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alexiswritingstuff · 1 year ago

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A Man And His Personal Guard. 2/2

Pairing: Gustavo Fring x Male reader.

Summary: After finally arriving at the house, both you and Gustavo continue to try and get used to each other as the night progresses. And all is well until you make another one of your comments, this time causing Mr. Fring to try block you out, thinking that you couldn’t possibly mean anything that you say.

Until he gets hurt.

Warnings! mentions of an injury and blood.

Also be aware that there might be spelling mistakes and such.

A/N: omg I really such a writing summaries. Anyway, I finally got the time to finalises the part, and here it is! My first time writing a Male reader.

I hope I made good references to the readers gender enough in this, and actually if anyone has any tips on how to do it better please let me know. I don’t know why it seems so difficult to me.

Enjoy reading!

More Gustavo fics.

@marksassybanana

previous part.

There has been many times in your life where it was threatened.

You had been through gun fights and fist fights, you have followed, sneaked up on, a multitude of dangerous people, and watched horrendous things play out in front of your eyes.

But somehow as you walked through the dimly lit rooms of none other than Gustavo Frings own home, with him about two steps in front of you at all times, it was the most tense you had ever felt.

Every movement your body made felt ridged as if you had to force yourself to do it. Your head spun in a way that closely resembled an owl to take in the new surroundings, though you were quick to face Mr. Fring when he stopped walking.

It was then that you fully managed to process what you were seeing.

“Whoa.”

You were stood in one of the doorways, practically gapping at the living room where everything looked like it had been neatly placed and organised.

The look of the house from the outside was unknown to you, but with a singular glance at amount of space, and the interior, it was easy to tell that the owner was definitely not having financial problems.

Then again, it is owned by Gustavo Fring. What else did you expect?

There was some classical piece quietly humming through the room. Where it was coming from you couldn’t tell, but the attempt to find it fell short of when a voice broke through the song, “This is where, I believe, you will be spending most of your time.”

Your free hand found sanctuary underneath the material of the apron still worn, the warmness of your skin continuing to emanate within the pocket of your trousers. Your head nodded in acknowledgement. “I don’t think I will be complaining.”

“This place is... really nice.”

Mr. Fring mimicked your gesture, “Thank you,” A short smile then pressed at his lips as though it was filled with a sense of pride, “I picked out everything myself.” And it was.

The previous feeling that could even be described as fear was fading. Making way for something new that had you eager to continue the conversation, and this time not just because you needed to break the silence.

“Well, you have a good eye.” you expressed while your gaze continued it’s journey throughout the room. “And apparently a good taste too.”

To your right, there were about two rows of kitchen islands. The closest one was mostly empty, only a few items of decor placed along the surface, while the other looked more like it was owned by a chef.

And behind that, between fuller counters, was the oven. A few pots already sat on the stove waiting to be heated.

The whole journey of being told that you would be going to this house, and then actually doing it, had your mind in such a frenzy that the thought of what the house itself would be like hadn’t even crossed your brain.

“Huh,” you blurted out after a moment, eyes still scanning over the different cooking equipment placed delicately within the cupboards and on the counter tops. “Who knew the owner of a restaurant would be a cook himself.”

It took a moment for there to be any response or reaction as the music began to seep back through your ears. And then you heard a laugh.

Well, it was more of a huff of air, but it had your eyebrows raising nonetheless.

Mr. Frings eyes were already on yours by the time you looked in his direction. That smile from earlier was subtly curled on his lips, his gaze narrow, though not in suspicion.

“You already knew.”

Maybe it was the drastic difference of seriousness you had compared to him, or the opposite personalities clashing, that had Gustavo uncertain of your skill set. I mean, practically since you first started he had been testing your senses. Even if he got given a full reference of your abilities.

However, now, it seemed like he was finally starting to believe them. “How?”

There was almost a feeling of amusement residing in your chest upon looking at his expression. Mild wonder over a deduction he could’ve easily concluded himself.

You lightly shrugged your shoulders despite how smart you wanted to look in that moment and let your eyes flow back to set up, adjusting your grip on the clothes you still so desperately wanted to change into, “Well, I doubt a person would own a kitchen like that if they could only make a bowl of cereal.”

The comment had Mr. Fring doing the same huffed laugh as before and it had a grin begging to take over your face. Your posture even straightened, a sense of pride of your own flooding your system though you soon shook your head. “Actually, uh… It was earlier. Back at the restaurant.”

You could feel his sharp eyes on you once again. His stance was more relaxed, his hands now held in front of his body instead of behind. “The only times you left your office was to check around the building… and also to correct the people in charge of cooking the food.”

“The way you told them, the solutions you gave, anything, showed some form of culinary experience that wasn’t just from getting the brief for a job or lessons from school.” You met his gaze, an urge to take in a deep breath filling your lungs within an instant. “It’s from a lot of practice.”

The expression on Gustavo’s face remained regardless of how long you had spoken for. He really had taken you for granted.

“Very good.” he insisted through a much lighter voice and it had you just blinking for a moment.

This entire day he had this look across his features. It was one that would dissipate whenever talking to customers, like it usually did, but the second they were gone, it resided. And the way he acted afterwards further emphasised it.

But now here he was, his gaze light and his lips curling. It had yourself mimic the same expression as you lightly bowed your head at his compliment. “You know, your face looks better like that. More handsome.”

As if someone just flicked some form of switch, and by the time you had blinked, that stoic expression he was known for in the business took over his features. It was almost startling, especially the way the muscles beneath his brows tensed. “Why do you have to say things like that?”

You blinked at him for a moment, struggling to adjust to the change of tone. “Like what?” Your eyebrows even furrowed, though you knew exactly what he meant.

“Like… that. Nonsense.”

“You think I’m lying?”

Gustavo’s body was now faced towards yours, the lines decorating his skin setting deeper. “What I think is that you need to understand the words that come out of your mouth.”

“But I do?” you pointed out, your arms crossing over your chest in a way that had the man in front of you almost scoffing.

“Sir,” Your head tilted lightly, eyebrows still furrowed in both disbelief and confusion, “Everything that I do has to have been done with a purpose, I mean-- I have to be thoughtful, in more way than one, about the way I do things so that no one and nothing gets comprised.”

“Why would the way I speak be any different?”

The music that had been long forgotten reached your ears once again as a silence layered between the walls. The two of you were stood facing each other, eyes glued on the opposite face as if trying to decipher a code.

And then Mr. Fring shook his head, breaking the eye contact by turning to the side as he began to move towards the kitchen previously being talked about. You couldn’t understand what was going on despite the fact that you could do so easily at any other moment. It was almost frustrating.

If you were making him uncomfortable he would have shut you up ages ago, the same with if it made him angry, or upset.

So what the hell was it?

“Mr. Fring--”

“The bathroom is down the hall.”

Your foot stilled before it had properly lifted off of the ground. “What?”

“The bathroom.” He repeated, stopping himself in front of the fridge that was quite tall in comparison to his height. “You’ve been carrying around that set of clothes since you left restaurant, so, Mr. L/n…”

He gripped the handle, turning his head in you direction to meet your stunned gaze with a certain blankness to his expression. “If you would like to get changed, it is back down the hall we came through previously.”

“Just take a left instead of a right this time.”

And that was it. His attention went right back to the fridge as he now opened it, disappearing behind the silver door.

The pile of clothes was held between both of your hands. You were stood there like an innocent little animal, frozen in place, and only blinking like every five seconds as if something would happen if you made the wrong move.

“All right,” you began after a moment, clearing your throat before forcing yourself to start moving towards the hallway you first walked through, “Thank you, Sir.”

It was unclear how long you had been in the bathroom by the time you had actually began to rid yourself of the LPH uniform.

You had paced, practically recreated those angsty scenes in movies where they just stare at themselves in a mirror, all the while trying to adjust to the bright light above that bounced off of every surface.

These moments never usually bothered you, but that was because they never happened. Whenever someone made it clear that they weren’t keen on the way you acted, you backed off immediately and switched the approach had towards that person.

You had no idea what was going on with Mr. Fring and the worst thing was that you couldn’t just ask.

Asking him could elevate the situation, make it worse. That could then lead to losing a job and being on the bad side of Gustavo Fring. Something no one wants.

By now a headache was slowly forming from the furrow in your brow. Your fingers grasped the material of the trousers and, a little dramatically, yanked up the pant leg until it consumed your skin.

What the hell were you going to do?

It was replaying in your head. The way his face changed, how fast it switched, and his tone.

No. It wasn’t discomfort. Or anger. Like his question earlier, it was disbelief.

But whether it was disbelief over the words being directed at him, or your audacity to say such things in the first place, was still amidst the unknown.

The tips of your fingers slightly stung due to your previous harshness, but nevertheless your trousers were on and zipped up.

A sigh passed through your lips as you grabbed the next item clothing. A plain black hoodie. You made sure that it was upside down, turning it the proper way so that you would get opening instead of a face full of fabric.

You lifted it over your head, the exhaustion from the previous day clear in the way that your muscles moved and tensed--

There was a muffled clatter from somewhere in the house.

However, that noise alone wasn’t the thing that set off your internal alert system. It was what came afterwards. A hiss.

“Mr. Fring?”

The hoodie was only half on your body in a way that meant your face was being engulfed by fabric. You couldn’t see. And trying to locate something during a moment of stress wasn’t exactly easy to do regardless of how much you trained.

So, within the next few seconds you found yourself stumbling through the bathroom, one hand held out to make sure that you wouldn’t end up with a comically large bump somewhere, while the other desperately clawed at your hoodie to bring it lower.

“Mr. Fring?” Your bare torso was layered with a coolness and when you managed to get into the hallway, and without really thinking about it, you began to jog, managing push your head far enough that it was brought to the face hole of the hoodie.

“Sir? Is everything all right?”

By the time you ended up in the doorway to the living room your head was finally through the neck hole. Your eyes flickered around in a panic, your hands pulling the fabric down until your torso was completely covered.

There, stood in front of the farthest kitchen aisle, was Mr. Fring. He had taken a step back from what you could now see was a chopping board.

Your eyebrows furrowed the moment you saw that his hand was clutched on the opposite wrist, though he was merely blinking at you.

You immediately beckoned forward, the situation piecing together, and it wasn’t until you were stood beside your boss that you could see what had properly happened. “Oh, shit.”

There was a diagonal slash across the pad of one of his fingers. The dark red substance wasn’t exactly oozing out, but it was creating a trail that wrapped around the digit before dropping on the floor below despite Mr. Fring trying to catch it.

“It’s not severe, Y/n, no… need to worry.” he had tried to insist, clearly unsure of how it happened himself, but you found yourself scanning through the kitchen anyway for some paper towels. At least something.

“Ah.” You moved behind Mr. Fring, carefully avoiding the knife as the only thing on your feet were socks.

After pulling at the kitchen roll, about three pieces disconnected from the rest and you reprised your previous position, folding the paper towels until it had enough layers.

You gently held onto his wrist, trying ignore the way he pulled his none injured hand away when there was mildly contact, and placed the centre of the kitchen roll on the wound. Mr. Fring sucked in a breath.

“Okay, just hold that there for me.” you told him and he complied after a moment, taking over the role of holding the paper that was slowly turning red while you took a step back to remove the knife from the floor so that no one would end up stepping on it.

“I imagine this has happened before?” You placed the knife beside the chopping board, your eyes scanning over a half cut vegetable that sat on top, a singular blood droplet absorbing into it.

“I don’t tend to make mistakes like this.”

The first thing you noticed when your eyes went back to Mr. Fring was the expression on his face. His brows were creased, the lines on either side of his mouth deeper than they ever have been. He was staring down at the injury with resentment.

“I don’t think anyone does.”

You took the wounded hand in yours again which in turn caused Gustavo to immediately turn his head your direction.

Peeling back the soaked towel was mildly jarring to watch, and do, but you moved the hand so that it was in a direct beam of light. An attempt to gage how severe the injury was.

When the blood began to pool around the skin again, you returned the paper towel, smoothing it over as lightly as you could before bringing his other hand back to continue the pressure.

“Alright, well, good news.” you began as you leaned back, checking your own hands to see if the blood got onto your skin, “Based off of where you cut it, you will not be needing to see a doctor.”

“At least you weren’t cutting the meat yet.” you added on in an attempt to lighten the mood. But Gustavo only hummed in response. He was just looking at you as if analysing every aspect of your face.

You cleared your throat, averting your gaze from his as you subconsciously rubbed the tips of your fingers together. “You, uh-- You should move to the other sink.” Your back faced him when you walked round the edge of the kitchen aisle.

“And why is that?” Mr. Fring questioned, finally finding his voice that held a thicker accent due to his confusion.

“Less... chance of blood stains, stops the possibility of contamination… nicer soap.” you listed off, not even bothering to turn back round as heat rose within your body.

“Just… keep pressure on your finger, I’m going to get some supplies.” You waved a hand in his direction, getting closer to the hallway while hearing Mr. Fring move to the other sink like you asked. “If it is plasters you are looking for, they will be in the cabinet above the--”

“I know.”

The next time you appeared in the living room a small box was held in your hands. The plasters within were definitely a lot bigger than the wound itself, so when you got closer to the kitchen your eyes immediately looked for a pair of scissors.

“I believe the bleeding has stopped now.” Mr. Fring informed as you rounded the first kitchen aisle, and that in response halted your previous mission.

The feeling of wanting to get something under control, wanting nothing more than a situation to be over and done with, made it easy to start rushing to the finish line.

But like a lot of other things, there were specific steps to take. And ones you couldn’t miss especially if someone was injured.

A deep breath filtered in and out of your lungs as you swivelled in Mr. Frings direction and took back your place by his side after placing down the box on the counter.

You reached for the blue tap, the metal freezing beneath your finger tips, and twisted until water spilled into the sink bowl below. You barely escaped having a drenched sleeve when you pulled back.

“This might hurt.” Without really thinking, you found yourself placing a hand on the warm wrist of Gustavo’s. You could feel the way the limb tensed and the hesitance that took a moment to defeat when you began directing it towards the stream of water.

“I know… how to use a tap, Y/n.” Mr. Fring pointed out, his arm slightly jolting when the running tap met the injury, but he didn’t pull away.

“Wash it out.” was all you said, because for one you needed to move, and two it seemed that Mr. Fring was a guy that liked having control of situations. Which was probably why the Lalo thing is digging into his mind.

I mean, you were the kind of guy to feel at ease when in control of things so it was easy to understand where he was coming from... But that was usually because if you weren’t in control of your situations a lot of stuff was about to go wrong.

You swiped a pair of scissors from where they usually sat in the kitchen and set them down, switching to holding the box back in your hands. You flicked open the smallest flap and pulled out one of the sterile adhesives that, now being in front of your eyes, confirmed your suspicion.

After placing the box back down the scissors were in your grasp once again, and you readied them once the adhesive was in the correct positioning between your fingers.

“What are you doing?” You heard to your left, the water thumping louder into the sink when he targeted another part of the wound, and after the slightest glance in his direction, you began cutting. “Dry your finger.”

Soon enough, the tap had been turned off. And after a little more of what felt like arts and crafts, you now had a strip of the sterile adhesive.

There may had been a little more of the pad than the sticky part, but there was enough to make it do its job.

The music flooded back to their ears when Gustavo was now the one to move back to your side, lightly dabbing the towel around his wound that had in fact stopped bleeding.

You could hear your heart thumping in your ears, almost in time with the song, as you began to peel back the paper covering on the plaster.

With as gentle of a touch as you could, you placed one of your hands beneath his injured one and brought it closer, steadying it. You began to ease the adhesive lightly and accurately onto the surrounding skin of the finger.

Your attention being fully on the application of the plaster made yourself blind to the fact that Gustavo wasn’t exactly worried about his wound anymore. Or even thinking about it at this point.

In fact, his eyes weren’t even directed to his finger at all. He was looking at you. At what he could see of the side of your face.

The way your eyebrows were furrowed, this time not in confusion or disbelief, but in genuine concern.

Or the way your eyes were narrowed so that you could get everything done precisely without incident. And the way your tongue slightly poked through the corner of your mouth in attempt to aim your full brain power onto applying the small plaster.

So much care for in injury that wasn’t costing a life. Or even really hurt that much if Gustavo was honest with himself.

“There.” you breathed out in a way that snapped the guy back into reality and he straightened himself up when you smoothed over the plaster one last time, finally completing the process that definitely took longer than it would with anyone else.

You took a slight step back, failing to hide the pleased feeling from showing on your face as you admired your hard work. “Good as new.”

And then your eyes landed on Gustavo, the look still present. “You did a good job, Mr. Fring.”

“I wish I had a lollipop or something to reward you.” you added on, even fakely looking around and patting your pockets as if trying to locate an item to give him.

And though Gustavo could feel a laugh wanting to rumble through his throat, or the urge to do some form of gesture in amusement. He was still. Expression almost blank while he finally lowered his hand to his side.

“Uh… Sir?”

You had stopped everything that you were doing to help him.

You had slid into the living room on your socks dishevelled and scrambling to get the last piece of clothing properly on your body, and then immediately attended to his little injury like it was the only thing you cared about. Like he was the only thing you cared about.

Gustavo Fring had encountered many men in his life, each with either very similar personalities or very different ones. Most would not even dare to show compassion in the face of others, especially if those people were other dudes.

But here you were, doing jobs the nicest way that you could in a business like this. Helping out people enough that Mike had been adamant about you being chosen for the job.

Because he knew that you would care.

Care for Gustavo in a way that no other man had... Well, not since--

Gustavo’s chin raised after a moment, life flooding back to his eyes that were still set on your own, though it had your eyebrows furrowing once again if they weren’t before. “Mr. Fring?”

“Please.” he said without a second to waste and despite both your disbelief and his own, Gustavo reached for one of your hands, and ended up holding it between both of his, careful to avoid letting his injured finger touch anything.

Your puzzled expression remained as you slowly looked from the joined hands back up to those brown eyes. And despite the many things across your face that asked Gustavo for answer. He just smiled.

A real, genuine smile.

“Call me Gus.”

#gustavo fring x male reader #Gustavo Fring #gus fring #gustavo fring x reader #gus fring x reader #Better Call Saul #better call saul x reader #better call saul gus fring #better call saul season 6

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visions-of-eternal · 1 month ago

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Incoming Call; 11:43pm

I haven't been able to write. For weeks. I bought a brand new chocolate brown leather journal for September 1st. But it lays empty on my desk. For weeks and weeks I had this sinking feeling, lingering in the back of my heart. I would wake up with anxiety and panic. Nightmares resurfacing of old wounds. The pain lashing through every cell in my body, waking me in the middle of the night. Tears streaming down my face. My boyfriend wouldn’t know what to say. “What are you so afraid of?” he asked. “I’m afraid of the phone call. I’m terrified that it’s going to happen again.” He didn’t know how to console me. How could he? I could see it in his eyes, he wanted to tell me everything was going to be okay, and sometimes, he said just that. And I wanted to believe it. I convinced myself it was just paranoia. I told myself over and over again it was just fear coming back around because of what happened with my brother John, who suddenly and tragically died ten years ago; at the young age of 26. He was killed in the middle of the night by a drunk driver. Ejected from the vehicle on impact, and died from his wounds. A traumatic event that altered the course of my life. Altered the chemistry of my brain. I learned during that time, that death takes more than just the life of the person you love. It robs you of your comfort, your joy, your naive sense of safety in this world.. if you let it. And I did. Let it, that is. For many, many years. I walked around like a ghost. Death had become me, and I became it. A walking shell of a person. So haunted by the ticking clock of impending loss of every person I love. Wondering if it was all worth it. It took every ounce of courage I could cultivate, to find consolation in any form. I looked for it in the changing shapes of the clouds. The way rays of light sometimes filter through them, casting heavenly beams in my direction. The tiny pink flower petals that would line the city streets in early Summer. The pattern of falling rain on the sunroof of my car. The steady hum of my tires against pavement. I spent years making room for darkness and light to coexist within me. To let my heart shatter over and over again as I relived and transmuted every trauma from my past. Rebuilding myself again and again into an endless mosaic. Learning how to work with the polarity, the contrast of joy and pain. To feel everything so deeply, and not just survive it.. but transform it into something good. Learning how to find meaning in the present. To create my own joy. And to let go of that which I cannot control. It was a dark and lonely road. I spent ten years alone. Burning, healing, breaking and rebuilding until I learned how to become as flexible as water. Moving with the natural flow of life. Filling the space I have been granted. Yet powerful and life giving, like the ocean tides.

.... Until three weeks ago. The night I received the phone call I had feared most, I had reached a pinnacle of inner peace. Life loves to be ironic like that, doesn't it? I was sitting alone in my bedroom, with all the lights off. A few candles flickering in the dark. The scent of warm vanilla wrapped around me. I had just showered and finished my nightly routine, spending the last twenty minutes on preparing for bed and praying. I sat for long moments, thanking god for the beauty of my life, as I often try to do. Sending blessings over each of my five siblings, my parents, my love, all the people I care about, and then finally my prayers for the Earth and humanity itself. I felt truly at peace. I thought to myself how happy, how blessed I am to have reached this inner peace I had worked so long for. I felt joy. When finished, I laid down on the floor to stretch. Giving my boyfriend a quick call to say goodnight.

Our phone call ended up lasting a little while, as we chuckled at this and that. Making plans for when we’d see each other next. When suddenly a call from my Mom interrupted. The time was 11:43pm on Friday September 20th, 2024. A nervous feeling settled over me. “Uhm.. my Mom is calling me. I’m going to answer this.” I stared blankly at the incoming call.. “I’ll call you back after.”

I answered the call.

The screams of my Mother will haunt me until the day I myself, leave this Earth.

[Written: October 13th, 2024]

#GuardianAngel

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solradguy · 2 years ago

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I came to terms with the Sol kinnie thing months ago now because honestly who gives a shit, but every now and then I'll find myself in a situation where I wonder if whatever it was I was about to do was/is a pre- or post-Guilty Gear interest lol

#textpost #Most of them have been pre-Guilty Gear interests which is honestly hilarious #Like of course I don't have proof for most of it but my fursona is the funniest one #He's basically bootleg furry Sol Badguy BUT he was like that MONTHS before I got into GG #I've been thinking about this over the last few days though #Because I was doing some Queen stuff and had a thought like 'am I only doing this because my brain's weird or do I actually care'#And went through like a checklist of things. I do actually care #Sol is like frighteningly relatable though and sometimes I wish he wasn't lol #I typed this at 2am last night but saved it to my drafts instead of publishing it haha Still kinda feeling it this morning though tbh #I wish I could better articulate or find a term that describes how I relate to Sol better because 'kin/fictionkin' feels too...#Hmm.... Psycho-religious? A lot of essays I read while initially figuring this out related the kin tag to something more like a-#-Philosophy or something similar to a religion #But for me it's more like my brain filling in empty spaces within itself because No One was like me growing up and #now that I'm also trans there are even LESS people who are like me #So my brain sees a character that's similar to me and is like 'oh holy shit it's us. Let's be like that' hahah #This got really long I should've put it up in the post sorry lmfao #Anyway this is something I've done my whole life and 'kinning' is really the only term that fits what it is even if it's not a 1:1 fit #It usually doesn't bother me but knowing that some of the things I enjoy now I probably won't later once my interests shift again does #I still keep waiting for it to happen with Guilty Gear but GG is so different from anything else I've been into I'm not sure it will #Since most of the things I like about GG were things I liked before getting into it. Like heavy metal & weird scifi/fantasy #I'm not going to elaborate on how exactly I relate to Sol also. My blog is too public for that #and this post is already a little too personal #kin tag

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sukirichi · 4 years ago

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— falling out of love with gojo satoru

warnings: angst, mentions of sexual content, cursing

masterlist !

when you fell in love with gojo satoru, your heart exploded like a firework.

you still remember that moment very vividly at the back of your head. it was new year’s, and you two were drunk on both liquor and the feeling of having the other by your side. it was a tough year – as the norm was for jujutsu sorcerers – but you both made it out alive.

alive couldn’t even begin to describe how you felt that day.

satoru has always been the person who stuck by your side through thick and thin like how you were the one who always went against the higher-ups when they tried to limit his capabilities. you should’ve known then, that the higher ups were just the beginning. that when once you thought their oppression for satoru’s plans were nothing but microscopical compared to the barrier his family had placed between the both of you.

they didn’t like you.

he was a gojo, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, while you were...well, you.

you weren’t really anyone special or better than anyone. your technique was decent and had a lot more drawbacks than advantages that you had to improve your physical abilities instead to not be deemed a total useless tool.

satoru never saw you that way. to him, he admired you almost as equally as he cherished his best friend, suguru, so much so that the three of you become the best of friends in the blink of an eye. the more time you spent together, whether alone or with others, it felt like your world just hyper focused or snapped into tunnel vision, zeroing on no one else but the white-haired man whose smile was brighter than any other in the sky.

when he told you he loved you, you couldn’t distinguish which ones were the exploding new year fireworks or the drumming of your heart. you stared up at him then, lips falling open as you released a tiny breath of air, and satoru laughed. he actually laughed.

you wanted to tease him, to punch him even though you couldn’t really ever touch him just to get over the fact he had you losing your composure with eyes glossing over. “well,” he taunted then, one shoulder lifting up lazily. “aren’t you gonna say anything? if you feel the same way, now’s the best time to tell me. we can end the year as friends and start another one as-”

satoru never got to finish his sentence. you had jumped into his arms faster than the speed of light, hands yanking down his yukata to pull him towards you, your lips slamming on his almost greedily.

he didn’t mind. he never did.

for once, it felt as if his infinity never existed. you had both spent the night tangled under the sheets, your name rasped from his lips like a prayer. the way you kneeled for him just moments later with your eyes fervently closed made him feel like he’s the one being worshipped instead, and in a way, it was. you loved him – way too much that you no longer cared how much it would hurt the day after when he never gave you a break and kept you pulled closer to him.

you loved him – way too much that you no longer cared how much it would hurt if ever the time came that you no longer felt the same.

contrary to how you fell for him, you fell out of love with your best friend quietly. your shared apartment would still be filled with his annoying mannerism of dragging his feet over the floor as he walked, always groaning and complaining that he was hungry but never really bothered to cook anything for himself.

it felt a lot like living with a child where you were his mother, but in that sense, satoru hated it whenever you worried for him.

“you’re not my mother, stop telling me what to do!”

“stop being so arrogant, satoru!” you pointed to the barely conscious child in his arms, the first year student still barely breathing because satoru had gone out of his way again and brought yuuji while he fought a special grade curse. “you may be strong, but not everyone around you is capable of handling what you can! stop dragging people into your mess and start using your goddamn brain for once!”

“you don’t know anything, so shut the hell up.”

you scoffed, hands placed on your hip while you blinked back the angry tears that threatened to fell. you worried for yuuji, you really did, but in reality, you just couldn’t handle seeing gojo pushing himself to his limits and coming back home more wounded than the night before.

“i’m just worried for you, satoru. i don’t want you getting hurt.”

“i’m the strongest,” was all he said – was what he always kept saying. “i’m not going to get hurt.”

“you may not,” you reply stiffly, “but what about me? don’t you think about me? don’t you think about how much it hurts me to see you this way?”

you told yourself you hated him. you hated how arrogant he got. it was good he was confident of his abilities and prided himself of such an honourable title, but satoru was human. he was bound to fall at some point.

eventually, you got too tired.

it was too tiring to keep waiting for him to come home unscathed. you were assigned different missions all the time. satoru would always be working overseas while you mostly helped train the kids and exorcised curses from time to time; no missions that were as dangerous as his.

in the dead of the night, when you were turned away from him in your bed that had already gotten so cold from his usual absence, satoru would slip beside you as silently as he could. the morning afterwards would always be the same: good morning, did you sleep well? he knew the answer. he knew you never slept well without him, but he’d ask just to be nice, and it wouldn’t take too long before you’re both late to work because he missed you too much from being away all the time that he wanted to feel you clamp around him one more time.

it was tiring. too tiring.

that heavy weight never left your shoulders. you cried yourself to sleep far too much that you’d lost count – until you reached a point you just felt nothing. the bed no longer felt cold – just empty. his side always remained untouched, his chair in the dining table barely used, and you’ve gotten so used of washing only your plate and utensils that you wondered if satoru had ever been there.

you wondered if it was a coping mechanism; that maybe you could just no longer handle the pain of having to worry about him every damn night and he’d never care enough to at least be a little more careful, and this was why you just stopped missing him, which was why you just started enjoying the silence in your apartment a little bit more than you should.

but if it was a coping mechanism...why did you feel a lot freer and happier in his absence? instead of it feeling like you were supposed to be distracted, you felt awakened. alive.

alive in the same way he told you he loved you while the skies painted different hues of red, blue, green, and yellow in the darkness that bore witness to your souls connecting that night – the same sky that was now patiently watching as your souls split in half and formed itself whole all over again.

contrary to how you fell for him, you fell out of love with your best friend quietly.

there was no longer someone singing made up songs in the shower. there would no longer be that sound of an annoying loud kiss down the bride of your neck or the smacking of his palm on your ass when he wanted to piss you off.

you fell out of love him so silently that when he crawled next to you that night, you didn’t even hear him. and for the first time in a long time, you slept well the moment he left before the sun stretched its wings across the horizon. when you were greeted by nothing but your own pair of slippers outside your bedroom and not even a post it note to tell you he’d already left for work, a smile tugged on your face.

you made your breakfast in peace. satoru no longer dared to come back home if he was injured because he knew you wouldn’t care enough to fix him up.

although of course you would, but nothing ever beats in your heart for him anymore when you dab the disinfectant across his cut lips. satoru would catch your wrist then to tug you to him slowly, empty eyes staring back at his sky blue ones.

“thank you. for patching me up.”

“you’re welcome,” you’d smile, climbing off his lap while closing the first aid-kit. “go get changed. i’ll cook something up for you.”

it was a silent, empty routine. satoru would thank you for fixing him up because he was never every sorry for worrying you. he’d keep being reckless again and again until he reached a point you no longer cared for him enough to say goodbye to him with a kiss and the slow, tender promise of be safe – i’ll wait for you to come home.

you still kiss him – more out of habit than anything – but you’ve changed.

i’ll see you tonight.

it was empty, silent, completely different from the fireworks he’d ignited within you when he told you he loved you. satoru wasn’t dumb, and he didn’t need his six eyes to see that you’ve grown too comfortable over the large space between you and him between the sofa, almost as if him being away was what felt home for you.

he was never a confrontational man; he hated each waking moment that lead to this, but he had to do it. he needed to do it – to set you both free.

when the commercials started playing, satoru lowered the volume down, voice low and serious as he turned to you. you easily picked up on the sudden tension in the room – the first thing you’ve felt ever since you’ve fallen out of love with him – yet nothing changed. when satoru sighed, your heart didn’t ache.

“well,” he chuckled nervously as he leant back to his side, “things have changed, don’t you think?”

“yes.” there was no point denying it. you knew it – he felt it.

“what do we do now?”

you had no answer to his question. despite the fact you no longer looked at him the same way, not once had it crossed your mind to leave your apartment. not because you wanted to hold on as much as possible to whatever memories you shared under this roof, but simply because you didn’t know where else to go.

it wasn’t like it made a difference anyway. satoru barely came home, and when he did, he made his presence as scarce as possible that you could no longer tell what difference it would make if he was here or not.

“i don’t know,” you admitted, knees hugged to your chest. “what do you want to do?”

his answer came in the form of opened doors. you leant against the doorframe, watching as nanami and even yuuji came to help satoru move his stuff out of the apartment. he found a better place somewhere in the upstate, somewhere much closer to bars and clubs – which you know he thoroughly enjoyed it prior to meeting you – and your mind immediately went back to the time you and satoru first moved in.

it proved to be a difficult task. you both wanted to move in and finish unpacking as soon as possible, but satoru was too eager to christen each part and corner of the house that you both ended up making more mess.

nights spent tucked into each other because the heater was broken and you were both too tired to sleep anywhere except the uncomfortable mattress played like a broken record in your mind. satoru’s laughter echoed when nanami complained that he should stop spending money on souvenirs so he could’ve hired professionals to help him move out instead, your head snapping up at the source of that carefree, sweet laugher that always had butterflies erupting in your stomach.

as if feeling your gaze on him, satoru’s eyes flitted to where you stood. when he smiled, you could tell each genuine apology rang behind it – all the words he never got to say staying like a broken glass that kept cutting him over and over again.

he loved you. he still loves you.

and maybe, tucked away in the deepest parts of your heart that no longer felt fond of him the same way it did before, still held a little compassion enough for this man you once wanted to spend your life with.

you weren’t unkind. you didn’t need to love someone to know when to forgive them, but just for this moment, just for him, you could pretend to for one last time.

smiling up at him with your eyes crinkled and the last bits of adoration for everything about him gleamed through your lashes just before it slipped away into nothingness. it was enough. it was enough for satoru to know he’d been forgiven, and it was enough for him to finally set you free.

the next time you saw him at school, there were no longer fireworks.

your heart was at peace.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader fluff #gojo x reader angst #gojo x reader smut #gojo-satoru-x-reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader fluff #gojo satoru x reader angst #gojo x reader imagines #gojo x reader drabbles #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen gojo satoru

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infernal-fire · 4 years ago

Note

Hey, can I request a soft dark bucky or Steve as a family man. Like some domestic fluff with kids and/or a pregnant reader? Have a nice day regardless and stay hydrated!🌸

you have good taste m’lady. i really hope this is up to par with your expectations!

warnings: implied kidnapping, soft dark buck, Stockholm syndrome, pregnancy feels, some angst but some good fluff for balance :)

wc: 1k

Just Wondering

Subconsciously, you groggily stuck out your left hand, only to be met with a cold, empty space. With a low sigh and lazy stretch, you moaned in annoyance and slid out of the bed. This belly, now an extension of you, has been preventing you from sleeping on your stomach, effectively inhibiting a good night’s sleep. To top it off, Bucky has been repeatedly called away to last-minute missions. You wished so badly for him to come home soon - not necessarily because you wanted his presence, but because you craved McDonald’s fries.

Yet, with the monotonous brushing of your teeth, your mind secretly wondered whether you actually craved his person. 5 months into your pregnancy and you had been able to fend him off more easily, blaming the baby hormones as an excuse to get out of sex. It had not been that easy when you were first plucked from your life; Bucky would have you however and whenever he wanted.

The first time you had morning sickness, the pivot in his behaviour had you wondering if this were the same man.

Present time, you considered changing out of the large nightgown but decided against it when you remembered you would have to do it without your husband’s help.

As you waddled down to the kitchen and made your way to the kettle, something in the corner of your eye piqued your attention. You cautiously stalked to the slip of paper that was haphazardly pinned to the fridge with a little button magnet.

I will be back tomorrow. Could you prepare a nice dinner, my love? I would love to spend some time together. It’s been too long x

There was no signature, but you absentmindedly traced where it would be. During those early days of courting, he would leave notes and messages in unsuspecting places. It would frighten you, and although that wasn’t his intention, it foreshadowed the behaviour that eventually removed your choice to say no.

His signature used to brew dread and bubble panic. Now, you could recognize that the note no longer brought up fear within you.

No, it wasn’t the lack of a signature. In fact, you had an epiphany, realizing that the note itself was actually comforting.

A sharp exhale escaped you as the note was crumpled and thrown into the nearest trashcan.

“The audacity,” you muttered under your breath and went about your day.

The house was spacious, your existence in it not taking up much of the expanse. It was a reflection of yourself - all this space in your mind, yet you were all alone most of the time. Bucky was there, but through no fault of his own, he was pulling back and giving you space.

You sighed for the umpteenth time since waking up, now regretting every instance you pushed him away when he tried to hold, cuddle or kiss you.

As you went about your day, you scolded the thoughts that pondered how he was doing and whether he was safe. Then, while you were halfheartedly reading a book, your hormonal brain entertained the possibility of Bucky’s death.

You knew that he could die during any mission. It could be a simple recon, but this life wasn’t a safe one, the scars littering his body a testimony to this fact.

You should hate him. You shouldn’t care if he died. Hell, you should be figuring out how to get out of here. Instead, you slumped into the reclining chair and crumpled into a ball, falling asleep from the tiredness that came with crying.

Your brain was awake before you, nose picking up on an extravagant smell that evaded the ability to think. Not thinking much of how the aroma came to be, you wafted to the source: the kitchen. There, facing away from you was the broad breadth of Bucky’s shoulders. You noted the way his muscles rippled through the tight black shirt, which you were sure he wore to tempt you.

“You gonna stand there or come give me a kiss, dollface?”

You pouted, crossing your arms and turning your head, only to catch a glimpse of yourself in the silver of the fridge. Your eyes were puffy, hair a mess, swollen and generally unattractive.

He did this to me.

You marched over to him and pounded your fists to his back repeatedly; though it would feel like nothing more than a pat to him, he turned around, taken aback.

“You did this to me, you did this, you did this you bastard,” you sobbed, now resuming your assault on his chest.

Bucky reached behind him and clicked the stove off before pulling your form into himself.

“Hey,” he cooed, “What did I do, baby?”

You sniffled, now crushed between his arm and his chest.

“You made me all swollen and ugly, and- and, I can’t even sleep on my stomach.”

Bucky let out a low chuckle and rested his on top of your yours.

“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you,” you chanted.

“I know sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

His dialogue paused your rambling. The way he said I know as a response to I hate you did not sit well with you. The hurt in his voice was so evident, and though you had heard it before, you never bothered to care. On the other hand, you spent the whole day not-so-secretly wishing for him to come back.

So what was true?

“I don’t mean that,” you meekly responded.

“You didn’t mean what?”

“I love you, Buck. I missed you so much.”

The super-soldier grasped your shoulder and pulled you off of him, only to look you straight in the eyes.

“Come again?” he asked, unable to believe what he heard.

“Don’t make me say it again. I’m glad you came back early, that’s it.”

Bucky gulped as a stray tear tainted his cheek. You took the opportunity to nestle back into the crook of his neck.

“I love you so much,” he whispered.

“Not the ruin the moment, but I’m very hungry.”

As if on cue, your stomach grumbled and the pair of you laughed in unison.

Masterlist

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rainbow-shine · 3 years ago

Text

will I find you when the night is over?

@spnprideweek's day 7: free space

basically I just had to write my own fix-it fanfic

Castiel found Dean in the kitchen.

Dean was making what appeared to be a PB&J sandwich, and Castiel was suddenly struck by a wave of longing at the domestic scene. His now human heart seemed to want to explode inside his chest, unable to contain the love he felt for the man who was humming a tune as he meticulously distributed the jelly on the bread.

Apparently satisfied with the sandwich, Dean nodded to himself, filling a glass with milk and grabbing the glass and plate, he turned for the exit, only to freeze when he saw Castiel in the doorway.

"Hello, Dean" Castiel said, breaking the tense silence they had fallen into and trying to ignore the way something inside his chest ached at the thought that it was his fault that things were so uncomfortable between them now.

They hadn't discussed the confession, though it's not like they had the time to do it. When Dean rescued him from the empty, Castiel barely had the energy to share a couple of hugs before collapsing from exhaustion. He had spent the rest of the day asleep and by the time he woke up, he had searched for Dean and found him in the kitchen.

And now they were here.

"Hey, Cas," Dean eventually exclaimed, clearing his throat. “I thought you might be hungry”.

Oh.

Dean had prepared him something to eat and that simple gesture was enough for Castiel to feel his eyes fill with tears. His emotions were difficult to control now that he didn't have his grace, but Castiel tried to regain his composure as soon as he could. Dean's friendship, being able to be by his side and having Dean to love him like a brother was enough. It was.

"Thank you," Castiel said.

"Are you okay, Cas?" Dean asked, stepping back to put the plate and glass on the table.

"I'm…" Castiel stopped for a second, wondering how to explain what he was feeling. The mixture of emotions that the mere presence of Dean elicited in him. “I'm fine”.

"It's okay if you're not fine, Cas," Dean whispered, moving closer to him and raising one of his hands as if to place it on his shoulder, but ended up dropping it. Castiel tried not to flinch at how much he wanted that contact, however minimal. “None of us can understand what you went through, not entirely at least, but we are here for you”.

"I know," Cas replied. “Thank you, Dean”.

Another awkward silence.

Castiel wondered if there would come a time when things could go back to the way they were before.

"Are you hungry?" Dean asked, pointing to the plate of food. “I was going to bring you breakfast in bed, but you woke up before I could”.

Castiel simply nodded.

During the entire time it took Castiel to finish the sandwich, Dean seemed to want to say something, sometimes even parting his lips to speak, but he always ended up holding back. Castiel tried to not feel too miserable at the inevitable rejection of his feelings, reminding himself over and over again that he always knew that Dean didn't love him that way.

"Cas," Dean began and Castiel braced himself for the blow to his heart. “Cas I—”

Dean stopped talking.

Castiel knew that Dean didn’t want to hurt him, after all, it had been Dean who had spent months looking for a way to rescue him from the empty and Castiel didn’t believe that all that effort had been just to reject him in a cruel way. However, that didn't mean that Castiel didn't want this torture to end. The anticipation was almost worse than the rejection itself.

"Will you dance with me?" Dean said unexpectedly, standing abruptly and extending one of his hands towards Castiel, who had to blink several times to understand what Dean had said.

"Dance with you?" Castiel asked, his voice shaking with uncertainty. That sounded like a terrible and at the same time wonderful idea.

"Yeah," Dean said. "Come on, it'll be fun".

Castiel wasn't sure about that, but he had never been able to deny Dean anything, so, with a sigh, he took the hand that Dean was still offering him.

With a smile on his lips, Dean led them to the middle of the kitchen, taking his cell phone and playing a song on low volume, so low that Castiel had to concentrate to even hear the lyrics.

They both stood face to face for a few seconds and Castiel tried to smile, he didn't know what Dean was planning, but he still tried to be encouraging. Dean smiled back at him and closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling his bodies together.

Castiel was sure that he had died trying to escape from the empty and this was his personal heaven.

Shyly, not quite sure what were the limits of this, Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean's neck. They both swayed to the rhythm of the melody, looking into each other's eyes and silently saying everything they had never dared to say before. Castiel felt that his heart would stop at any moment from how fast it was beating and that his legs would stop supporting his weight from how much they were shaking.

Dean didn't seem that affected, holding him in his arms like they'd done this a hundred times before. And although Castiel wanted to pull away from him and demand answers, he knew he wouldn't, because this might be the only chance he would have to taste what it was like to be loved by Dean Winchester.

The song ended, but they didn't stop dancing. Castiel took a deep breath before leaning his head against Dean's shoulder, who, in response, only hugged him a little bit tighter.

"I thought I should let my actions speak for me," Dean whispered and Castiel couldn't help but tense. Here it came. “But you deserve to hear this, Cas”.

"Dean?"

"When we first met, I was scared of you. Like, completely terrified,” Dean began. “You were something that until that moment I didn’t believe that existed and that my mind was unable to understand”.

Dean laughed softly.

"But then I started getting to know you," Dean continued. "And you went from being a creature that terrified me to the best friend I've ever had in my entire life".

Castiel felt his breath catch and his brain began to spin at the thousands of meanings this could have. Oh, but Castiel knew what he wanted it to mean. An impossible that no longer seemed to be so.

"You said I changed you, but you changed me too, Cas," Dean finally said, his hands coming up to gently caress his back. “You made me have faith. You made me a better person, because you made me want to be the kind of man you loved. You made me believe that I’m something more than a killer, than a simple tool or a character in a story”.

Tears started running down his cheeks and Castiel did nothing to stop them, but he clung closer to Dean's body, refusing to let him go. This was too much and at the same time not enough. Castiel wanted... oh, how much he wanted...

"You can have me, Cas," Dean confessed and Castiel felt one of Dean's hands tangle in his hair and pull it gently so they could look into each other's eyes again. Dean then gave him the most beautiful smile Castiel had ever seen and said. “I love you too, Cas”.

Nothing, in all his millennia of existence, could compare to this moment.

"Dean," Castiel gasped, a smile making its way to his lips as his hands reached up to cup Dean's face. “Oh, Dean. I love you, I love—”

The rest of his words were interrupted by a pair of soft lips over his.

Castiel felt that entire galaxies were born and died within him. This was everything he had longed for, everything he had wanted. Dean's lips were warm and Castiel, with just one innocent touch, had already become addicted to them. Castiel had convinced himself that just being was enough, but having Dean's love was simply the best thing that had ever happened to him.

When they parted, Dean leaned his forehead against his and gave him another brief kiss before saying: “I'm a very good dancer, huh?”

Castiel gave a laugh that could well have been a sob, pulling away from Dean so he could cover his face with quick kisses, because now he was allowed to do so.

"Of course Dean," Castiel finally said, leaning his head against Dean's shoulder again, this time with the certainty that he would not be rejected.

They danced until the exhaustion made them separate and go to Dean's room to try and get some sleep, both of them knowing that they would never spend a night alone again.

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stylistiquements · 4 years ago

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There was the silence and there were the stars | Corpse husband x reader -Among Us AU

Among us AU : There was something. Something in the silence and the harsh coldness -that only space was capable of- that turned your brain into a sarcastic and bored mess. Maybe that’s why you found yourself so interested by any sabotage pulled on the crewmates, maybe that’s what made him so interesting to witness. He was different from the rest of you. Different to an extend you were about to understand.

❚ Word count : 4.2k ❚ Warning : A bit angsty but you will get that fluffity fluff and touch starve feeling you require I promise ; swearing ❚ Note : there will be no mention of death or killing as it is basically a real life Among us, just some shenanigans. Y/C : your/color

A/N : This little thing was inspired by -⭐️ anon. It was a fun thing to write even though it took me way too long because I asked my brain “sir may I pls have the focus capacity I need” and brain said no (: so yeah, this is litteraly just me ranting n complaining about space. This is a bit angsty but as what if is way too happy for me that was a nice opportunity. I hope you won’t mind and appreciate it anyway. As always just let me know. As it’s my first time writing like a one shot thingy I’m really curious to know. Also it’s supposed to be proofread but if you find any mistake just take ur glasses off. Thanks. Enjoy the wild ride.

You met him again. He was fixing wires while you were downloading some files on the computer. Difficulties happened regularly around here; various oddities that occurred from time to time, sometimes a few times a day. It would go from doors closing mysteriously to no electricity, you never knew which one it would be. Those inconveniences used to draw a smile on your lips, a grin you tried your best to hide from everyone else. The sound of the urging siren resounded in your head like a call, reviving the last spared spark left in your brain. At this point, you were pretty sure it was one of your crewmates’ doing, too many coincidences for any other options to be left. You didn’t mind though. The game started months ago but still amused you to this day.

He never let a word escape his mouth. To your awareness, no one knew anything about him, no one had ever heard the sound of his voice which you could only dare to imagine since the two of you met. It felt silly, you fabricated this voice inside your head, a half-finished melody you played to keep your mind busy. It would have sounded just as an old piano would. So slightly out of tune that maybe, if you didn’t care enough or wished for it not to be true, you wouldn’t even notice.

You called him black. It resonated with the color of his suit and the darkness that emanated from his soul. Not that he looked like a mischievous character, but rather like someone who would have been gnawed by life for years. A shade that reminded you of the bittersweet feeling 4 AM forced you to taste. Describing that presentiment was a challenge you couldn’t take. It was one of those things that had to be felt, not narrated.

Shit.

He caught you staring again. How could you look any other way? There was something with him that appealed to you, that pulled your eyes toward his direction every time. Probably only a peak of unwarranted curiosity you couldn’t really be blamed for, probably the oh-so mysterious aura that floated so carelessly around him. He always had this way of sneaking in and out, just as if he was nothing but his own shadow.

Yet, being near him was easy. Silence only felt comfortable when he was in your surroundings. The whole world stopped existing -and it had in fact since the first day you two met.

He had dark charcoal hair which fell so perfectly in curly strands around the two horns that crowned over his head. Paired with two ruby hued eyes, he truly was a sight for sore eyes. A wicked and breathtaking beauty, so unique it gave you the impression that he wasn’t even human.

He used to hop in a vent after finishing his tasks. As if his true home was there; a secret hideout for him and him only. You didn’t even know it was a thing before you watched it with your own eyes. Who wouldn’t blame him. If you could have escaped that warmth deprived place too, even for 5 minutes, you would have.

That’s why you never asked any question about it nor tried to investigate further. Being stuck in space was only a kid’s fantasy, nothing a fully conscious adult would inflict to themselves. Which, in itself, was pretty much self-explanatory about everyone’s mental condition in here.

It was also a pre-established rule, no questions. No one ever expressed it out loud, but you would have to be a fool not to guess it. Every crewmate grew accustomed to the deadly silence only space had to offer. A giant timeless hole where nothing really happened. With nothing but the smell of technology and the constant purr of engines as the only distractions left. See, living in a spaceship was no ordinary lifestyle : days and nights melted into each other until it became nothing but a groundless concept. The crewmates perceived it as comforting for some reason. You used to shrug it off, no questions. How unethical would you be to disturb their peace?

If you had to be honest, you would probably say that you felt bad for Black. Nothing like pity, but being alone in this stark and brutal silence for this long must have been pretty life-consuming. That’s why, even though it made your cheeks and the tip of your ears flame up in a raw and unforgivable tint of pink, you always kept looking into his eyes for one more second after he noticed you. Just to be sure he knew that he wasn’t alone in this shit hole. You stared into the depth of those ruby eyes, hunting for silent answers to questions you weren’t even sure of in the first place. He never quivered, only stood motionless until his task was completed. Just locking the eye contact. After that, he always ran away as silently as he existed. Leaving your head disturbingly empty.

Every single time.

Something changed one day. You were about to prepare some test samples when it happened. He jumped off a vent and you followed his movements from the corner of your eyes, too distracted to remember about the task that was assigned to you. He ran to the door and proceeded to shut it. Within the last second, the one that always lasted hours, he put an index in front of his mouth. Silently asking for you not to say a word. And before the steel door could obstruct your vision completely, you noticed a smile on his lips. A smile that made the whole spaceship turn inside out, draining the blood out of your body in a painstaking, almost sore way. There you stood, intoxicated by stupefaction and trapped as a cat.

Black mutated you into a self-depreciating joke : in here, you were only interestied in the impostor. The only one who made your day a little better was the one giving nightmares to the others.

It was him, from the beginning. It was him and he smiled. A grin that twinkled maliciously from his lips to his eyes, wounding your heart in an insoluble way. It made every prejudice you had about him crumble : he was no longer that miserable existence you sensed he was but a quiescent sun that could radiate all around him once unleashed into the world. How did he do that? How could he be both the tunnel and the light at the end of it?

When red came to the rescue, she described you with a glare. She judged you in the not-so-pleasant way. You could always count on those glares to know their opinions about you. Because their judgment would have to be expressed one way or another. She thought you looked suspicious, with your half poured concoction into a hand and the rest of it in the other, just staring blankly into the void. You wouldn’t blame her for that.

It stuck with you for days, filling your empty mind with the sight of a smile that could no longer be experienced. The scene shamelessly repeated itself in your mind until it became nothing but a progression of disassembled images, forcing you to taste the astonishment over and over again. The problem was, you hadn’t seen him for days. And, even though you wanted to know what happened, you couldn’t ask. That was the rule.

What would you say anyway ? Black is the imposter and I watched him close medbay’s door ? Yeah, I don’t think so. You should have stopped him in the first place -and you would have if you weren’t just mesmerized.

So, you took each day -or night … or piece of time, whatever you wanted to call it since it was no longer existent- with composure. Forcing yourself to do any task with a meticulousness that didn’t look like you. Just to make sure your brain was busy enough not to think about it or him. Being trapped in a place and being trapped in your own mind are two different wrestles, yet in here those two intertwined perfectly. Just like the rest of it, it didn’t even make any sense : the guy smiled at you for ten seconds and here you were, an absolute clutter of questions and recollection. You were probably just too bored and he, as always, was the perfect distraction. That must have been it, right?

You walked in admin. Your heart skipped a beat before your eyes could process who stood in front of them.

Look what the cat dragged in.

His hair twirled flawlessly above his face, almost hiding a grimace that indicated so transparently his mind. You leaned against the door frame and crossed your arms, unabashedly watching him as he swiped his card frantically while sighting heavily every time that “bip” of failure rang.

Eventually, he looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read. You tried anyway, staring at him as if he was some sort of work of art that needed to be decrypted. From the way his chest moved heavily under the pressure of the irritation to the way his glowing eyes witnessed you. This expression on his face gave him a funny look, a scowl which made the laugh that tickled your throat hard to hold back.

“Y-you have to do it slower. Otherwise, it won’t work” you stuttered. “I guess it’s harder since …”

You walked to him carefully, so carefully you forgot your words. Just as if he was a wild animal who could run away if scared. Making sure no step would fall out of line. He was so close, so close, maybe if you tried to catch him this time he would stop running away.

“Since it’s not my job, right ? Is that what you were about to say ?” he asked with a low voice, a voice you would have never dared to picture for him. Not the broken tone you pictured but a melody so sweet and so unique it felt like it was made just for your ears to enjoy, taunting you to dive into his mind.

“Do you need help” ?

“I- hum- You’re not supposed to help me, you know ?” he stuttered, visibly amused, judging by the way his eyes wrinkled under his smile.

“Are you gonna lock me in the room once again ?” He shook his head as a chuckle escaped from his lips. “Then who cares” you finally breathed.

Your fingers brushed against his warm skin as you grabbed the card. You tried to appear unbothered, hoping so intensely for the swipe to be a first try success. That way, maybe he wouldn’t notice the way you breathed heavily under the weight of your pounding heart. But those red eyes piercing through the depth of your soul were hardly bearable for those like you who suffered from unbeknownst afflictions.

You grew aware of his every move, the way those eyes fell on you, the perfume that emanated from his skin, the sound of his slow yet noticeable respiration.

You gave him his card back and he captured your fingers in the palm of his hand, making it impossible for you to escape his grip. Hiding those blushing cheeks from a sight that seemed to see everything was a defiance only the proudest people would be capable of. It wasn’t your case, but you counted on preserving the last sane cells left in your body.

“Your secret is safe with me.” You whispered, avoiding any eye contact.

“I know that.”

A simple answer that would never be enough to satisfy you. Yet, before you could review the best option of an answer, he left. Just as he always did, he walked away silently -still this time it seemed to last an eternity- while you just stood there inertly as you watched his black silhouette disappear into the endless gray hallways.

You finally caught the breath you had been holding this whole time. Leaning over, you observed your reflection into the screen of the digital tablet as you rubbed your hands together, hoping for that strange spike of electricity that ran through your fingers to fade away quickly. A mess.

“There you are, Corpse” green said as he sat cross-legged in black’s secret place “I’ve been looking for you.”

Corpse was the name green chose for Black, feeling like it would be the most suitable image for the one who always worked in the shadow. Not the most refined nickname, yet black ironically related to that. Silent as a Corpse, he thought. A level of sarcasm that amused him and which probably led to him immediately falling in love with it.

Corpse observed the little sprout on the top of Green’s head. It floated lightly and followed his every move. What a little freak. Just a thing deprived of any sort of self consciousness, out of this world just like he felt he was. Corpse remained fixated on it, hoping he could get as self-aware as it was. The last impromptu reunion he had with you was nothing he had planned, nothing that should have happened. He wouldn’t exactly call it a mistake and still, he had no one else but him to blame.

“Did something happened with y/c ? You seem a little flustered.” Green asked, pulling Corpse out of his overflowed mind.

“I don’t know, I think I kinda fucked up.” He replied with a shrug. “I’ve been spotted.”

“Was it really a mistake ?”

Green was the only one who was granted with the privilege of learning how to understand Corpse. Because, deep inside, they grew up to be the same kind : the kind that didn’t belong here. Two sides of the same coin.

Green’s social intelligence, on the other hand, Black didn’t like it that much. Thanks to that guy, he would be able to work comfortably in the darkness, where no one could see him, but it also meant that he saw clearly what was going through Corpse’s mind. Actually, it didn’t take him too long.

What was the surprise when he realized it was you who lived rent-free in his thoughts? See, in Corpse’s eyes you were different from the others : too conscious about the reality that happened before yours eyes. It made you interesting to observe. What a delightful sight it was to watch you rolling your eyes in your crewmates’ face, to notice the serious look you had when you were focused on a task, the way your eyes sparkled every time a new sabotage was made. He wouldn’t track you, yet he would never resist a peek once your paths crossed. It happened often, more than you actually realized.

Yet, Corpse was no fool. You and him never belonged together. You were destined to a bright destiny and he was the obscurity. That’s why he was more than careful not to get too close, not to see his bare mind get burnt under the exposition of those peculiar feelings in the pit of his stomach.

That’s why his previous reaction made no sense to him. But what could he say? You took him aback when those words were directed at him. You made his short-circuited brain unable to be sensible anymore. He just wanted to know what your touch would feel like under his fingers. Why was his skin blazing with electricity now ?

Corpse swallowed it all. From the blossoming feeling inside his body and mind to the warmth and the softness of your skin. He couldn’t feel that way. “I’m not really sure.” he finally said, as honest as he could be with himself.

He would spend his next few days planning with Green, cornering you to a small part of his brain. You couldn’t be there, you had no right to be. The game was progressing faster than they anticipated it. It made him thrilled, accepting the challenge no one but the two of them could bear.

However, a new unwanted seed grew into his mind. The idea that, maybe, you were only by his side in this game. That, maybe he would never be able to witness your existence in the real world.

“Have you ever noticed how weird the stars look sometimes ?” Corpse asked as he joined navigation. You jumped and your mind turned into a scattered place stuck between a task you battled to achieve and the proximity left between the two of you. Your heart beat in rhythm with his echoing, never ending footsteps. Still you had, indeed, noticed. “It’s like they’re not even real” you answered with a smile that made your voice higher. A melodic lift that betrayed your intention of ever finishing your job.

When you finally looked at him, his lips moved into a satisfied curve. Shivers tickled your arms and your neck. Maybe because he was just standing so perfectly still in front of the glass window. So perfectly still that, among all those celestial bodies, he appeared to be the most beautiful one. “Mind keeping me company for a bit?” Your mouth betrayed you when the question escaped your grip. But Corpse snorted faintly and shook his head.

“From all the people in here you want to spend time with me ? That’s probably not your wisest decision.” He said as he tried to muffle a high pitch laugh with a hand that covered his mouth.

See, that’s the words he had been afraid of since the first time he saw you. The words he would have to turn into derision since he knew he would have no strength to refuse. Yet, you stood there with those glimmering eyes and those eyebrows that arched in a strange manner, cutting every single inch of air out of his lungs. Even if he wanted to say no -and he should- he wouldn’t have been able to.

It was never meant to happen, not judging by your two so hostily opposed nature. Fuck that shit. Who cared about that speech when you were here and you were so beautiful?

You moved closer to him, a strenuous and slow tense that shouldn’t be disregarded. You’ve had seen the same scenery for months yet never it made you feel the same way as you did at that very moment. Because those balls of lights floating into the void shimmered in his ruby hued iris just as a dozen of fireflies would. He made your world a little blurry, narrowed to his presence at your side.

“You forgave me really easily the last time we met.” He noticed. “That’s a little sus if you asked me.”

“Well, what can I say ? You’re the only distraction I have left, so I’m not really in the position to hold grudges.” You shrugged sarcastically.

“You’re really funny, I have to concede that” he said as his smile made its way to his eyes.

Your brutally honest words intertwined with his chuckles and crewmates never heard the spaceship as lively as that time. That time when you got to discover who Corpse really was. A man who hid his blooming existence behind a silence.

“Why did you stay silent this whole time ?” You dared to ask before the silence fell upon the two of you, a silence that maybe you wouldn’t be able to endure this time.

“Because I never wanted to lie”

“I- ...hum- there’s really nothing I could say against that, right ?”

With every grin, every chuckle, every abrupt eye contact, your proximity kept embedding his mind a little deeper until you stole the stars’ show completely. It’s no good, you held his breath hostage when he realized he could feel the warmth stemming out of your skin. So tempted to get closer and witness it with further clearness.

Thus, he lifted a hand that starved connection. He tried to close the gap between your two touches so prudently, so discreetly that you didn’t even notice. A touch, that would go beyond his movement, more like a proof he needed to make sure someone like you really existed in a shithole like this.

He was so close.

Yet, the alarm rang before he could embrace the object of his desire. “Better check that out quickly” you said with a sigh. Somehow, it felt peculiar just knowing that, this time, you were the one running away. A sense of some sort of joke played by space. As if space hadn’t done enough. When Green cut the communication, he couldn’t realize -If only he knew the double meaning of that sabotage. Ah, the irony of it all.

“I’ll see you soon” Corpse informed you, more of a promise than a farewell and he stayed there long enough, staring numbly at his hand.

You ran until the communication room, holding this bittersweet feeling on the tip of your tongue. You tried to swallow it and almost found yourself praying that no one would arrive before you could. This way, maybe your fugue would make more sense.

Blue was already sitting on the floor, trying to find the good frequencies. “I’m already on it.” she said on a plain, monotone voice. Of course, she fucking would be.

Now what was left to do ? Corpse was probably already gone and-and the silence … the silence had returned. A dead, cold, cruel silence. It tested out your nerves, built up some pressure down your throat that made keeping your composure barely possible. Corpse slipped between your fingers again. The game was no longer a funny and pleasant diversion from the plain, austere daily life you had. You grew tired of that cat and mouse game. You just wanted him.

After going back to the oh-so empty navigation room, you completed your tasks. And you were finally done. You wandered around for hours, days -who knows-, searching for a purpose.

The game was coming to an end, you could feel it. Something in the air changed, it became dryer than ever. Unbearable on your skin that ached for something you couldn’t apprehend. The crewmates were agitated, everyone kept running around day and night just to make sure the last tasks would be completed as soon as possible. New difficulties were triggered almost as soon as the last ones ended. Chaos.

Just as if he wasn’t ready to end the game so soon, as if he didn’t want to get the hell out of this place as much as you did. From time to time, you almost found yourself eager to ignore the alarm. Taunting him one last time by neglecting his call.

Maybe that way he would show up, maybe that way he would stay with you. Yeah, maybe that way he would stop being nothing but an ephemeral being that almost made you wonder if you finally gave up on your mind to the silence. Because at that moment he only felt like a chimera your brain created to protect you. Because you were just so fucking bored.

You gave up on that idea, turning on the CCTV as you sighed. Just to see more colorful suits running around, trying to hold their shit together for what appeared to be the ultimate hour. Despite all the sabotages, it seemed like your number made your strength. You imagined Corpse’s face, probably piqued. A dark frown covering his pretty eyes. It made your lips twitch for a second. Who knew it would end this way ? Definitely not you.

Yet that amused smile faded away when you heard the familiar sound of the door closing, locking you in yet another time. You rolled your eyes and turned around, unprepared to witness who locked themselves with you. His body laid against the door, guarding it as his chest moved frenetically under the weight of his rushing breath.

“This is the end” he whispered frantically under his breath. He doesn’t look as worried as you thought he would, but it didn’t matter. You moved impulsively toward him, never stopping until he snaked a hand around your waist and slipped the other one in your back. That way, this time, there were no escape.

He let his head rest in the hollow of your neck, soaking the divine and comforting warmth you had to offer. His warm breath on your skin sent shivers through your body which responded by squeezing him a little tighter, holding him as close to your heart as humanly possible. You could feel his, beating so fast.

“This is the end.” His whisper grounded on your skin.

He lifted his head to dive into your eyes with the same sweet smile you offered him. The one which expressed the happiness, the relievment it felt to embrace him.

“If it were for you, I would do it all over again.” You said, pressing your forehead against his, sharing a breath as you closed your eyes. One last attempt to memorize everything about him. You sensed his smile, so wide you didn’t even have to look at it to see. He left a trail of kisses on your cheeks and your hand wandered in his hair as a faint gasp escaped your lips.

Corpse looked back at you. And then, as his thumb drew light circles on your cheek. With glowing eyes that translated all the adoration he felt for you, he whispered “Maybe it was just meant to be”. And then, he closed the distance between the two of you, brushing your lips softly at first before capturing them completely once he was sure you felt the same way as he did. A kiss that tasted like 4AM and home.

“I’ll find my way back to you, my love. I’ll find you in the real world.” He promised.

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse husband fic #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband x you #corpse husband x y/n #among us au #corpse x you #corpse x reader #corpse x y/n #corpse scenario #corpse imagine #corpse among us #corpse fluf #corpse angst

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weareallstoriesintheend · 3 years ago

Text

Heavy (Charlie Barber x Reader)

Summary: I don't really have a summary for this. It just needed to be written - have some mental health comfort with Charlie.

I haven't proof read this so apologies for any mistakes.

Warnings: Mental Health

Word Count: 1,795

Everything felt heavy.

This was new.

It was like everything felt too much to handle. So instead of standing up, finding a way through – a normal practice for you – you retreated. You retreated much further back than you had in a long time. This wasn’t fast; it was a slow process of watching everything fall apart around and within you. Nothing felt right anymore and it bugged you. It bugged you that you didn’t feel worthy of trying anymore, people around you reminded you that you were but when you were left alone for even a minute life felt like nothing. Everything felt simultaneously blank and all too much.

Whenever you felt like this you were reminded of a quote you read once, by F. Scott Fitzgerald, which had just stuck in your mind. “The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly.” You didn’t even know it was a real quote but nothing had ever resonated with you quite like this.

Today was dark. Today felt like giving up. So you sat alone at home, no lights on inside but just watching the day slowly disappear with the light outside. Your laptop light illuminated your face in the dying light and although it hurt your eyes it was something to numb your mind. Movement felt almost impossible so even as your stomach growled at you for food you just patiently shushed it and carried on the mindless tasks you could do from exactly where you were in bed.

Then you heard a key in the lock and the quiet push open of the door. You’d expected it honestly. You’d waited for the sound of his spare key in the lock for a couple of days, he was a busy man so you put no time frame on this expectancy but you knew him. You knew how his mind would buzz with worry as you slowly slipped away from him but you didn’t have the energy or the words to say anything. To you it felt easier, but to him it would feel like the world was ending. You waited for the second pair of smaller footsteps. Sometimes he’d bring his son Henry with him in the hopes that his incessant youthful energy would spur you up out of bed. Sometimes it worked and sometimes he’d frantically place Henry in front of the TV to keep him from seeing Dads girlfriend, and his favourite new person/babysitter, in such a state. This time they never came and you breathed a slight sigh of relief.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw his wide frame occupy the doorway, leaning casually and eyes scanning you and your surroundings.

“You should have called” his deep tone cut through the silence and you internally flinched. The silence was comforting; you didn’t have to answer to the silence.

“I don’t know where my phone is”

You saw him reach into his pocket, still not having made eye contact with him yet, and type something into his phone. In the distance you heard a ringing; he swiftly followed it and returned a moment later with the ringing phone.

“It’s barely got any charge. Where is the charger honey?” he asked, so gentle.

You pointed to the corner of the room where you always get the charger plugged into the wall. He padded over, you noticed he’d kicked off his shoes, and stooped to plug in your phone with the joints of his knees quietly clicking as they bent. The looming frame was now crowding your peripheral vision at the end of the bed.

“That doesn’t change the fact that you should have called” he said, you could hear that he was bordering on slight agitation. Charlie was a patient man, being a father had made him such, but with you he often caught himself gritting his teeth when things got this bad. You knew you were unreasonable and childish but you didn’t have the space in your mind to be anything else. You knew these changes in mood were constant lately and you expectantly waited for the day that agitation turned into dropping off his spare key and never coming back.

You saw him turn, as his back was to you now you lifted your eyes to see him. He was dressed casually, your favourite red jumper of his hugging the broad curve of his shoulders. He was always so well put together.

He reached for the curtains…

“Please don’t” you raised your voice just a little. His hands paused and he turned to you. You heard him huff a breath out and he lifted his hands to rest at his hips. “How was work?” He asked plainly. You shrugged “It was fine”, thankfully right now your job was mostly sitting aimlessly staring at a laptop screen. This was something you comfortably did from bed most days.

“Did you eat today?”

You shook your head. With that he stepped a little closer and you resisted the urge to look at him, the stare of his soft golden brown eyes felt too much. Despite his restlessness for your moods he regarded you with such care and attention. The gentle loving tone of his voice made your chest ache.

“When did you shower last?”

Shrug

“Did you call your mom?”, when you shook your head at this question he audibly tutted. You flinched but hoped the room was dark enough that he didn’t see it.

“You know you need to tell me when things get this bad right? Am I still driving you to therapy tomorrow?”

“I cancelled the appointment” You muttered.

This time he raised his voice and said your name in a tone that sounded nothing short of a parent talking to a child. For some reason it brought you an ounce of comfort.

“I know okay!” you said, the volume of your own voice rising this time. Your mind felt crowded, like someone had filled it with cotton wool and then tied heavy weights to your brain. “I can’t Charlie, okay? I get that I disappoint you when I don’t do what you tell me and then I’m a fucking burden to you because you have to come over here but I just can’t!” your body was shaking and tears poured from your eyes as you frantically tried to brush them away with the pads of your fingers.

He sighed and bent down, elbows resting on the bed, so that he was in your eyeline, “You don’t disappoint me sweetheart and you certainly aren’t a burden; I just care and want you to try”

“I do try!” you shouted; now you looked at him dead in the eyes. His expression instantly changed when he saw your face, crumpled and weary, “Sweetheart, I know you d-“

“- I do try Charlie, but I just can’t. I don’t want to have to try all the time. I don’t want to have to fight all the time. I don’t want to do this!” you gestured wildly around you, signalling the mess of things around you that was a necessity when simple functioning was hard. You sobbed, dropping your face into your hands and letting everything you’d held back all day go.

You tried not to cry anymore, it hurt your eyes and gave you a headache so you stored it. You held it in in the hopes it would go away. But right now with Charlie’s kind eyes on you there was nothing to hold it back. No silence, no peace, just him.

He instantly got to his feet and picked your laptop up from your lap placing it somewhere. He shushed you with a hand through your hair and shuffled you forward with the gentlest tug he could, you looked up to see what he was doing and saw him awkwardly crouching on the bed beside you before he slid in behind you. You tried to speak but his motions distracted you.

Charlie slid himself behind you, his back to the cushions and his legs either side of your hips. Suddenly you were submerged in him, the warmth of his body and the gentle wave of his cologne.

He grabbed your waist and pulled your back flush against his chest. A strong arm wrapped itself around your middle and then the other wrapped a muscular forearm around your chest. You instantly wrapped your fingers around it and held him closer. He placed gentle kisses into your hair and coo’d soft words into your neck until your sobbing had subsided slightly.

You sat, fingers wrapped around his forearm staring blankly at the space in front of you sniffling away your tears. Everything felt numb. But the press of his lips against your skin and the beating of his heart against your back brought you down, lowered your own racing heart and stilled your breath just a little.

“I should have called” you croaked. He placed a firm kiss to your shoulder and said “I know, but I’m here now. I promise I’m not going anywhere”

“But what about Henry?”

“I’ll take care of it” he said, shushing you as you tried to spin in his arms and he whispered your name, “Let me take care of you…” and then even more quietly he added “… Let me love you”

You shook your head “I don’t know how”

“Then let me show you. You are worthy of so much more than a dark empty room and a brain filled with lies”

You nodded and sniffed as more tears began flooding your vision. He pulled you impossibly closer to him, his voice soft and nurturing in your ear.

“I want to help but you have to let me. I will be here for as long as you want me, for as long as you need. But you can’t shut me out again okay?”

You nodded again and tried to speak, the second you opened your mouth no words but a cry was all the sound you made.

“Right, first things first…” his voice trailed off as your body moved, he was leaning down to the bottom drawer of your bedside cabinet. You clung to his forearm as he shuffled around. He plopped a protein bar from your emergency depression snack stash into your lap.

“Eat” he ordered voice stern and you knew not to argue with that tone. The Dad Tone. Your hands shook as you unwrapped the top of the bar and took a tentative bite.

“I don’t deserve you” you whispered, hiccuping through your tears and slow bites.

“Nonsense” he tutted “You deserve the world and I will always try my best to give it to you”

#charlie barber #marriage story #charlie barber x reader #charlie barber x you

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merakiui · 3 years ago

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Oh, um, wow. Thank you for replying to my ask before. This will feel more like I'm asking for writing advice and I did say I have lots of questions, so in case you don't feel like answering it, feel free to ignore it ^^

I'm mostly interested in the dual narrative (is that the correct term) because both of the narrative/writing style is so different from one another. Where did you get the inspiration to do so? And what goes on in your mind when you design this?

And may I just say, woah you're so cool and the way you're able to pull the tale and mixing it with the actual events ✨✨✨ It added to the characterisation and the atmosphere you're building and the way that you do it without making it feel repetitive. The tale complements well to the actual story that's being told ✨✨✨ How do you craft a narrative that tells us all we need to know in 4 paragraphs only? What's your consideration in the process? And how do you makes it different than the actual story that's being told?

I hope I'm not burdening you too much. I'm so excited to hear your answer (if you do ^^) Thank you so much, Mera! 💗

- the anon with questions on Winter's Bride :)

I'm happy to answer your questions, even if it's about writing advice! I don't mind it at all! :D I'll put my answer under the cut just because it got somewhat long. I hope you won't mind!

1. Dual narrative is the correct term! The story itself is told from reader's POV, both past and present. The four paragraph fairytale is written in the POV of an individual known as Sir Winter (and at one point it gives some focus to another character known as Lady Snowflake). These two are meant to be parallels of Childe and the reader along with their situation.

When it comes to inspiration, the idea first came to me when the weather started getting really cold and it became apparent that winter was coming. I thought it would be really horrible to find yourself trapped in a forest during the frigid winter months with no way out. Babuchan's Frozen Girl also has the vibe of a very desolate, helpless place with snow and ice. Listening to it gave me some inspiration for the overall feelings I wanted to convey in the story.

Once I had the basic premise in mind, it didn't take that long to start writing it out. I think I wrote the entire first draft within a few hours before I went back in to subtract or add scenes. I put myself in the shoes of the reader and tried to imagine how she might feel and what she’d do after having fought with her father and then leaving her house in a frustrated rush. Her being out in the cold for three days mirrors Childe's three months in the Abyss and how when he emerged only three days had passed.

Lots goes on inside my head when I’m making these sorts of additions to the story. Sometimes I won’t write anything substantial and will instead write out various ideas and connections to use within the story before I start it. Luckily, I had most of the plot crafted so I could write it with ease! But some stories aren’t so easily created, which often has me back at the drawing board to look at new angles.

2. Ooh, the four paragraph fairytale!! Some of the lines went through various changes before I settled on what you see now. I wanted it to feel like a mystical rhyme with dark undertones. What’s fun about short narratives is that your brain often fills in the empty spaces for you, which allows you to create your own interpretations based on the little information you were given. You’re free to associate Sir Winter’s character with Childe’s because of their similarities, but you can also separate the two based on their differences. I considered using one sentence per part, but I scrapped that idea when I realized it would be better to use four paragraphs to tell the story.

My main consideration for the fairytale was that I wanted to write a tale that’s as cruel and cold as Snezhnaya is often described as, yet it still holds that whimsical feeling of a fairytale. I was going to take inspiration from the story of Snegurochka for the tale, but I thought it would be an interesting challenge to create something entirely different. I think what makes it stand out from the actual story is the gothic nature of everything and that in the end Lady Snowflake has always admired her groom, even if she’s just beginning to see the monstrous qualities he has. As for the reader, she can’t love Childe because she doesn’t know him well enough and she can only view him as a monster because that’s the side of him he chose to show her.

Thank you for your nice words, anon!! I’m very happy you like Winter’s Bride and that you were curious about my thought process. 💕 I hope my reply makes sense and is helpful advice!

#sweet messages #aaa tysm!!! :D

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imagineabrighterworld · 4 years ago

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Tsundere!Tenya Iida x Reader

A/N: Request from @coledrawsstuff , hope you like it! ^^

You meet him at the entrance exam

It was the day of the entrance exam, and you couldn't be more excited and terrified. You ran to the gates, opting out of using public transportation should you be late to the test, which meant you were already sweating despite the crisp breeze. Amid the students waiting to enter the testing room, you can't help but notice a boy stretching in blue gear. It was a little confusing, as it was yet to be the battle simulation test. Why was he stretching for.. Writing?

Suddenly you were grateful to have the excuse of over exertion on your side as you feel your face begin to warm.

He was.. Impressive looking. Though he was intimidating with how serious he was, he had the body of an Adonis.

Though you should have been studying your notes to prepare for the test, your eyes were glued to him. But your rational brain managed to snap you out of your gawking just enough to go back to the matter at hand.

Closing your eyes, you focus on the vibrations of metal around you. From a vending machine three miles away, the water fountain one block away, and to the steel charm in your palm, you relaxed and let your magnetism do it's work. You had to be in harmony with the metals you attracted, and this was the easiest way, just letting the metals come to you. Not that you were going to summon a vending machine to pummel something. That would make way to much of a scene. So you continued your little practice.

Meanwhile, you let your mind drift to the muscular boy in glasses.

Unfortunately your magnetism attracted something else too, or someone else

In your defense, the boy was built like a brick wall, which was hard not to look at. You couldn't help but wonder how much training and what kind of strict regimen it took to maintain a body like that. You surely didn't have the energy to maintain a system like his.

“What are you doing?!”

A voice snaps you out of your thoughts, causing you to stumble forward and smack into something sturdy. “Huh?” You look up, throat turning dry as you stare directly into the eyes of the Adonis himself.

He glares at you, his glasses catching the light and obscuring his dark blue eyes.

You hold back a squeak and back away, giving him an extra two feet of space. “Sorry about that, I didn't mean to-” Your body pulls itself back to him, causing you to bump knees with him.

You look downward and find the cause of the scene. He had engines in his calves.

Oh goddess..

You release your magnetism, tripping over your own two feet to create more space between you two. “I swear it wasn't intentional!” He holds your gaze for a moment, his mouth open as if ready to chew you out, but before he can the Pro Hero Present Mic yells over the cacophony of students, telling them it was time to start.

The boy mutters something under his breath and walks away, dropping to the ground and launching himself through the doors, bypassing a green haired boy that looked as nervous as you.

You give the frozen boy a sympathetic nod before running after the other students that had already begun their conquest of Battle Block B.

“Please don't let me find him.” You mumble to yourself.

You had laid out a trap and magnetized the robots to crash into each other, crunching them up into a ball of scrap metal

It was some miracle that the test was within the normal use of your quirk, so you were able to make a quick strategy on how to gather up points. You were uneasy of course, because they must know that there is bound to be a kid with magnetism or ferrokinesis on their side. Keeping that in mind, you build up on your plan for aiming for the top spot.

So far the test had been a breeze for you. With your magnetism you managed to pull the robots into themselves, crushing them like wads of scrap paper. Occasionally you would spot the green haired boy, feeling pity for him when he would arrive just a little too late to gather points. You were tempted to help him, but with the clock counting down, you did whatever you could to get more points for yourself. You were at thirty seven and were working on getting an extra six points by creating a giant trap. It wasn't something you had practiced before, magnetizing more than two large objects at a time, but you had little choice if you wanted to enter the hero course.

Gathering your strength you pull your hands together and magnetize three of the giant robots to clash together, but by doing this you miss seeing a fourth robot readying to bash you into a demolished building.

He saves you from a robot about to blast you, running and catching you in his arms

Tenya Iida was many things, he liked to believe that chivalrous was one of those qualities. As a member of the prominent Iida family of heroes, he strived to make his family proud. He put all his might into the test, knowing that the faculty were watching everyone with keen eyes, seeing how they assessed each situation and complication. But what he did not take into account was you. You threw him off his groove, off his calm mentality. Even now he wondered how you were fairing against the robots. But he didn't have to ponder for very long as he saw a level 2 villain bot prepare to smack you aside.

He had no time to warn you as his instincts kicked in. Engines blazing, he jets towards you, scooping you into his arms and carting you both to a safer direction.

“You must watch out for yourself! A hero is vigilant and always aware of their surroundings! You could have been badly injured!” He yells at you, unsure why he felt so peeved. You wouldn't have died, the heroes knew to hold back enough for a simulation like this. And yet here he was, angry with you, someone he barely met.

You release your magnetism on the bots from earlier, knowing they were turned to scrape when you heard the resounding clang of empty metal. “I-I was fine!”

But of course he did not believe you. He just- it was frustrating to see you defend yourself when you didn't know the situation you were in!

He sets you down and runs off, barking from over his shoulder as he moves on to gather more points. “Keep an eye on your surroundings!”

Towards the end of the exam he realizes what your plan was and swoons on the inside

With the exams over, Tenya returns home and waits for his brother to drive before retelling the story of how his experience was. He made sure to include the people he got to meet, which included you.

“Maybe that was their plan.” His older brother Tensei says while using his chopsticks to dunk a dumpling in a dish of sauce. “Gather the battle bots to use them as a wrecking ball. If you don't have a weapon, you make one.”

Tenya pauses in his eating, covering his mouth to hide his mid bite into a cabbage roll.

Was that your plan? Were you just making yourself an opportunity? Did he squander your work?

His mother laughs while his father smiles at him as he shakes his head.

“Next time you see them, apologize.” Tensei winks. “And don't just go picking up people without reason.”

You are in 1-A, taking the place of Hagakure, meaning you were far in front of Iida

When you received word of entering U.A.’s hero course, you were absolutely ecstatic, nothing could ruin your mood! Except maybe the dreaded fear that engine boy would be joining you in 1-A..

Taking your seat in the front corner of the room, you fiddle with the steel charm on your necklace, latting it bounce above your fingertips and circle your fingers. There wasn't much to do other than to wait for the teacher to arrive. You were early, and gratefully so, as it took you awhile to find the classroom. Your nerves had begun to settle but as soon as the bell had run and the class filled with nearly all 19 students (excluding yourself of course), you knew what was going to happen.

“You there!”

Oh goddess.

The boy from the entrance exam walks up to you, towering over you as he stands erect in front of your desk. The steel charm you were playing with plops onto the desk with a light thud. “Yes?”

From the angle you were looking at him, it looked as though he were glaring into your soul, sending an uncomfortable chill down your spine.

He chops a hand in the air. “My name is Tenya Iida, of the Iida family! I apologize for what I did to you at the entrance exam, but you must show more care about your own well being! No one will be there to save you next time! We are supposed to be the saviors, not the saved!”

It takes you a moment to process his words, but by the time he moves to his seat, you have no chance to say anything.

What a weird boy..

You occasionally give him looks but are much too afraid to act

As class carried on and situations arised, you began to see past Tenya’s abrasive personality. He meant well, but he performed with such energy that it was difficult for you to relax near him. You wanted to be his friend, he was a good guy. You had heard his laughter and seen his smile with his small group of friends, and you thought it might be nice if he smiled at you like that.. But how were you to get through to him??

He too wants to get closer, but his personality makes it very difficult to discern anger from excitement

Tenya knows he's a bit on the.. Extreme side when he gets excitable, so he enlists the help of his friend Midoriya to talk to you.

“Hey um- over here?" Midoriya waves to you from his spot at one of the lunch tables. He was alone with just his tray, innocent enough, so you go to him. Despite being classmates you didn't get the chance to really talk with Midoriya before, so you figured now would be a good time.

"Hi, did you want to talk about something?" You question while sitting across from him, already picking up an orange to begin peeling it.

Midoriya looks down at his tray, hands fidgety. "Um, yeah. It's about Iida."

Your mood dips slightly, thumb accidentally jamming into the soft flesh of the citrus fruit. "What about him?"

"Do you.. hate Iida?"

This threw you off-course. You had been expecting him to talk up his friend and how great of a person he was, not question if you hated him. Because if you were being honest, you didn't hate him. Sure he intimidated you, but the way he acted around the others made you think he was just hard to get through. Sort of like Todoroki, though Todoroki still was in his own shell.

"I don't hate him." You pile the peels onto your tray, glancing around the room for Iida before biting your lip. "He's a little much.. but I think he's kinda sweet. He's just a little scary sometimes."

The boy in front of you sighs in relief, slumping slightly in his seat. "Yeah, he can be really excitable huh?"

You smile, "A little?" You mimic Iida's signature move of arm chopping the air.

Midoriya laughs. "Like that! But if you look past that he's a really good person. He scared me at first too. But, try getting to know him. We're classmates, and I think he wants to get to know you, he's just bad at it."

Considering his words, you pull the orange in half and offer him a piece. "I'll give it a try."

You two are paired for a project which leads you to slowly getting to know him better

For a class project, you had drawn lots to assign partners as there were obvious cliques already formed. Your teacher didn't like the idea of such bias and so the polling system was chosen instead. The girls urged you forward, trying to get your mind off of the odds of you picking the boy glaring at you from behind the class. Reaching into the box, your heart nearly burst out of your chest when you read the words Tenya Iida in perfect script. Trudging back to your seat after announcing your partner, you take a peek at him in the most subtle way you could, but to your dismay, he was already looking at you with his normal stoic face.

“Is this okay?”

“Of course it is! It is perfect!”

You jump in your seat, laughing nervously when Tenya yells, drawing attention to the two of you. You had scooted your seat closer to his in order to talk about the details of the project. It was a week-long examination of Pro Heroes and their strategies. In a way you were grateful for having him as a partner, he was well organized and fair, and wasn't too bad to look at either…

You pinch yourself on the cheek.

He was overall a good person, he was just so intimidating.

“Which hero do you believe is our best candidate?” He asks, nudging the list of names closer to you.

“I haven't thought of that yet.” You admit while taking hold of the paper. Your eyes widen curiously. “Hey your brother is on here!”

“He is?” Tenya leans in closer to look over your shoulder at the names, causing a pink blush on your cheeks. “You're right!” He announces proudly.

Looking at his jovial expression, something so different from his usual scowling (at least when you're looking) was refreshing, and caused a smile to form on your face.

“We could do the assignment on your brother, that way we'll get the best information!”

For the first time since you've met him, he smiles at you. A genuine smile.

“You're right, getting our information from the source will give us an advantage over the others. Our project will be flawless!”

Again, the damned color red rushes to your face, but this time he notices. Seeing your face turn pink caused an odd feeling to stir in his chest. Sure he had told himself he was wrong about you, like how he was wrong about Midoriya during the exams. But he never had the opportunity to say it to you.

Now that he had the chance, he.. He couldn't do it.

“S-Shall we set up a time to meet for the project?” He stumbles over his words. “For the project. That is due in a week. This project.”

You spare him the humiliation of telling him he repeated himself way to much and instead nod. “How about tomorrow afternoon. Do you think your brother will be free then?”

“My brother?”

“You know, to ask him questions?”

He blanks.

You giggle behind your palm, taking a pen and scribbling down your number before tucking it into his hand. “Just call me when you figure it out, ‘kay?”

He was an absolute mess, but luckily he had Tensei

On the day of your meeting, you get to the Iida household fifteen minutes earlier than you were supposed to. Unsure of whether to enter yet or not, you stay outside, sitting on the stone porch, admiring the koi pond in the corner. It was peaceful listening tenth bubbling water and the occasional chirping of birds. But not long into your wait, a boy looking similar to Tenya walks in through then front gates and to the porch where you sat.

The young man looks you over knowingly, a warm smile on his face as he offers his hand. “You're my little brother’s friend right?”

You take his hand and shake it firmly. “I am- I think.” You weren't sure exactly what you were to the young Iida really. He still acted rough and a little cold sometimes.

His brother exhales, his smile only warming. “Don't mind him, he's got some getting used to when it comes to socializing.” Unlocking the door, he beckons you inside. “Don't be shy, it’s safe to come in. I’ll grab him for you.”

You follow him inside, looking around at the pictures on the walls. “Actually we need you too.”

“Ah- right, right. Well, I’m here till five.” He speaks over his shoulder, loosening his tie as he walks upstairs to what you assume is the living space. “Tenya! Your friend is here!”

Straight away a loud thump sounds off from upstairs, followed by the sound of an engine and another thunk. You wince at the sound, smiling when you see Tenya walk downstairs with a red face and glasses askew.

Thats where the thumps came from.

“I apologize for my late arrival, I should have been the one to answer the door. My sincerest apologies!” He bends at the waist but you wave it off.

“Don't worry about it.” You hold up your bag where your laptop lay snuggly inside. “Lets begin.”

You finish the project in record time, leaving you with time for other things

It was no surprise to the class that you both received high marks for your work; you both were dedicated and reaching for the top spots in your class when it came to academics. But what did surprise them was how slow you both were when it came to your relationship. Be it romantic or platonic. So the girls set up a little something to finally speed things up. Hopefully you wouldn't kill them later for it.

Clutching a letter close to your chest, you stand in the middle of the training field, heart beating in your ribs like a wild horse.

The letter was not something you expected to receive. And it definitely wasn't from the person you thought you might receive one from. It was heartfelt and near-poetic, it was sweet and- the complete opposite of what you expected from Tenya Iida, the straight forward stoic.

Hell, you didn't even expect anything at all from him. Least of all a love letter.

During and after the project, you had to admit that deep inside his extreme exterior, he was a sweetheart. He meant the best and wanted only good things for others, but his excitement could make him.. terrifying. Still, you were willing to look past that and gibe him a chance.

If he would give you a chance..

When his figure finally appears, you squeeze the letter tighter in your hand, not even thinking of how crippled the delicately written note would be once you opened it up again.

He was dressed in his uniform, sweat gleaming on his skin. He must've ran all the way here after he was done with whatever business he had to deal with after school.

“You-” He pants, “You're really here.”

You furrow your brows. “I am. You wrote for me to meet you here.”

Tenya takes in a deep breath and exhales slowly, reaching into his breast pocket and drawing out a similar colored letter. “I was told to come here as well. By you.” He opens the letter, scanning through the words before stopping on a line. “Meet me at the training field by five o’clock. Please, don't be late.”

He tucks the letter away. “Those were your words, weren't they?” A strange look is in his eyes, and now you can't discern whether the color blooming on his face is from his run or from something else.

“It wasn't me.. I got the same letter, and I thought.. well.. I thought it was from you.” You open up the crumpled paper, looking over the confession that was written in delicate writing. It certainly didn't sound like his normal approach at talking, but maybe a part of you hoped that he.. liked you.

The two of you stay silent, listening to the whistling of wind passing through the trees.

“Did you think it was true?”

Your gaze snaps to him.

“..What?”

He looks down, a hand on his neck while the other still clutches the love letter in his hand. “Did you believe it? That I.. like you?”

You think back: your first day meeting him, asking him for notes, watching him take on challenges with pure passion, encouraging his friends and never giving up on them, the softness of his hand when he helped you down the stairs of his home when you twisted your ankle. There was moments where you believed you might love him.

“I hoped it was true.” You say quietly. “I hoped you liked me.”

Again, silence.

He looks at the letter in his hand, face ablaze with pink and red.

“The letter, wasn't far off from reality.”

You don't have to look at him to know he's moving closer to you. Your magnetism allows you to feel when he's inches away.

Now you look up at him.

“You’ve attracted me.”

It didn't take a magnet for your lips to collide.

#bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha tenya iida #mha tenya iida #tenya iida #Tenya Iida x reader #bnha tenya iida x reader #mha Tenya Iida x reader #tsundere Tenya Iida #really its Tenya being a giant unaware dork with no social filter #he's the slow fast boy #my beta is done with my shit #but we will go down like men in this fluffy soup bowl of feelings #I got new magnets and really liked the idea of a magneto kind of quirk #He was low-key high-key great

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silverarmedassassin · 4 years ago

Text

Please, Mr. Barnes

CEO!Bucky x Reader | NSFW, 18+ only please | 2163 words | Masterlist

You’ve just started a new job as the executive secretary to the one and only James “Bucky” Barnes - founder, owner, and leader of Barnes Bionics, the most successful prosthetics companies in North America. Everything is going smooth until your royally fuck up and Bucky is forced to punish you the only way he knows how...

Warning: Like I mentioned above, 18+ only, please! There’s a little tongue action here, some spanking there. Nothing explicit but, ya know.

Note: Listen, despite consuming more than my fair share of smut, I’ve never actually wrote anything remotely smutty, so this is very new to me. Please be nice 😭 I was inspired after seeing this post, where I accidently went off in the tags because I was feeling some kind of way. I’m also dedicating this to @wonderlandmind4, because they called me out on my shit 😅 Enjoy!

To say you fucked up is an understatement. Forgetting to send an email is fucking up. Forgetting to water the plant’s in your boss’s office is fucking up. But this? This is a next level, idiotic, you-deserve-to-be-fired mess. And you haven’t even been here a full week.

You started at Barnes Bionics as an executive assistant to the CEO. You’d heard great things about the company - the relaxed and family-like corporate atmosphere, casual Fridays, and the down-to-earth, laid-back James Barnes, aka the founder, owner, and leader of the most successful prosthetics company in North America - and were eager to start your new position. Not only was it going to be a significant pay raise, but it was also going to give you a change of pace. You’d struggled for so long to find a position that would help boost your career, so when your best friend informed you she was stepping down from her assistant position to stay home with her soon-to-be-born daughter, you were ecstatic.

Except right now, on this bright and warm Friday afternoon, you wanted to be anywhere but your desk on the 90th floor of the One World Trade Center Building. While the executive offices began to empty, your new co-workers filing out in clumps, chatting excitedly about their weekend plans, you sat impatiently behind your desk, trying to make yourself as small as you could.

Earlier in the day, right after you returned from lunch, an email from James popped up on your screen. “Plan to stay after this evening,” was all you could read from the preview. In naive, blissful ignorance, butterflies erupted deep in your belly. Your boss was attractive. He looked like he could be sculpted from marble with the way his muscles strained against his smartly pressed button-downs, and the slight clench in his jaw when he’s concentrating on something was mesmerizing. The giddy feeling quickly dissipated, however, as you continued reading.

“I received a strongly worded voicemail from a distraught Tony Stark this morning. Asked why I’d waste his time by not showing up to a meeting that, the last time I checked my calendar, is scheduled for next week. I should be back at the office at 5:15. I expect you to be prepared for a one-on-one meeting before then.”

Your eyes flick to the small clock in the corner of your computer screen, and your stomach feels like it’s wrapped itself into a constrictor knot. 5:12. If your boss was anything, it’s punctual. As Sam Wilson, Barnes Bionics’ chief operations officer, closes his office up, the elevators just down the hall ding, signaling their arrival.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Sam laughs as he laughs before departing with a jaunty farewell.

You hear the two men exchange the usual pleasantries, the elevators shut, then the ominous echos of James loafers meeting the polished marble floor. You close your eyes and take a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm your nerves, but as soon as he beckons you to follow him into his office as he passes your desk, you actually think you’re going to throw up.

“Mr. Barnes, I’m so sorry I-”

He holds his hand up to silence you as he leans back against his large mahogany desk and uses his free hand - the metal one, that one that started this entire company - to pinch the bridge of his nose. “You realize Tony Stark is one of my biggest investors, right?”

You open your mouth to answer, but he fixes you with a rather threatening, so you simply nod and look down at your heel-covered feet. He’s going to fire me, you think as you wait for him to continue with his lecture. I haven’t even received my first paycheck, and I’m getting canned.

“You could have cost me a lot of money today, Ms. Y/L/N.” He pushes off his desk and slowly makes his way to where you stand just inside his spacious office. “There is no room for such vital mistakes like the one you made in this industry. I didn’t build this company from the ground up by missing meetings with the men and women who fund our research. I didn’t become one of the world's leading tech companies by allowing my assistants to make careless mistakes and piss off my partners.”

“Mr. Barnes, please,” you beg. God, you sound so pathetic, but you really don’t want to lose this job. And the fact that you messed up so bad within the first week of being employed at Barnes Biotics is embarrassing, a total misrepresentation of how organized and punctual you usually are when it comes to the workplace. “I...I’m trying really hard, there’s just so much to learn in such little time and I...I don’t know what happened.. I’ve never made a mistake like this before, and I never will again. Please, you don’t understand how much I need this job. I’ll do anything, I’ll work overtime without pay. Please…”

“Fire you?” James snorts as he stops in front of you. He’s so close you can smell his cologne, feel the heat radiating off his broad chest. “Oh, honey, I’m not going to fire you. But mistakes do come with consequences.”

You force yourself to look up at him. The anger and pure disappointment you expect to find on his face is surprisingly absent. In its place is something a little darker, dare you say a bit lustful. His powder blue eyes are almost covered with the black of his pupil, and a little smirk is playing in the corner of his lips.

“Go stand by the desk,” he commands. You go to question him, but he tuts his tongue. “Go on. You know how impatient I can be.”

Confused, you slowly make your way across the room, stopping in the space he had just been occupying. You’re about to turn around when two large arms around you. James’ metal hand settles on your lower stomach as his other arm wraps around your shoulder.

“Do you know,” he says, hot breath fanning across your exposed neck, “what happens to bad girls?”

You swallow thickly before you answer. “Uhm, no, Mr. Barnes.”

“They get punished.” Before you realize what’s going on, James pushes you forward onto his desk so that your bent over the top, his muscular torso resting gently across your back. Gently, almost agonizingly slow, he begins to drag his metal arm across your stomach, around until it’s just barely resting on your ass. “You’ve gotta tell me you want this, or I’ll stop,” he whispers. “But I’ve seen the way you look at me. I think you want this as bad as I do.”

“God, yes, please, Mr. Barnes!”

The words have hardly slipped past your lips before he’s bunching up your skirt and nudging at your panties. You should feel ashamed, you think, at how wet you already are at the simple action, but by god did you touch yourself thinking of this man.

“Soaked already,” he practically purrs as he teases at your entrance. Before you can get too much enjoyment from the sensation, he quickly pulls his hand away. “But you still fucked up. Still almost cost me millions. I need you to know,” he says as he eases himself from on top of you, keeping one hand pressed gently to the center of your back and the other resting on one of your exposed cheeks, “how bad that could have been.”

Before your brain can register what is happening, James’ palm connects to your asscheek with a loud smack. You jump, having been unprepared for the assault. Just as quickly as the last, his palm connects to your ass two more times before he is rubbing the sore spot in soothing circles.

This was...different. Never mind the fact your boss of five fucking days has you bent over his desk, ass and pussy exposed for all to see, but it was actually turning you more on. Spanking had never been something you’d thought of when it came to sex, something you probably wouldn’t have even considered with past lovers. But with James, it just felt right.

“No more silly mistakes like that, okay?” he whispers softly in your ear as he continues to rub your now burning cheek. “Or I’ll have to do this again.”

Smack. Smack. Smack.

A wanton moan drips from your lips after the last swat, and you’d be embarrassed if your boss wasn’t spinning your dazed body around, shoving the miscellaneous papers away to clear a spot for your to sit. You watch in stunned as he slowly lowers himself to the floor in front of you, lust-filled eyes never leaving yours.

“Something tells me you might like that, though,” James smiles as he grabs your ankle and carves a path of gentle kisses up to your skirt's hem. Both hands slid the material up your thighs, providing a peculiar sensation of both warm skin and cold metal at the same time. His metal fingers brush ever so slightly at your still-exposed bundle of nerves, and he smirks at the gasp it pulls from you.

“Would you like that, Y/N,” he asks, planting a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Because I know I would.”

He quickly buries his face between your legs, first with a flat-tongued swipe up your pussy before he begins to suck on your clit. The heat of his tongue, mixed with the shallows breaths he takes between sucking and lapping, causes your blood to run cold and the coil in your belly to twist so tight you’re sure it’s going to snap any second.

“Please, Mr. Barnes. Fuck,” you exclaim louder than intended, and you’re suddenly very aware of where you are. You can’t seem to find the thought to care, however, not with James drinking you in like a man just returned from the desert. He responds to your cries of satisfaction with a light bite to your clit.

As slides down, he tongues at your entrance, his nose applies just enough pressure to your clit to send you reeling. Your hands land in his perfectly styled hair, pushing and pulling at the chesnut stands as he helps you ride out the intense waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

As you begin to settle, James plants small kisses here and there on both your thighs before pulling away. He looks up at you, your juices glistening on his lips and the slight stubble of his beard. He looks as fucked out as you feel, and it makes you slightly self-conscious of what you must look like. He licks his lips and hums quietly, causing another jolt of want to rush straight to your core.

“You taste as good as you look,” he smiles and stands. When he’s back to his full height, he reaches a hand out to help you off his desk. You can’t help but catch the noticeable bulge straining at his slacks, and he must see your quick glance because he laughs and shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it.,” he says, bringing his hand to his lips before making his way around to sit at his desk.

You left standing there, in the middle of an office whose furnishes cost more than your entire year’s rent, fucked out and in shock at what just happened. You don’t know how long you stand frozen, eyes fixated on a vintage Brookly Dodgers poster, but a deep chuckle and the rustling of papers draws you out of your trance.

You turn to find James straightening up the papers he had shoved out of the way, and cleaning up the pen holder must have spilled. You stagger forward, hands out ready to help your boss clean up the mess, but he simply waves you off.

“I hope you didn’t have any plans after work,” James says sheepishly, almost sounding guilty for keeping you over. Almost.

“No,” you say as you anxiously rub at your arm. “Just your average, boring Friday night.”

“Well, I hope I added a little fun to help kick off the weekend.”

You can feel your face heat up as you nod. He winks before turning back to tidying his desk, and you take that as your cue to take your leave. You scurry across the room quickly, and right as your hand touches the door, James stops you.

“By the way, great job on your first week. I was more productive than I’ve been in years thanks to your organization. I really appreciate it.”

You smile, face heating up even more. You take the compliment to heart, bathe in the way it fills you with pride. “Thank you, Mr. Barnes.”

“Hey, uh, call me Bucky. Mr. Barnes or James or whatever is too impersonal, and I think we’re well past that stage.”

#Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes x female reader #James barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #James barnes x you #ceo!bucky #ceo AU #marvel x reader #marvel x you #Bucky Barnes fanfic #marvel fanfic #the winter soldier fanifc #marvel au #Bucky Barnes au #silverarmedassassin writes

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queenofbaws · 3 years ago

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Hmmhmmhmmmm. Oh! I know!

"I feel like shit." "You look it." "Hey!"

But for everyones favourite ot3, climbing chrash! And, just because I'm obviously deep into it at the moment, bonus points for some of that delicious outlast au varient?

(not quite) six sentence weekend (y’all should check out outlast au if you haven’t already! :P)

In the grand scheme of things, they’d gotten off easy. There’d been people (patients?) (victims?) much worse off than them. The Engine and the thing hiding within it could do whatever it wanted without a word of warning. Skin bubbled up or sloughed off, eyes glazed over or rolled back or burst like grapes in a microwave, teeth multiplied before falling out, noses and lips rotted. Some nights the patient wings came alive with the sounds of suffering, but others they fell silent with the silence of death as heart after heart stuttered, slowed, stopped.

So yeah, they’d gotten off easy.

Whatever the fuck that meant.

How he’d managed it, he couldn’t say (something something catlike reflexes, something something agile physique) but Josh found himself in the yard, the cool night air a welcome relief from the sweat stench of the male ward. There were voices coming from somewhere far-off, muted and muffled and made strange by distance or melted mouths, suggesting he wasn’t the only one whose panic had resulted in a slippery escape. The voices didn’t trouble him, though; no, from what little he’d seen of the riot, he knew without really knowing that the real problem children, Murkoff’s real prides and joys, were more than comfortable inside.

There was a joke in there about what it meant to be institutionalized. It wasn’t a good joke, but it was there.

It was Chris and Ashley his worry went out to, their thoughts jagged and shrill in the folds of his brain, stinging like vinegar in a wound. He couldn’t make anything out, not at first, left to grit his teeth against the worst of their panic as shit hit the fan.

Courtyardcourtyardcourtyard, he thought on repeat, staring pointedly at the chainlink fencing surrounding their paltry rec area, Court-fucking-yard.

And then, for a horrible moment, there was nothing. His head was empty. The vibration behind his eyes stopped. The world itself seemed to stop spinning on its axis. It. Just. Stopped.

Until it burst back to life.

What happened?! What was any of that?! What’s happening out there?!

Ashley’s presence was just that, a huge, flashing ?! of abject panic, her fear leaching into his veins like a transfusion.

Everyone’s just shouting here! I think…I think someone…I think one of the doctors is…is…

Dead? Josh finished for her. Her panic was too much, he had to bend over, had to brace his hands against his knees to keep from puking down his front. Yeah. Uh huh. They’re doing that, now. It’s all the rage, apparently.

What he wanted to say(think) was he didn’t know. He didn’t fucking know what was going on any more than she did. Things had been fine until they weren’t, bing, bang, boom, that’s all she fucking wrote. The issue with that, of course, was that Chris was still AWOL. Awfully AWOL. And AWOL was not what you wanted to be in the male ward just then. So he settled for a curt Go figure, right? and the mental image of a shrug, hoping that would be enough to staunch the flow of her fear for the time being. How you doin’ Cochise? Sound off, one, two, three…

Ashley fell silent again too—relatively, at least. There was a high-pitched whine from her end, ringing like the world’s worst case of tinnitus. It made him want to bite his nails off. It made him want to eat his own lips.

Cochise… he tried again, squeezing his eyes tight as he could. If you’re dead, so help me God, my guy, I will come back in there and raise you from perdition just so I can fucking wring your neck myself…

Silence.

Perfect. Fucking. Ringing. Silence.

But just as Ashley had, Chris reappeared just as quickly as he’d dropped off. His nebulous bubble of their mental space filled with two simple, horrible thoughts: HOLY SHIT and the blurred impression of his own reflection in a mirror streaked in gore. They’re killing the fucking doctors in here!

Get with the program, Cochise. You’re so ten minutes ago. He lifted his head from the concrete to quickly search the courtyard, but whoever the voices (the real ones) belonged to, they didn’t seem especially interested in him.

Chris, ohmygod! Please tell me that isn’t your blood! What’s even—

Not my blood! It’s not my blood! I don’t know whose it is, but like…definitely not mine! The image of his reflection was momentarily joined by his hands, as though that would somehow prove the chunks on the mirror didn’t belong to him. I’m okay—I mean, I totally feel like shit, but—

Yeah, you look like it too.

Hey!

Josh!

He smirked. It didn’t stick. Out there in the crisp mountain air, it suddenly occurred to him how badly he hurt, how sore his own face was. His eyes found the shape of the god-awful water fixture near the center of the courtyard, and much as he didn’t want to, found his feet leading him there. Word to the wise? I think you guys are gonna wanna do your best to get the fuck out of there. I’m talking in an ASAP way, bee-tee-dubs. I have this nasty feeling shit hasn’t quite hit rock bottom yet, and call me suspicious, but I don’t think we’re gonna wanna be in closed quarters when that happens.

What are you talking about? People are dying in here, dude, I don’t think—

Yeah, what’s that supposed to mean? Female ward’s on total lockdown! How am I supposed to—

Much as they tried not to, Josh felt them recoil the second he caught sight of himself in the reflecting pool. Their thoughts broke off like shattered pottery, leaving things unfinished, unsaid, unpleasant to feel against the meat of his mind.

Call it a fucking hunch, he said, staring down into the open wound that was his face. But I think there’s something else going on in there besides lights out.

The riot. It hadn’t been a huge span of time in the grand scheme of things, but something had happened there once the lights had gone out—some invisible switch had been flipped somewhere deep, deep down in Murkoff’s belly, and the reaction was spreading. It was spreading like the plague.

Now would be a fantastic time for you guys to remind me that I’ve got a sparkling personality, you know.

#love-fireflysong #six sentence weekend #queenie writes supermassive #queenie writes outlast

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sims2bellaswan · 3 years ago

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pas de deux X [Bruno Bucciaratti x reader|Risotto Nero x reader]

[SFW]

AO3 VERSION

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

You’ve worked your whole life to earn a place in the Rome ballet company, yet everyone seems to work against you.

Between the stress of working to match the other dancers to unforeseen romantic issues, problems just seem to pile up.

You weren’t happy with your outfit. The last one was too casual, but looking in the mirror, a dress felt too formal. Even joggers felt wrong.

Settling on something comfortable and somewhat flattering, you locked your door behind you lethargically. You weren’t necessarily excited for tonight, for no particular reason. You were just nervous. Bruno would be fine and everything will be like it was before all of this.

Taking a deep breath, you began the walk down your apartment stairs.

You had been here more times than you can count on two hands; there was no reason to hesitate at the door. You fully knew you had permission to walk in.

Quietly, you knocked.

No answer.

You knocked louder, pulling back a step. You rung your hands at the hem of your shirt. Maybe you should just leave.

The door opened, warm air pooling into the hall. Bruno smiled at you for a moment before opening the door wider.

Bruno’s kitchen was immaculately perfect, not in the sense of cleanliness, he was a maximalist and avid foodie. Rather, his kitchen, and whole apartment, exuded a feeling of homeliness. Pictures of family and friends, cards, keepsakes from his 21 years hung and perched on walls and shelves. He would be the first to say he is appreciative of sentimental value.

He also had a wonderful sense for interior decorating, something you did not have. So, everytime you’re here, you stand in awe for a moment of how someone’s apartment can look so put together, yet warm.

Heat emanated from the stove. Drawn to it, like a moth to flame, you leaned against the table. Bruno passed you to mind the stove. Your anxiety melted the longer you spent with him. It’s all better.

The two of you are quiet for a moment. Setting a wooden spatula down, Bruno turns to you, smiling. “I’m glad you were able to come.”

Pushing your hair from your face, “I was convinced Risotto would kill me right then and there.”

“Was he angry?” Bruno moved about the kitchen, knowing where everything was. Before you could answer, he hands you a glass of wine.

“Thank you,” You whisper. His hand brushes yours in the transaction. “Not angry, per se, just, ugh,” You sipped, taking a moderately long pause as you collected your thoughts. “He told me not to disappoint him again.” Bruno offered an empathetic smile while you tried to word your thoughts properly. “I just,” You cut yourself off. “Who says something like that?”

Bruno poured himself a glass, about half the amount he gave you. He looked at you, fingers laced between the stem of the glass. “Impolite, to say the least.” There’s a ‘but’, you could feel it coming like a train’s vibration on the tracks. You sipped your glass, waiting for him to continue his sentence. “But,” There it was. “Perhaps, it was a badly worded way of looking out for you.”

You blinked, letting out a curt and quiet laugh. “Don’t romanticize this.” Your words hit more rude than you intended, almost visibly wincing after the words left your wine-stained lips.

“I’m the last person to romanticize him,” finally, he drank. Then, left his glass on the counter to finish off the pan of food. Pressing further weight on the table, you watched him work. “What I mean is,” He paused for a moment to focus on moving the meal from pan to plate. “Carbonara.” He states, handing you a plate and fork.

You smile, moving to the chair beside you. He sat opposite of you, placing his plate down first. “You were saying?”

He stretches to grab his glass from the counter. “You have been stressed lately,” he started, “noticeably so.” You bit your inner cheek. “Perhaps, working at the company has become more than you can chew.”

You wanted to retort, wanted to spit back that he was the reason you were stressed today. You didn’t, but you certainly wanted to. Honestly, you would rather die than have another argument with Bruno over this ballet master situation. So, you simply replied, “You think so?”

He hummed, agreeing with you as he began to eat. “You should take the season off.”

Blinking once and pulling back from the table in surprise, you finished your wine. “That's very funny, Bruno, but I need a serious solution.” The fork now laid motionless in your hand, too focused on the conversation at hand to bother with the meal.

“I know it's hard to hear,” He finished off what would be a comforting sentiment with something that was half your name, half a sigh. It hurt your heart in a way. “But, I only want what’s best for you.”

You must have looked at him like he was crazy because he shook his head, downtrodden.

“It’s your decision, but please keep my advice in mind.”

You needed to change the subject, further prying would lead to the same argument as before. Sighing and pulling your fork from the plate, you hoped it would show your discomfort with the current topic if you ate instead of replying.

The dinner was silent now.

Which, you hated. This was supposed to fix things and it seemed it was only making things worse. Bruno didn’t look at you, not until you accidentally made eye contact. “Sorry.” Bruno kept a tight breath, “I invited you to apologize and we are back to square one.” His free hand moved to massage the bridge of his nose. “Can we start over?”

You smiled, almost apologetically. “Yeah,” your voice gives an air of exasperation. “Yeah, we can.” A big part of your mind was glad he felt the same way, but something nagged that he wasn’t being as genuine as you’d hoped. Your paranoid thoughts would not get the better of you.

And, he smiled in return. A full, warm beam that made it seem like his face was the reason smiles were invented. “I’m glad you agreed to come.”

You stood to pour yourself a second glass, fuller than what he had poured the first time. “Please, I’m glad you invited me.” You struggled, for a moment, to put together the words. Sipping gently once, then twice, you returned to your seat. “You’re an excellent chef, I’d never pass up the chance to eat your cooking.”

His laugh gently tumbled from his lips, “You’re more than aware that you’re always welcome here.” Bruno stayed in his seat as he watched you move about his kitchen, then return to yours. Quiet eyes transfixed on your movements as if he were watching you dance.

The pleasantries continued through the dinner. You felt the weight of anxiety lift off your chest as the two of you calmed down. Your nerves dulled from wine and carbs, you poured a third glass after dinner. Bruno nursed his second.

The sun began to set behind you, the curtained windows letting in slivers of golden light. Reflections shimmer on the table, over empty plates and stained glasses. It casted it’s aureate glow over the kitchen, making you feel warmer as the evening turned into night. Stars found their places in the sky, twinkling curiously, and watched the two of you get up from the table. Below the apartment, in the street, vendors made their final sales, while mothers shouted for their children to come inside.

Between you and Bruno, there could not have been a softer room in the world.

You convened at the counter, by the sink. Bruno leaned his weight against, while you stood aside. Dishes already stashed within the basin, the idle chat between you both carried on.

You laughed over your glass, a comfortable silence falling over the two of you. The distance between you had closed a half glass ago. Your head leaned precariously on his shoulder, only tipping up slightly to drink from your glass.

Your head was swimming, but thankfully didn’t hurt. “It’s getting late, Bruno.” Your words faded into a smile, “I should head back.”

His hand met yours and laced itself between your fingers, as he considered his next words carefully. “You’ve had too much to drink, cara mia.” His voice was so low it was near a whisper. “Stay the night.”

His hand in yours emanated heat. Your face felt just as hot, the alcohol contributing only in part to the rouge that dusted your cheeks. “I don’t want to intrude.” Continuously, your slurred words trailed off. The train of thought in your brain was constantly derailed by every moment in Bruno’s affection.

Above you, you felt his head turn towards your own, gently finding a place to lean into your hair. “For my peace of mind?”

You contemplated, as best you could in your inebriation, before you nodded softly.

Again, that silence fell over you. His hand left yours, leaving a cold space that you longed to be filled again. His elegant fingers tilted your chin up, finding your visage and keeping it where he could see.

There was a moment where you weren't sure what was happening. Your heart beat harder than a war drum, pounded against the wall of your ribcage and threatened to escape out your throat. Up until you taste wine on your lips again, do you have less than inkling of what Bruno has planned.

Your eyes fluttered shut, brain and body melting into Bruno’s touch. He wasted not a moment when the kiss broke, guiding your woozy form to the bedroom.

#bruno buccerati #risotto nero #reader insert #female reader #sfw #bruno bucciarati x reader #risotto nero x reader #jjba #jjba au #ballet au #pas de deux ao3 #my writing

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sweethq · 4 years ago

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♡ Maniac // song scenario

𑁍 Characters: Oikawa Tōru, mentions of Iwaizumi Hajime

»»—Trigger warning(s): mild swearing, bullying, mentions of a car accident and death (kinda?)—-««

➶ Genre: angstttttt, timeskip!AU

✎ Word count: 5.5k

-ˏˋ A/N: Hello!! I’m so excited to share this piece of work with you all. This is my first attempt at writing a song scenario so please bear with me! This is also the first long-ish scenario that I am posting on this account which is super exciting!! I hope you all enjoy and I hope to keep posting content that you guys will like ^^ Also, I feel bad for making Oikawa look like a complete and utter jerk lol buuuuut you gotta do what you gotta do. Remember, this is all fiction and is all in good fun!ˊˎ-

Tōru has been acting weird the past few weeks, weirder than one should to their s/o after dating for nine months. The once loving, carefree boy that made your heart race seemed to disappear within a matter of seconds. You remembered the times walking in the city together. He would intertwine his fingers with yours, rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand while giving you a soft smile. Day trips out into the city are now rare, and when they do occur, the only physical contact is your arms grazing against each other which fades much too quickly.

You would visit his favorite bakery once every two weeks, ordering the same pastry every time: a strawberry iced doughnut. The first time you went there together, on your third date, your first bite ended with you smearing the icing on the corners of your mouth. Tōru chuckled, muttering a quiet “Clumsy,” before leaning over the table to wipe it off for you. You felt your heart clench in your chest, heat making its way up your neck and to your ears. Since then, you made it a point to order the same doughnut each time in hopes that Tōru would once again slide his finger over the corner of your mouth; and he did. Last week was the first time in nearly nine months that he didn’t, leaving an unsettling feeling in your stomach. These types of things were very routine in your relationship, so when they came to a sudden halt, you couldn’t help but feel curious and anxious at the same time. When the two of you are out together, it feels like he’s not even there. He doesn’t give the same warm smile, tell stupid jokes, or even give you a second glance. It just feels… distant.

You tried to approach him about it, knowing that there were too many things that were suddenly changing. “Do you not love me anymore?” “Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?” “Is there someone else?” Tōru felt guilty. Guilty that he would give you any reason to believe that he was being unfaithful.

“I’m sorry I’ve been making you feel this way, I never meant to hurt you. I’ll do better, I promise,” he stated before walking closer to you. He raised his hand to softly caress your cheek, deeply staring into your eyes with an emotion you couldn’t quite put your finger on. He placed a lingering kiss on your lips before pulling away and placing another on your forehead.

“I have to go, I promised Iwa-chan that I would go to his place to hang with him and the other guys. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” You gave a small smile and a nod, him returning the favor with another kiss on the forehead before walking out the door. You couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t give an answer to any of the questions you asked.

----------

A few hours have passed since Tōru left, and you can’t stop thinking about the unanswered questions from earlier. You went back and forth between pacing the room, sitting with your knees pulled against your chest, and laying on the floor; hoping that one of these things would help your brain think of a possible explanation. After hours of thinking, you notice his jacket resting on the back of one of your dining room chairs. Your eyes light up, knowing this would be a reasonable excuse to visit your boyfriend at Iwaizumi’s place.

The walk was short, but gave you enough time to think about what you would say when you saw Tōru, not quite sure why you feel the need to think of a script to talk to him. You stand outside Iwaizumi’s door, breathing a sigh of relief as you hear your boyfriend’s loud voice through the wall that separates you two. As you bring your hand up to knock, you suddenly hear your name be said by a female voice, making you freeze in your place. You can’t help but let your curiosity get the better of you. You slowly inch closer to the door and press your ear against it, hoping to not make any unwanted noises.

“Didn’t you say you only asked them out because you pitied them?”

“Yeah, I just felt bad for them. They would always follow me around and tell me how much they love me. I thought it would be fun to play a little game.” You can tell that Tōru’s words were laced with alcohol. The girls inside the room let out little giggles, one commenting, “What a freak.”

The longer you stand with your ear against the door, the more pain you feel in your heart.

“When are you finally going to ditch them? Aren’t you tired of sticking around someone you don’t even like?” There is a long pause after these questions are asked. I’ll never leave them. I love them too much. You hoped he would say something of that sort, but once again was met with disappointment.

“Well I thought that the longer I stay with them, the more fun it will be to end things. You know, it’ll hurt more, I guess…” His words are a little hesitant, voice getting smaller the further into the sentence he got.

“Who knows, maybe they’ll die from a broken heart.” The voice doesn’t belong to Tōru, but the laugh that follows after does. So many emotions are flooding through your brain and your heart, and you’re not sure how to comprehend them all.

You clutch his jacket in your fist, knuckles quick to turn white. Unwelcome tears pool in your eyes as your hands begin to shake. You silently pray that this was all a horrible dream and you didn’t actually hear those words escape his mouth, but know deep down that this is all too real. Quiet sobs left your mouth as you bend down into a squat, legs almost giving out under you. You can’t help but think back to your time with Tōru, all the memories you made together. Was it all a lie? All of the late night walks, the picnics by the river, the little inside jokes, the love… was it all a part of a game?

The sound of a door opening interrupts your thoughts.

You slowly lift your head up to meet the eyes of your boyfriend. You can sense the panic in his face, not sure how long you have been there or how much you heard. The tears streaming down your face tell him that you heard everything. He takes a slight step towards you, reaching out for your hand.

“Y/N, wait-”

You throw his jacket at him before running off the porch and down the street, wanting to be anywhere but in front of the boy who just tore your heart into pieces. You hear him shouting behind you. This is just a misunderstanding. Let me explain. What is there to misunderstand? You gave your heart to someone who promised to take care of it as if it were his own, and you’re now facing the consequences because of it.

You run all the way back to your home, ignoring the burning sensation in your calves. You slam the door behind you and lock it, not wanting any uninvited guests (Tōru). You stand in your empty house, eyes now dry from the cold wind that blew in your face on the run home. Everywhere you look you see him. All of the space between these walls has touched him and will hold him in its memory.

You walk to the kitchen, letting your fingertips graze the shiny countertop, smiling when thinking about the mess you two would always make while baking.

Snickerdoodles were always a must when the holidays came around. You were determined to bake the best snickerdoodles known to man when Tōru told you he had never tasted the heavenly treat. You prepared the ingredients on the counter, humming a soft tune to fill the silence in the room. Tōru stood beside you, admiring the calm look on your face and how delicate you looked. He approached you from behind, snaking his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. He always found it fascinating to watch you bake since everything he would put in an oven would somehow instantly catch on fire. He started to slowly bring his hands back to place them on your hips then run them up your sides. You weren’t quite sure what he was doing, but let him continue anyways. After drawing little circles over your ribs, he started to tickle you, knowing that you would give him a reaction. You yelped, arms flailing without your consent, knocking over the open bottle of cream into the bowl where the dough was, ruining the cookies that were nearly ready to go into the oven. You gasped before quickly picking up the overturned carton, staring at the masterpiece that quickly turned into a disaster. You huffed and turned to look at your boyfriend who had an apologetic smirk on his face. How can someone express those two emotions at the same time? You stared at him for a second, trying to find the words to voice your frustration. You decided that instead of telling him how you felt, you would show him. You reached behind you and grabbed an egg off the counter, rubbing your thumb against its smooth shell before smashing it in Tōru’s perfectly styled hair, wiping the smirk right off of his face. You couldn’t hold in your laughs as the yolk dripped down his forehead and in between his chocolate eyes. The shock on his face didn’t last for long. He was quick to grab another egg and return the favor, this time topping it off with a handful of flour. Now the kitchen was covered with various ingredients flung in different directions and a couple of idiots that were even messier than the kitchen itself. As the sun was beginning to set, you ran out of items to throw at each other. You stared at him, chuckling at the mess you had made of each other. Even looking at him with egg in his hair and flour covering his complexion, he was still the most beautiful person to you. The sun’s rays beamed through the window making Tōru’s eyes look like pools of honey, sucking you into them deeper and deeper. You brought your hand up to his face and softly caressed his cheek, admiring every inch of his beauty.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” A coy grin on his face after he noticed you staring at him, a hint of pink on the tip of his ears. To his surprise, you pulled out your phone and took a picture of him just like he told you to, reminding yourself to make it his new contact picture later. He chuckled slightly, muttering a soft, “Idiot,” before putting his hand on the back of your neck and closing the space between the two of you. His lips tasted like cinnamon and sugar with a hint of vanilla. After the sweet kiss, you pulled away, making sure to keep your foreheads connected so you could just appreciate being with him in his arms.

You smile at the memory that is all too vivid in your mind. You walk into the living room and glance at the pictures that scatter the walls. You approach Tōru’s favorite picture of the two of you, one that you initially hated but grew to love over time.

It was the 18th of December when Tōru dragged you out of the house for your ‘special Christmas surprise’. You questioned him on why it couldn’t wait until Christmas day but he insisted that it had to be today. When you sat in the passenger seat of his car, he turned to you and held out a blindfold for you to take.

“There’s no way in hell that I’m putting that thing on,” you said, staring him dead in the eyes.

“Come on Y/N-channnn! Just this once, I promise. If you do it, I’ll buy you boba on the way home.” His words were so convincing. You were quick to grab the blindfold out of his hand, grumbling a quiet, “Fine,” as you tied it so it was blocking your vision.

The car ride felt like it took a lifetime and then some, but in reality took no longer than ten minutes. Tōru instructed you to keep the blindfold on and wait for him to come on your side of the car to help you out. You let out a loud sigh, not exactly sure why you still couldn’t take the piece of fabric off. He wrapped his arm around your waist and guided you to your final location, making sure to point out any steps or dips in the ground that were approaching. After a short minute walk, you were met with adults chattering and a mixture of children screaming in excitement and crying in fear. You concluded that you were definitely in a very public place, but had absolutely no idea where your lunatic of a boyfriend brought you. After standing around for a couple of minutes and you groaning about how bored you were, you heard an unknown voice shout, “Next!” which made Tōru take a few steps forward, you still in his hold, sightless.

“Okay baby. You can take your blindfold off now!” His voice was covered in excitement, which made you even more anxious to take the piece of cloth off. A smile crept onto your face but when the blindfold came off, so did your smile. You stared straight ahead at the surprise that Tōru had in store for you before turning to face him, a shit-eating grin on his face. You could see tears in his eyes from trying to hold in his laughter.

“Tōru…… What is this.”

“It’s….. It’s Santa Clause.”

“Yeah, but W H Y ?”

He didn’t give you a reply, but instead grabbed your wrist and dragged you to stand in front of the man of the hour. You forced a smile on your face, not wanting to seem rude.

“Hi Santa! My s/o over here really loves and admires you and would appreciate taking a picture sitting on your lap. Is that okay?” His words came out sweet, but they were covered in venom. This was probably payback for the time you ‘accidentally’ spilled your drink on his crotch when you went hiking and proceeded to tell people passing by that he just sweats a lot.

“Of course! Anything for this cutie,” Santa said in a voice used to speak to babies, pinching your cheek in the process. You kinda stood there, not quite sure what to do. You definitely did NOT want to sit on his lap, but at the same time, you were too nice to just walk out of there. Tōru could see your hesitance and decided to give you a little *shove* in the right direction (A/N: please know that y/n is not uncomfortable in this situation, but rather just finds the act embarrassing. Tōru would not make them do this if he knew that they would be uncomfortable). Once you found a spot on Santa’s right knee, you told the person behind the camera to quickly take the photo. You noticed Tōru standing on the other side of Santa’s chair holding a peace sign and smiling from ear to ear. You stare at him with pure anger, wanting to wipe that stupid smile off his face. You didn’t even realize that the photo had already been taken. Tōru ended up printing dozens of copies of this photo, making sure to give it to each of your friends and family on Christmas day.

You look at the photo of the two of you, well, actually the three of you. You seem so angry in the picture, but you know that behind all of that anger, you still were stupidly in love with him. You laugh at how it’s ironic to the situation you’re in. You’re mad. More than mad, furious. Furious that you have all of these memories together and all you can think about is how they are full of lies. Furious that even though he hurt you and will continue to hurt you, you still love that tall idiot.

There’s a knock at the door.

“Y/N… Please open the door. I need to see your face.” You don’t move a muscle, your eyes still locked on that photo.

Another knock. Two. Three.

“Please… You need to hear me out.”

More knocking.

You glance at the door, knowing what awaits you on the other side. The sound of knocking engulfs your house, it’s driving you mad. You breathe out a heavy sigh before storming towards the door and swinging it open.

“What,” you spit at him, trying to ignore the empathy that you feel at the sight of his red eyes and swollen lips. He just stares at you, almost like he was trying to tell if you were real or not. You started to close the door, seeing as you were just wasting time. His hand stops the door before it could shut. You open it again, wide enough for him to be back in your line of sight. He looks down at his intertwined hands that hold a single red rose before looking back up at you and extending his arms.

“I-i got this for you on my way here. I know you like daisies more, but I couldn’t find any so I thought this would be okay.” His voice was quiet and strained, like if he spoke up a little more he would break. He tries to keep a small smile on his face, but when you let a laugh escape your lips, he instantly frowns. You stop laughing.

“Why are you here, Oikawa?”

----------

You were with your friends partying

When the alcohol kicked in, said you wanted me dead

So, you showed up at my home, all alone

With a shovel and a rose

Do you think I’m a joke?

----------

Oikawa winces when his last name falls off your lips. He always loved it when you called him Tōru, and you knew that. But this wasn’t Tōru, not the one that you fell in love with. This wasn’t the same guy that would play with your hair when you laid your head in his lap, or kissed your fingertips when you’d accidentally burn them. No. This is someone different. Someone you feel you don’t even know.

“I’m.. I’m so sorry, Y/N! I never meant to hurt you. God, I’m such an idiot… I don’t even know how to explain myse-”

“Just answer me this. Did you ever love me? Or were these past nine months a complete lie?” You hold your breath, hoping the tears will stop threatening to fall. You were hesitant to ask these questions, knowing that the answer could crush you, but you needed to know. Oikawa’s eyes grew, tears cascading down his flushed cheeks.

“Of course I loved you! I still do, so, so much! These past nine months have been the best months of my entire life, none of it was fake, I promise. You’re the love of my life, Y/N. I can’t fake something like that…” Oikawa’s eyes were burning holes into yours, you started to wonder the last time he blinked. His words were convincing, but the words he said earlier this night kept playing on repeat in your head.

“Bullshit. If you love me so much, why would you say those things about me? Why would you tell them that I was some crazy stalker who was obsessed with you? Why would you tell them that you’re dating me as a joke? Why did you say all of these things that you knew would hurt me?” A single tear falls, causing the others to join. Oikawa takes a step forward, wanting to kiss your tears and pain away. You simultaneously take a step back, finally breaking the eye contact that bound the two of you together. His heart broke at the sight of you. Not only were you hurting, but you were hurting because of him.

“I-I just… Just… I-”

“You just what?”

He continues to stare at you, wondering whether or not he should even attempt to explain himself. His sober mind knows that his actions are the result of narcissism and stupidity, and there’s a chance that his lame excuse could hurt you even more.

“Most of the people that I was with tonight, I don’t usually hang out with. Recently Iwa-chan has been inviting them to hang out because they’re always pestering us and we thought if we hung out with them a few times, they would stop. So we invited them to hang out, have a few drinks, and show them how boring we are,” he stopped to take a breath, hesitant to move on. “I guess they knew that I was dating you and, for whatever reason, didn’t like that. They would make fun of me and say mean things and… it reminded me of my childhood when I used to get bullied and was an outcast. I guess it really traumatized me because when that feeling came back, I wanted nothing more than to make it disappear. I guess the alcohol made that decision for me and that’s when I started saying all of those horrible things and… I guess I didn’t think it was going to affect our relationship because I didn’t think you would ever find out… I know I’m such an asshole, but please you need to know that none of the things I told them were true. My love for you is completely and utterly real, and the fact that I screwed it up is killing me.”

You remain silent, once again staring into Oikawa’s eyes, reading him like a book. His eyes shine like glass, full of guilt and sorrow. His bottom lip is red from biting it, hoping to make it stop quivering. His interlocked hands are still holding the rose he brought you, his thumbs anxiously fiddling with each other. You can tell that he genuinely feels sorry and ashamed of his mistakes.

“Y/N. Please, say something. Anything.”

Unfortunately for him, there was no longer room in your heart for forgiveness.

“So I guess you’ve been telling them these kinds of things for a while now, huh? I guess that explains why you stopped acting like we’re a couple in public, right? You didn’t want one of your new friends to see us and question your motives.” You give a small laugh, not sure if it’s out of self-pity or anger. “You should go back to Iwaizumi’s. I’m sure they’re all wondering where you went and why you ran after your psychotic s/o who you don’t even like… Just keep telling them the same story, or better yet, why don’t you tell them that you broke my heart, threw it in my face, and then laughed at me? I’m sure you’ll earn some extra brownie points from them.” You look at his eyes one last time before turning around to walk back inside, pausing before shutting the door. “I’ll stop by your place tomorrow to pick up my things.”

Before you could close the door, Oikawa pleaded.

“Please don’t leave me. Please. I need you in my life.”

You pause at the shakiness in his voice, so close to caving in and forgetting all of the events that occurred tonight. Before you can make any impulsive decisions, you shut the door in his face, not wanting to think about how he’s feeling or what he’s going to do. You try to ignore any type of empathy you feel for him, he’s the one that hurt you, remember?

----------

Well, people like you always want back what they can’t have

But I’m past that, and you know that

So you should turn back to your rat pack, telling ‘em trash

----------

You lay on the sofa holding a picture of Oikawa in your lap, not attempting to move from your spot for the hour since Oikawa left. You hate that after all of the things he said about you, you still couldn’t stop thinking about him and how much you wish he were right next to you. You wish that he were holding you close and wiping the stray tears that leave your eyes, but instead, he was the one inflicting them. The white ceiling above you keeps your attention, becoming the screen as your memories become the projector. You can almost visualize all of the times you spent with Oikawa, even the times before you started dating. You wish you could go back to the simpler times, the times when things weren’t turning to shit.

Your phone rings beside you. You remember in the beginning of your relationship with Oikawa your heart would always race when you got a phone call or message, hoping that it was him on the other side. Even at a time like this, your mind can’t help but think of those chocolate eyes and soft brown locks. You pick up your phone and stare at the caller ID. It’s Oikawa.

You fight with yourself, deciding whether or not it would be smart to answer his call. You click ‘accept’ before you have a chance to back out again.

The call is silent with the exception of sniffles on the other end. Oikawa breaks the silence.

“Y/N? A-are you there?”

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m here. Why are you calling?”

“I just really, really wanted to hear your voice.” You hear the rev of a car engine through the phone.

“You shouldn’t be talking on the phone while you’re driving. It’s dangerous.”

“But talking to you makes me feel so safe.” Silence engulfed the phone call, neither of you knowing what to say to each other. Oikawa starts to cry, his sobs soon becoming the only thing you can hear. You continue to not say a word.

“God, I’m so stupid. I thought I was finally getting my life together. I’m in good health, I have my dream job, I met the person I want to spend the rest of my life with, and I had to go and fuck it all up. Honestly I don’t give a shit about my health or my job, all I care about is you. I just love you so much, I can’t-” His words are cut off by a long screech and then a loud crash. Once again, the call is silent.

“O-oikawa?” There’s no reply. “Oikawa?! Tōru?! Are you okay? Please answer me?” Your breathing was becoming erratic, shaky fingers having a hard time keeping the phone pressed against your cheek. You hear a groan and shuffling from the other side before getting a response.

“Shit. I crashed my damn car into a tree.”

“I don’t care about the car, are you okay? I need to call an ambulance for you-”

“No,” he interrupts you, “I don’t want to see any paramedics. The only person I want to see is you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you need to go to the hospital. You probably have a concussion, and you’re bleeding, aren’t you?”

“I don’t care. I won’t see anyone but you.” Oikawa takes a deep breath before getting out of his wrecked car. He starts his walk back home, not caring to wait for first responders. “I’m not going to beg you to come, but if you want to see me, you know where to find me.” He hangs up the phone, leaving you speechless on the other end.

You don’t want to waste another second. You quickly grab your car keys and toss your jacket over your shoulder. Even though you know it’s going to hurt you to see him again, you need to make sure he’s okay.

----------

You just went too far

Wrecked your car, called me crying in the dark

Now you’re breakin’ my heart

So I show up at your place right away

Wipe the tears off of your face

While you beg me to stay

----------

It’s stupid. Stupid that you’ll drop everything you’re doing to rush to his side whenever he says he needs you. Stupid that you still love and care about him just as much as you did in the beginning.

You turn the engine off upon arriving at Oikawa’s apartment. You swiftly get out of your car and race to his door, taking the stairs instead of the elevator to save a few seconds. You fiddle with the keys on your keychain as you reach his front door, trying to find the matching one. You knew all too well that one of Oikawa’s antics is always locking the door, even when he’s expecting company. You find the fitting key and waste no time unlocking the door and scouting the place for any sign of life. You figure he’s in his bedroom as the kitchen and living room remain vacant.

You peek around the corner that leads into his room, spotting the tall man laying on the bed, legs dangling over the edge.You gasp at the blood, cuts and scrapes coving his skin. You walk over to him and grab his cold hand, pulling him off the bed and into the bathroom.

“Sit,” you order, pointing at the counter. He obeys without a word, head hanging low. You search the cabinets for a first aid kit, knowing that he would have one from his volleyball days. After finding the small box, you pull out the materials that were needed to clean him up; lots of antibacterial wipes, gauze and band-aids. You take one of the wipes and press it onto a cut on his shin, Oikawa hissing at the impact. You ignore it and continue to clean the scrapes that scatter both of his legs, finishing with a deeper cut on his knee. As you finished cleaning it, you heard him sniffle and watched a tear fall into his lap.

“What are you, five? It doesn’t hurt that much-”

“I didn’t think you would come,” he whispered, voice shaky and emotionless. You peer up at him, his head still hanging and refusing to meet your eyes. You reach your hand up and wipe the tears that wet his face, your palm lingering, cupping his cheek. He melted into your touch.

“Idiot… Of course I would come.”

You spend the rest of the time patching up his wounds in silence, neither of you able to find the correct words in this situation. You finish putting the last band-aid on his cheekbone, your face in shocking proximity to his. He stares into your eyes, you looking anywhere but. You’re afraid that if you look into his eyes, there’s no turning back.

“I should go,” you mutter, not wanting to overstay your visit. You turn around to walk out of the bathroom, but come to a halt with the feeling of Oikawa’s slender fingers wrapping around your wrist.

“Please don’t leave me.” His grip tightened slightly, but not enough to hurt you. “I need you. Please.”

You stare straight ahead, not daring to turn around and face him.

“I’ll stay,” you start, “If you promise to give up your pride and tell everyone that you were lying. Tell them that you really do love me and that you were scared of what others would think. I’ll stay if you promise never to lie about those kinds of things and to never hurt me like you have ever again. Can you do that?” The silence was eerie, and made your stomach do hundreds of flips. You hoped that the universe would be on your side for once and hear the things you wished would escape his lips.

“I-I can’t… I just-”

You grabbed his wrist with your vacant hand and violently removed his grasp from yours, not letting him finish his sentence. You still stood with your back towards him, not wanting him to see the tears that were once again trickling down your face. You pull your keychain out of your pocket, finding your key to Oikawa’s apartment and stripping it from the rest. You drop it onto the floor by your feet, clanging a few times on the hardwood floor before it stops. As you walk out of the bathroom, your words make his heart clench in his chest.

“Goodbye, Oikawa.”

----------

Tell all of your friends that I’m crazy and drive you mad

That I’m such a stalker, a watcher, a psychopath

Then tell them you hate me, and dated me just for laughs

So why do you call me and tell me you want me back?

You maniac

#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu!!#hq #haikyuu social media #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu writers #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #haikyuu angst #oikawa angst

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timextoxhajima · 4 years ago

Text

HOSTIS, Chapter V: Monitum, Warning

BONUS TRACK: APARTMENT - BOBI ANDONOV

Previous Chapter (IV: Vetiti Fructus In)

Member: Lee Hyunjae (tbz)

Genre (by chapter): angsty ass hate smut

Category: Short Novel/Long Series

A/N: BIG HOLY WATER TIME I’M SERIOUS THIS CHAPTER IS SO LONG AND IT’S ALL SMUT

“apologise and i’ll consider playing nice.”

“oh, you’re damn right i wished it was my mom.”

“you’re despicable.”

“was that a joke? because i think it would’ve been funnier if i was a mirror,” you scoff ridiculously loudly, almost spitting in his face while you said it, hand already pulling the door to slam shut in his face.

"fuck off."

but he stops the door in its tracks, and abruptly pushes himself through the entrance. the taste of wine that lingered on your tongue ages into disgust and you fold your arms across your chest while he closes the gap. his eyes loom over yours and his hand flies up to your throat, pushing you backwards and nearly crashing you into a wall.

your palms reach out by your hips to cushion the impact, and the dark lighting of the hallway highlights the shimmer of hatred and detest in his eyes.

temptation draws a smirk up your lips, but he only solidifies his grip around your neck without applying any more pressure. the meticulous calculation of how much force he should have around your neck slaps you with a reminder that he was a doctor too, and he knew exactly how much to let you breathe so you wouldn't pass out.

you find yourself gripping onto his forearm and wrist, pants and heavy breaths puffing out of your nostrils without cleaning the grin of satisfaction off your face.

"i knew you you were daring, but i didn't think you were one to truly stoop so low."

despise and malice radiated off him in waves, and you were lapping it up like it was water; like it was essential.

"you’re not that much of a saint either, lee hyunjae."

air gets sucked into your chest as he peels you off the wall and walks you backwards, the light of the kitchen slowly falling upon the features of his oh-so-butthurt face.

"you want to play petty?" one of his brows twitch and raise obnoxiously. your lower back hits the edge of the kitchen island sitting right under the lamp, and the same strength that was pulling out all his veins and forearm muscles was also angling your spine backwards.

"we'll play petty."

shivers of failed attempts of effort to remain upright run through your body, and your shoulder blades hit the surface of the kitchen table.

his right hand never leaves your throat, but his left reaches for the one thing you already knew he was going to take. nonetheless, it still sparked a furious flame inside you.

"don't you fucking dare--"

"or what?" he slides his tongue across his bottom lip and bites down on it. the bottle of wine gets lifted into the air just inches above your throat where his hand was, and he tilts it.

"what the hell are you-- motherfucker!" the expensive fluid starts to rain all over your neck, and he doesn't stop there. once he realised that there was enough left in it for him to play with, he runs the bottle and the rest of its contents down the length of your body.

your clothes drink up the blood-red beverage and the material starts to cling to your skin, the feeling of wet cotton against your body starts to make you writhe and cringe under him.

"that was fucking good wine you just wasted, asshole."

the base of the bottle hits the surface of a table with a sharp sound, and he leans over you menacingly. the sweet smell of the wine starts intoxicating the both of you, and your chin starts to tilt up and pull away from under his grasp when his face comes dangerously near to yours.

"then i guess it's a good thing that i'll be tasting it."

a cry of protest rolls out between your parted lips when he leans into the side of your face, his breath becoming heavier with every passing moment. your chin starts to dart around in the air, but it involuntarily stops and replaces the aggressive physical protest with complete stillness.

his lips rested on your neck where the wine first hit, and he starts sucking and licking your skin like he was having ice cream.

thoughts against your will start to flood your head as you squeezed your eyes shut, and your nails dig into his skin of his forearm that was still holding you down.

your body reacts in a way you don't ever want it to, not in front of him, and it was almost like it hated you.

the tremors that were rippling throughout your torso from the contact of his lips and tongue on your neck was enough for the nerves in his fingers to pick up, and you huff like you just ran a marathon when he finally stops violating the space under your ear.

your vision focuses on the reflection of yourself in the toaster directly opposite you, the rampant thumping in your head combined with the smell of wine in the air was making you lose your grip on reality.

like watching a horror movie, you observe his face dipping low enough to trace your line of vision, and his eyes lock with yours in the reflection of the toaster. his fingers around your neck sends your face into an ugly mess of emotion, and he digs his fingers into your cheek to yank your attention back to him directly.

"let's see how long it's going to take for me to break you, because it looks like your body isn't listening to that hollow head of yours."

the muscles around your nose contract with rage when his fingers brush against your stomach. the wine made it all the more easier for him to slide his hand up your torso and stops right below your bra, the sensation of someone's touch on your skin forcing your head to tilt backwards.

you stifle a cry by sucking your lips between you teeth, but a hiss quickly takes over when he removes his hand and pushes your shirt up instead.

the lines of collected wine on your skin shimmers under the light, and like bees drawn to honey, he runs his tongue on every line of wine within his sight.

a loud whimper escapes your throat, and your grip around his arm tightens even more. there was nothing in your head telling him to stop, and you hated it.

this was your body's way of telling you that it didn't want him to stop, despite how much you wanted it to.

his lips replace his tongue every now and then, and the suction of your skin into his mouth tells you that he wasn't going to let you go free of any reminders that you chose to fuck with the other half of two areses.

his nose finds your cleavage, and the tugging on your bra starts to send loud, alarming signals through your head. he finally removes his palm from your throat but he quickly finds both your wrists and holds it in the air like it wouldn't hurt after awhile.

you tilt your chin down only to watch him attack the skin of your chest with his lips and teeth, and the sight coupled with the drills of shock and ecstasy makes you cry out loud even more.

"for someone who hates me, you seem to be enjoying this a lot."

the smugness in his eyes was so overwhelming, the muscles around your nose tensed up and you grunt in anger under his hold. he yanks harshly on your wrists to force you to sit up, but your head hangs low in slight defeat which you refuse to admit. your wrists were held above your held like it was tied to a bar, and his free hand finds your chin pressure you into looking at him.

the effort required to shake your head out of his touch was rendered useless when he grabs your jaw instead, and his head tilts downwards just so you were made to look down at him.

"you're just having fun, aren't you?" if words could cut, you wish they were aimed straight at his chest.

his ares flashes across his face for a split second before his lips were pulled out into a merciless grin.

"aren't you?"

you were on the verge of spitting in his face, but he pulls you away from the table and drags you to the living room, throwing you on the sofa and leaving you to process the next few seconds of chaos.

"your safe word is 'stop'," he finds your ankles that were struggling to push your body away from him and yanks on them. "it's an easy word so i doubt your brain would forget how to use it."

your back gets dragged down against the rough material of the sofa while he pulls you nearer and nearer to him like you were the rope in tug of war.

"so if your brain can’t bring itself to say it, then i suggest you apologise and i'll consider playing nice."

"i don't fucking--" your legs aimlessly flails around his arms holding onto your knees now, pulling them past his hips. "--need to apologise."

"you don't want to apologise? that's fine," he shakes his head ever so slightly. "but we'll see what happens after i break you."

to your dismay, he releases your hands without hesitation, and you watch his eyes gouge your soul out of your body.

do something.

stop him.

anything.

your fingers dig into the space between the pillows on the couch and the cushions. heavy, reluctant breaths pushed and pulled on your chest like someone was using a defibrillator on you.

the clothes continue to leave lines of wine on your skin when he peels them off, and your gut fills with a disgusting mixture of hatred and lust when the warmth of his tongue lines the rim of your shorts.

the piece of cotton comes off your legs messily as he leans back, and the soaked, heavy material hits the floor with a loud thud.

the organs in your chest become so painfully detached from your thoughts when they empty themselves of air when he plants his lips to the space right above your underwear, licking and dragging his taste buds all over your skin in a bid to taste whatever droplets wine that wasn't rolling off your stomach.

"your apology can come anytime now, tiger," he hums into the little hairs on your stomach, finger hooking onto the material around your hip. "unless you're only refusing to do it because you want me to break you."

tears of grudge and resistance start to pool in the back of your eye sockets when you squeeze them shut. a puff of air hits your stomach when he scoffs, and the wet piece of lingerie comes off your hips. he drags it down your legs and it rolls up into an ugly look of a short rope, tossing it right above your head, challenging to fuck with your mental even more.

ares returns for a split second to drill all the memories of him back into your head, and a scorn washes over your face when lucifer violently pulls you nearer to him.

"you can't break me."

his thighs lock your legs apart and you completely ignore the fact that you were exposed to him.

but the pooling heat that was slowly seeping out from your south you betrays you.

"your lips say that, but your body says i’m already halfway there."

no amount of preparation could've prevented you from letting out an inhumane growl out your throat when he wraps both arms around your thighs and hoisted your hips up to his face.

your shoulders were anchoring your neck and head to the couch, but your knees were over his shoulders, your painfully wet core close enough to feel his breath on your neediness.

your hips get circled and he presses his palm on your abdomen, the position rendering most of your struggling useless when he locks his strength against your hips.

your tongue suffers from the ruthless clenching of your teeth when he lightly brushes his tongue over you. the friction of the buds on his wet muscle sends you into a frenzy of muffled cries; cries you muffle by biting on your tongue and sealing your eyes shut.

your hands balled into fists and every inch of you shivers when he presses a finger onto the sensitive nub that shouldn't be in his reach in the first place.

the effort and strength you were channeling into keeping your mouth shut was being hungrily lapped off your south, and your lips finally fall apart to let the lewd sounds fill the room without your consent.

he doesn't once push his tongue in, and your body's hatred towards the emptiness replaces your hatred for him.

it was like ares and eros were having a death match inside you, and one was winning by a large margin.

the pressured circles remain consistent while he does nothing but lick your skin like he was licking a lollipop, only every now and then giving the skin between your entrance and thigh a little suck instead of sucking up your soaked lust.

cries and mewls start rolling off your lips when desire forces you to look at him at a forty five degree angle. all you could see was the look of satisfaction eating your insides while watching you crumble under him.

desperation starts to suck air back into your lungs like a vacuum cleaner and your hands reach up in a bid to shove him off you. but before you could even touch him, he lifts your left leg over his head and flips you.

the action was carried out by him, but it felt like all your energy had been hurled out of your body with that flip. your arms lay flat against the surface of the cushion and your forearms push your torso back up in a bid to support yourself.

but his weight comes from behind you and he violently removes your shirt, pushing you off your train of thought and action. he finds both your wrists while he unhooks your bra, giving your torso a little jerk by yanking on your arms so the cups would come off your breasts.

you wonder for a moment what was the point...

until the tips of your breasts start to rub against the rough material of the couch.

a hiss seeps through your teeth upon the contact, and he pulls your torso back up by your arms like they were reigns.

"last chance, tiger."

the weight on the couch behind you shifts and dips, and you hear more clothes being thrown to the ground. the hands on your wrists switch for a moment, but the grip his fingers had on you was enough to absorb all your physical strength.

your knees were digging into the seat cushion, and your bra was hanging messily around your chest, with one strap already dropping to your elbow. the devil of lust pastes wild thoughts in your head but the ares inside your heart provides you with one last burst of arrogance atop all the lack of fight left in you.

an exaggerated scoff ripples through your throat when his 'threat' tickles a funny bone in you and his palm finds the spot on your neck where you wished you could slit your skin.

"fuck you."

he shakes his head in your peripheral vision and releases your neck, pushing you back down into the sofa by your shoulder blades. your wrists writhe and struggle in his grasp as if it would do any good, and lust shows itself in a tight smile of defeat on your lips when you feel something slippery prod at your entrance.

his chest comes down onto your back and his voice rumbles through you like an earthquake, blood rushing from all over your body to your face and down to where you needed to be filled against your will.

"if you're going to act like a bitch, then i'll treat you like one."

your lips part while a sneer slaps itself across your face at his words, but it doesn't last long.

a drunken concoction of defeat, resentment and pleasure gets pushed into you where lust wanted you to be filled, and the nerves that pulled your walls apart upon the harsh penetration start to rip ares out from your body like an exorcism.

a loud groan exits your throat by force and your temples tighten when your legs tremble under him. your forehead finds the tiny bumps of the material on the couch, and he releases your wrists when he starts to thrust into you.

he starts recklessly flicking and playing with your sensitive nub from under you, and the sensation drills brutal bolts of pleasure through your physical existence.

your entire body starts to jerk along with his thrusts, and the tears return to your eyes when his free hand digs into your hips.

the stimulation starts to become overbearing and it exposes itself as harsh grunts and moans that were dripping out the corner of your lips with drool.

little threads of the surface of the couch get scratched out while your fingers curl against the material. your breasts being pushed and pressed into the roughness only adding on to what the rampant fucking he was doing to you.

he was painfully quiet, only because he wanted you to hear yourself enjoying it. lust was having fun eating every inch of your gut, but your head was on fire at the realisation that you've physically resigned to him.

every thrust pushed a dollop of pleasure out of you, and it was doing nothing besides fuel his pride and ego.

turbulent tremors start ripping through you like chainsaws when the magic spot inside you reveals itself, and the moans were gradually replaced with cries of agony at the thought of him making you come.

ares is brutal, but you were the weaker one of the two.

he stops without pulling out, grabbing your forearms and yanking you upwards like before. your chin tilts towards the ceiling when his knuckles find your throat, with enough pressure to make you feel the heat growing in your stomach, but not enough to knock you out.

the edge of your high was in sight, merely a few thrusts away, and feeling every inch of him throb inside you was only pushing your tolerance to the limit, if not, through the roof of your abilities.

“one word and i’ll give you what you want.”

“i don’t--” he cuts you off with a harsh thrust, the hard smack of his hips against your flesh electrifying your entire nervous system for a second.

"apologise and i'll consider letting you come."

"ha," the noise that left your lips was so dead and strained, you couldn't stop your teeth from clenching from the sudden, rough thrust he pushed into you again. "there's nothing... for me to apologise for."

his palm presses against your core with the other still wrapped around your throat, and he gradually increases the pressure with every circle he draws on you.

the molars lining your jaws would’ve cracked from the intense clenching, and your face contracts into an ugly mess of emotion. the tears finally push through your lids and roll down the side of your cheek, the lack of movement where you needed it was forcing your want to win into oblivion.

“aw, what’s wrong?” he draws a sloppy trail on your neck where his fingers didn’t cover with his tongue. your walls clench down on him with discontent and the force pushes a groan from him. “cat got your tongue? you were moaning just a few minutes ago.”

one. harsh. flick.

“i gave you a simple word to use but you haven’t even uttered it.”

another clench, but he doesn’t even flinch.

“you’re getting wetter around me, in case you didn’t know.”

he pulls the skin around your jaw downwards so you could see the reflection in the glass sliding doors opposite you, and the lewd sight made you pool around him even more. the tears become relentless and your south was throbbing so hard, you couldn’t even tell if it was you, or him.

“one word,” he whispers, eyes locking with yours as tiny, white orbs in the reflection. “and i’ll let you come.”

the last hint of ares vanishes when eros steals the crown, and your lips part to provide him with a shivering exhale.

“i’m sorry.”

“for?” his shaft inside you twitches, and it cues a sharp inhale.

each word crawls its way up through your voice box and out your lips, and you’ve never felt so powerless in your life.

“...for removing your report.”

this was what breaking your spirit felt like,

and lee hyunjae just broke you.

he finally releases, and gravity pulls you back down into the seat cushions of the sofa.

“good girl.”

your nails start to leave marks in your palm when he starts ramming into you ruthlessly, there nothing else besides the sound of slapping and lewd noises polluting the air.

the smell of wine on your skin starts to mix with the scent of sex; the scent of you and him slowly dripping down your inner thigh.

"tell me who's making you feel so good--"

tears start to find their way to the corners of your eyes again, and you bury your face into the cushion of the sofa. you let out a strained growl when he tugs harshly on your wrists, cuing you to look up and capture the sight of him violently throwing his hips against your ass.

“tell me, darling, or i’m going to stop.”

the sound of him slapping against your ass cheeks pushes out painful whines and mewls from your throat, and he revels in the vibrations that run along his shaft with each cry you offer.

"...you--”

“i can’t hear you over all your moaning--”

“you! you... you are--”

the tears hit the couch and the entire piece of furniture starts to jerk along with you.

“i don’t think my name is ‘you’, darling.”

your forehead pressed into the rough material when he finds your nub again, and now he was pressing harsh kisses onto your spine, overloading your senses altogether as if each cell inside you wasn’t already coming undone.

“hyunjae, you’re... making me feel so-- please--”

the horizon starts to shine and glimmer in your head, the visual getting clearer and more vivid with every thrust and eros was eager for you to reach that finish line.

“louder.”

“hyunjae,” the name runs out cold into the air around you as a loud moan. “let me come, hyunjae.”

no need to see the smirk of victory appear on his face when you could already imagine it.

“that’s it, darling, that’s it,” the kisses on your skin become hungrier and the thrusts become harder, if it was even possible.

“oh, fuck--” he starts playing with your extremely sensitive nub now, and the kissing on your shoulder blades were pulling and ripping your grip on reality apart. eros smiles at you when the horizon comes nearer, and your lips part again to beg.

“yes-- hyunjae-- please-- oh, fuck, please don’t stop.”

his pace picks up upon your pleading, and your entire body goes into hyper mode.

“yes, yes, yes, yes, oh-- hyunjae-- right there--”

with every thrust, your edge gets closer, and with one tight snap inside, you erupt into a sputtering mess of inhumanely loud moans and whimpers when your vision blinds.

your south was throbbing, and not a single muscle in you was functioning anymore. your thighs were shaking when he pulls out, and some hot, wetness start to land on your back.

your vision returns, and your breathing struggles immensely to regain composure. the skin that was hugging your bones, muscles and organs were rippling with painful tremors, and saliva was dripping off your lower lip onto the couch beneath your chest.

the cushion behind you lifts, the change in weight pushing you off your little hold on balance and you crash into your own sofa like a corpse.

you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, but you could hear his heavy breathing and panting. how you wished that there was a genie somewhere for you to rub your hands on its lamp to take you back in time, so that you weren’t dumb enough to take the report.

had your ares been wiser, eros wouldn’t have destroyed you from the inside.

‘stop’ was an easy word, yet not once did it cross your mind.

it was like he heard your thoughts and you reprimanding yourself, and a small scoff motivates you to look up with the last pinch of energy you had.

he was pulling his shirt over his neck, his pants already hugging his thighs and hips. his hair was in a slight mess, but not enough for anybody to guess that he just broke you.

“ares my ass, you’re not so hard to break after all.”

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

Chapter VI: Venerum

A/N: i need to BATHE and PRAY for myself--

#hyunjae smut #hyunjae fanfic #lee hyunjae #hyunjae #the boyz hyunjae #timetohajima #no #fml #i DIED

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