of cigarettes from the drawer and slowly lighting one, before looking up at you. “You work too much hermosa. Tell me if you find anything noteworthy.”

You felt a blush creeping up. Javier changed into a different person when it was just the two of you, the otherwise arrogant and curt agent became very affectious and gentle around you. It consisted of little things, coming to check up on you every so often, getting you lunch and coffee, offering to drive you back home. It was the way he’d always greet you with the kindest smiles and never go home before wishing you a goodnight and sometimes even giving you a hug. The small things grew into other things, lingering, delicate touches when nobody was watching, tugging on your vest to make sure you were protected before raids and other things like that.

These things didn’t help you with trying to deny your growing feelings for him. From the first day you’d worked together you felt something there, but you liked to tell yourself that it was just wishful thinking. However your suspicions only got worse after working together with him for months. Steve had teased you about it before, warning you about the absolute womanizer that Peña had become. He was right though, Javier wasn’t exactly known for his long-lasting, amazing relationships. You’d seen the women leave his apartment before, while sitting on the windowsill of your bedroom in the complex across from his.

“Hey, I’m seeing this one name that keeps popping up…” Javier informed as he gently slid a piece of paper over to you.

“I’ve seen it too, I remember putting it in one of the boxes though, didn’t think it was anything interesting.” You sat up a little straighter, intensely staring at the piece of paper.

“Do you remember which box?” Javier quirked his brow, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

You nodded, stretching your arms above your head in hopes of waking you up. “I’ll go get it.” Your legs popped as you stood up, your body weighing you down because of the sheer exhaustion you’d been experiencing the past few days. Your hands found their way to the desk, trying to support yourself.

Javier shot you a worried look as he saw you grimacing, he was just about to ask if you were okay when suddenly you just fell to the floor, your legs just giving out underneath you. He rushed to your side, trying to be as gentle as possible as he picked you up, being mindful to brace your head. Your head rolled back against his shoulder and your breaths evened out.

“Hermosa, open your eyes, I need you to look at me.” The worry in his voice was evident as he slowly went to sit back on the desk chair with you resting in his arms.

“M’fine jus-sleepy.” Your eyes only opened for a brief second, eager to close again as you gave in to the sleep tugging on your every fibre.

“Let’s call it a night, I’m taking you home cariño.” He spoke softly, trying not to disturb you too much as he went to stand, clumsily trying to get a hold of your purse and his jacket, which contained his car keys.

The next time you opened your eyes you found yourself in the passenger seat of his car, your hand in his as he slowly drove towards your apartment complex. You sighed deeply, your neck hurting from the unnatural positioning.

“You okay?” He gave your hand a squeeze as he glanced over to you for a brief second.

“Javi… you could’ve just woken me up.” You slumped forward chuckling lowly while trying to reposition yourself, still holding on to his hand.

“Y/n you literally passed out. Not a fucking chance.” He shook his head, smiling as he looked over to you once again. “Besides, you looked so cute with your little pouty lips.”

Oh yeah, now you were blushing, completely embarrassed out of your mind as you tried to hide your face behind your hands. “If you so much as tell anyone about this, I swear I will kill you.”

A wholehearted laugh sounded through the car as he brought your hand to his lips, slowly pressing them to your knuckles. “I promise I won’t tell anyone.” He dramatized the ‘anyone’ trying to make you laugh.

He expertly parked his car in his usual spot, racing over to your side of the car to help you out. Which landed him a swift “wow what a gentleman”. He put an arm around your waist, steadying you because you were still a little wobbly.

An innocent smile played on your lips as he looked at you, your faces only inches apart, you could feel his breath on your face. “Javi.. I’ll be okay, you don’t have to do all of this.”

Your hands trembled as you looked for your keys in your small purse. Gently, he took it from you, holding one of your hands in his, as an attempt to ease the trembling, while you leaned up against the door.

“Come on, it’s my pleasure. It’s not every day I get to help my ever so stubborn, sleepy partner out.” While talking he easily unlocked your door, helping you inside, setting you down on the blue sofa. “Do you need some water or something?” He inquired as he looked around your living room. It was such a different scene compared to his, so… you. It made his heart beat a little faster.

“Could you maybe help me to my room? My legs won’t stop shaking.” You gave a shy chuckle, already feeling like you were asking too much.

To your surprise he grinned, smoothly scooping you up in his arms, making you gasp.

“Of course princesa.” He pressed his lips to your temple as you nuzzled yourself into his neck. You couldn’t see it, but Javi was blushing, smiling as he held you, feeling at peace and incredibly happy in the moment.

What you didn’t know, is that he’d stopped seeing those infamous women weeks ago, no longer able to hide his own feelings for you anymore. He had spent countless nights staying up, trying to convince himself against all of it. The truth is, he was terrified of being vulnerable, let alone be in a relationship with someone that meant so much to him. But after months and months of dancing this tango in his head, he only grew more fond of you, and struggled to stay away from you from too long. The way you walked, the way you cared about anything and everyone in that office… He was absolutely smitten.

“All settled?” He chuckled as you slid under the covers, flashing him a smile of contentment.

“A goodnight kiss would be nice?” You were already beating yourself about what you just said, blaming it on your exhaustion.

He sucked in a breath, surprised at your request. “Let’s talk about that when you’re not sleep drunk hermosa. I’ll see you tomorrow, and I’ll bring you to work myself.”

As Javier turned to leave you sat upright, grabbing his wrist. The look in his eyes was a telling one, piercing yours with a look of adoration and longing.

“Stay. Please.” The words came out soft, tender and careful.

The otherwise so tough man cleared his throat at your request, shuffling on his feet. “Are you sure?”

You gave an eager nod, lifting the covers and scooting over. It didn’t take long for him to strip down to his shirt and underwear, sliding into the bed next to you. He held his breath when you laid your head down on his chest and pulled him in closer.

“Don’t worry Peña, I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

His heart thumped loudly in his chest as he smiled at your reprise of his words.

“Still want that goodnight kiss?”

#imagine #javier peña #pedro pascal #javier pena #narcos

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soramel · 3 years ago

Text

Curiosity didn’t kill the cat | jjk ff

Part 3

jjkxreader

Prompt: “You’re early,” said the grim reaper with a hint of amusement.

Fantasy au, grimreaper!jungkook, reader, romance, slow-burn

Words: 3.4k approx. Part 3/5

Check this out on my wattpad account! I post one part ahead there.

Hollowing emptiness filled up your chest as a barren land came into view. An empty riverbed covered with ashes. You squinted against the ray of the sun.

You see nothing but the sky's horizon, another glare of light sent you looking down. Your hand served as the only shade against the glaring sun.

Blink.

Everything went dark.

A yearning love.

Your fist was clenched against your heart as it ached from within. You feel butterflies in your stomach. The unsettling yet warm feeling grew and grew until it became too much it made you curl down.

Everything feels soft against your skin. Silk satin draped around your body. You looked up, finding yourself in a bedchamber. Lamps were laid out on the wooden floor and on the tables, lighting up the darkness with dimmed warmth. You saw a man. His back against yours. His shoulder spanned wide as he slipped in a red robe.

Your fingers ached to reach him, to hold.

You lifted your hand.

Then suddenly, you're running on an empty hallway. Things passing in a blur.

Your eyes feel strained, your face drenched wet with sweat and your mouth could taste the salty tears running down your cheeks. Lifting your layered petticoat, the silk of its outer skirt crumpled against your palm.

Despite the confusion, you continued running. You just know you have to.

You have to escape.

They're coming.

Then a sudden realization stopped you in your tracks. As if air was pushed out of your lungs.

A high-pitched cry ripped through the air, like a wounded animal's, but it was from you. You found the helpless sound coming from your throat. You stared down at your arms grasping your body for something you could hold.

You realized you lost everything you fought for.

You're empty, yet you're filled full to the brim. Your cup overflowing with gut-wrenching pain, loss, and grief. Those emotions were deep-rooted from the love you have for him.

It dawned you.

It's all his fault.

The man you thought you love.

It's his fault.

He brought you nothing but suffering. You laid your heart out and sought for the little love he could give.

Yet there's been no one to yearn for but him, the future you could have together, the family you could have built. If things were just different.

A nightmare

That's what it is.

You jolted awake in a cold sweat.

Breathing in and out, you calmed yourself. Everything was just a dream. You're not dead. You're here in...

Whose place is this?

You turned to the creak of a door. Jungkook's all dressed in black. A fedora hat on his hand.

"Y/n," he greeted. "How was your sleep?"

"Jungkook?" you asked. Confused at how you knew his name.

His eyes went wide before nodding. "Yeah, I'm Jungkook, your assigned grim reaper."

You exhaled as you realized last night was not a dream. You died by mistake. In your sweater and pajamas.

"By the way, I have clothes for you. I figured you should come with me. For your safety,"

He then opened his bedroom door wider for you to come in.

The black trench coat felt heavy on your shoulder. Your outfit is similar to his, except the sordid hat on his head. He figured you could look like a grim reaper to ward off any wandering souls. Scaring them might help, save for the starving ones like the woman you encountered last night.

It's been five minutes of standing by on a bus stop. He just stood there and stared off in a distance. On an ordinary day, you thought you'd be stared down by the odd combo of your outfits, but at that moment, your presence was not visible to their eyes.

Jungkook pulled out his tablet as you watch the pedestrians crossing the street, envying how they go on with their mundane routine. Jungkook's brows furrowed as he navigated through the gadget, as if re-reading something.

You saw a ball rolled off the street, its owner chasing after the object. The boy sped off at the last few seconds, oblivious to the truck speeding above the limit.

Pointing your finger to the child, you tried to notify the people around you, "The-the..." you stuttered.

There's no time.

You ran to the boy without much thought, failing to notice you went to your desired position in a blink.

The grim reaper whipped his head up at the air's whoosh. His eyes widened as he saw you pitting yourself against the truck to protect the boy. Jungkook yelled after you, anger and worry bubbling from his chest at your stupidity.

Before he could yank you out of the way, a lapse in time occurred. No one felt it, except the grim reaper who's baby-sitting you.

Then the truck swerved to a different direction, screeching tires marked the road as the driver desperately tried to stop. But it was too late.

Shocked gasps rippled through the watching crowd. You turned back at the boy's sudden cry. He was attended to by his mother whose face was etched with burdening worry. You stared back to the man laying on the pavement. His body being crowded by the bystanders as they called for an ambulance.

A strong grip yanked you to the other side. Jungkook was raging. He was lost for words for a second before ending up shouting, "Who the fuck do you think you are?!"

You flinched from the pain of his gripping hold and from fear.

You took a step back.

"I... he's a child. The truck..."

"Why would you interfere?! Is that child's life different from the man's?! Who are you to weigh lives on your hands?! Have you lost your mind?!"

Lips trembling at his outburst, you looked back at the site of the incident. "I didn't know, I didn't mean to..."

I didn't mean to kill him.

You yanked back your arm, covering your ears upon hearing a voice. You stared at Jungkook in horror.

I think I am... I'm going crazy, you thought to yourself.

"He's alive!" Someone from the crowd shouted. The sound of ambulance echoed, approaching in a distance.

Jungkook dragged you to the scene, never letting go of you as he crouched down to hold the man's wrist.

A sigh of relief escaped his lips.

"He'll be fine," he muttered, more like to himself.

"I'm sorry," you told him, guilt laced in your tone.

The rest of the day were all spent in silence. Jungkook fetched two more souls and all the while you were just there beside him as he does his work, basically acting like his shadow.

You were walking down the sidewalk of a business district after sending off his last soul for today. He was supposed to send off three if not for your interference. He should've 6 souls left after this day, but you being in his roster and the child's suddenly shifted fate this morning, he's still 8 souls away from finishing his duty.

He tapped off on his tablet with a resigned hum as he found his schedule empty.

Tucking in the device back to his coat, he stared off across the buildings like an old man.

His gaze then fell to yours. Your eyes filled with innocence as you watch him.

He tutted before continuing walking. You sauntered after, head down.

"Ngghhhh..." you looked up at the noise and almost yelped at the gory looking ghost. His clothes were tattered, but he looks way more decent than the one you encountered last night. His eyes were dazed, staring at you.

Jungkook calmly diverted you to the other side, placing himself between you and the ghost, and you both kept on walking. He patiently said, "Don't stop. He wouldn't dare."

You followed his instruction, but your eyes were somehow glued on the man, seeing one of his shoes is missing. Jungkook hissed, "Eyes ahead."

You flinched and diverted your head forward. Only to face a busy lady engrossed on her phone. Jungkook halted pulling you in front of him to get you out of the way.

It's your first time seeing his face up-close in daylight. It was only then when you noticed that he's not wearing his fedora, his hair is clean-cut short, showing his eyes and ears. His hair is still down but gone were the unruly curls you remembered he was sporting.

"Your hair changed," you muttered, gaze grazing the outline of his face.

Jungkook blinked. Once. Twice.

Flick!

"Aw!" you yelped as you rub your forehead. The area he hit felt pulsing.

You glared him down, "What was that for?!"

He leaned back a bit, cocking his head to the side, "Thought of rebooting your brain. Guess my power's limited."

Your jaw went slack at the insult.

He stepped to the side and continued on walking. He then decided to brief you, "As an ordinary ghost, bumping through a human would mess up both of your energy. It's best to avoid them when you can."

Nodding in understanding, you strolled to his side, carefully avoiding any living humans on the sidewalk.

"Where are we heading?" you asked him.

"Nowhere," he replied.

The both of you kept walking for what felt like an hour. When he took a turn at the end of a curb, you couldn't help but complain, "For how long are we walking, can't you just teleport us to that place? I'm tired."

He turned to you, realization dawning on him. He then looked around and found an empty café. Without saying anything, he walked again.

"Aish, that arrogant jerk. @2^;*&! $%#4," you grumbled under your breath.

Jungkook held the door open for you. It's a wonder that he stays chivalrous when he's like the arrogant narcissistic bastards you've met before. One second he's looking after you, the next he acts as if you're a lint he's living with. A dirt he wants to dust off but will continue to live on his life.

He looked at you indifferently as you passed by with a glare.

You took the seat near a window, then the grim reaper followed, taking the seat in front of you.

The café was relatively empty. Its interiors adorned with fake plants and orchids. The walls were painted with wood and brick-like patterns. The table has a centerpiece of tissue holder, plastered with italics, "A true heart remembers".

Your gaze then turned back to Jungkook. You opened your mouth to say something, but his expression cut you off.

There he goes again.

Looking at you as if you're a parasite he's yet to figure out. His condescending stare ticks off your nerves.

You raised a brow, "What?"

He inhaled with a hiss, then tapped his fingers incessantly on the table as he exhaled.

"I haven't met someone as unfortunate as you," he started.

Lifting a hand closed to a fist, he unfolded his pinky finger, "You're below an average college student,"

followed by the next, "You barely have friends,"

and another, "You died on the way to your solitude, by mistake at that,"

Cocking his head to the side, he spoke to himself this time, his gaze averting yours, "Maybe if you're not a sore loser and attended that party, you could have lived, and I wouldn't be in this dire situation."

"I mean..." he trailed off.

"Nothing's so special about you,"

"Why?" he pouted, wondering as he held his hands up. You scowled. "Aside from brave stupidity, there's nothing much."

You shouted at his relentless insults, startling him.

"Will you really keep this up?" you asked, voice laced with sheer annoyance.

With his eyes wide, he reiterated, "I'm helping you here!"

He waggled his hand beside his forehead, saying, "I've been racking up my brain,"

Then he gestured towards you, "While you create trouble one after the other,"

"Maybe you don't have one. Don't try so hard," you retaliated.

Crossing your arms on your chest, you added, "Maybe if you're not a sore loser and did your life differently, you wouldn't be a grim reaper and you wouldn't have to put up with me."

He closed his mouth at that for a moment, before muttering, "I've been at this job ever since. I'm finishing my duty so I could live as a human."

The rush of triumph turned to guilt in a flicker.

"You were not reincarnated?" you curiously asked.

"I..." he trailed off, "I haven't asked. I don't know. Really."

You frowned, "Why would you want to be a human, anyway? You're powerful. You don't get tired, you don't get to work and fit a measly salary in a month, you don't have to study," the list on your mind could actually go on as to why he's better off than you.

"It's lonely to be alone," he simply replied.

"And that's my dream, as a grim reaper. We all want to be human after delivering 700 souls. I haven't questioned that career path ever since."

Your right cheek twitched. He's weird, they're weird. It's weird talking about supernaturals as if it's a corporate world. Jungkook sounded like a corporate slave.

At that, you sighed in realization. Even in the Afterlife, or whatever dimension you're in, it's all the same.

He called your name, reaching for your hands across the table. "That's why we should figure out how to fix your fate line. The spirit guide's helping us, but what if we discover something important to your case? The faster we figure things out together, the better."

Your gaze shifted from his hands to his face.

The surrounding brightened. Birds were chirping and you're hearing the still water's splashing against the bank.

You found Jungkook beaming at you. The first genuine smile you saw from him. The corners of his lips lifted into a curve, a bit of his gums showing, his pearly whites sparkling, his eyes twinkling in joy.

He's wearing a cylindrical hat, its wide brim filtering out the rays of the sun. His hair is in a top-knot as you can see through the partly transparent headpiece.

His dimple accentuated as he spoke, "Marry me,"

When you didn't answer, he mistook the confused look on your face. "The King gave us his blessing. The General, I mean, your father knows. He also agreed," he further explained.

"Jungkook," you breathed out.

Then the brightness faded, bringing you back to the café.

Jungkook was in much astonishment as you. You snatched your hands away, leaving his palms open.

It's of no-use but you truly felt your heart beating fast. You stared back to his eyes and again your heart skipped a beat.

"What was that?" he asked. "Did you see what I saw?"

You nodded. "I, we," you tried to compose a coherent sentence, but failed.

He nodded eagerly, "I need to make a call," he stood up, not waiting for a reply.

Jungkook went outside the café as he dialed on the phone. You met his eyes, and he didn't back down, giving you a steady intent look.

You could only see his mouth moving as he spoke.

Then waited, as he stared at you.

You steered away from his gaze as he snapped out of a trance. After a while, he brought his phone down.

You watch him go back to you, averting your eyes.

He wet his lips before saying, "The spirit guide is on an important matter right now. His secretary insisted on meeting him as planned."

"Have you told her what happened?" you asked.

Jungkook nodded, "I did, but he's with..." he trailed off and pointed his finger up.

Well, you can do nothing for now. You need to wait.

You nodded in acknowledgment.

It's nighttime and you were now in his apartment. You were sitting down on the couch as he paced back and forth in his living room, dizzying you in the process.

"Jungkook," you warned for the second time, begging him to stop.

"You asked to marry me, we were husband and wife, in our past life, so grim reapers do have a past," he chanted for the nth time.

"Hah! How dare them lie to us. They just wanted us to do their work without us making a fuss? 700 souls! Do you know how many criminals, psychopaths, nagging wives, and alcoholic husbands I've dealt with? It felt like a thousand! In exchange of what? This apartment and these boring clothes, that's it!"

He ranted.

"I should tell Taehyung and Yoongi about this," he resolved.

You let out an exasperated sigh. "And what? Form a union?" you asked with sarcasm.

He looked at you in horror, "Marriage is only for two people."

"Are you stupid?" he added before fumbling on his phone.

You rolled your eyes. You should've felt offended, but you couldn't even bother to correct him. That's how hopeless you think he is.

And stupid

And narcissistic at that.

"I didn't ask to marry you. You asked to marry me," you nonchalantly repeated for the second time again. However, you didn't even bother if he heard you or not. Jungkook also didn't care. His brows in a furrow as he waited for the other line to be picked up.

It seemed no one answered, but he tried again.

"Taehyung!" he exclaimed.

"Are you done?" he asked, taking a seat beside you.

"Meet me at my place and bring Yoongi hyung. I have big news for you, you wouldn't believe it."

"This is more important! Absolutely! It's a secret and you'll know it first from me."

"Ah, I can't go there. Too many roaming souls. I have..." he paused, looking at you, before continuing, "I have a baggage here."

You gaped at the use of his words.

Jungkook stood up, heading to the window. "No, I can't carry it. Just bring home soju and pears. Ah and if there's some porridge and rice cakes. Okay? Bye!"

He turned around and grinned at you, "I have a treat coming for you!"

Then you thought, he reminded you of Jimin's pet. That white ball of fur who did nothing but eat carrots and cabbage all day long.

"Cats, and dogs, and rabbits are lucky, they have a working pet to buy them food," you mockingly teased Jimin one time who's beaming at his bunny as he watched the cute monster chew.

"What?!" Taehyung yelled.

Jungkook smugly nodded. Taehyung stared at you then back to Jungkook. "So, she's your wife?" he asked to confirm.

You winced and cringed and you craved to fold your fingers. Taehyung is worse than Jungkook.

The bunny nodded once and proclaimed to emphasize a point, "She asked me to marry her."

You bit your lower lip in annoyance and threw the rice cake back to the paper plate. The three grim reapers were startled by your action.

Donning a fake smile, you tried your best to be patient and slowly explained, "Jungkook asked to marry me."

"We were in a lake," you started.

Taehyung looked at you attentively as he's sitting across the coffee table, ready to hear the version of your story. You pulled his hands to yours, "Then he held my hands,"

"He smiled at me, like this," you demonstrated. Trying to copy the face you remember with all the twinkling eyes.

"Then said, 'Marry me,'"

Jungkook, who's sat beside you, abruptly slapped your hands away from his friend. "Ouch!" you fussed, glaring at him.

"Why did you have to hold his hands? Saying that! Doing that!" he protested.

In which you argued, "So you'd remember! Your ass is too up high on your head! Why?!"

A giggle escaped Taehyung's lips as he nuzzled near Yoongi. "Look at them, they're so cute together!" he squeaked as he hugged the man. You winced at his remark.

Yoongi hissed in irritation. He pushed Taehyung's head away while the younger tried to brush his head off against him. Yoongi still won.

Out of the three, Yoongi seemed the most normal to you.

"Maybe you have to relive your life together to remember what happened," he muttered.

"But grim reapers are not supposed to remember their past, Jungkook. You have to be prepared."

Then he went on, "I knew grim reapers who crossed the 7 Trials without knowing their past. I also knew some who learned about who they were, but still chose to vanish. I don't know why."

He stared up, looking both of you in the eyes, as he said his final piece, "Remember who you were, but don't get too attached to your past. There's only one way forward."

#bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jjk fanfic #romance #jkxreader #jk x reader #jjk

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iwritefandomimagines · 4 years ago

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SIMM!MASTER x READER: “Do you believe in love?”

prompt #11 — requested

masterlist

pairing: simm!master x reader

description: visiting a famed romantic hotspot (to cause trouble, obviously) with the master leads to you pondering one major question: does he even believe in love?

warnings: angst, as ever with me writing the master !

words: 1,535

You leaned forward to rest your palms on your knees and catch your breath again as the Master, a few paces ahead of you, turned to laugh at your exasperated expression.

“Would you stop laughing at me?” you grumbled, standing up again and following him back into his TARDIS with a scowl on your face, “If you weren’t so intent on pissing off every species in the universe, I wouldn’t have to run so much and end up so bloody tired!”

He smirked, pausing at the TARDIS doors while you caught up to him, “You should be used to it now then, love.”

You followed him inside, your expression still irritated as you folded your arms over your chest dramatically.There he goes again, you thought with a sigh, calling you love whilst mocking you just as he always did.

It bothered you more today than usual, and you knew exactly why.

You’d been visiting the Four Moons of Tirus, famously frequented by couples for romantic getaways and often either weddings or honeymoons. Of course, travelling with the Master you knew that this hadn’t been a romance-fuelled trip -- instead, he wanted to cause chaos as ever and so dragged you along with him.

At first it had been fun, stealing food from buffet tables and skipping through fancy venues. But he’d torn you from a conversation with a Commander of a fleet attending a wedding on one of the Four Moons, and from then on the day had been miserable.

You’d hoped he was jealous -- you couldn’t deny Commander Fluxx II’s flirtation towards you -- but his behaviour crumpled your hopes swiftly.

Watching him flirt with taken women of every species weighed heavy on your chest for multiple reasons: One, you were admittedly jealous. Your feelings for the Master were becoming increasingly potent, and his teasing was becoming increasingly infuriating. And two, it felt shit to see him so blatantly disregard the notion of love and relationships.

Above all else, though, you were devastated by his reaction to being told you made a cute couple. Once he’d pulled you away from the commander, an elderly alien woman had winked and complimented you both, telling you that you were perfectly suited to eachother.

He’d scoffed, told the creature that you were ‘merely a companion, more like his pet’ and stormed away as though he’d never heard such a disgusting accusation in all of his existence.

You’d hoped maybe there’d been some small romantic undercurrent to him bringing you to the Four Moons, perhaps even if very subtle. Maybe he’d kiss you under the nightly Tirusian aurora, or buy you a bouquet of their native flowers.

But of course, he was just here to wreak havoc with you at his command.

You’d finally composed yourself now, no more jagged breaths as you stood at his side, hand on your hips, “Don’t you get bored of just messing with people’s feelings, Master?”

You were directly referring to his previous actions, but your words were laced with dismay at his disregard for your evident feelings, too.

“Whatever do you mean, Y/N?” he smirked, bringing his hand to his face in a falsely inquisitive manner.

“Well, that woman was literally stood next to her husband and you were blatantly disrespectful and embarrassingly flirtatious... the look on his face was terrifying, you’re lucky we got away or he’d have torn you to shreds. Did you see his claws?” you rambled, shuddering at the thought of the alien who’d chased you all the way back to the TARDIS.

“He would never have gotten to us, Y/N.” the Master too crossed his arms now, brows furrowed, “I don’t see what’s gotten you so riled up.” You could see in his face that he was lying. He knew. Of course he knew.

You grunted, shaking your head, “You spend all of your time treating people like they’re beneath you, like they’re expendable. You tease people, you flirt with people. Hell, you flirt with me. Then you go and act like I’m nothing but shit on the bottom of your shoes. You’re pathetic, frankly. Shameless, and pathetic.”

“Ah, so that’s what it’s about, us?”

You scoffed, “There isn’t an us, Master. Don’t you dare stand there so smug and talk like you even care about me. This isn’t about that. It’s about the fact that you’re selfish and self-important and you act like nothing matters to you. It’s ridiculous!”

Your chest was heaving as you spat these words at him, fury coursing through your every vein. You knew that it was obvious why you were predominantly angry, and that maybe you needed to calm down, but you were furious and upset and heartbroken all at once and this tornado of emotion couldn’t be stopped easily.

The room fell silent, the Master’s face no longer painted with a smirk but instead simply blank. You didn’t know what more to say for a moment, gathering your thoughts and trying to steady your erratic breathing.

You remained in silence for a good few minutes, both deep in thought and refusing to make eye contact with each other.

You let out a deep breath then, leaning forwards and resting your chin in your palm, “Do you believe in love?” you whispered, still avoiding his gaze and speaking so quietly he wasn’t sure he even heard you right.

He swallowed thickly, straightening his stance and relaxing his arms.

“I didn’t.”

“What?”

“I didn’t before. Believe in love, that is.”

“Before what?”

“You, Y/N.”

Your face twisted in confusion, eyes narrowing as they snapped up to meet his all of a sudden.

How on earth could he stand there and say that, especially seeming so serious, after all that had just happened? Did he really respect you so little that he believed providing you with such lies would give you enough false hope to stop being so angry with him?

“Please don’t say things like that. It’s not fair, and you know it isn’t.” you frowned, shaking your head again and biting your lip.

“I know it’s hard to believe, Y/N, but it’s true,” he shrugged, stepping towards you, “And that was why I brought you to the Four Moons of Tirus. At least initially.”

You cocked your head to the side, “Why were you acting like such an arsehole then?”

He raised his hand to rub over your upper arm for just a moment before returning it to his side, “Because when that disgusting Commander was shamelessly all over you I questioned the point of being in love, anyway.”

You were confused, and so said nothing, allowing him to continue.

“You called me pathetic, but you didn’t see his wife watch him touch you and run off crying,” he sighed, “So many species disregard love even when they claim to feel it. Why bother? I’ve spent long enough on my own, I needn’t fool myself into relying on someone when there’s every risk of ending up alone again anyway.”

You scoffed even more abruptly now, baffled by his words.

“So you got jealous and decided to be petty and hurt me anyway?” you questioned, venom dripping in your tone, “I’ve been waiting for some inkling that you cared about me, and now you finally tell me you love me and still somehow manage to invalidate that and make me feel worthless! I can’t keep playing your games, Master. I’m tired.”

He took your hands in his delicately, “I’ve spent so long alone, Y/N, you have to understand that. I never meant to fall in love with you, and a relationship with me would be about as dysfunctional as you could get. I don’t want to risk hurting you, or getting hurt myself.”

“Flirting with everyone under the sun and making me feel like I don’t matter won’t make feelings go away, Master,” you clenched your fingers around his, somewhat in an effort to reassure him whilst you were being honest, “You’re stuck with me, and I hate to break it to you but love doesn’t just dissipate overnight, even if you claim it’s ‘pointless’ anyway.”

“I’m sorry Y/N. And I’m sorry for ruining what could’ve been a chance to make things up to you.” he pouted, and you felt your stomach swarm with butterflies.

“Look, I’m not going to tell you I forgive you, but I’ll give you the chance to prove that this is more than just some twisted game of yours, because I’m that stupid human whose gone and fallen in love with you, eh,” you half-joked, bringing your entwined hands up to kiss the back of his, “I overheard one of the Commander’s fleet talking about the Perpetual Sunsets of Parboon. It’s like... always sunset and sounds incredible. Take me there?”

He nodded, kissing your temple and swiveling towards the TARDIS console with a newly returned smile. Your heart warmed; It wasn’t his usual arrogant smirk now, but instead a smile of genuine happiness.

“Parboon it is,” he grinned, pulling you closer to his side, “But if any silly alien soldiers make a pass at you again, I won’t be so kind to them this time.”

“Sure, spaceman,” you rolled your eyes teasingly, “Whatever you say.”

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

hello !! thank u for the request & i hope you enjoyed this, not sure how i feel about the ending but i wasn’t sure how to wrap it up, i hope this was alright though !!

feel free to keep requesting as ever, here is my prompt list if you’re short of ideas, and here’s my masterlist for you to read for the time being! thanks again for reading & supporting my writing, i really appreciate it <3

#the master #doctor who #the master x reader #the master imagine #the master imagines #simm!master #simm!master x reader #simm x master #simm!master imagine #simm!master imagines #doctor who imagine #doctorwho

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starions · 4 years ago

Text

early morning musings.

astarion x oc (anya)

slight nsfw

1124 words

fluff turned angst really fast (oneshot)

His arm was tight around her waist, his free hand cold against her cheek. Astarion kissed her lazily; first on her neck, then up to her flushed cheeks, the tip of her nose, and finally to her lips where they belonged. The longer they spent in each others’ bed rolls, the more intimate their relationship became, and Anya was becoming increasingly aware of how frightening it was.

Anya was in a daze, though she wasn’t sure if it was because she just broke her meditation, or if her mind was still foggy from their exertion hours prior. Nevertheless, Anya kissed him back leisurely, sighing into his mouth and relaxing against his hold. She’d stay in his tent with him— under the warmth of the furs and away from her other nagging companions— forever if she could, but she had a job to do if they wanted to rid themselves of these tadpoles. Astarion would keep her here all morning if he had the opportunity, and Anya wouldn’t grant him the delicacy.

Reluctantly, Anya broke free of his hold, sitting up to scout for her clothes in the already cramped tent. At last, she spotted her undergarments and leather pants thrown haphazardly in the corner of the tent, and she semi-crawled to reach them.

“Going somewhere?” Astarion said as he sat up, eyes trained on Anya’s ass raised in the air. Sleep still coated his voice, making it deeper and ending his sentences with a growl. It was strange meditating with someone else, Anya had found, but it wasn’t unwelcome. His voice, however, was heating up the pits of her stomach, something she did not care for at the moment.

Anya gazed at him as she pulled on a pants leg, eyes trailing over his chest and down toward his bottom half covered by furs. She noted that he was still excited, and had half a mind to abandon her plans for the morning. She wasn’t stupid enough to let sex cloud her vision, however. “I told Gale I’d have breakfast with him today to discuss our plans when we reach Moonrise Towers.”

A knot formed in Astarion’s forehead and Anya swore she saw an eye twitch. “You’re having breakfast with Gale?”

Her and Astarion had an equal distaste for Gale, it’s true. Astarion figured the happy-go-lucky attitude of his was a front for a more diabolical nature, Anya disliked his arrogance and his willingness to believe she’d sleep with him if he kept pushing. But Anya couldn’t deny he was a powerful wizard, and if acting on his good side aided them in their journey to come, Anya would sacrifice an hour to eat breakfast with the mage.

Anya pulled her button up shirt out from beneath the furs and pulled it over her arms. She was sure it was white when it was new, but the dirt and blood stains had made it sort of beige in color. She was beginning to miss the dresses she wore in Baldur’s Gate. “Yes, with Gale. Is that a problem?”

Astarion tsked and crossed his arms over his bare chest. “No, no. If you want to enjoy your meal with Gale smelling like sweat, sex, and me, be my guest. I’m sure that wouldn’t deter him from trying to get those pants off your beautiful legs.” Astarion paused, as if wagering if what he’d say next was worth it. “And I’m sure it wouldn’t stop you from letting him try, either.”

Anya paused her work of buttoning up her top, golden eyes blown wide. Slowly, she turned to look at him as if he’d just grown horns and a tail. His face remained stoic, but his eyes shifted, trying to read her expression. All he could see was her narrowed eyes, and her lips pressed into a harsh line. If he felt guilty just for a second, Anya couldn’t tell.

For a moment, Anya said nothing, until she looked him in his red eyes and uttered: “You are a bastard.”

She made way toward the flaps of his tent, unwilling to spend even a second more with him to button up the rest of her top. Her breasts were nearly spilling out of her shirt, and that aggravated Astarion even further. As Anya held open the tent flap, she glanced over her shoulder toward the pale elf. “Have fun entertaining yourself this morning,” her eyes glanced down to the softening tent of the furs at his waist, “and for the foreseeable future, I’m sure.”

With that, Anya had disappeared from sight, probably off to meet with Gale. The thought turned Astarion’s stomach, and he fell down into his pillow with a scowl painted on his face. Gale. Leaving him for Gale. The thought was extremely foreign to him, considering their shared attitude toward the wizard. Was he jealous? Gods no. He wasn’t jealous of a jester who knew a few magic tricks. Possessive? ...Maybe. And that bothered him completely.

Astarion ran a hand over his face with a sigh. Anya made this so complicated; he was here for fun, she was too he suspected, but this was anything but. Sex was supposed to be fun, a way to eliminate stress in midst of all this chaos he’s found himself in. Sex with Anya was supposed to be one and done, but like the fool he was he kept coming back for more. She was intoxicating and he couldn’t get enough of her. But continuing this over complicated things to the point of an annoyance.

He didn’t want to end things though; Anya was different, much different than anyone he’d had before. He felt things with her he hadn’t felt in over two hundred years, and that wasn’t an exaggeration. Anya let herself be vulnerable with him, once their clothes were shed and their hands were exploring each other's bodies. In turn, he’d opened himself up to her as well. He became closer to her in such a short time than he had with anyone in centuries. These feelings were a gift, something he didn’t deserve, and he wasn’t quite sure how long they’d last, especially with Cazador hunting him down.

What he’d give to feel her lips on his for eternity, to touch her curves and hear her moans against his mouth. He felt himself begin to harden again at the thought of her, and he scowled in frustration. A hand snaked down beneath the furs, grasping himself in his palms. This was not how he planned this morning to go, not when Anya meditated in his arms like she belonged in them. Nevertheless, her words ranged in his ears: Have fun entertaining yourself this morning. It seemed Anya got the last word in, after all.

#astarion #bg3 #astarion x oc #astarion x anya #oc: anya #otp: blood and soul #will tumblr let me show up in tags now #pls i dont want to delete this again #anyway they are extremely toxic until they meet the baldurs gate couples therapist #astarion is a scorpio btw #hannah writes #oh anya is a high sun elf rogue i didnt make that clear...

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maleficar-writes · 4 years ago

Text

A Battlefield Between Them

Pairing: The Darkling/Alina Starkov

Fandom: Shadow & Bone | The GrishaVerse

Rating: Explicit

Additional Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot

Summary: How easy it would be to sink backwards into him, to let a man made of shadows and dreams embrace her.

On AO3: Link

He followed her from the Bone Road to Os Alta, always on the edge of reality. He appeared on the roads, at the end of long hallways, on the edges of a room, a nightmare only she could ese and no one else would believe.

Alina grew used to his haunting presence. He lingered in the war room and her bedroom. She sometimes woke to find him sitting at the end of the bed, and she wondered if she wasn’t losing her mind from the pressure of everything.

Dragging her hand down her face, she rested her hands against the spines of the library books and let her head come to rest against a shelf. Eyes closed, tears burning against her eyelids, she took a shuddering breath.

Hard, this was so hard, and Mal couldn’t—wouldn’t—give her the support she needed.

She felt his presence.

He was silent when he appeared, but he took up so much space, had so much presence, that he was impossible to ignore.

“He doesn’t understand the weight. The burden.”

“A burden you’re putting on me,” she said, unmoving. Maybe if she kept her eyes closed, if she refused to see him, he could become nothing more than a dream.

He made a soft grunting sound, and she couldn’t tell if it was agreement or censure or something else entirely. How had she ever thought she understood this man?

Silence stretched between them. She was so unused to silence even as the loneliness of the Little Palace smothered her.

“It’s not a burden you need shoulder alone.” His words whispered against her ear; she felt him at her back. Warmth from his body reached through the thin fabric of her tunic, sinking beneath her skin.

For a man made of darkness, he felt so much like the sun.

Alina spun about.

His forearms hit the shelves, bracing him mere inches from her face.

Intense, dark eyes met hers. Ravenous eyes. Dark crescents marred his skin, giving him a wan, gaunt appearance. Haggard. But, Saints, he was still so beautiful. The most beautiful man she’d ever seen.

A thrill went through her, a visceral hunger rising inside her to match the greedy interest she saw in him.

She hated that thrill because she didn’t want to feel it. Shouldn’t feel it. He’d lied to her (except that he hadn’t, he’d merely mislead her, and her anger was at her own stupidity, at how she fell to his deceptions) and manipulated her. She shouldn’t want someone who had done those things.

But in the darkness, under the heavy blanket of hot summer nights, she imagined he didn’t just sit at the end of the bed. He came to sit beside her. He stroked his fingers through her hair. He bent down to brush his lips against hers, only once because he was still a gentleman, and that kiss would wake her, rouse her, and they—

“How dare you?” she hissed. “How dare you say that when you hide with your armies, preparing to strike against the country you claim you love.”

An equal fury flashed in his eyes. “I love all of Ravka, not just the parts of it that aren’t Grisha.” The fury faded, and his gaze softened. “He doesn’t understand, does he? Your tracker?”

She bristled. “Leave Mal out of this.”

“He doesn’t listen to you because he can’t understand this. Does he think you’ve abandoned him?”

The question lanced her, tearing open a fragile wound that never quite healed.

Gently, he brought the tips of his fingers to her jaw. He didn’t hold her, didn’t cradle her jaw. He simply stood there, his touch the lightest caress.

She ducked under his arms, striding away from him. He’d never done this before, never lingered or spoken to her at length. The time she’d spent with Nikolai taught her to question people’s changing behaviors, taught her to be much more suspicious.

“Would someone who truly cared about you leave you to suffer the weight of a war on your own?” he asked softly, and the softness of his words cut worse than anything ever had before.

She went still, shoulders hunched, head bowed, hands clenched into fists. She trembled, overwhelmed by too many emotions. Sorrow for whatever she and Mal had that was dying, anger that he couldn’t understand the importance of the war, of the firebird, of any of it. She’d spent her whole life waiting for him, and now that she’d found something to walk toward, now that he had to wait for her to complete a journey, he wielded that waiting like a knife against her heart.

“Can you not talk with him at all?”

“Aleksander,” she whispered. “Stop.”

He fell silent, at her back once more.

She thought he’d vanish like he had all the other times. Thought he’d disappear into the ether and leave her alone.

Instead, he brushed her hair over one shoulder, baring her neck. Just as lightly as he’d touched her face, his brushed his fingers down her arm. Back up. They lingered on the curve of her shoulder.

“Being alone is unbearable.”

She didn’t know if he meant for her or for him—or for them both.

“To stand at the head of an army is to be alone. The only one who understands is the one who stands opposite you.” His lips brushed against the naked line of her throat, and she sucked in a sharp breath.

That thrill inside her became a burn, blotting out her anger toward him, toward Mal.

“There’s comfort in another’s arms. He doesn’t come to you?”

She swallowed hard. “No.”

“Doesn’t let you rest in his arms?”

How easy it would be to sink backwards into him, to let a man made of shadows and dreams embrace her. He was a fantasy, and he offered her the illusion of empathy.

She tensed, and his hands ran down her arms, a comforting a caress.

“What’s wrong?”

“You… Mal and I… we aren’t…”

Now, she felt his surprise in the momentary pause of his hands, in the shifting of his body behind her as if he drew back.

“The boarding house in Novyi Zem?”

She shook her head and stared down the aisle of bookshelves without seeing any of them. “We’ve never more than kissed.”

“Foolish boy.” There was no arrogance in his words, just truth.

Beside a man who had lived for hundreds of years, of course Mal would seem like a child.

Again, his lips brushed against her throat, a soft caress. His hands stayed loose on her arms, and she realized he was making a deliberate choice not to hold her tight. She could step away. He would likely let her go—he’d never needed something as crass as force to convince her to come to him. She’d kissed him first, after all, and she wanted to again.

Even though a battlefield stood between them, he was the only one who saw it the way she did. Who understood it the way she did.

With a shaky breath, Alina let herself sink back. She half expected to pass through him. Instead, she found his form solid at her back. His hands closed around her arms. He still didn’t trap her in place, but now he held her with more strength. With certainty. Not the certainty of a man who’d won some kind of victory, but the certainty of a man who knew he was welcome.

He kissed her neck. His hands stroked down her arms, over her wrists. He laced their fingers together and pressed another kiss to her neck.

Heat kindled to life inside her, a soft simmer low in her belly and between her legs.

Taking a deep breath, she gathered her courage. “Would you—” Catching her lower lip in her teeth, she paused. Reconsidered her words. Felt the tension in him. When she spoke again, her words were so quiet, they were lost in the ocean of print that surrounded them. “Would you do more than kiss me?”

He lifted one of their twined hands. She watched it rise, watched him bring it to her shoulder. He turned their hands, facing her palm and curled fingers toward them both, and he kissed her knuckles. With a gentle tug, he bent her wrist back and kissed the heel of her palm. Let his teeth drag over her skin. Flicked his tongue against the sensitive skin of her wrist.

With three touches, he made her want more than any of Mal’s kisses ever had. With three touches, he made her ache.

“Go to our room, solnishko.”

Their room?

Her room. Except all she did was sleep there. She’d planned to redecorate his room, but she hadn’t.

Their room.

A giddy excitement washed through her. Her lips turned up in a smile, and she felt him press closer in defiance of his gentle command.

“That makes you happy,” he said. “Calling it our room.”

“Maybe. Maybe I just like what you’re implying.”

His fingers squeezed around hers. A sound that might have been a chuckle rumbled against her neck. “Go,” he told her, and he released her.

She turned, but he’d finally vanished.

Nervous anticipation made her grin. Without a second thought, she hurried from the library. Tolya peeled away from the door, but she paid him no mind. Her attention was focused elsewhere, was focused on the next turn, the turn after that, the hallway that led to her room—his room—their room and the promise of what happened behind closed doors.

All the nobles thought she tumbled Mal. Half of them probably thought she was with Nikolai or Vasily when Mal wasn’t there.

So why not embrace those rumors, at least in some small way? Why not take a man to her bed who didn’t hate her for her power or her birth or her command?

At her door, she glanced back at Tolya, but he’d already made his way to the guard quarters adjacent to her room. Their room.

Alina stepped into their room, shutting the door behind her. After a moment’s pause, she locked it.

Aleksander materialized out of the darkness the moment the deadbolt slid into place. He took three steps into her space, drove his fingers into her hair, and kissed her.

He kissed her like a starving man, a dying man, a drowning man in desperate need of air he could get only from her lungs, and she surged against him. He kissed her without hesitation or fear or even artifice; there was nothing hidden in his intentions, just open desire for her, and that delighted her.

Wrapping her arms around him, she clung to him as he drew back, gazed at her mouth with ravenous intent, and then kissed her again.

Her own hunger churned in her belly, a heat that spread through her. Every limb tingled with awareness of all the places they touched—his chest against her breasts, his stomach against hers, their hips pressed together, his fingers in her hair as he turned her head to kiss her again and again.

A delighted laugh bubbled out of her, and he drew back once more, studying her.

Slowly, as if he were fighting the expression, a faint smile curved over his lips. “You smiled like this the night of the party,” he murmured, brushing his thumb against her lower lip.

“I was happy then.” She licked her lips, catching the pad of his thumb with her tongue. The look that shot across his face, a savage need she’d never seen on a man’s face before, made her body arch into his.

“Are you happy now?”

Her fingers caught his wrist as the smoldering embers between her legs grew to a delicious ache. She drew his hand down, her eyes never leaving his.

She’d kissed him first. She’d surprised him then. She wanted to surprise him now. Even though she’d never done more than kissing, she wasn’t a fool. She knew—in theory if not in practice—what people did when no one else was watching.

She pressed his hand low on her belly, his fingertips resting against her pubic bone over her pants.

His dark eyes grew even darker.

“Miss Starkov,” he murmured. The way he said her name made her gasp, made her arch against him. His fingers slipped just a bit lower, and that was a wickeder tease than what she’d given him. “Not many people surprise me.”

“I seem to be rather good at it.”

“You do.” Instead of sliding his hand even lower, he slid his hand to the small of her back and drew her with him as he stepped toward the bed.

Without his mouth on hers, with the reality of what they might do a handful of steps away, anxiety rose like a sudden wave inside her. Her fingers caught on his sleeves, grasping the fabric.

He stopped and bent his mouth to hers again. When they’d kissed before—in her room, at the party, just now—he’d been all hunger and desire. Now, he offered reassurance in the way his mouth moved against hers. And in the space of a breath, he whispered, “At your command, Miss Starkov.”

A shiver wound down her spine. She saw the moment he felt that shiver, saw the comprehension in his gaze and felt compassion in the brush of his thumb along her jaw.

“You like that.”

“Like what?”

The corner of his mouth ticked upward. “Miss Starkov,” he murmured against her lips, and she pressed against him, her kisses demanding instead of comforting.

“Aleksander,” she whispered back, almost in challenge.

He spun them around, pinning her body between his and one of the bed’s thick posts. She gasped, her fingers curling in his hair, and she kissed him again as his hands settled on her waist to hold her tight to his body.

Against her belly, she felt the press of his half-hard cock. Between her legs, she felt the wet heat of her own desire alongside an ache she couldn’t entirely understand. Was this, she wondered, what women meant when they talked about needing a man inside them? If it was, it felt incredible. She wanted to drown in this needy sensation, to bask in the warmth of it until she could no longer breathe.

His hands left her hips. His body bowed and curved around hers, the backs of his hands brushing against her breasts as he pulled at the buttons on his tunic.

Knocking his hands aside, she replaced them with her own. She wanted this; she wouldn’t let him take one moment of the experience from her.

He nipped her lip as her fingers made short work of his tunic, pushing it off his shoulders. “Demanding.”

Maybe, but this was her choice, her moment, her desire.

Before he could take her mouth in another kiss, she did something she’d dreamed of doing for months now. She licked into his mouth, curving one hand behind his head to hold him in place.

The broken, hungry sound he made as his hips rocked hard against hers made her purr with delight.

Her free hand ran down his chest, slipping beneath his undershirt.

At the brush of her fingers against his stomach, he jerked away from her mouth and let out a curse.

“Do you—you like my touch that much?” she asked, feeling strangely powerful. It was so much like that moment before the king that he’d taken her hand and she’d called the sun, but different still.

“I’ve imagined what your hands would feel like on my skin since the party, solnishko.”

Her other hand joined the first. Eyes on his, she slid her palms up his chest, and watched her touch unmake him. He shuddered, his lips parted on a silent gasp, his cock hard against her hip. And she burned, the heat of the sun licking beneath her skin as she realized a new kind of power.

Catching his shirt behind his neck, he yanked it off and tossed it aside. It joined his tunic on the floor, and his hands swept up her sides, trailing fire beneath her skin, as if he called the sunlight inside her with every caress.

“You’re overdressed,” he whispered against her mouth.

His lips ran down her throat, and she arched against him with a soft moan. Between them, his fingers freed the clasps of her own tunic. He drew back only to help her lift the shirt over her head and discard it, leaving her in her stays.

Instead of immediately taking her out of those, he bent his mouth to the swell of her breast and pressed more kisses against her skin.

She shivered beneath his touch, lifting her fingers to his hair to hold his mouth against her as he kissed and licked his way across her skin. Every touch made her burn, made her ache, made the wetness between her legs grow. Her body arched against his, and he pressed against her in turn, fitting his hips between her legs. One of her own legs lifted, wrapping around his hip, and he let out a soft, satisfied noise against her skin.

Dragging his hands down her sides as if he couldn’t get enough of touching her, he caught a bit of skin between his teeth. She sucked in a sharp gasp as he worried her skin, as he slipped his hands beneath her ass and lifted her up with a casual strength that left her reeling in the wake of a wash of heat and desire.

Now, he pinned her against the post with his hips tight against hers, the line of his cock a brand between her legs.

She shifted restlessly against him, but he seemed in no great hurry.

Two of his fingers hooked in front of her stays, pulling to create just enough room that he could urge her breast from the fabric.

Cool air kissed her nipple just before his mouth wrapped around it. A harsh gasp escaped her as wet heat pulled all the air from her lungs. She keened, her nails scratching against his scalp as her eyes fluttered shut.

His teeth dragged against her nipple, worrying it to a hard peak. When he bit down, he applied a pressure that built and built, and just when she thought the pressure might turn to pain, he released her nipple. The tingling pleasure of it made her gasp.

“Again,” she demanded.

Obliging her, he freed her other breast, sucking the hardened peak of her nipple between his lips as his hips flexed against hers.

He bathed her in sensation, holding her against the post with his body as his fingers found the laces of her stays and pulled them free. The fabric fell away from her, and he released her breast, straightening and catching her lips in another kiss.

His hands swept up her sides, and she expected him to fill his palms with her breasts. Instead, he held her tight against him, no space between their bodies as he licked into her mouth and let their tongues tangle together. The crush of his chest against her breasts felt almost as decadent as the line of his cock between her legs, and she moaned into their kiss as her fingers tugged at his hair.

“More?” he asked against her mouth.

“More,” she agreed.

Palming her ass, he smiled. She felt the curve of his lips, delighted that she could make him smile. He pulled her away from the post and, turning, fell onto the bed with her over him.

She followed him down, bending over him to press hungry kisses against his neck as his hands swept over her back.

“Boots, Miss Starkov.”

“Can’t we ignore them?” They could just get their pants out of the way and finish this without taking their shoes off. She knew that.

He slid his fingers into her hair, carding it out of her face as he urged her to look at him.

The expression he wore took her breath away. “I will have you naked in this bed, Alina,” he said, and her body reacted to that with such profound heat that she gasped. The hunger in his eyes sharpened. Saints, he was a predator who was clearly pleased to have caught his prey.

Except she wasn’t prey. She hadn’t been since that moment in the tent when he’d pierced her skin and let out the light, even though she hadn’t known it at the time. As much as he’d manipulated her at first, they were equals now. Their powers existed in a balance, and he could no more consume her completely than she could consume him.

That thrilled her. That excited her.

And his eyes reflected that same feeling.

Bracing her hands on his chest, she pushed herself back. Mindful of his body, she slipped between his legs, going to her knees at the foot of the bed.

He followed her, followed every inch of her progress, pushing himself up. When her knees hit the floor, his shaky exhalation filled the room like a physical thing.

A smile curved her lips. The way he looked at her filled her with more of that new power. With that intense, dark-eyed gaze devouring her, she felt like she could conquer the world.

Her fingers pulled free the laces on his boots, and she tugged them off his feet.

With her hands braced on his knees, she rose over him. Again, he whispered a ragged oath. His eyes raked from her waist up her stomach, over her breasts, up to her face.

“You have enchanted me, solnishko.” His hand cupped her jaw, drawing her close for a lingering kiss. “Take off your shoes.”

She did him one better.

After kicking off her own boots, as she stood at the foot of the bed with his hungry eyes fixed on hers, she smoothed her hands down her breasts. His eyes followed her hands, lingered on her nipples, and then jumped back to her hands as they caught on the fly of her pants.

His breath hitched in his chest.

She tugged the laces open.

He leaned toward her, naked want sharpening his features.

She could do anything, she realized. If he weren’t just a vision—a vision that had substance and weight for her and her alone—she could take this moment to destroy him. The most powerful man in the world was vulnerable in her room. In their room.

She could end the war.

She could kill him.

She could snuff out his power and have all the time in the world to solve the problem of the Shadow Fold without his armies bearing down on hers.

Instead, she swished her hips from one side to the other and let her pants whisper down her legs. She didn’t even hesitate—how could she when the desire in his gaze filled her with confidence and power—to let her small clothes follow.

Naked before him, just as vulnerable as he, she felt more power than she ever had in her life.

“You’re a vision,” Aleksander told her, holding out a hand to her.

She placed her hand in his and climbed onto the bed. When he tugged, she fell into his arms, and he rolled her under him, his hands sweeping down her ribs, her hips, her thighs as he settled beside her.

His lips brushed against her breast. His tongue curled around her nipple. “I want to kiss every inch of you.” He spoke the words against the underside of her breast, his fingers circling around her knee and sliding up the inside of her thigh.

A little gasp from her stopped his hand. He glanced up at her, and she let out a shuddering breath—not of fear or anxiety but of anticipation.

No one had ever touched her like this. She’d fantasized about it, first with Mal between her legs and then with him, with Aleksander. Even as she fled him from Ravka to Novyi Zem, she’d imagined what his hands might feel like on her.

Rough calluses. Warm. Strong.

“Alina?”

Licking her lips, she shifted beneath him, drawing one leg up so that she was open to him.

His breathing sped up, matching hers. His fingers stroked a featherlight caress down the back of her thigh as she caught her lip between her teeth. “Please,” she whispered.

Two of his fingers parted the lips of her cunt and caressed her from entrance to clit—and sunlight shimmered beneath her skin.

He froze. The shadows in the recesses of the room darkened, a gathering gloom that should have been a threat. Instead, desire spiked through her, a wicked snap of electric heat.

“More,” she told him, her eyes on his. “Please.”

“Why did you call the light?”

She took a moment to consider his question even though all her brain wanted was to shut off and let her body enjoy more of his touch. “I didn’t,” she finally said. “You—your touch did.”

He studied her in silence, considering her words. His fingers stayed where they were, resting against warm, wet skin just above her clit. The persistent weight of his touch built anticipation beneath her skin, and she trembled ever so slightly.

Almost experimentally, he circled one finger around her clit.

Light followed his touch, a glimmer of noon in the darkness of their room.

His eyes widened with wonder, with desire, with an avalanche of hunger. He pushed himself up the length of her body, his mouth crashing against hers in a wild kiss.

Wrapping her arms around him, she let herself drown in that kiss as her body twisted toward his.

His fingers moved against her. Long, languorous strokes that matched the drag of his tongue against hers.

He explored every inch of her, his fingers running back and forth between her legs and spreading her slick arousal over her skin. Each caress ended with his fingers flicking against her clit as his tongue flicked against hers.

When she started to moan into his mouth, he drew back. Propped on one arm above her, he watched her. Watched her face as she arched and gasped, rocking her hips into his hands in search of more. But he seemed content to play with her, to make her burn with more of that heat as his touch drew light across her flesh.

His fingers circled her entrance, and she keened for him.

One finger pressed against her, and she raked her nails down his back.

A pleased laugh rumbled out of him, and he eased one finger into her. Now, he gasped. His hips jerked against hers, and that lack of control from him thrilled her. “Tight. You’re so tight.”

He dropped his forehead against hers, and Alina let her eyes meet his. “More,” she demanded.

His finger sank inside her, and the light that he called inside her with his touch glittered beneath her belly, her chest. She felt the warmth of it as it spread through her, felt the warmth of the pleasure created by his finger slowly thrusting into her.

“Should I tell you how I’ve touched myself to the thought of having you like this?” he asked her.

A moan spilled past her lips, and her hips arched. “Yes.”

“I wondered if you’d burn with the heat of the sun.” His lips brushed against her forehead, the length of her nose, her cheek.

A keening whine caught in her throat. One of her hands fisted in the sheets beneath him, the other clutched at his shoulder. She burned—surely he felt how hot she burned.

“I never expected you to glow, too.”

His finger drew out of her, and she made a plaintive little noise. “Don’t stop.”

Two fingers ran over her entrance, and she gasped. His thumb dragged over her clit, and she shook beneath him. Slowly, he pushed those fingers into her, his cheek resting against hers. “You’re the sun itself, light and heat poured into flesh.” His fingers curled inside her, and she keened again for him. “Move with me, solnishko. Rock your hips in time with my fingers.”

His words rumbled against her ear, as much a physical caress as the fingers inside her.

“That’s it.” He drew back, and she forced her eyes open, watching him watch her.

Light shimmered beneath her skin, a prismatic array of silvers and golds that grew brighter as she grew hotter. Beyond the frame of the bed, the shadows grew darker still until she couldn’t see the ceiling, the door. Not that she cared to.

He slipped his hand beneath her head, still braced on that same arm above her, and urged her head to turn toward his. “Close your eyes, Alina.”

After a second of hesitation—she didn’t want to lose his face, the expressions he wore—she let her eyes close.

“Keep moving with me.” His thumb brushed over her clit, and her hips jumped. For a moment, she lost the rhythm of his fingers inside her, but he kept going. Kept stroking her. “You burn me.” His mouth brushed the corner of her lips. “I’d always imagined you would.” His fingers curled inside her, and she let out a strangled moan. “In winter, I’d lay before the fireplace to imagine the heat of you as I stroked my cock.”

She couldn’t quite picture it—not him naked with his cock in his hand, but the rest of it? Oh, yes, she could easily imagine him in front of the fire, that dark-eyed look of desire on his face.

“I’d wrap my hand around my cock and pretend it was yours, that you were beside me, that the heat of the flames was the heat of your body. And when I came, I’d whisper your name and imagine the crackle of the fire was your laughter.”

His fingers curled, and she keened. The fire consumed her, burning her from the inside out. She was lost in the heat except for the weight of his body at her side, the easy warmth of his fingers inside her.

“I’d wonder what your cunt would feel like around my cock.”

Her cunt clenched around his fingers, a sharp contraction that had her gasping. Tension lined her entire body. Her nails dug deeper into his shoulder, her other hand twisting the coverlet beneath them as her body strained against him, chasing a pleasure she craved more than the air in her lungs.

His lips brushed her ear. “I’m going to be inside you tonight, Miss Starkov.”

She came with a broken little cry, her back bowed. Pleasure washed through her in waves of heat. Light burned against her closed eyelids for just a moment before heavy shadow plunged them into darkness.

She was still shaking when his mouth brushed her belly. She hadn’t quite made sense of what he was doing when his tongue laved over her clit and his fingers began moving inside her again.

Her eyes flew open, and she let out a sobbing moan. Her hips arched, her back bowed again, and he laughed against her. The sound was full of pleasure, of dark satisfaction.

Tendrils of shadow whispered down her body. They curled against her breasts and played over her nipples like the bow of a violin as he sucked her clit between his lips and worked his fingers inside her.

When she tried to thrust her fingers into his hair to hold his mouth against her, silky shadows drew her hands above her head.

“Just feel,” he commanded.

The fact that she was helpless to do anything but obey made her tremble with pleasure.

The closer he worked her to orgasm, the brighter the light beneath her skin became. If not for the streaks of darkness between the light, she would have been afraid one of her guards would see the light and come running. But his shadows contained the light, twined around it until sun and night braided together.

She broke for him a second time, whimpering as her legs dragged along his sides, as she rocked against his mouth. He licked her through her orgasm, the stroking of his fingers prolonging the pleasure until she thought she might come a third time.

He worked her to that edge, and then he drew back. His fingers slowed but didn’t leave her, and he leaned over her body.

The shadows holding her arms released her, and now she did drive her fingers into his hair to pull his mouth to hers for a long, needy kiss. The sharp taste of her desire on his lips only served to reignite the desperate fire inside her and remind her of that aching, empty feeling. Even with his fingers inside her, she didn’t feel the way she wanted, needed to feel.

“Please,” she whispered, hating the feel of his pants against her legs.

“Do you need me to fuck you?” he asked, and the rough language drew a ripple of sunlight down her body and sharp heat between her legs. “Do you want me inside you?”

“You promised,” she reminded him, and her fingers dropped from his hair to his back, sweeping down his skin to wiggle beneath his pants. She grasped his ass and yanked him against her.

His groan of pleasure made her shiver with delight. “You’re better than any of my fantasies.” His tongue flicked against her lips. She sucked it into her mouth. “Wicked girl. And they call you a saint.”

Instead of cooling her ardor, that made her burn hotter. “I never wanted to be a saint.”

He drew his fingers from her cunt and caught her chin between his slick index finger and thumb. She had no idea why that made her cunt throb, but it did, and she shifted restlessly against him.

The intense look in his eyes only made her ache more. The fact that he wasn’t between her legs, guiding his cock into her left her frustrated—and desperate.

“Must I beg?” she asked.

Heat flared in his eyes—and that delicious power spread through her.

“Do I need to beg for you to take me, Aleksander?”

He drew back so fast, a cool breeze washed over her skin. She watched him yank his pants open, his eyes dragging down the shimmering length of her body. As he shoved his pants down, her eyes slid over his muscled torso to the arching line of his cock.

Need pulsed inside her. Her mouth felt suddenly dry. She’d seen animals mate, and it wasn’t easy to maintain privacy in the army. None of those things prepared her for him. Or, perhaps, didn’t prepare her for the sight of him when he’d already given her two orgasms. Soft with pleasure and hungry for more, the sight of his cock thrilled her.

He tossed his pants aside and laid himself over her. His hands framed her face as he kissed her, as she shifted beneath him to bring his cock against her slick cunt.

He gasped into their kiss, and she raked her nails down his back as she arched. His cock dragged against her clit, and the pleasure of it left her breathless.

“I want to know what you feel like inside me,” she whispered against his mouth. “And I want you to tell me if I’m as hot as you imagined.”

He swore, rolling to his back and taking her with him. His hands swept down her body with an urgency she’d never seen from him before. Long, fine-boned fingers curved over her hips, and he showed her where to settle over him.

“On your knees for me, solnishko,” he told her, his voice rough.

This was where her knowledge dried up. She’d heard soldiers brag about their conquests, so she understood there were a variety of ways two people could come together, but all that knowledge was theoretical. She followed the guidance of his hands, rising above him.

One of his hands slipped between them, and she understood what he wanted.

As his cock nudged against her, he braced his free hand against her chest, between her breasts. “Sometimes, this hurts the first time.” His voice was ragged. His hand shook. The starved hunger in his eyes made heat roll through her. “I can’t promise—”

She bent forward, her lips against his. “Fuck me, Aleksander,” she said, delighted by her own daring, by the way his eyes widened, by how the tendons in his neck suddenly stood out sharp with tension.

He arched beneath her, and his cock slid into her.

She eased down, and his cock pressed deeper, filling her, stretching her, and her head fell back as pleasure burned through her. Shimmering shafts of light spilled speckling patterns against his skin as his hand settled on her hip and drew her down his length, and the only thing she felt was the exquisite pleasure of it.

Fire. Maddening ecstasy.

“How?” she gasped, her head lolling forward. Her lips found his. “How did you only fantasize about this?”

Ragged laughter warmed her lips. His hands smoothed over her hips, a gentle pressure showing her how to move now that he was seated deep inside her. “No pain?”

Her hips rolled forward, and she moaned. His cock felt so good in her. She felt incredible. Full. Here at last was the feeling she’d been chasing since the first brush of his lips on her neck in the library.

She moved against him again, unable to answer his question when the pleasure consumed all her focus. Her eyes met his, glittering in the darkness, and she let out a soft, stuttering gasp. “Aleksander.”

“Incredible,” he murmured in reply, his hips rolling in a soft counterpoint against hers. When they came together, she felt him slide deep, felt him fill her until there was no space between them, no room for light—no room for darkness. There was only them in the center of a glittering halo of light ensconced in the solid, protective weight of his midnight.

“Again, Alina.” His words were rough, broken by the staccato rhythm of his breathing. “My name—say it again.”

She had a moment of shocking clarity. No one called him by his name. He was General Kirigan or the Darkling, but never Aleksander. Not even Baghra used his name.

Carefully, she lowered herself against him. Her breasts brushed against his chest, and that made his breath stutter. Her arms braced on either side of his head. Her hands cradled his jaw. “Aleksander,” she whispered against his lips. “Tell me how I feel, Aleksander.”

His fingers dug into her hips, but the faint pain only made the pleasure of his cock moving inside her sweeter. “Like summer.”

“Do I burn, Aleksander?”

He thrust deep into her, and pleasure seared her. Light spilled from her skin everywhere they touched, flinging glittering light into the darkness surrounding them. “Like the sun.”

“Am I as good as you imagined, Aleksander?”

The laugh that spilled from his was incredulous, and the disbelief in it flattered her. “You are so much more than hundreds of years of imagining,” he told her. “So much better than any fantasy.”

His words made her ache, made her cunt ripple and clench around him. When he groaned, arching under her to drive deeper, she whispered his name.

One of his hands stayed on her hip. The other dipped between their bodies. His fingers played against her clit as they moved against each other, losing themselves in the hard pounding of their hearts and the harsh panting of their breath.

She tucked her face against his neck as he petted her, as he stroked her, as he helped her come apart around him. The feel of her body clenching around him was indescribable. It sated some itch inside of her she’d never quite understood before; coming from her own hand felt good, but there was a visceral satisfaction in coming with him inside her.

“More?” he asked against her lips.

Her pleasure drunk brain took a long moment to comprehend that little word. “There’s more?”

He wrapped his arms around her and rolled them over. Urging her legs high on his waist, he tangled his fingers in her hair and gripped her waist hard. “Move with me, solnishko.”

When he started fucking her, it was rough and hard and fast. She lost herself in the rhythm, in the punishing pace of his thrusts. Beneath him, she twisted against the bed and arched to get him as deep into her as possible.

Just as good, this was just as good, but for completely different reasons. She dragged her hands over her body, pinching her own nipples to the sound of his hungry growls.

“Touch yourself,” he told her, and she did.

She played with her clit, her eyes fixed on his as he drove into her—at least until the light from her skin grew to be too much. Her back arched, and he surged hard against her, kissing her with a savagery she felt down to her toes.

His tongue slid into her mouth, muffling her sobbing moan of his name as she came again.

He seemed to lose his rhythm, his thrusts coming harder, until he went still against her and the shadows surged around their bodies. For a moment, the darkness was so intense she could see only the glimmer of his eyes.

Slowly, he relaxed against her. The tension eased out of him, and he rolled them both to their sides.

As her breathing steadied and both light and shadow receded, Alina found herself a little uncertain. None of the books—none of the soldiers’ stories—told her what she was supposed to do now.

“How do you feel?” he asked her, his hand settling on the curve of her waist.

She studied him in the dim light, his face mere inches from hers, and realized she didn’t know how to answer that.

“Any pain?”

“No.” That answer came immediately. Her body felt heavy, her limbs leaden. She only now felt how slick with sweat her skin was. “Lethargic, I guess.”

“Then you’ll rest well tonight,” he said, his knuckles brushing against her cheek.

“After you disappear, will we be enemies again?”

Now he looked thoughtful. His gaze fixed over her shoulder for a long moment, and then he turned back to her. His eyes drifted shut and his lips pressed full against hers, not to arouse but to offer something else. Simple intimacy, maybe.

He lifted his lips from hers, his eyes still closed. “We are what you make us.”

#darklina #alina starkov #aleksander morozova #the darkling #shadow and bone #shadowandbone #sab #fanfic

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wienerbarnes · 5 years ago

Text

Whatever It Takes (4/6)

Pairing: Bucky x Doctor!Reader

Word Count: 1,481

Warnings: Medical mumbo jumbo, fluffy stuff!!!

A/N: suuuuuuuper sorry for the late chapter! ive been so busy these last few days and it completely slipped my mind! hope u all will forgive me and id say it wont happen again but ehhhhh who knows :)

SERIES MASTERLIST

Dr. Curtis returns to her hotel and you volunteer to stick around to observe John for the night. You may have volunteered in hopes to spend some more time with Bucky, but you’ll keep telling yourself that you stayed behind in order to observe more of the medical technology surrounding you. It’s late into the night when you return to John’s room to check on him. You’ve been roaming the hallways of the Avengers’ private medical wing trying to pass the time and also hoping to run into Bucky. He hasn’t returned since earlier in the evening when he was in John’s room with you.

You peek your head in quietly to see John awake, looking at his hand, the skin still peeling and a small brown tuft in his palm. You enter the room and close the door behind you before slowly approaching.

“How do you feel?” You ask.

“Like shit.” He responds, still looking at his hand. You look closer to see a multitude of hair strands clumped together at his fingertips. “My hair is falling out.” He informs you. “I’m guessing that’s the chemo?”

You sigh and pick up the file resting at the foot of the bed and read through before glancing at him again. “No.” You answer, putting the file back down.

“It’s too quick. Which means you don’t have cancer.” You explain. “I think someone actually did try to kill you.”

…

“You’re stubborn. You’re arrogant.” Curtis lists.

“You’re yelling is giving me a headache.” You state.

Everyone is gathered in Dr. Banner’s office again. Including Bucky, who is now wearing different clothes than the ones he’d picked you up in. He’s now donning a pair of black sweatpants and an “Avengers” sweatshirt, the famous “A” logo printed on the center. Perhaps he was getting ready for bed and these are his pajamas. Maybe these are just his after-shower clothes and he actually sleeps naked-

“This isn’t productive.” Banner interrupts your thoughts and stops Curtis before she can continue to give you an ear-full.

“Nothing is productive now! She might’ve cost this man his life! And it’s due to your poor judgement!” She continues to point his finger at Banner.

Bucky observes you as you seemingly star off into space while the screaming match continues. He can envision everything turning in your head; you racking your brain for any ideas to help save this man. Gears turning and turning and turning before he sees a sort of realization show in your eyes.

“Cordyceps Sinensis.” You mumble out, and the arguing stops. “It’s, an, uh, herbal substance derived from a parasitic fungus, comes from caterpillars. Along with Dimercaprol and Chelation, it’s been shown to mitigate bone marrow damage from radiation poisoning,” You try.

“In monkeys.” You wince as you finish your explanation.

After a few minutes of silence, Bucky finally speaks; and oh how you missed his voice, “Where do we get it?”

…

“This is a Chinese herbal tea,” You begin to explain to John as you hand him a mug full of the steaming hot liquid.

“I’m dying, aren’t I?” He dejectedly asks.

“Uh, yeah, probably.” You quietly answer him.

The sun is up again when you finally get a hold of the herbs and are able to make the tea. Everyone is understandably exhausted after the long night of staying awake; you haven’t slept a wink. As you hold the mug for John and slowly feed him the drink, you hear everyone file out of the room. You glance over your shoulder to see Bucky remain.

“Don’t worry, he’ll probably sleep for a bit while the tea works its magic, and then you can finally give me a private show.” You tease as you place the mug on the nightstand next to the bed.

“Don’t threaten me with a fun time, doll.”

He walks over to the love seat you usually occupy and plops down in it.

“You’re in my seat.” You joke. A smirk grows on his face as he scoots as far to left of the seat as he can and pats his right thigh. You’d normally throw some light insults at him until he decides to give you the chair back, but whether it’s how exhausted you are or how much you missed him in those hours he disappeared, you just don’t care. You slowly climb into his lap, legs curling underneath your body and atop his right thigh. His right arms wraps around your body as you curl up into a ball in his side and, my goodness, he is so warm. As soon as your head begins to rest in the curve where his shoulder meets his neck, your eyelids feel heavier than ever.

“Get some sleep, sweetheart. I’ll wake you up in a coupla’ hours so you can check on him.” Bucky whispers to you. You hum in response and finally let sleep take over your body.

…

“Psst. Wakey-wakey.” You hear Bucky’s deep and soothing voice wake you from your sleep. You won’t admit it to him but, you definitely pretended to stay asleep for a few seconds longer just to hear him continue to whisper in your ear.

“Mhm.” You hum, slowly stretching out of the ball you were rolled up in.

“He says that the nausea’s going away.” Bucky says to you, voice still low because he knows you’re still bit groggy.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Uh, radiation sickness has a latency period. You’ll get better before you get worse.” You correct, rubbing your eyes before standing and reaching over to feed John another few gulps of tea.

Returning to your seat on Bucky’s lap, you’re suddenly overwhelmed with him. The thought of the way he was gently whispering in your ear causes goosebumps to rise on your arms, you can smell his smell on your skin, on your clothes. You want to wake up like this all the time. Minus the dying Avengers secret spy.

A moments of peace and quiet pass before John breaks the silence. “You guys wanna know what I really did down there?” You glance and Bucky and his brow is furrowed, giving him a confused expression.

“Only if it’s interesting.” You reply.

“The women there… during Carnival, they do this dance… called the ‘Devil Dance’…” John mumbles out slowly, throat still scratchy from the vomiting from the previous day.

“Not interesting,” You mumble as you squirm to get comfortable in Bucky’s lap once more, not noticing the smile creeping up on his face and you squeeze yourself down under his arm and into his side once more.

“I spent the whole forty days with all of these women… they would tell me things… and then I’d find out they’d end up…” John trails off and you can hear the guilt in his voice.

Bucky suddenly snaps out his daze and looks at John. “Forty days?” He questions. He looks at you and you match his confused expression as you think and realize what he thought of.

“Carnival in Bolivia is only eight days.” You conclude.

You quickly turn back towards John,

“Do you know what a chestnut looks like?”

…

Approaching the door to Dr. Banner’s office, you swing it open to find Banner speaking to the infamous Nick Fury. The both turn to look at you and you shove your finger is Fury’s face, “You idiot!” You accuse.

“Who the hell are you callin’ an idiot?” Fury turns his body to look you up and down.

“Whoever knew that John was stationed in Brazil, not Bolivia.” You explain. Fury’s face remains confused while Banner’s face morphs into one of realization and then annoyance.

“It’s the same region, same parasites, same diseases,” Fury begins to defend, rolling his eyes.

“But not the same language.” Bucky finishes.

“In Bolivia, chestnuts are chestnuts, but in Brazil, they have castanhas de para, literally, chestnuts from para, because it would be stupid for people from Brazil to call them Brazil-nuts!” You yell. Although Bucky understands and shares your anger over such a detrimental error, he can’t deny that it’s incredibly amusing to watch you shout in Nick Fury’s face.

“So what if he ate a few Brazil-nuts?!” Fury yells back, patience wearing thinner by the second.

“He ate a lot of Brazil nuts. Which contain selenium,” Bucky notices Banner roll his eyes and rub his forehead out of the corner of his eye, “Which can lead to fatigue, vomiting, skin irritation, discharge from the fingernail beds, and hair loss. Any of that sounding familiar?” You ask.

Fury looks between you, Bucky, and Dr. Banner before finally asking, “Can you treat it?”

Your tense posture relaxes as you let out a sigh, “I already started treatment.” You assure.

“Then what’s the problem?” Fury sarcastically asks you, as everyone in the room gives Fury a shared look of annoyance.

“You’re an idiot.” Dr. Banner agrees.

TAG LIST: @gagmebucky @thewritingdoll @hannie-writes-marvel @angel-fire @jaamesbbarnes @sgtjbuccky @unicorniorosacomefrutillas @creepylittlemarvelgirl @spiderrpcrker @mywinterwolf @free-as-fishes @auskitty @som3thingcr3ative

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x doctor!reader #doctor!reader #d&s’milestonecelebration #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #writing challenge

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snsfanfictions · 5 years ago

Note

Are there any more multi chapter sns fics you’d recommend?

yep!

We Three by Cannibal Inc

He is a black stain to their perfection. He is on the inside, but on the outskirts of it. Because two is a unit. And three? Three is extra. All he wants is to disappear. Let them forget a Spring that is already dead.

(Romance/Angst 10/10 73,288)

Bandmates by Rasengan22

Two years after their group debut, J-pop band members Naruto and Sasuke experience a change in their once frosty relationship. But what, Naruto wonders, is it changing into exactly? BTS-inspired. Drabble series. SNS.

( Friendship/Romance 9/9 31,439)

(I recommend every story of Rasengan22! Especially It Started Over Coffee series!)

keep your heart around by sanguinedawns

A testament to time; eight years spent stitching together hearts; the thread needling over and over to tighten the hold is what makes them. A family different from his family, but a family all the same. The one he’s chosen and that’s chosen him. Sasuke must be luckier than the luckiest. He gets to have both at the palm of his hand and hold it next to his chest, beating and breathing

Or; Sasuke comes home.

(Friendship/Romance 9/9 90723)

(sanguinedawns writes lots of amazing one shots!)

you got me trippin', stumblin' by sanguinedawns

Sasuke lets out a full-on belly-laugh, clutching his stomach and wheezing and Naruto thinks he must be really fucking shitfaced because that’s the best sound his ears have ever heard. After the moment of hysteria passes, the boy turns to him and asks, “What exactly about me says I’m all those things or I’ve engaged in all those things?”

Or; Naruto hates Uchiha Sasuke until he doesn't.

(Enemies to Friends to Lovers/Romance 4/4 31401)

Frozen by YanaEffect

After living a life with his foster parents, Sasuke Uchiha learns at the age of 23 that he has a brother living in a small town called Stillwater in Minnesota. He decides to move in with his brother, and Itachi's blond neighbor/friend Naruto Uzumaki turns out to be someone who he enjoys spending time with. But with the two of them hurt in different ways, it's not easy to let each other in.

(Friendship/Romance 15/15 111471)

The Spaces Between Us by stripeypirate

The year is 1985. Sakura Haruno waitresses at a local diner and wonders if dropping out of nursing school means she'll be stuck in sleepy, small-town Bedford Falls for the rest of her life, forever in her best friend's shadow.

Sasuke Uchiha's a man on the run, thrust into a world deeper and darker than he ever anticipated.The chilly Northwestern wind brings change as lives collide, and hearts are bared (as well as broken). The Double R Diner sits at the center of it all- but its foundation will need to be strong enough to weather the storm

(Falling in love with your best friend can be just as bad as falling in love with your worst enemy).

(Angst/Romance/Friendship and Sakuino! 27/27 71171)

Sharp Little Pinpricks by TheWonderYears

Love is sweet and brutal. Naruto licks the blood from the torn flesh of his lips and braces for the jabs that come one right after the other, from all directions, like little needles piercing his skin.

(my heart aches when i think about this story. It’s one of my favorites.)

(Angst. So Much Angst. Some cheating? 8/8 75988)

Send My Love by

TheWonderYears

Ending up with the attention of the millionaire heartthrob playboy doesn’t mean the rules change for you.

(Romance/Angst 7/7 30405)

Unravel by Dae | Disentangle by Dae (Sequel)

One way to induce temporary to permanent impotence would be to see your boyfriend and best friend fucking after coming home from visiting your dying mother in the hospital.

That was the case for Naruto until he met an attractive, wealthy, arrogant bastard of a man named Sasuke, who turned his world upside down.

(Angst/Romance 14/14 94063)

Long Lost by CanineKitten

Sasuke wanted Naruto to catch the drift for once and leave him alone, but instead he leaned closer. Maybe Sasuke should have caught on when he saw the determination in Naruto's eyes. Maybe he should have realized that Naruto was about to do something stupid. But he didn’t. So when Naruto kissed him, he was too shocked to even be indignant.

In which Naruto and Sasuke skirt around their feelings for each other until they run out of excuses

(Romance/Angst 26/26 90003)

(you should read their other stories too!)

Red Ring by Nomme_dePlume

He turned the tap off and reached for a towel, wiping it over his face. He rubbed lightly at his eyes first, then brought the towel lower, opening his eyes to see his reflection as the towel wiped over his nose and mouth. A slight discoloration on his finger caught his attention, so he dropped the towel and brought his left hand up for closer inspection – only to find a thin, red ring around his left ring finger. Eyes wide, Naruto stared at his hand and opened his mouth, words failing him momentarily until he found what he was looking for. “Sakura!”

(Soulmates/Romance 14/14 60970)

Something Good by KinomiAkai

Some people are assholes. Some people are kind. It's when those are the same person that things get real confusing.

Minor character death. A fic about grief, healing, and hope

(Friends to Lovers/Romance 29/29 93992)

Enter Naruto by KinomiAkai

Sasuke's a writer whose been writing the same words for years. He's tired, he's annoyed, and his money situation is...pretty messed up, even by student standards.

Enter Naruto.

Modern AU (College/University), Sasunaru/Narusasu.

(Friends to Lovers/Romance 35/35 112231)

(i highly recommend all of @kinomiakai‘s works. They are amazing!)

Corporate Secrets by KizuKatana

Everyone knew that Uzumaki Naruto was a businessman you didn't mess with. He was charismatic and able to win deals that left others wondering how they'd been talked into what they'd just signed. He was held up as an example of everything an alpha should be: strong, charismatic, and commanding. What they could never have expected was that Naruto was not, in fact, an alpha. In a society run by alphas, it was a secret that he kept closely guarded. As long as he never encountered his True Mate, he could keep his identity concealed behind scent blockers and suppressants. And with billions of people in the world, he didn't really have to worry about finding his True Mate. Right? Even if he did, Naruto was sure he would just kick the guy's ass and move on. He'd never met an alpha he was attracted to, or one that could match him.

He wasn't worried at all.

(Omegaverse (but with human biology)/Romance 14/14 97786)

When Love Fades by KizuKatana

Sometimes the pressures of life and small annoyances can overshadow the reason people fell in love in the first place. Sasuke slowly realizes that he might have let something irreplaceable slip away without a fight.

Not a cheating fic! main pairing: SasuNaruSasu, some SasuNeji, some GaaNaruGaa

(Make-up/Break-up/Romance 27/27 187654)

(I recommend all of their stories too!)

syzygy by beastofthesky

In which Sasuke comes home, an errand needs to be run, several people tell him things, and he realizes just what home really is, for him.

(Canon Divergence/Romance 6/6 31407)

And there is some one-shots but with +10k words!

dépaysement by moonwatcher

dépaysement – the feeling of being in another country, the weird feeling you get from things being different from what you’re used to.

(Arranged marriage/Romance 43131)

pink + white by moonwatcher

sasuke has mastered the art of stealthy observation—he can take notes with his eyes closed in calculus if he needed—half his attention on the board, half on Naruto who is usually not taking the notes that he should be...

(High School/Friends to Lovers 14016)

radar by moonwatcher

“Dude . . . Have you ever watched any movie ever? Friends with benefits don’t end well.”

“We’re not friends and I’m not a stupid teenager. I know what I’m doing. And besides I don’t have shit in common with that prick.”

“Uh huh . . .”

(Friends With Benefits/Romance 24470)

(Seriously i think im in love with moonwatcher)

I’m very busy these days so i can’t read that much:( if you guys have recommendations don’t hesitate to send them!

Enjoy

#i mostly recommend all of these authors so check them out!#you will find so much more #sasunaru #narusasu #sns fanfiction #sasunarusasu #narusasu fanfiction

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 5 years ago

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Dear Soulmate, pt. 23/finale (Soulmate AU)

23: We deserve a soft epilogue my darling

Summary: Y/N deals with her husband’s death, learning he wasn’t quite finished with her yet.

Warnings: angst

Word count: 3.6k

Dear Soulmate - Series Masterlist (Soulmate AU) ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"Y/N?" Grayson stood behind her, watching her hair dance with the autumn wind, knowing she was lost in thought, in her own sorrow, but he had to try. Damn it, he had to at least try and get her to rest even if he knew he would fail.

Y/N swallowed a hard lump that had been there since the moment she felt the connection sever, losing the other part of her soul in the process. She felt pieces of it were still there, unaware what those pieces are as she couldn't connect to them - like standing on a cliff with a great fall only a step away, a step she has to take because there isn't a bridge to guide her to the other side, toward safety.

She didn't cry yet. Not even a tear since the moment she felt him leave her. She just stood there, knowing she has lost her happiness, her forevermore. Funerals are like that, the height of raw emotion that swells to see your loved one committed to the soil sears the memory into your mind, that one day forever colored in black and white, just as she now saw the world. It wasn't really black and white, more as if the world has faded, lost its vibrance, because the sun didn't shine as bright anymore, not when Ethan wasn't there to see it.

Y/N was afraid to blink, for every blink brought forth memories: hearing the sirens not too far from her home, Grayson returning home with the confirmation, the kids crying - inconsolable, Cameron arriving with her family, the emptiness of staring at her ceiling and sleeping alone in their bed while wondering if it always felt so cold without him by her side. Then there was the memory of the ceremony she did for him, wanting to follow his religious beliefs even if she wasn't sure what she believed in anymore.

She stood at the front of the funeral. Everyone's heads were down. Maybe it was them showing respect or maybe there were too afraid to look at what was coming. The coffin was pulled from the hearse by six strong men, all wearing suits - Grayson and Cameron's husband were the first ones, Elijah - their eldest and Shawn - their youngest, were next followed by two of Ethan's work friends, the ones she couldn't even remember their names in this state. The silence dwelled as they entered the church. It wobbled as they carried it to the front and gently placed it down.

The coffin was dark stained cherry and it was perfectly polished. It had a cushioned and silky lining. Standing above his body in the church, it felt wrong - he looked so peaceful, like he was just sleeping, almost no sign of the accident that claimed his life, but he wasn't. She knew that. After all, she had her goodbye - she saw him go up the white staircase and into the light. Y/N wasn't a fool, she knew that was just his body, a vessel, because his soul was long gone - had it been there, she'd have known.

"He was supposed to go and get some milk...he badgered me for pancakes since the moment we went to bed on our last night." She spoke plainly, voice void of emotion behind her words as she stared blankly ahead at the coffin before her, refusing to move an inch.

"We were married for five years...completed the soulmate ritual twenty six years ago...known each other for twenty eight. I'm forty six years old, Grayson. I've spent most of my life by his side, loved that incredibly beautiful mess of a man, felt him for forty years inside my very soul and now? I don't feel him. I don't feel anything but cold." Her bottom lip quivered, her eyes closing as the wind dried them far too much to keep on a blank look.

"How is someone supposed to keep moving? What has to change inside you once you lose a soulmate? How does anyone live after that?" Her voice is brittle like glass, yet bleak...she sounds defeated, broken, lost. Lost because she lost a big part of her and she wanted that part back, she wanted it back so bad, but he was gone, vanished in thin air.

"I don't think you do. I'm not saying it gets better, Y/N/N, but it will get easier. Someday, somehow. You know he'd want you home with the kids, with people who love you just as much as he did. He'd want you home in the warmth, not out here freezing." Grayson docile tone frustrated her. It felt like he's being diplomatic, like she'd go and do something stupid as to hurt herself now.

She wasn't trying to be difficult, nor play the victim. She just needed to see this all the way though. She wanted to see the dirt that covered his coffin, to know his body is safely put in the ground and the people who were supposed to do that were already on their way. She needed to be there, to remember that he won't be there anymore - not for quick runs out for milk nor the cuddles, not for the periods and not when her kids graduate or get married or have their own children. He won't be there and she needs to take a moment to make her peace with it. She needs to accept she's left alone. Almost alone.

"It's always freezing inside of me." She sighed heavily, feeling Grayson's hand slip into hers, locking their hands together and for a moment...just a moment, she didn't feel as cold anymore. She couldn't bear to look at him for too long, afraid of the way her mind played tricks on her because even with the beard Grayson grew and the longer hair, he still looked like her Ethan. He still looked every bit alike him and it hurt her terribly. But, the moment she felt the ember of warmth with his touch, she had to look up and see him, just to let him know she wants him there.

"And I'm already with the people I love." She leaned closer to him, letting him wrap an arm around her, watching as the workers started to cover the coffin with dirt, slowly but surely.

Once home, Y/N tried to keep up a facade, offering her children sage advice and safely tucking them away in their rooms. She feigned a smile for all those who tried to comfort her, wishing they would just leave and let her be. She played her part well, waving goodbye to all those who finally started to go, feeling less and less heavy when no one there watched her anymore. No one, but one old man.

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Y/N." The old man took her hands in his shaky ones, offering her a sympathetic smile for relief.

"Grant Geller. I'm sorry, I didn't expect you here, doctor." Y/N couldn't hide her surprise, watching the old man with worry. He didn't seem to be quite capable of standing on his own, let alone travel and last she heard, the man was living in Germany.

"Oh, I'm sure you didn't. I wasn't even sure I'd be able to come." Sitting down, he took his bag, pulling out a single flash drive before pressing into the palm of her hand.

"But I had to give you this." He smiled once more, this time more widely as if it was something he held onto for far too long and finally had a chance to pass onto someone else.

"It's from your late husband. I believe it might help you, my dear."

But all she could hear next is the sound of her heart beating wildly inside her chest. In her hand, she held what could very well be the last of her husband's piece of mind, which could either ruin her memory of him or made it shine even brighter.

When the house cleared and everyone fell asleep, even Grayson who had been awake for days on end just as she was, Y/N finally went to her bed and put the flash drive into use. She couldn't not know what was on it. She needed closure. She needed more of him and knowing there was some undiscovered part of him would have desolated her.

She wasn't ready when she saw the only thing on the flash drive was a video named Dear Soulmate, reminding her of her own series meant to find him.

Shaking, she double clicked on the file, gasping once she saw his face once more - not the face of the man she had just lost, but the man she had found once upon a time - an eighteen year old Ethan with the world on his shoulders.

"Hey there, darling. I'm sure you're quite confused as to why this came to your possession or why I'm speaking like I'm eighty, but I'm guessing if you're watching this, you're somewhere around the same age and I've decided that when we turn fifty I'll start calling you darling." Chuckling, Ethan cocked his eyebrow just as he used to do till the moment he died, arrogant and confident and every bit an Ethan Dolan thing that she had adored. Pausing the video, Y/N moved the laptop, rushing toward the bathroom to release the nausea that crawled up her throat.

Seeing him...hearing him again, especially when he talked about a future they would never see and he believed would happen, all of that clutched her stomach until it turned into a knot that needed to empty its content.

With a little mouthwash, Y/N cleared the bitter taste from her mouth, returning to her bed once more to watch the video, determined to hear what he had to say. What did he think was so important she knew that he had made a video for her to watch after his death?

Taking a deep breath, she pressed play once again.

"I'm sure I'm still just as handsome as you remember." Ethan smirked, chuckling to himself before raising both hands up in mock surrender, making Y/N giggle, her eyes watering.

"But I'll stop now and get down to business." His playful smirk retired, leaving a serious look in his eye as his lips set in a firm line.

"I wanted to explain what my therapy was about. Because yes, I felt burdened by the pain and suffering I caused you, but there was more to it. Much more, because I...I robbed Grayson of his soulmate and I'm not sure how I'll ever be able to forgive myself for this." Rubbing his forehead, Ethan frowned, looking down at his hands while Y/N tried to understand.

"Doctor Geller said almost fifty percent of all identical twins actually share a soulmate as they have been made out of a single soul - one soul in two bodies - each with a claim on the soulmate they share but one is usually stronger than the other. Twin who has a stronger connection to the soulmate is cursed to live an unusually short life, rarely surviving their twenties and...as you know, our connection - you and I...we're as strong as it gets." Ethan swallowed hard, the gulp picked up over his microphone and the words would have stopped Y/N's heart if it were possible. The notion of Ethan's words, the meaning behind them, all of it made her want to be dead.

"Grayson's timer was never when he'll meet his soulmate. It showed when I'd die and when he'd have the stronger connection. But when you two got into that accident, it changed. Somehow, you've made a difference in the universe and the timer stopped, so instead of two years, I got..." Glancing back up at the camera, Ethan chuckled dryly.

"I'm not even sure how long I'll get with you...if I'll ever be given the chance to call you darling, I just know I've been given this rare, once in a lifetime opportunity to love you and I can't help but feel guilty because Grayson will never get what I did." Sighing, Ethan runs a hand through his hair, giving them both a small pause to draw in a fresh, deep breath, enough to keep them alive.

Y/N wanted to scream, to cause a scene because she knew Ethan hid something from her and she trusted him enough to share once he is ready, but this? Now?

"Grayson knows too. Doc told him and he, uh...he asked me never to tell you. He said he'd make the sacrifice for us both so our connection would never be tainted, but I couldn't keep that to myself forever. He said he'd be there for us, with us, but it's slowly killing him, I know it is. It's why he's always away, having meaningless one night stands and drinking...it's killing him because this, all of this, was how he saw his life going, not me." Lifting his head, Ethan looked straight at the camera and smiled.

"But then you came around and I knew I was a goner. I was yours and I didn't even fight it. Not even a little. I hope we had a long life together, I hope you have good memories of me to hold onto and I hope Grayson found a way to live without being in pain." Ethan exhaled loudly, licking his lips.

But Y/N...she just remembered how amazing he was with her. He made her so, so happy and it wasn't about the flowers he bought her every Friday after work, or about the slow dancing in the kitchen at two after midnight, or about the surprise trips they took or the perfect porch swing he built her with a little help from his brother...it was about the way he always cared for her and everyone he ever met - how much he gave in every relationship he had with the people in his life, how good he was with their kids and in his job as a director or how supportive he was of her job as a writer. He always went that extra mile in his life and this was proof. He couldn't bare his brother never got anything he did, and this...this was a blessing on his behalf.

"I'm not sure if I made you love me or hate me after, but I do know that I have loved you since the moment I watched the first Dear Soulmate video I've seen and I know that never stopped, not even after I'm gone. Wherever I am, I hope you know I'm with you - in your dreams, in your heart. I love you. We will be together again, I know this...after all, we deserve a soft epilogue my darling." Ethan blew a kiss toward the camera, the screen going black, allowing Y/N to finally shed a tear, starting an entire night of crying into her pillow as she clutched his - it still smelled like him.

She couldn't understand why her accident changed everything, nor the fact that once Grayson's timer hit zero Ethan would have died. How was that destiny? How was that his path?

But destiny can change by big events that echo throughout the universe, such as losing your soulmate, and Ethan lost both Y/N and Grayson that day. Sure, Grayson's heart stopped only for a moment, but Y/N died more than once. It's both cruel and giving, to offer two people a single human being to love while taking one too soon.

Once dawn shone through, Y/N couldn't sit and cry anymore. She wiped her cheeks and walked downstairs, taking a bottle of water before going outside to sit on her porch swing.

But the swing wasn't empty.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Her voice is hoarse, weak, barbed in wire as the accusatory tone registered with Grayson who didn't even have to ask. Ethan once swore Y/N will find out the truth and he knew the day was upon him.

"Because you loved him. You two were happy and I was just a complication." He shrugged, angering her.

"You weren't a complication to me!" She whisper shouted, sitting beside him with a tear-stained face, still so defiant as she used to be.

"I was your best friend. I know." Grayson finished for her, taking a sip of his whiskey before glancing at her.

"But I also know there's too much history between you two to ever make a difference. I'd never want to hurt either of you, even if I was stumbling through life." He took a sip once again, smiling.

"I never stopped being your soulmate and I never will. I'll always be there for you, Y/N/N. Always. A shoulder to lean on, someone to count on...soulmates don't have to be romantic, you know?" Grayson sighed, almost as if he's trying to convince himself more than her.

"So you'll stay?" She breathes out, relieved she wouldn't be left alone. The twins, Elijah and Ellie would go back to college on Monday, Shawn had a year left of high school before he left the nest too...Ethan and Y/N planned to travel after their kids left. They wanted to live a year in Italy and they wanted to see the Northern lights. There were so many plans that would never come to pass, but knowing Grayson would be there...that she wouldn't be completely alone, it gave her something to hope for.

"If you want me to." Grayson turned to her, hoping, praying she'd want him to. More than anything, he wanted to stay. He's been running for so long, afraid to get close, afraid to hurt the life she made for herself.

"I do. I do want you to."

Two years later

The lights blazed in the silent sky. On some nights they would resemble the swirl of a nascent rose that had begun to open, sometimes it was a great river, and sometimes it was great lines descending to earth like the landing lights of a UFO.

Ethan would have loved if it were a UFO, because all his conspiracy theories would have been proven true.

The colors were utterly brilliant and pure. The vibrant shades were in perpetual motion, dancing, flowing, changing shades.

When she looked up at the sky, she saw a ribbon of color. Streams of emerald danced and twirled in the space between the stars. The lights danced across the dark sky, each color slowly fading into another. The frosty winter air bit her cheeks, and her neck was aching from tilting her head back to see the Aurora Borealis, but she could care less. The lights were beautiful, swaying and changing and illuminating the world. Their glow, their shine, everything about them was beautiful.

"This is perfect." She whispered, her words coming out in fumes as she watched in wonder, holding tightly onto Grayson's gloved hand.

"The greatest show on Earth." Grayson agreed, knowing just how much this meant to Y/N. He knew she wanted this, more to keep her dreams with Ethan alive than anything else. Soon after the funeral, she confessed she could still see him, talk to him, but only in her dreams. It wasn't as often as she wanted, but she would get an occasional piece of Ethan in her dream. It didn't feel like it was before, but rather as Ethan told her it was when she was in a coma. He was there, breaking through the static between worlds, still there for her in her dream state, just as his twin was there for her in her wake.

"I can't wait to tell him we did this. I hope he can see them too." She smiled brightly, so widely that Grayson couldn't help but watch her in awe. She was more beautiful than the lights above them, he couldn't deny it. But he also knew that she was always to be Ethan's girl.

He may be there holding her hand, but she's never truly his. They never crossed the invisible line and while they did kiss a few drunken nights, Y/N still couldn't let him in her bed. Grayson knew she never would. The left side of her bed was always reserved for Ethan, even when he was occupying it.

There will always be a part of her still at his funeral, hearing everyone saying their goodbyes. It's the part that refuses to let her go, that needs their bond to extend past their mortal life together. But Y/N did move on. She did find beauty in life, in her children, and doing all the things she wanted to but delayed for years on end.

It was her way to keep Ethan alive and in time, she found happiness as well. There was beauty in her pain, reminding her that what she had was so earth shattering, so important, that there was no other way but to feel the hurt and smile through it.

Twenty years later, Y/N Dolan died peacefully in her sleep, dreaming of her eighteen year old self holding hands with an eighteen year old Ethan as they walked up the white staircase together, up into the light.

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

Tags: @accalialionheart @castiel-savvy18 @notanotherdolantwinsblog @peacedolantwins @mutuallynotmutual @fallinginlove-16 @heyits-claire @daddygraysonsbitch @godlydolans @xalayx @ethanhes @dolandolll

#ethan dolan #dolan twins #ethan dolan x reader #ethan dolan soulmate au #grayson dolan #ethan dolan x y/n #ethan dolan au #ethan dolan fanfic #ethan dolan fic #ethan dolan fanfiction #ethan dolan angst #soulmate au #soulmate

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hyperionswrath--archived · 4 years ago

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@onepartbrave

Seifer… steadied him. Braced him the instant he went down so he avoided a mean collision with the floor in his inebriated state. Letting that fact sink in fully, it took Squall a moment to register that his comfort bottle had been stolen clean out of his grasp. Stunned briefly at the sheer audacity of the thief in obvious question, he blinked mutely at his own empty hand before swapping his gaze to Seifer’s one now claiming the glass. And then—and then!—the guy went on to chastise him about his drinking habits. So what if he had trouble knowing when to stop due to being an absolute lightweight? It wasn’t his fault his body was unaccustomed to the effects of alcohol due to constant Junctions and healing properties they gifted, thus garnered the same result every time he tried. It wasn’t his fault… so why he felt so thoroughly scolded and conceded to it, he’d never know.

What he did do as a direct result of Seifer’s actions was give the man his worst pout ever. Furrowed brows, downturned lips, looking all the sorry for himself; no feature was left unused.

What a spoil sport…

Deciding to not voice the fact that he rarely puked when intoxicated, Squall sunk down for a sulking session, pout continuing and arms coming to fold over his abdomen since he no longer had anything to hold. Hearing Seifer claim he had no choice except abandonment… yeah, he understood. Didn’t like the theory to its core, but he comprehended why. The period after the war was the most unsettling despite peace being on the horizon. Various figureheads called for the punishment of those involved—Seifer, G.Garden, even Rinoa due to her newfound powers—but he’d put a stop to it all. Popped that bubble before it formed and none could question his order as he was their ‘saviour’, or whatever. He always despised that term, like only he played a part in saving the world. Psh.

He wasn’t running now? Of course not, Squall would follow. Seifer wasn’t stupid, despite how many times Squall’d called him an idiot internally. Intelligent to a fault and he used that ability to terrorise other people, getting under their skin with ease. But not all… he had the power to question orders, see through fragile demands and make better suggestions of his own. It was how they succeeded in their first proper mission together, Seifer taking the lead.

Shaking away those thoughts with a feeble jerk of his head, Squall registered the next statement—question?—delivered. What did he want to ask? Too many things for one drunken night he may forget by morning. Responding with a negative swivel of his head, he tilted his head up from where it’d lolled a little while his mind was occupied with more distant memories. Reservation steeled about not prying further into the depths of Seifer’s mind, he granted the free pass and wished, sincerely, he’d never brought it up in the first place. It was the sole reason they were sitting in the street in the first place.

“…Y’say that like you’re gonna win,” he mused amicably, eyes resting on the pair opposite now and pleased to see they looked a little lighter. Less ‘drowning in my sorrows’. Taking the proffered bottle back, he merely set it on his lap while still being supported by his hand. Not desiring more murky depths when he was attempting to remain ‘problem free’, he broke the extended eye-contact he kept and glanced back to the pub they’d deserted. “…Hungry. ‘m gonna go back. Comin’?”

Leisurely, Squall started the attempt of returning to his feet. Legs feeling leaden, he dropped the bottle to the floor, uncaring about picking it up again, and utilised what he had around him to straighten up. Unfortunately, Seifer was the sturdiest support around and one unsteady hand clamped down on the man’s shoulder while his other scrambled up the wall while Squall rose to his feet. Tingling sensations ran along the length of his limbs, outward from his chest, and he grunted as he tilted sideways, and his shoulder collided with the wall when up. “Ow.”

Naturally, despite being unbalanced as hell and unreliable to stand on his own feet, he released the hold he had on Seifer’s shoulder and held a hand out to the man, offering to pull him to his feet.

Would someone ask him, Seifer had simply said steadying the guy was self-preservation. As if he wanted to take care of an injured and drunk Squall all at once. In truth, he noticed his head started to spin too, the mixture of rum and whiskey not being the best choice of all. Still, he was far from being as curtailed as the brunet who definitely had one up on him right now.

As became even clearer when the blond looked at Squall who pulled a face on him that had him internally curse for leaving behind his coat with his phone in it. No one would believe him when he told them the SeeD hat pulled that expression on him. Gaze lingering maybe a moment or two too long on the pouting lips, he chastised himself for old fancies bubbling to the surface again, shaking his head with another huff. "Don't do that."

Letting the silence which settled between them hang for a while, he made a point of not looking at the sulking brunet again, instead lacing his fingers in his lap, realizing that the point of talking about their past had been lost to a much too quick consumption of rum on the other's behalf. Part of him felt relief at that, another part just wanted to get it over with it. Why drag out the inevitable? "We'll have to tackle those questions eventually," he murmured thoughtfully, tipping one shoulder in a shrug, signifying that right now, it didn't matter. Nothing much would come from this in Squall's current state. And frankly, he felt that he was on the verge of being too drunk for a meaningful conversation on that topic himself.

Looking up again now and meeting the gaze of stale-blue eyes, registering the dismissive wave of a hand, he granted his former rival a genuine smile because, frankly, it was probably for the best to let this whole topic slide for now. His smile turned into a smirk very close to his usual arrogance a moment later, one hand lifting so he could flick his wrist and pull one of his daggers from the amiger, deep blue swivels of light and magical energy accompanied by crystalline shards surrounding it. "Think I might, I have some new tricks." Of course he was going to brag about it. And of course his mind had already gone places better left unstirred. For example, the fact that the Kingsglaive could always use the prowess of Balamb's famed Lion.

When Squall made to get up again, he let the dagger vanish once more, about to push himself off the floor when the other man stumbled into him, hand seeking purchase on his shoulder (his bad one at that), making him grunt and, as seemed to be his newest hobby, reach for Squall to steady him. The problem with the whole ordeal being that his movements weren't as coordinated thanks to the influence, and the general stumbling around didn't help either so instead of bracing the brunet by grabbing his arms, he overreached and, due to being pushed back from the unexpected assault, was now looking for purchase himself, finding it with his hands on Squalls behind.

Mortified, he froze up, more than glad that the other had already found purchase on the wall behind them so he could let go - which he did hastily, only to palm his face with his hand, groaning. Much time couldn't be spent feeling utterly ashamed about what just happened as Squall was still scrambling about, despite leaning with his shoulder on the wall. The outstretched hand was regarded with a snort and a nod in the brunet's general direction. "You can' even stand yourself, let 'lone help me up." With that, he pushed off the ground and rolled to his feet, swaying considerably but steadying himself by stretching both arms out for a moment, one hand now groping for the offered hand for extra support. "Damn," he hummed, shaking his head quickly to rid himself of the dizzy feeling the movement had brought about. "Aight, let's get you 'nside." And with that, he pulled unceremoniously on Squall's hand, wanting to steady the considerably more drunk by putting one arm around him so he could lean on him. That way, they would hopefully be able to make their way safely inside and into the warmth again, where food and even more booze awaited.

#onepartbrave #rp #long post #.sjdhjasdjhgs I'm sorry xDDD #.at least he steers clear of doing it on purpose #.gropey hands

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flightsrsk · 5 years ago

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hello hello all !!! my name is riley and this is my actual trash son maverick, aka the flight risk !!! i am so so hyped to get the ball rollin on this, so check out info on my kid under ze cut !!

warning: this got rlly mcfreaking long and i am so sorry fjdklsjs i am incapable of writing a short intro post

unfortunately i will not be able to be around for the official opening bc i’m on vacation w my fam and godparents, but i will try and intermittently read intros and chat to you guys about plots !!!! PLS feel free to bombard me through IMs or through discord if any plot sparks ur interest or u think mav could fit well in one of ur plots!!! :’)

THE BASICS

Name: Maverick Hobbes Braxton

Age: Twenty-one

Gender: Cismale

Pronouns: He/Him

Major & year: Philosophy, Third year

Faceclaim: Alex Fitzalan

Occupation: N/A

THE FLIGHT RISK

Maverick Braxton, as you might see, is an enigma—or rather, has evolved into one, slowly: a transformation that begun with his first breath. In his early years, the stage had been set for him, line by line. Act One: attend prep schools, excel in classes. Act Two: attend Covington, take center stage—you know, all of the things his older brother, Richard had accomplished with ease, just one year prior to all of his expectations. It was simple, really: a blueprint laid out ahead of him, with little to nothing in his way.

The only problem was that Maverick didn’t exactly see the point in choosing that path, that stage, that story. To him, it wasn’t challenging.

That, and the fact that the life laid out in front of him offered him absolutely nothing.

A series of banal expectations, unfair comparisons, and heartbreaking betrayals, and the traditional life of the Braxton child was thrown out the window—at least, in his brain, it was. See, Maverick Braxton, while independent, coy, and arrogant, isn’t stupid. He knows if he pleases his parents just enough, they’ll still distribute his trust fund and still bail him out of legal trouble when he inevitably tiptoes too far down the delicate line between ambition and rebellion. Perhaps it’s a bit selfish, but what does he owe to a family who paid him no attention, who never asked of his well-being, his own ambitions, his personal dreams?

He’s the kind of person to drive down the highway, windows rolled all the way down, cigarette lit—not because he necessarily likes the taste of nicotine, but because he likes the way the smoke creates clouds that obscure reality. He’ll surprise you in class when he interjects with a sarcastic but surprisingly salient point before throwing up his hood and retreating to the back corner for the rest of class. He’s the kind of person to start reading a book, flipping incessantly through the pages, both impatient by the pace of the plot, yet put it down before he reaches the final pages because he doesn’t want to be disappointed by the ending. He’s the kind of artist who rarely finishes a sketch, the writer who is never satisfied by a poem—for fear, of course, by deep-rooted insecurities that nothing that he will ever do will be enough.

A once-broken heart had taken time to mend, even though it seems ice-cold and whole from the outside. It’s why he has commitment issues: he doesn’t want to be burned again. He plays off his flirtatious bit as a personality trait, someone who is bored by the prospect of being tied down—and yet those who share his bed might consider him Covington’s most surprisingly deep pillow-talker.

An enigma, you see—one who doesn’t stick around long enough for anyone to truly understand, truly a Flight Risk.

BIOGRAPHY:

( You can read his full biography here! Still in the process of editing it a bit, but below are some important bullet points! )

Maverick was born the second of three children to the Braxton family—and as per usual with the Braxton children, he was born into a life filled to the absolute brim of expectation.

His father, a playwright, his mother, an actress. His brother, a theatre prodigy—what part did that leave him to play? The assumed expectations were to follow in his mother and brothers’ footsteps and take center stage; he excelled, for a while, but Maverick always felt lost.

Neighbors and family friends would always ask if he had measured up, in each and every shape and form: it was like the entire universe had a scoreboard with their names titling each section, and Maverick was always playing catch-up, never knowing where the finish line was.

For a while, he stuck to the script that was given to him: study, succeed, repeat. He tried to understand the ins and outs of his father’s work, of masterful acting techniques, trying to make a large enough splash to where his family would even notice the work he put into his life. Surprise: it didn’t.

It took him seventeen years to truly understand that his role in life was not exactly the story his parents had laid out for him, but rather, his sibling, instead.

Downcast emotions transformed quickly into cynicism. What used to make him feel sad now fueled a blue fire within Maverick’s chest, one that felt wronged by the system he was placed in: a complete first-world problem, but it was then and there when he decided to take advantage of his situation, given that he had spent his entire life dedicated to a part he wouldn’t play.

Hypocritical as he was, he still enjoyed the fruits of his parents’ work, cashing the unlimited checks with his name on them, as if it was some sort of sick version of love.

One piece of recognition that Maverick finally earned was an acceptance to Covington—and even that couldn’t be tainted by his brother’s success or his legacy status.

At Covington, Maverick has both lost and found his footing, multiple times. He’s quit acting, quit studying theater, in favor of a topic that stimulates his brain more than reading lines and

PERSONALITY:

Maverick Braxton is certainly a paradox. He’s charismatic, funny, and has a witty sense of humor –– and is generally appreciated by his peers because he’s able to move conversation and discussion without making topics seem dry.

Despite his apparent inferiority to his sibling, the Braxton family still breeds the cream of the crop. He’s certainly a bit arrogant sometimes, given that he’s intelligent, innovative, and clever, and wants to be recognized for it –– however, even if he might not show it on the outside, he appreciates a good challenger. He thinks it keeps his wit sharp, and of course, his ego would never show it, but he does appreciate learning from people. After all, his passion in philosophy, his current area of study, makes him certainly interested in how the world works.

Those who happen to get to know Maverick outside of the surface-level stuff, outside the initial cockiness and flirtatious front he puts on will know that he’s actually quite thoughtful. His lonely childhood has made him extremely loyal to those who have shown him similar trust and friendship –– he would never turn his back on them.

He asks probing questions, is a good listener –– perhaps because he’s interested in human decision making, but is also because he doesn’t quite know what it’s like to be loved unconditionally –– though he wants to.

Deep down, what almost no one knows is that he’s really quite soft. He passes his curiosity off as wanting to understand people, when really it’s a mechanism for hoping someone asks him questions in return, to give him the time of day he wished his parents ( and the rest of the goddamned universe ) had given him.

Despite his theatre prowess, he isn’t actually a particularly good liar. Those who spend enough time around him can hear his tone of voice incline slightly and see him scratch his brow.

AESTHETICS:

coffee-stained mugs, walking with headphones in but nothing playing, untied shoelaces, black hoodies, a cheeky smirk, small books in his back pocket, writing in the margins, unfinished poems, quoting old authors on a daily basis, incessant eye-rolling, pen ink stains, an unmade bed, mismatched socks, floral ties, empty bottles of liquor, rose thorn pricks, old worn poetry books, polished dress shoes, calloused fingers, unlit cigarettes between teeth.

HEADCANONS:

Funnily enough, Maverick’s name means ‘independent, a noncomformist’, which is exactly the path that he has taken to stray away from his family’s expectations.

He does have one strong connection to his family, though: his grandmother, on his father’s side. She understands the pressure he undergoes, who saw the pressure Maverick’s father endured to obtain the success he has. She is one of the only reasons that Maverick has not just jetted off to take on his own adventure. He loves her dearly, and wishes that her empathy and wisdom would rub off on the rest of his family.

Maverick has some form of synesthesia, which allows him to remember a lot more than the average person. He associates colors, smells, sounds, to words –– and allows him to efficiently study any subjects he doesn’t have immediate passion for.

In the privacy of his own bedroom, he sometimes writes poetry and sketches his thoughts and muses –– when he knows he’s in complete privacy. Faces and features that appear in his sketchbooks are often those he’s thinking of often, those who intrigue him. He’s actually quite good a sketching, maybe not quite as good at writing poetry.

His room is spotless –– evidence that he is a bit of a control freak sometimes. It shows that during his adolescence, he reveled in the parts of his life that he could control and perfect.

tw drugs. He more than dabbles in drug use, smoking marijuana maybe every other day, while partaking in harder drugs like cocaine and adderall and others probably once a week. He feels like he’s in control of his use, but it may start to get the best of him. end tw.

Maverick is left-handed. He hates that he gets pen ink stains when he draws, writes poetry, takes notes. His left palm is probably perennially covered with ink.

Though he’s often wearing headphones ( airpods, of course, the nerve of this rich kid ), half the time, nothing’s playing. Sometimes he forgets to press play on his phone, sometimes he purposely likes listening to decision-making and conversations of strangers. it lets him think about the nature of mankind.

Maverick’s favorite philosopher is Albert Camus, known for his work that heavily developed the idea of absurdism ( much to do with the meaning of life, and human inability to discern an answer ).

Maverick’s preferred method of transportation is his skateboard. he loved it first because his parents hated it: pushing himself around on a board like that would get him injured—besides, why not just take the car to school, the driver had been paid for anyway? It was his first taste of rebellion. Now at Covington, where skateboarding is far more efficient than walking across campus, it comes in handy when he sees someone he’d rather not stop and chat to.

Maverick could die with a poetry book nestled on his chest—it’s the one thing he got out of the impressive book collection his family owned. There was something daunting and beautiful about the way poems would transform metaphors into something fantastical, like the emotions were clearly there, but the words were skirting the issue. Kind of like how his parents would never really tell him they loved him.

Maverick often has headphones in when he walks to class. not particularly because he’s actually listening to music or a podcast, but rather because he’d just … rather not be bothered to stop and talk to people.

Maverick loves to draw. He’s mostly self-taught, with a bit of mentorship from his high school art teacher. Evidenced by the rest of his fleeting personality, he rarely finishes a sketch or painting. He claims he never has time to finish them, but the number of crumbled-up, half-finished sketches in his trash bin might say otherwise.

PLOTS

** see my wanted plots tag here too! // and my plots page here !!

* FIRST LOVE / OPEN.

It wouldn’t be easy to make Maverick feel like even more of a disappointment than he already had with his parents, his family—but your muse proved this feeling wrong. He loved them, more than he’d ever loved anything before. In the midst of confusion about where he belonged, he felt safe with your muse; he’d do anything for them. Things ended, he felt betrayed ( though the break-up could have easily been due to a fault of his ), and the split made him the one who now struggles fully with commitment. He doesn’t want to have his heart broken again. See: this entire pinterest board.

but also if u give me this ……………… i’ll name my firstborn after u

* BEST FRIEND / OPEN.

Those who go through similar childhood traumas are often able to understand each other –– that was how it worked with Maverick and your muse, at least. They’re thick as thieves — and have likely seen the ups and downs of Maverick’s life in real time.

* CHILDHOOD FRIENDS / OPEN.

Self explanatory—and also probably knows about the pressures the Braxton family imposes on their children.

* EX-FRIENDS / OPEN.

Friends who were close, close no longer. Maverick’s a real piece of work, and an asshole, too—there are myriad possibilities for why Maverick could have pushed them away. He wouldn’t openly admit that he misses being around your muse, but he certainly would feel a bit of guilt given that they’re no longer the closest of friends.

* MOMENT OF WEAKNESS / OPEN.

Your muse, in whatever unfortunate setting, saw a glimpse of Maverick’s soft side that hardly ever makes an appearance. He’s not going to let them tell the world about his vulnerabilities, though. Not a chance.

* DISLIKED / OPEN.

Maverick is sarcastic, cold, and sometimes emotionless. It’s not surprising that not everyone gets along with the middle Braxton. The possibilities are endless—throw in some sexual tension and I’d actually fall at ur feet.

* PREVIOUS ROOMMATES / OPEN.

Your muse, at one point, probably knew Maverick better than everyone else at Covington. They overheard some of his phone calls with his parents, saw his notes for how he was to achieve his life goals, heard him crying in the middle of the night when he thought your muse was asleep. They could be extremely close now, as in one of the few people Maverick opens up to, or could be distant friends who know about one anothers’ struggles. The possibilities are endless, tbh.

+ ANYTHING LEGITIMATELY ……… IF U THINK THERE’S POSSIBILITY FOR SOMETHING COOL W MAV AND UR MUSE. SIGN ME THE F UP. THANKS.

#tw:drugs #tw:smoking #tw:flashing lights #covintro #// PLS HMU WITH PLOTS OK FDJKLSJSD I HATE I AM MISSING OPENING BUT I WANT ALL THE PLOTS

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