#I’d honestly rather have the truth of people shaking me by the shoulders and telling me I’m a bad person | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hellotherekenobi · 3 years ago

Text

───home where i belong.

summary: life seemed a little strange in westview, but bucky was all you needed to feel at home. unfortunately, your life with him was not all it appeared to be.

cw: contains spoilers for wandavision. based on this tiktok. fem!reader.

tw: angst? mentions of sexual intimacy, injury, panic attacks, and sickness.

8,115 WORDS. Read epilogue here.

“Love at first sight, eh?” James smiles, his arms wrapped around you as you both lay in bed, though he preferred you called him Bucky.

Why’d you pick me? he had asked you a minute before. There were other people in town, other people you could have chosen to be with, but you chose him. The thought never really crossed your mind. When you had first met him—well, it’s a bit foggy, but somehow you knew he was the one. You wanted to be with him, it was just instinctual. It was almost... too good to be true.

“Yeah,” you murmur, nuzzling in closer to his warmth. A warmth you had grown used to, attached to; the stability in what felt like an unstable life. “Love at first sight.”

It was the quietest truth you believed, not because you were laying in his arms, but because it felt real. The world you lived in always seemed a bit plastic, manufactured. Some things were almost too convenient, but not Bucky. He was the only one who stood out. When time seemed to buzz around you, he was the one standing still.

You doze off quickly to the feel of his smiling lips pressed to your temple, then awake the next morning to an empty bed and the sound of the radio playing from the kitchen downstairs. Bucky’s hat from his days as a sergeant is hanging off the ear of one of the wooden chairs as you step into the room, smelling the eggs frying in the pan he had on the stove, the normal morning routine. He sways side to side to the rhythm of the song, a melody he had played more than once before—a memoir of his life during the war. He didn’t talk about it much.

Bucky jumps a little when your arms wrap around his waist from behind, a chuckle leaving your lips as you press a soft kiss to his shoulder. “Did I startle you, Sergeant Barnes?”

His hand rubs up and down your arms around him, warm and solid, whilst the other continues to toss the eggs with a spatula. “You’re a quiet one,” he smiles, turning slightly to kiss your forehead. “You’d think I’d be used to that by now.”

By now. Your eyebrows furrow as he keeps swaying, though you stay attached to him. “Bucky...” he hums in reply, something far cheerier than how you’re feeling. Or rather, thinking. “How long have we been together?”

“What?” he chuckles, flipping the eggs over and turning in your arms. “You telling me you don’t remember, doll? It’s been a long time.”

“How long?”

He mimics your expression as he pauses, that serious look on his face when he thinks too hard about something. You’ve come to know his expressions by now, but by now when? You never questioned him, not even once, but some things felt wrong. Your life felt wrong. It was the buzzing, the movement. Though he stood still, the world kept moving.

You speak his name when he remains silent, then he shakes his head and reaches over to turn the stove off and grab the glass bottle of milk on the counter, moving out of your arms, out of the warmth.

“I can’t remember,” you tell him when he doesn’t say a word. “Was it before the war? It’s all foggy. I can’t put my finger on it.”

“How did I get back?” Bucky suddenly asks, but it’s a question more so to the air than to you. “I don’t remember coming back. I just remember... snow.”

He never speaks about the war and you’ve always respected that. It was probably too frightening to say aloud, but this is the first time he’s mentioned it so honestly. It shudders him, you can see it. His brows stay furrowed, harsh on his usual gentle features. You convince yourself that you can hear the question ticking against his brain, a noise to disrupt the ponderable silence.

Bucky looks down at his arm and gasps, something so sudden it takes you by surprise, dropping the glass bottle of milk and it shatters on the floor. It’s enough to draw you out of your thoughts, your eyes scanning for all the scattered shards and noticing his bare feet. Yet you don’t notice the way the music stops playing from the radio, as if on cue to the smash.

“Don’t move until I can get that swept up.” it’s an urgent order, then you turn out of the kitchen.

But Bucky stares down at his arm that was holding the glass bottle, his left arm. “I thought I saw—”

“Where did you put the broom?” comes your voice from the other room, interrupting Bucky’s question to himself.

He clears his throat once and seemingly forgets the vision of metal in replace of his skin. “The broom closet.”

When you come hurrying back with a broom in hand, you notice something you hadn’t before; the radio, which turns back on and continues its tune as soon as you step into the kitchen. You can feel the look Bucky sends you, though your eyes stay on the radio. No matter how strange, yet how normal it feels, you sweep up the glass and mutter to yourself: “Now I need another bottle.”

It’s the first thing you leave the house to get after Bucky and you finish breakfast, though it was a little cold by the time you both sat down to eat it. You just reach the street at the end of the driveway when you see a familiar face, relief apparent in your voice as you call her name. She turns to look at you, her eyes squinted in a way that she’s mulling over something in her head before she calls your name in reply.

“Just who I need to see,” you smile, giving her a brief hug. You always greet her this way, but it felt almost obligatory. “I don’t even remember how it happened this morning, but James dropped our last bottle of milk. Would you have a spare?”

“Of course,” she smiles, then just like that, she hands you a fresh glass bottle of milk, seemingly out of thin air.

“Wow, what a saint you are!” your cheeks feel pressed too tight when you smile. “Do you carry these wherever you go?”

“Oh, you never know when you might need one.”

You swear you hear laughter after she speaks, something distant like it was behind you. Muffled. You try to shake it out of your ears. “Thanks, Wanda. I don’t know what I would do without you here.”

─────── ⋯ ───────

“I thought this was supposed to be funny.” you say beside Bucky, who is sitting with you at the cinema and watching the screen with about as much excitement as you, which was zero.

He chuckles, turning to look at you and nuzzle his nose against your ear, making you laugh. The noise causes a couple sitting a row behind you, a little to your left, to shush you both. Bucky apologies to them with an overexaggerated mouth, which has you hitting his arm and grabbing another piece of popcorn from the bag held in the middle of you two, despite the look on his face.

“Stop eating all the popcorn.” he whispers, diving a hand into the bag and scooping out a handful.

“Hey!” you exclaim as quietly as possible, but it spurs Bucky on to throw what he’s collected of the popcorn at you.

It doesn’t take long for the noise to get rowdy again and the couple shushes you even louder, but they needn’t worry when the security guard makes his way to your row and asks you both to leave. He looks stocky, square shoulders, with a plump mustache above his lip. You have to pull Bucky away when he tries to tell the couple to have a good night in that silly voice of his, where he can’t hold back the laughter that bubbles in his throat.

“You’re such a child,” you tell him once outside, under the moonlit sky. The streets were empty, like they were nearly every night, unless there was an event. “I swear you haven’t changed since the day I met you.”

“And I swear,” he starts, reaching out with his hand, holding you close to him. “You still owe me a dance.”

His smile is so contagious, you reflect back as much giddiness that he’s exuding in your own smile. With a nod from you, Bucky holds you in his arms, hands placed in yours and on your back, as he sways you with him in the middle of the street, humming the song he played on the radio. It felt like that was only just yesterday, but it was much longer than that. Something told you it was in a different era. With Bucky, it almost felt like a different life.

“Was this how you were going to dance with me?” you ask him after a moment of content swaying. “That night on our first date?”

He nods, so focused on you as if nothing else were real. “You told me maybe next time, but I never got that dance.”

You smile at him, leaning forward to brush your nose against his. “And do you remember what happened next?”

You see his smile shine along his lips now, his eyes fluttering down to stare at yours. “You asked if I were too scared to kiss you.”

Nodding, you hum at him. It was the clearest memory you have of him in your mind, and the earliest, seeing as the first meeting is still foggy. He had told you he wasn’t scared at all, but you teased him by walking away before he had the chance. You didn’t really think much of the date at first, seeing as he was this handsome sergeant who smiled at every girl he saw, and thought he mustn’t have thought much of you either with the amount of dates you were sure he had already been on. But he had put a hand on your shoulder before you could get too far from him and when you turned around, he kissed you. It was like fireworks. Bucky had kissed you better than anyone else ever had, and you fell for him.

“What about now, Sergeant Barnes?” you whisper. “Are you too scared to kiss me now?”

“You bet I’m not.” he replies, the same he had the first time.

Then he leans forward and kisses you deeply, still swaying you in his arms like the music could still be heard from his lips.

─────── ⋯ ───────

Bucky’s hair was longer when you woke up the next morning, and although for a moment it was strange, you accepted it pretty quickly. There was something so comforting about playing with his hair and you’re sure he agrees, especially when his lips curl up into a sleepy smile and he hums gently, slowly waking up. The reaction has you feeling that he’s always responded this way. When his eyes meet yours, you’re greeted with blue. They’re dazzling, swimmable. You feel as if you had only seen him in grey before. But now... now you see him in color.

“It suits you,” you whisper, admiring him from where he lays.

He smiles, inching closer to wrap an arm around you. “Good morning to you as well.” he chuckles, pressing a warm kiss to the top of your head. “What suits me?”

“Your eyes, they’re blue.”

“They’ve always been blue.”

You know that. Deep down, you know that. It just seemed—no, it doesn’t matter. You were probably just dreaming. Besides, you could look into them all day, that hasn’t changed.

“You okay?” he asks, brushing a hand along your cheek.

His touch is cold, a little colder than you’ve felt him be before. Worried that you hogged up all the blankets, like you so often do, you put your hand on top of his and gaze down the moment you feel something hard, instead of the soft skin you were expecting.

“Your arm...” you almost gasp, but your body doesn’t react like your eyes do.

“I know, I know. I’ll wrap it up during winter. It gets cold.”

Right. No, of course. Bucky has a metal arm. How did you forget that? He’s always had the arm. Or at least, he’s always had it for as long as you’ve known him for. How long was that, again? It seems longer, but shorter. Days. How many days?

His eyes stay on you, waiting for your answer to his prior question. “I’m hungry,” you say as casually as you can.

“Want me to make you some eggs?” he asks, and it’s so sweet that you feel guilty for ever questioning this life.

Nodding at him, he presses another kiss to the top of your head and then slides out from under the covers, shaking the mattress like a rocky wave, that you chuckle at the sudden movement. You join him downstairs after a moment, watching him flip the eggs in the pan over the stove, that normal morning routine settling you.

“Coffee?” you ask him, gently combing your fingers through his shoulder length hair.

He nods in reply and you grab the carton of milk from the counter, stilling the moment your fingers meet the cardboard. And you press them into it.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky asks. “Is the milk bad?”

“No, no. It’s just—” wasn’t it a glass bottle? “I don’t know. I must’ve slept bad.”

Bucky’s hands find your shoulders, gently rubbing into the skin. It’s soothing for the time being, allowing the stress that was beginning to build up inside you slowly ebb away to the floor. You’re completely forgetting about the milk when you feel his lips press onto your neck, causing you to chuckle.

“How about—” he says between another kiss—“we stay in bed all day?”

“That doesn’t sound very productive.” you smile, turning in his arms to gaze back into those deep, blue eyes of his. So colorful. So new.

“I can think of a few productive things we could do.”

“A few?” a raised eyebrow has Bucky biting down on his lip to suppress the huge grin that’s poking against his cheeks. “What about breakfast?”

His hand reaches over to turn off the stove. “We have a microwave.”

Since when?

─────── ⋯ ───────

Sometimes it felt like the kitchen changed overnight. The once grey décor had turned colorful a few days ago, vibrant with splashes of turquoise and oranges, a fruit basket on top of the fridge. Today it was less vibrant, but still colorful. The benches you remember being granite were now a dark oak, ceramic tile on top. You don’t even want to open the fridge to check the milk. Somehow you know it would be different too.

Bucky’s hair was still long, but not styled like it had first been. You would poke fun at him for saying he cared more about his hair than yourself, but he always assured you that you came first, even though that Brylcreem hair cream was within arm’s reach in the bathroom.

“You’ve got everything, doll?” his voice calls from the front door.

You stand still in the kitchen, the basket full of food and drinks hanging on your arm. “You still calling me that, sergeant?” at least that hadn’t changed.

His chuckle reaches you, despite the distance, knocking on the door you had closed whilst deep in thought, and you’re making your way over to him before you can think on the renovation for too long, his arm reaching for your farthest shoulder as he leads you outside. As per usual, there weren’t many people around. It almost seemed a bit of a cheat that you and Bucky would walk the streets so often and so casually, like you both had a hall pass no one else could get their hands on. You never mentioned it, and neither did Bucky. It was better to just accept things instead of question them, like you always had. You’ve stopped voicing them. They always seem to rattle Bucky more than you.

For now, you’re letting the questions sit and wait for you at home. You’re not going to pay them any mind, give them any thought, as you walk with Bucky’s arm wrapped around you over to the hilltop he had always wanted to sit on, just once, and watch the sunset. The plastic containers drum against the inside of the basket as you climb the hill with him, reaching the top when the sky begins to taint itself orange. Bucky lays the picnic blanket he was carrying down on the grass, helping you unpack the food and sit with you comfortably as you both eat in a peaceful silence, watching the sun lower slowly. It was beautiful. If your pondering worries were right, then this was the best thing created in this town, in this moment. Whether that were true or not, you’re thankful for the scenery and having the opportunity to enjoy it, with Bucky by your side.

It’s when the pinks melt into the oranges, casting a simmering red, with half of the sun left peeking on the horizon do you let the silence go, rolling down the hill. “You picked the perfect night for us to do this.”

“Yeah?” Bucky asks, and you notice the way his thumb pushes into the palm of his hand. A nervous tick.

You turn to face him, offering him a kind smile that you hope will ease whatever has him fiddling on the spot. “Yeah. It’s beautiful, Buck.”

His smile twitches, but doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m glad. I wanted this to be perfect.”

“Why’s that?”

“I’ve got this question on my mind, for a while now.” he’s facing the sunset again, his fidgeting still there, tentatively. “I’ve been asking it in my head over and over, but I was too scared to say anything.”

“A question?” was it perhaps the same as the ones you asked yourself, of this life? If it was, you don’t want to scare him off, like you had been too scared to admit in days prior. Reaching over, you comb your fingers through his hair like you do, earning a blissful sigh that finally gives you a genuine smile on those love-stained lips of his.

“About our life here. What it means.”

So it was, then. He was also curious, also puzzled on what this really was, or how you even got here to begin with. It’s more of a relief for you knowing that he feels the same way than if your hunch is right.

“This town... there’s more to it.” he continues. “More that I want from it.” he faces the sunset again, now at its brightest just before it’ll dip under the edge. “We should get married here.”

Bucky feels it, the way you freeze, how your fingers pause in his hair, by the way he turns to look at you so suddenly as if you had yanked at the strands. He watches you with worried brows above those blue eyes that you love so much, the colors that would always outmatch the sunset, much more vibrant and lovely than anything you had ever seen.

“You want to marry me?” it comes out in a whisper, so soft, on the precipice of becoming a sob if you let your heart sink into it deeper. “Why?”

His chuckle grounds you, helps you not to float away with the happiness that rises like helium in your chest. “Because I love you, since the day I met you and everyday that’s passed after that, and for all the days still ahead of us.”

It’s impossible, you tell yourself. Impossible that Bucky could love you, could want to marry you, could want to start a real life with you. It’s impossible because you’re living an impossible life, you’re sure of it, but you don’t even want to take one step into doubting if this right now is real—this man who you love, who loves you back, wants to put a ring on your finger to match his, and to match his heart as well. You never want to think it anything other than real.

“Bucky,” his name comes out teary, happy in surges like a tide. Your hands find his cheeks, softly, with a laugh that spills from your lips. “Yes. Yes, please!”

His face lights up, standing out amongst the sky now turning dark, as he reaches forward and collides into you, knocking over a glass that spills a drink on the picnic blanket, but who could care in this moment? All you care about is Bucky with his warmth that seeps into you as he holds you against him, his face buried in your neck and making you laugh with the vibration of his voice against your skin. All you care about is that one day soon, you’re going to marry Bucky Barnes.

─────── ⋯ ───────

The town was buzzing with life tonight, unlike most nights here. For once, you had knocks on your door and people to say hello to, other than the usual red-head that you would see on occasion. Bucky and yourself had gone shopping, filling plastic buckets in the shape of pumpkins to the brim with candy and chocolates. You had to swat at his hand every time he tried to steal one when you weren’t looking, telling him that they were for the children and not a child like himself.

He looked adorable dressed up in his best version of Aragorn to match your Arwen—something he had insisted upon, seeing as he loved the books so much. His hair definitely was the right length for it. Besides, he looked at you way too happy for you to even suggest a different costume. Do you think we could have a wedding like theirs? he had asked you when you went to re-fill one of the buckets, and you had turned to him to speak a very polite and stern no.

From the days that passed since he asked for you to marry him, you stopped looking for holes in your life, things for you to question. When you went to pour yourself some milk, you didn’t focus on how it was being stored. When Bucky would mention a memory from your past, you didn’t ask him the details that you couldn’t remember. You simply lived day to day with him, trying to push back your worries and your doubts, like a dam blocking a river stream, but you feel like you’re one stick away before it’ll break and flood your daydream. If you don’t pay attention to it, you try to convince yourself, then maybe it will go away.

Tonight was the perfect distraction. It was the one shred of normalcy outside of Bucky himself that you got, like a special privilege just for one night only; the whole town are celebrating, walking the streets, and talking to each other. You hadn’t known there were so many children living here, not even hearing a school bell once. At first you had concluded you had quiet neighbors, but a whole town? No. No, stop it. Tonight you’re having fun with Bucky, your fiancé. No more questions. They’re off-limits for tonight, and if you’re lucky, you’ll be able to keep them behind the dam for a long, long time.

Your hand was clasped with Bucky’s as you both walk down the street, a single plastic bucket full of sweets in your free hands, giving out as much as the children wanted when they asked for some. You had wanted to get out of the house, so the candy-giving has become a sort of meal-on-wheels kind of deal, but Bucky assured you that he liked this better than waiting by the door. It let you see the town lit up in spooky decorations and multi-colored lights, blending into all the costumes everyone wore. Not a single one of them looked handmade. They all looked bought, in good condition, no wrinkles as if they hadn’t been worn once. Push the questions back, you remind yourself.

“Trick or Treat!” comes the excited call of one child, followed by three of his friends behind him, all wearing matching Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle costumes. He wore orange.

“Cowabunga, dude!” Bucky laughs, forcing you to press your hand to your mouth to silent the hysteria that was about to come rattling out.

With your hand free from his, now scooping some candy up in them and handing it to the children, they see the shine of the metal.

“Woah!” they all collectively coo, stepping as close as possible to get a good look at it. “Is it real?”

Bucky shakes his head, smiling to himself at how interested they all are with their eyes fixated on nothing else. “It’s just a costume.”

They’re happier now to take the candy, thanking you both distractedly as they’re already ripping the wrappers off to shove a few in their mouth and run back down the street from where they came. Bucky’s chuckle beside you causes you to look at him, linking your hand with his again, showing him that you don’t mind the metal at all. You have grown used to it, anyway.

“Why’d you tell them it was a costume?” you find yourself asking, now curious to the answer after it’s been asked.

“I don’t need the whole town knowing there’s some guy with a metal arm walking about.”

“They didn’t seem to mind.”

“For tonight, because it’s okay to be scary, but what about tomorrow when it’s no longer just a Halloween trick?”

You shake your head, intertwining your fingers with his metal ones, and you can feel them tighten. “You’re not scary, Buck.”

“I’ll never know why you don’t see me that way.” he mutters, pressing a kiss to your temple and ushering you with him further down the street to hand out more candy.

You were getting closer to the centre of town, somewhere you haven’t been much despite the usual late-night strolls. It always felt off-limits, unless something festive was happening, like tonight, and like that time you had watched the magic show. It’s too foggy a memory to recall the tricks specifically, but there’s a heavy feeling in your chest at the thought of it. You brush it off, focusing back on the present, your eyes scanning over the assortment of haybales and pumpkins arranged in the middle, almost in a neat pile. You’re too far to make out any faces—not that you would recognize them, anyway—but a family in the middle stands out; two kids, two adults. Bucky seems to notice them too with the way you feel him stiffen, his hand tightening a bit too much for your comfort.

“Bucky—”

“Trick or Treat!” a tiny voice interrupts you, and you look down to see a young girl with a bag open and offering to you, but you see the tears streaming down her cheeks too, even with a smile on her face.

“Are you alright?” you ask, managing to slip your hand out of Bucky’s grip-tight hold, kneeling down to match her height.

“Some candy, please.” she says, but her lip is quivering too much that her voice comes out unsteady.

Before you can ask her another question, a crash from down the way almost about rattles the ground, and you look up in time to see a red glimmer dissipating in the air and the fake tombstones that are broken and crumbled on the ground, two legs belonging to a person just in sight.

“Wanda,” you hear Bucky suddenly say, and when you look up at him he’s already got his eyes on you and opening his mouth to say your name.

─────── ⋯ ───────

“What?” you ask, eyes on blue ones, waiting.

His creased brows ease, returning his face back to neutral, a little head shake being the only indicator that he heard you.

“What?” he shrugs.

“You said my name.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did. Just then.”

He scratches a finger on his jaw, squinting his eyes only slightly. “I don’t think so. Are you sure?”

“Yes!” it’s frustrated now, burning out of your mouth brashly. “You said my name just as—” just as what? What even happened? Why are you back in the kitchen? You could’ve sworn you were outside. “I can’t remember.”

“Are you feeling okay?” Bucky steps over to you, his hands outstretched to hold your shoulders, thumbs rubbing gently to calm down whatever spiked your emotions.

You can see images, moments of the past in spots, like a Pollock painting in your mind. Moments of candy, of the night, of a red glow that seems so hauntingly familiar, but a piercing ache wipes the slate clean. “My head,” you clutch ahold of it, shutting your eyes tightly when thinking back on what you saw becomes too painful.

“You need to lie down.”

Bucky only moves you a fraction before you’re shaking your head. “No, I need...” it’s changed again, the town, the house, the kitchen. Since when did you have an electric mixer? Who put the cereal box on the counter? “Milk.”

“You need milk?” Bucky asks, his eyes curiously set on you and confused just as much.

“Yes. I want milk.” you’re out of his arms even though he was ready to get it for you, rushing over to the fridge and swinging it open to see the plastic milk container with a handle, hooking it with your fingers and holding it up for Bucky to see. “Why is it like this?”

“What do you mean?”

“The milk! It’s changed. It always changes!”

The pain thunders against your scalp again and you’re knocking backward into the dining table, hands back to the sore spot, the milk container now discarded on the floor with the lid twisted open and milk spreading along the tiles. Bucky rushes to your side, his knees pressed down and pants beginning to soak. His hands are placed on either side of your face, tilting upward for you to look him in the eyes.

“I can’t remember.” you say weakly, feeling hot tears you hadn’t realized were there now running down your cheeks. Bucky’s fingers brush them away, soothing you with a hush and pulling you into his chest to wrap his arms around you. “I can’t remember anything but you.”

“It’s okay,” he says, rubbing his hands against your back. “Take a deep breath. It’s okay.”

His nose nuzzles above your ear while he speaks comforting words, helping you to calm down from what you can only assume was a miniature panic attack. The reason behind it is lost to you, spilt on the floor like the milk, waiting to curdle with the question. It’s as sickening as the scent, but you take deep breaths like he had told you to, gripping onto his shirt and wishing to forget. Rid the questions, rid the pain, just keep Bucky. He’s standing still, the world is buzzing, his warmth is a comfort amongst the instability. Remember that. Remember. Forget.

“I’ll cook you some eggs.” he says, muffled with how tightly you’re both wrapped around each other.

You nod silently, still holding onto his shirt when he pulls back from you, showing him a trying smile when he wipes the rest of the tears away. He asks you again if you’re okay and you nod more firmly this time, already forgetting why you had gotten so mad in the first place. The feeling of his lips against your forehead settles you back to the moment, and you’re apologizing as you look over the mess on the kitchen floor.

“No use crying over spilt milk.” he says, earning a breathless chuckle from you as he helps you to stand, then telling you to go have a shower while he cleans everything.

When you’re washed and calmer from the heat of the water, you’re padding back into the kitchen with a comfy bath robe over your clothes that you didn’t know you even owned, smelling the eggs Bucky is cooking, and arriving just as he’s scooping them from the pan onto the plate. When he notices you from the corner of his eye, he smiles brightly at you, making you wrinkle your nose in a smile as a reply and sit down on the chair he pulls out for you, him sitting next to you a moment later.

He doesn’t say a word, merely lets you sit beside him and eat in silence, giving you time to catch your breath from the events of the morning. You’re thankful for it, how he’s so understanding and loving. Again, he seems too good to be true.

When you’re finished your eggs, you’re intertwining your fingers with his and resting your chin on his shoulder. It feels familiar. “What colors are we gonna have?”

“What?” he questions with a chuckle, looking at you as best he can.

“For our wedding, what colors?”

“How about red?”

“Red?” you’re smiling widely, sitting up. “What kind of red?”

“Something dark, like a burgundy.”

“Burgundy red, huh? I guess I can make an exception.” when you reach for his hair, content to run your fingers through those long strands, you’re met with nothing. Your hand goes past air and you notice that his hair is shorter, like from the start. Or as far back as you can remember.

No questions. It’s unsettling, but it’s normal. It has to be. You want this life to be normal, more than anything you’ve ever wished for before, even if that means lying to yourself in order to believe it. You love him. You’re going to marry him. Things will be okay because you have each other. This is your life, your real life, and it’s shared with—

Him. The man sitting beside you, with your fingers locked with his, is a stranger. It’s like a veil lifts from your face, showing you the reality, and a cruel one at that; you don’t know this man. His face speaks of the same realization as you, the two of you slowly pulling away from each other and taking in your surroundings. Then, just as quick as you notice the change, the dam breaks. Now you’re flooded with the answers to your questions, and you’re frightened that the weight is going to drown you.

“It’s fake,” you whisper, the strength of the truth knocking the voice out of you until you’re swallowing a lump in your throat, like an air bubble under water. “It was all fake.”

His face—Bucky, you remember the name Bucky—pinches in itself, turning stern, nothing of the warmth that you had been made to believe. He looks at you with cold eyes, not the deep blue ones you remember getting lost in so often. It makes you sick to your stomach thinking back on mornings laid beside him, skin and hands you grew to know. You stare at him a moment more until it’s too much, and you’re stumbling out of the chair and running for the door, breaking out of the prison you were forced into. The relationship that wasn’t willing, the—oh gosh, the marriage. You were going to marry him!

Everything becomes too much, swirling around your head like the buzzing you likened to the town, thundering down so harshly on your shoulders that you’re knocked down to your knees, hands flat on the concrete and scraped, but the pain means nothing compared to what you’ve discovered, now retching the eggs from breakfast onto the front lawn. Tears prickle your eyes as you suck a rigid breath in, steadying yourself as you grip onto the grass. As soon as you feel hands on your shoulders, you’re scampering to the side and out of the hold that belongs to Bucky.

He’s crouched on the driveway, right beside where you had been, his hands still outstretched in the air like your shoulders were still under them, a wide and apologetic look in his eye. His face looks softer, not like the cold front you were met with the moment whatever sick spell Wanda had you under was broken. For a second, you see the Bucky you knew in your fake life. The Bucky you had loved.

“This is so messed up.” you breathe out, bringing your hands up to hold onto your head but noticing the cuts from the concrete before they can make it there.

“Let me help with that.” he says, a voice so familiar and yet so chilling at the same time.

He’s trying, you can see that. It’s not just in the way he’s looking at you, like a lost puppy looking for their owner, but the way his voice is steady, gentle. Still trying to be a lover to you, even though you both know the truth. The effort is reassuring enough, after all, you did know him. Maybe not this Bucky, not the real him, but the Bucky who danced with you in the street and took you to the hilltop to watch the sunset. That Bucky was what brought you to nodding your head, letting him help you up and back inside the house. Your house. You had forgotten, you bought this house with your own money, with the intention to start a new life here. How ironic.

You take it all in when he leads you back into the kitchen, sitting you down and fetching the first-aid kit from under the sink. He moves effortlessly around the room, grabbing a fresh tea towel from the drawer and mindlessly placing a cup back into the cupboard over the stove, before sitting down beside you.

“You know your way around.” you comment, voice still a bit rough, watching as he takes out the antiseptic and bandages.

He looks up at you like a deer caught in headlights, a faint dusting of pink growing on his cheeks. “I’ve gotten used to it. This place is...?”

You know what he’s asking. “Yeah, my house. That’s probably why I noticed the changes more than you.”

It looks like he’s going to say something, but changes his mind. Opening the bottle of antiseptic, he asks for your hands, laying the tea towel on his knees under them, counting you down before pouring it over the cuts. You hiss, watching it drip onto the tea towel, feeling the sting burning into your blood, but also feeling Bucky’s thumb rubbing against the back of your hand, soothing you as best he can as he cleans the cuts. When he’s done with that, he’s ripping the bandages open and placing them delicately on your skin, wrapping it around snuggly and tying it off.

“Thank you.” you cut your sentence short of his name, not sure how it would feel in your mouth now.

Bucky nods, packing the first-aid kit up, folding the tea towel, no longer looking at you. He used to seek out your eyes, hold their gaze because he would be so lost in them, or simply to show you that he cared, but he’s avoiding them now at all costs. He’s paid his due, you’re thinking, and now it’s over. As it should be.

“So,” breaking the silence, your voice firmer. Why you want to keep talking to him, to keep him here longer, is beyond you. “Wanda messed with our feelings. They weren’t real. Right?”

He nods again, this time accompanied by a curt hum. You want more, you want him to talk to you. Strangers you are, that’s for sure, but he doesn’t need to treat you like one, like he hasn’t kissed you breathless more than once before. How could you just forget that? It happens before you can stop yourself, your foot knocking into his to tell him, hey, say something! He blinks at you and you can see the cogs turning. You hate how you can read him.

“Looks like we can cancel the wedding.”

Out of all the things he could have said, he chose that? There’s no hope for this now, whatever this is. You gave it a shot, that’s the least you can say. You tried. Maybe if he fought a bit, said no, my feelings for you are real, then maybe you would be prepared to let him stick around, give him the couch to sleep on, and see where things go from there. Any spark of that happening is long gone.

Shifting awkwardly in your chair, you look to the side. “Yeah, I guess so. Good thing we didn’t buy anything red.”

“Burgundy red.” he agrees, pressing his thumb into his palm. That’s one thing you know is real, his nervous tick. “I’m sorry.”

“I wasn’t ready to get married.”

“Right,” he clears his throat. “But for everything, I mean. I’m sorry.”

A nervous tick of yours starts up, fiddling with your hands, drawing a finger down the bandages. “You didn’t know.”

The guilt is clear on his face, his jaw set in a way you haven’t seen before. He’s had no reason to look that way until now.

“What happens now?” you ask. “Surely others have realized. Can we...?”

There’s his eyes, looking at you with raised brows, prompting you to continue your sentence. But you stay silent, so he finishes it for you. “Can we leave?” he nods. “You mean me.”

“Bucky,” it’s the first time you’ve said his name outside of the illusion, feeling heavy on your tongue. Your fingers touch his knee, quietly asking him to stay. Why? Because, you realize, fake or not, you need him.

He stands abruptly before you can say anything else, chair pushed back, moving away from your touch like it burned him. He’s on the other side of the kitchen in seconds, running a hand through his short hair. It’s now that you notice his left arm, the metal arm, is covered with a glove.

“Look, we don’t need anything from each other. We’re strangers. What happened wasn’t real.” his words cut you deep, though you know the truth of it already. They’re acid in your veins. He pauses a moment, not meeting your eyes, before setting his mind on the very next words he speaks. “I’ll see what’s going on, then I’ll leave. You won’t ever see me again. I promise.”

“Wait,” the urgency fizzles in the air when Bucky is already sprinting to the front door, halfway down the driveway when you make it there after him. “Bucky!”

He doesn’t turn around, doesn’t stop to let you speak. He’s down the street, too far for your voice to reach him, and it shatters you that he did that to you; he just walked out of your life as if you hadn’t spent more than one with each other already, as if you hadn’t planned for more. And what did he leave you with? Consolation? A mutual decision? No. He didn’t even include you in it. All Bucky has left you with is an empty house, filled with ghosts of him.

You could cast them out with how loudly you scream once you’re back inside, standing with a view to the kitchen that’s too big for one person anymore. There’s nowhere you can step that he hasn’t been. The house wasn’t just yours anymore, it was his as well. The only thing you managed to have that you wanted for yourself, a real want, was a life in between these walls. You moved here for it and you got it, but now it’s gone. It ran away with Bucky down the street. How could he do that to you? If he happens to come back, to let you know what he finds out, then you’re going to wring his neck the moment he steps through that door.

Yet, the anger subsides as soon as you hear the door open later in the day, having been sitting on the couch, biting your nails, and waiting for an answer, either from him or Wanda, or somebody. You’re meeting him in the hall, his boots skidding on the floor when he sees your face, stopping like he was surprised you were still here. As if you would be anywhere else. You wait for him, watching as he blinks at you, giving him time to gather himself. He takes one step forward, then stops. You wait. He takes another step.

“She’s letting everyone go.” he starts, and you can feel that this is building up to something. “The town. She’s leaving.”

“Are you leaving too?” the question jabs him, just forcibly enough that you see his face react.

“Yeah, I’m leaving too.”

You were worried he was going to say that. The honesty pricks you, hearing it so blunt like that, already feeling the tears building up again, but you’re fighting them not to fall.

“You can go back to your normal life, just like everyone else. Things will go back to how they used to be.” that’s not what you want, though. He swallows thickly, adverting your gaze for a moment. “I was never a part of that life. There’s no room for me here anymore.”

Yes, there is! You want to scream it at him. He lived here with you, he loved you. Of course there’s room for him. But it’s what he says next that settles his decision deep into your chest, like a knife. “I have my own life to get back to.” without you, you’re sure he was going to add.

“Well,” it’s quick, forcing away the sadness, as you step forward and offer your hand. “Goodbye, then.”

It’s silent as he stands there, but he doesn’t keep you waiting, no matter if it seemingly knocked him back a few ranks, shaking your hand with his right one; the hand that had traced patterns on your arm, that held your cheeks, that led you through midnight dances when neither of you could sleep. Now it’s just skin.

“Will I remember?” you ask, hoping for one good thing.

“Yeah,” he nods. “We all will.”

Somehow you don’t know if that is good or not, but you try to make it work. “I’m going to find the song.”

The change in topic obviously confuses him. “What?”

“The song you would play on the radio, the one we danced to. I want to listen to it again.” he watches, waits, thinks on what you said, and there comes the damn tears again. “It wasn’t all bad.” you whisper.

Finally, he’s stepping toward you, shaking his head. “No,” his hands place on your cheeks, so familiar, so perfectly fit to be there. “It was good.”

You’re nodding with him, smiling through the few tears that fall, leaning into his hand when his fingers brush them away. So gentle. He’s always been gentle with you. You’ll remember that most of all, amongst the laughter, the kisses, the touches. Bucky isn’t a stranger, he’s the man you love. Even with this life on the tether of collapse, ready to crumble into dust, you fear that you’ll always love him.

There’s a light coming from outside, you can see it nearing the house through the window, but your eyes stay on him. You see the way his jaw clenches, knowing that it’s coming too. You don’t have to ask, you already know it’s whatever was keeping this place caged, now inching it’s way to let you go. It’ll let Bucky go, too.

“I need you to know,” he says, getting closer still. Your hands go to the base of his neck, fingers playing with what hair you can reach, wanting to feel them one last time. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“And you for me.” you tell him, truthfully. “It was love at first sight.”

There comes his smile, the one that brightens the room. It pushes past the tears he’s crying too, creasing his face in one last picture that you will always carry with you, a memory you want to frame on the wall because it’s honest.

“Right?” you ask, knowing it for yourself but needing to hear his voice affirm it before the light can reach you both and take him away from you for good.

His eyes flicker down to your mouth, but he presses his forehead against yours, knowing the boundary. “Yeah,” he whispers, a final brush of his finger against your cheek to assure you that it was real; all of it, and all of him. “Love at first sight.”

a/n: epilogue? this got long.

taglist: @nectav @hellolitty @romanofforgana @overly-obsessed-with-you (i’ll pick you up for our classy olive garden date) @interwebseriesfan24 @animalgirl05 @mulletkenobi @artgirl130 @justrunamok @moonlight-prose @fandoms-pizza-wifi-ym13 @immoral-rose @s-tarksintern @themarcusmoreno @heyitsjaybird @ironprincessstranger @queen-mcgregor @amazinggraceling @onewholikesthings @nostxlgicitxl @that-one-multifandom-chick

717 notes · View notes

urimaginespimp · 4 years ago

Text

Dare Coupons and Wrong Ideas

2nd and last part of A Naked Nurse and Wrong Ideas (Read this first to know what’s going on)

Bucky x Reader + Avengers still thinking you slept together

A/N: I didn’t expect a lot of you would enjoy the first part so as requested, here’s a follow up!

--------

When you woke up, you were alone in your room, and it was already the next day. You only have small recollections of Bucky constantly checking your temperature, feeding you soup, and making you take medicine.

Your cheeks flushed at the memory that he had to only be in his boxer briefs because your AC had to be off or else you would’ve frozen to death.

Plugging your phone as the battery was about to drain, you saw that it had numerous messages from the team – some were saying congratulations to you and Bucky, Wanda was asking you for details, Sam was thanking you for making him 50 bucks richer, and Tony was saying you owe him money.

You didn’t think finally getting along with Bucky was that big of a deal for everyone. Chuckling, you decided to hop in the shower before getting some breakfast.

--------

“I told you, nothing happened.” Bucky was scowling at Sam who was ignoring him for the nth time that morning.

“I remember you also insisting you didn’t like Star Wars, then I caught you ordering Baby Yoda merchandise on Amazon. So, forgive me if I’d rather hear about what we saw yesterday from your new girlfriend.” Sam smirked, not looking up from his phone.

The rest of the team in the kitchen snickered. They were not giving him the chance to explain himself since he got there. Steve has warned them that he’s prone to lie and get defensive when he’s embarrassed.

Huffing in annoyance like a child, he sunk in his seat thinking of ways he could convince them that he was telling the truth, when you finally appeared.

“Good morning.” You mumbled a small greeting and made your way to the cupboards to get some cereal. He noted that you look a lot better than yesterday, and that you just showered.

Heading to the table, bowl in your hands, Nat gestured for you to sit between her and Wanda, and across from Steve, Clint, and Tony. Taking your seat, you scanned who else was on the long dining table, and your eyes landed on Bucky who was five seats away from Steve, and next to him was Sam, and Peter.

You gave Bucky a small smile as a thank you, mentally noting that you had to thank him personally in private later. But unbeknownst to you, the rest of the team took this as a “moment” and were exchanging meaningful looks, except for Tony.

Bucky returned the smile, grateful that you were finally here to clear things up for everyone and prove that he was telling the truth. But then Sam just had to be a villain.

“Hey tinman. I still have 3 dare coupons from you last Christmas. Now I dare you to keep your mouth shut for the rest of the morning.” He said in a low voice, raising his brows when Bucky was about to protest.

“Fine.” he huffed.

“All’s clear!” Sam said loudly, making you jump a little from your seat. What was that about?

“So... Y/N.” Steve started speaking, making you look up to him. “Bucky, huh? Who knew?”

“I know, right?” you smiled at him. So, you and Bucky finally getting along was that big of a deal for them. Maybe it was for team morale.

Nat cleared her throat before turning to you with a grin. “Sam, Steve, and I went to your room yesterday to check on you after FRIDAY said you haven’t been out of your room all morning. And uh, well a partially dressed Bucky greeted us.”

Looking across you again, Steve, Clint and Tony were also looking at you expectantly. You get how it must’ve been confusing why he had to take care of you in only his boxer briefs.

“Oh, I was actually the one who told him to just take it off. It was just getting too hot for him.” You shrugged and missed how Peter spat milk from his seat, and Sam telling him to keep it together.

“So how was he?” Wanda couldn’t keep herself from sounding too eager to know. You raised a brow in confusion at her but answered.

“Honestly, I didn’t know he could be that gentle.” You thought back to how Bucky was gentle and patient in taking care of you.

“Oh wow.” Wanda responded; eyes wide. Steve was turning red and was now avoiding making eye contact.

Bucky was smirking from his seat. At first, he thought it was going to be more embarrassing for him, but now he was actually enjoying how the team was torn between wanting to know more, and trying to spare themselves the visuals of their friends going at it.

“How would you uh... rate him.” Wanda asked again, making Vision nudge her for the question.

“Well, it did seem like he knew what he was doing. I’d say he has a lot of experience. I'd give it a ten.” You nodded at her, smiling at the thought of how the brooding guy could’ve once been the main caretaker for his sick siblings.

Bucky coughed to mask him laughter, making Sam glare at him.

“How are you now? Is the soreness gone?” It almost pained Clint to even ask that, but he knew everybody else was dying to ask.

“I’m still a bit sore, and my throat does hurt a little still, but nothing some more rest would get rid of.” you shrugged.

Tony turned his attention to Bucky, glaring. “Might have to ask him for tips then.” Clint replied, clearing his throat.

“There’s a kid here, you guys. Keep it down.” Steve warned all of you, referring to how Peter was also in the room, listening to the entire conversation.

“What, I think Pete here could also get some tips.” You replied. Why wouldn’t Steve want Peter to know how to take care of sick people? It’s not like it’s entirely different from how they do it today.

Sam choked on his toast, and it was now Peter's turn to mockingly tell him to keep it together.

“Let me just ask this. Is this a one-time thing?” It was now Tony’s time to ask. He’s always treated you like a daughter, so he wasn’t a big fan of you and Bucky getting together.

You didn’t think Tony was gonna be mad at you for getting sick. This hurt you a little, but you understand that it was your own stupidity that got you sick in the first place. It would’ve been bad if you had to miss a mission.

“I hope so? I really don’t want to miss any missions because I can barely move any muscles. I’m sorry, Tony.” You gave him a guilty look. “But it’s nice to know I could count on Bucky whenever I need any help.” You continued.

The rest of the team, shifted in their seats from cringing at what you just said.

Sam turned to a smirking Bucky. “You’re disgusting.” he said to him.

You finally turned your attention to Bucky. “Anyway, I never got to thank you this morning because when I woke up you were gone.” you smiled at him.

“WHAT?” Nat spoke loudly from beside you.

“You left before she woke up?!” Tony exclaimed. Steve glared at his friend, disappointed that he’d do such thing. The rest of the team were also scowling at him.

“It’s no big deal you guys, he had to stay up all night.” you defended Bucky, making him shake in his seat from now full-on laughing.

“You think this is funny, Barnes?!” Tony got up from his seat to stalk towards him. You got up as well to diffuse the situation.

“Woah, woah, woah. Why are you guys so mad at him?” you asked, standing beside Bucky who was still losing his shit on his seat.

“We know he’s been crushing on you, but he can’t just sleep with you and leave you like that!” Tony was all red from anger.

You paused from where you were standing to take in what he meant. And when it finally sank in why they were all acting so strange, you joined Bucky in laughter.

You rested your hand on Bucky’s shoulder for support, tears brimming your eyes from laughing too hard.

The team was now looking at you both in confusion.

“You thought we slept together?” You asked in between laughter.

“Well, what the hell could all of this have meant?!” Clint asked from his seat.

“I was sick and Bucky was nursing me.” you explained, composing yourself.

“Why was he in his underwear then? Because I do not need to know that you guys were role playing.” Sam interjected, a sour look on his face.

“My AC was off because I was too cold. I got sick because I raced you under a thunderstorm the night before, remember?” you said looking at Sam.

Collective Ohs were heard in the room.

--------

That afternoon, you were peacefully reading a book on your bed when you heard small knocks on your door.

“Come in.” you said out loud.

The door opened softly and Bucky came in with a smile on his face. “Hey, doll. How are you feeling?”

“I’m actually doing a lot better, Buck. Why, are you planning to strip off to your undies if I were sick again?” you joked, patting on a space infront of you on the bed.

“If you wanted me to so badly, all you have to do is ask, Y/N.” He chuckled and sat in front of you.

“Our friends are ridiculous.” You laughed, thinking back to what happened this morning.

“I know.” He nodded. “They got one thing right though.” he smiled at you again.

“And that is...?”

“I have been crushing on you.” He admitted, his cheeks turning a tinge of pink.

“So, I was right to tease you before.” you smiled smugly.

“Shut up.” he looked down, feeling your sheets in between his fingers.

“If it makes you feel any better, I am attracted to you too.” you admitted, and a boyish smile stretched on his lips.

“Was you being sick all a ploy to get me in my underwear?” he teased, and you smacked him playfully with a pillow near you. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

A comfortable silence passed, both of you just grinning, avoiding eye contact.

“You know, I never got to properly thank you for taking care of me.” You broke the silence.

“How could you ever repay me?” he asked in an exaggerated tone.

“Would a kiss from your crush, suffice?” you teased again, wiggling your brows playfully.

“Hey, you just said you like me too!” He defended himself. “But, yes.” he smiled sheepishly.

“Fine.” you playfully rolled your eyes before leaning in.

His lips were softer than you expected, and you could tell that he was smiling. Pulling you closer to him, both of you were getting carried away from what was supposed to be a quick peck, and missed to hear the creak from your door opening.

“I knew it!” A booming voice cut you both off. Head snapping to the doorway, Sam was standing there with a smug look on his face before leaving and letting the entire compound know that you were both lying that morning.

“Who’s gonna believe us now?” you let out a soft chuckle.

“I guess I have to ask you out on a date now, huh.” Bucky was grinning at you, playfulness lacing his tone.

“Oh, how inconvenient for you.” you gave his lips a quick before finally moving away, giggling.

--------

Tag list:

@lizzarooni @intothesoul

Special tag bc they asked for pt 2:

@coffeebooksandfandom @harrystylesandthegoobs

--------

HAVE A GREAT DAY!

855 notes · View notes

hyogonokitsune · 4 years ago

Text

blush -- suna rintarou x reader

here’s some soft suna smut, go fetch!

edit: here’s pt 2 and pt 3

virginity loss, slight praise kink, oral (f receiving), whoops! rintarou has feelings

4700 words

You were not quite sure how you all ended up on this topic, but it didn’t surprise you one bit that Atsumu was the one to bring it up.

“So how old were ya when ya lost it?” he asked with a grin on his face.

Suna glanced up at the sky as he thought about his answer. “Fourteen, I guess.”

“Ugh, man! You beat me!” Atsumu groaned in annoyance. “I was fifteen.” It was slight, but you caught Suna giving him a self-satisfied smirk. Atsumu turned to his brother next. “What about you, ‘Samu? I don’t think I ever asked.”

“Pfft, like hell I’d ever tell you,” was the only response he gave.

The four of you were walking through Inarizaki’s dark campus together after the team’s evening practice. It was early autumn, and although the days were still warm, the temperature at night was beginning to dip lower and lower. You shivered as a crisp breeze blew past, digging your hands further into your jacket pockets.

“What about you, y/n?” Atsumu asked, peering down at you. “How old were ya?”

You had hoped he’d forgotten about you, but now that he had directly asked you could feel your cheeks reddening slightly. “I, uh, I haven’t done it yet,” you answered sheepishly.

“What, seriously?! You’re a virgin?” Atsumu’s eyes widened in surprise, but they quickly squinched shut when Osamu smacked him on the back of the head.

“Yell it a bit louder, why don’t ya? I don’t think everyone on campus heard you, dumbass.”

“Ouch, sorry,” Atsumu muttered in apology, but your blush had already deepened. “I’m just a little shocked to learn that our precious manager is a virgin.”

“It’s not really that big of a deal, honestly,” Suna said, his voice low. It was a little unusual to hear him defend anyone, but you were grateful for it all the same.

“Ya know, y/n, if ya ever wanna lose your virginity, I’d be happy to help out,” Atsumu said, giving you a salacious smirk. You rolled your eyes at his offer, a small laugh escaping from your lips as you flicked him on the side of his head.

The path split then, and Suna turned left to continue on by himself to the campus dorms. He waved goodnight to the three of you, and you noticed that his eyes lingered on you for half a second too long before he turned away.

Click, click, click

Your thumb pressed repeatedly on the end of your pen as you stared hard at the words in front of you.

“Hey, knock it off.” You looked up at the sound of Suna’s voice, his irritation plain on his face. “It’s annoying.”

The two of you were sitting on the floor of his room, Suna propped up against his bed and you leaning against the opposite wall. Loose sheets of paper and an open textbook were on the floor between you as you both studied for an exam the next day.

“Sorry, I didn’t even realize I was doing it,” you muttered, turning your attention back to Suna’s notebook on your lap. You were reading through it, checking that there wasn’t anything he had written down that you had missed in class. In truth, you were finding it hard to concentrate on the notes, as something else was nagging at your thoughts. You hadn’t been able to shake the conversation you’d had the other night, and despite Atsumu’s suggestion, he wasn’t the one you had been thinking about since then.

You had heard rumors around campus, and stories from some of the girls in your classes. At first it had made you a little uncomfortable to know such personal details about someone you had to see every day, especially since he wasn’t aware that you knew, but over time you gradually got used to it, and you were beginning to wonder about what it might be like to experience that firsthand. You were sure that it wouldn’t get out. After all, those rumors that you had heard had come from the girls themselves, never him; if you didn’t tell anyone, no one would ever have to know about it. Besides, after two and a half years spent on the same team, you two had grown rather close. There were few people that you could trust more than him, and, in your opinion at least, that was the most important factor influencing your decision.

You just had to think of a way to tell him.

Suna’s low voice cut through the silence in the room. “Maaan, I’m beat. What time is it?” he asked, stretching his arms over his head.

You glanced at your watch, sighing a bit when you saw how late it was. “Half past ten.”

“Fuck.” He rubbed at his eyes. “I think we’ve crammed as much as we possibly can for tonight.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you replied as you stood up. The two of you started tidying up his room, and you gathered your books and pens into your bag.

“You want me to walk you to the bus stop?”

“No, I’ll be alright.”

“’Kay.”

You had your hand on the doorknob, ready to leave, but you found yourself unable to turn it.

“Suna?”

“Hmm?” he hummed, and when he turned to look at you, you felt an unexpected surge of confidence well up inside. If you didn’t tell him now, you didn’t think you’d ever be able to.

Dropping your hand from the doorknob, you angled your shoulders to face him head on, willing yourself to look him in the eye. “I want you to take my virginity.”

There was a slight widening of his eyes, almost imperceptible, but you caught it before his face fell back into its usual indifferent mask. There was a moment or two of silence, and you tried to keep yourself from panicking; maybe he was just trying to gauge how serious you were.

Eventually he spoke, the corner of his lip quirking up into a cheeky grin. “You sure you don’t want Atsumu to be the one?”

You couldn’t stop your eyes from rolling. “I think I’d rather die, if I’m being honest.”

Suna laughed then, short but genuine, and you felt the tension ease from your shoulders. “I’ll do it, if that’s really what you want.”

You gave him a quick nod, hand reaching towards the door again.

“Come back here tomorrow.”

You knocked twice on Suna’s door and it opened almost immediately. He must have just recently gotten out of the shower because his hair was still damp, a droplet of water clinging to a lock of hair next to his cheek as he stared down at you.

“I was half-expecting you not to show up,” he said, a slight smile on his lips.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you asked as you squeezed past him to step into the room; he offered no response.

You dropped your bag and blazer onto his desk chair, and when you turned around Suna had moved into the center of the room, within arm’s reach.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” There was an uncharacteristic note of concern in his voice that made your heart melt.

You gave a slight nod, a small smile on your face. “I’m sure.”

Those two words were all he needed.

Suna closed the gap between you in one step. His left hand came to rest on your waist, his right moving up to cup your cheek as he leaned down to place his lips on yours. His kiss was unexpectedly soft, and you couldn’t stop a tiny gasp from escaping you in surprise. This wasn’t a Suna that you were familiar with; this was a Suna that was unbelievably tender with his touch, but you could feel a more passionate side simmering just beneath the surface by the way that his fingers ever so slowly applied pressure to your waist.

Unconsciously, your hands moved first to his shoulders, then to the back of his head, where your fingers buried themselves in his damp hair. Your touch encouraged him to draw you in closer, his arm snaking around your waist to press you against his body. His kisses were becoming firmer now, deeper, more urgent, his tongue slipping past your lips to brush against yours.

A feeling of warmth was in your chest now, spreading down throughout your body, and with it came a sudden feeling of uncertainty. Suna broke away from you and stepped back to sit on the edge of his bed, and the sight of him there suddenly stole away all the confidence you had felt earlier.

“Come here,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. The sound of it made your legs feel weak, but you forced yourself to step towards him. His hands moved to your hips, intending to pull you closer, but you put your palms on his shoulders to brace yourself.

“Wait a minute,” you said, a little breathless.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just…” Your voice trailed off and you swallowed hard. “I’m just a little nervous.”

You were embarrassed to admit it, but to your surprise Suna smiled, and the gentleness on his face was reassuring. “Yeah, I think it’s normal to be a little nervous.” One of his hands left your hip to move to your elbow. His fingers dragged lightly down your forearm and wrapped around your wrist, so that he could lift your hand and press it against his chest. “I’m a little nervous, too.” You could feel his heart against your palm, beating a little faster and harder than normal. The proof of his own anxiety made all of your apprehensions disappear, and you leaned down to kiss him. Before he could deepen it, you broke away again.

“Suna?”

“Hmm?”

“Could we turn the light off?”

“Of course,” he grinned, leaning over to switch off the lamp on his bedside table.

The room became dark, but the sun had only recently dipped below the horizon and your eyes quickly adjusted to the cold blue light coming in through the window. Suna’s body was outlined against the bed, his features hazy in the dim lighting, but his eyes were clear as he gazed up at you, imploring you to come closer.

He guided you down onto his lap, one of his hands on each of your thighs to place them at his sides. His kisses were needier now, almost hungry in the way that his mouth moved against yours. His hands slid up to rest on your hips once more, and when he slowly tugged them closer, dragging you over his hardening cock, you couldn’t stop the moan that bubbled up from your chest. You could feel him grinning against your lips, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed, not when the feeling of his body under your hands was causing that heat to grow in your core.

“Does that feel good, baby?” Suna asked, his voice breathy and low. A blush crept up your face at his words, the tone of them so much more intimate than anything you’d heard before. You grinded against him again, causing him to moan lightly into your mouth.

Your hands slid down to press against his chest, fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt. He paused kissing you just long enough to take his shirt off, tossing it onto the floor before grabbing your waist and drawing you in even closer. Tentatively, you brought your hands back to his chest. The heat of his skin, the pounding of his heart, his heavy breaths emboldened you, prompting you to explore more of his body. Your fingers traveled lightly over his chest, across his collarbones, onto his shoulders, across the back of his neck, down to his shoulder blades; every place you touched gave way to growing desire.

Suna’s hands wandered up your stomach and over your breasts to undo the buttons of your blouse, but he couldn’t undo them fast enough for you; you suddenly couldn’t stand another moment with the fabric between you, you needed to feel your skin pressed up against his now. Your fingers moved to the bottom of your blouse and quickly worked their way upwards, meeting his in the middle before tearing the shirt from your body.

His eyes roamed over you and he whispered something that you couldn’t quite hear. Before you could say anything, his head moved to your neck, pressing hot kisses into your skin, down the column of your throat and over your collarbones. The top of his head tickled under your chin, making you giggle; his lips left your shoulder with a wet sound as he turned his face up to look at you, but you dug your nails into his arms and whimpered at the loss of his touch.

“Please don’t stop,” you breathed.

Suna gripped you tightly around your waist to lift you off of him and shift you so you were lying down on the bed, his body leaning over you. Pulling one of your legs up so that he could position himself between them, he resumed kissing your neck, his warm breath tickling your ear. His hands worked their way down your sides, a trail of goosebumps left in their wake, to come to rest at the waistband of your skirt. He lifted his head to kiss you on the lips briefly before carefully tugging your skirt down over your hips and off your legs. His eyes lingered on your purple lace panties, moved up to your matching bra, and finally to meet your own gaze.

“These are cute,” he said with a smirk, one finger lifting up the band of your panties and letting it snap against your skin.

“Shut up,” you groaned, covering your blushing face with your arm.

“Did you match these just for me?” he teased.

“I said shut up, Rintarou!”

You heard a sharp intake of breath, and lowered your arm to see that the look on his face had shifted into completely unconstrained desire. He kissed you then, tongue forcing its way into your mouth, greedily swallowing your moans. You could feel yourself getting wetter as he pressed his cock in-between your legs; the sensation was becoming almost too much to bear.

Suna pulled away suddenly, and a thin strand of saliva briefly connected your mouths, glinting in the low light. “Hey, do you want me to wear a condom?” he asked, rubbing his thumb slowly over your bottom lip.

“Oh!” You were lying in his bed half naked, and his tongue had just been in your mouth, but for some reason that question made you feel shy all of a sudden. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to. I’m, uh… I’m on the pill,” you told him, feeling your cheeks heat up again. He only nodded once before leaning in to kiss you again.

One of his hands slowly slid up your side to your breast, his thumb rubbing over your nipple through the fabric of your bra. When he broke the kiss to move his lips to your neck, you leaned forward slightly to unhook your bra, tossing it on the floor with the rest of your clothes. Suna sucked in a breath at the sight of you, gazing at you almost reverently before placing his lips back on your throat, letting his hand blindly fondle your breast. Moving slowly, he made his way down your throat and over your collarbones, planting sloppy kisses every few inches, until his tongue was swirling small circles around your nipple, feeling it grow harder at his touch. At the same time, his other hand was pressing into your hip, fingers digging insistently into the soft flesh. That hand now started moving down over the outside of your thigh, pausing almost at the knee before running back up along the inside.

You gasped when he touched your clothed pussy for the first time, his fingers brushing against your clit through the fabric. You would have felt embarrassed at the wetness you felt seeping through your panties, but the feeling of having him touch you in so many places was too good for you to care. He was rubbing circles around your clit, causing a knot to form deep in your stomach. You reached with both hands into his hair, gripping the back of his head tightly as a pitiful whimper escaped you.

“Oh, Rintarou…”

“What is it, baby?” He leaned forward to plant a kiss on your cheek, his hand still working slowly between your legs. “What do you need?”

Another pitiful sound left your mouth and your nails dug into his shoulders. He sat up straight, his free hand coming to rest on your leg as his other continued to draw soft moans out of you.

A new feeling had settled in your chest, a need that you had never experienced before. It wasn’t enough to have him simply touch you; you needed to feel him inside of you.

“Rin, please,” you practically begged him, reaching towards the waistband of his sweatpants.

He gently pushed your hands away, a low chuckle rising in his throat. “You’re not ready yet, baby,” he told you in a soft voice. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Groaning, you fell back into the pillow, your breath coming out harder as he started kissing the inside of your thigh, slowly, painfully slowly, moving closer to where the heat was pooling between your legs. Both of his hands now hooked under your thighs to rest on top of your hip bones, pinning you in place. He kept his eyes on your face as his tongue ran almost lazily over your panties.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, head tilting back and eyes squeezing shut.

“You’re already so wet,” he murmured, and you could hear the smile in his voice. He was still licking you agonizingly slowly, relishing the way you squirmed around him. “Do you want me to taste you, baby?”

“Mm hmm,” you answered, a little too quickly in your eagerness to have him touch more of you. He moved one of his hands to hook a finger under your panties, pulling them to the side to reveal your glistening pussy.

His mouth was on your bare clit now, and the sensation was overwhelming. It was different from all the times you had pleasured yourself; this was warm and wet and achingly soft, and it was causing the coil in your stomach to rapidly tighten. He hummed lightly, the vibrations running over your clit and causing you to practically scream. When he lifted his face away from you, you nearly cried. He slid your panties down your legs and tossed them on the floor, leaving you completely bare before him.

Suna leaned back down, tongue running up and down your folds, swirling around your clit, kissing all over your pussy. Every single contact made your back arch, made your hands grip the sheets a little more tightly. He traced a finger along the edge of your pussy, gathering up the wetness before slowly pressing it into you. You clenched around him as his finger curled up to press into the soft spot within you, the spot that made your breath catch in your throat. You opened your eyes to look down at him; his mouth and finger were still at work on your pussy, but his gaze was trained on your face, sage-colored eyes glinting in the dark.

The coil in your stomach finally snapped, your orgasm falling over you in waves of intense pleasure. Your toes curled, legs tensed up around his head, hands reached down to wind into his soft hair.

“Rin-Rintarou!”

Suna kept his face pressed into your pussy, sucking gently on your clit as you came around his finger. The overstimulation was becoming too much, and your breath was coming out in labored sobs.

“Rin, p-please, stop!”

Immediately, he pulled away, crawling over your body to kiss you hard on the mouth. “I like the way you taste, cutie,” he sighed into your ear, nuzzling at your neck. “And I love the way you moan for me.”

You were panting, still coming down from your high. Suna’s hand came up to caress your face, thumb rubbing gently over your cheekbones. He waited for your breathing to even out before sitting up to remove his pants. You couldn’t help but stare at the way his cock looked; you had no reference point, but you were pretty sure he was above average.

He lazily stroked his cock with one hand as he shifted your legs with the other, positioning himself close to your entrance. He dragged the head over your pussy, coating it with the wetness there.

Suna was looking straight at you again. “Are you ready?” he asked, his voice breathless.

“Yes,” you told him. He leaned down to plant one more kiss on your lips, before slowly pressing his cock into you.

All the time he spent pleasuring you already ensured that you were relaxed enough to take him, but even so, he went slow. He sank in a few inches before pausing, allowing you to adjust to his size as he peppered your face with kisses, before giving you some more. It took a full minute before he completely joined his hips to yours, a soft groan escaping his lips.

“Are you okay, baby?” he asked, his voice impossibly soft.

“Yeah.” You gave him a small smile, hands running up the backs of his arms to rest on his shoulder blades. It felt so incredibly good to finally have him inside you, to fill you up completely. There had been a slight pressure when he first entered you, but that was subsiding now, and you could fully enjoy the way his cock stretched you out.

Suna pulled his hips away from you, his cock dragging slowly along your sensitive walls. The loss of him drew a soft whimper out of you, turning into a moan when he pushed back in. His pace was unhurried at first, but with each breathy sigh you made he increased his speed, pulling out a little further each time.

“Rin, oh, oh…”

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” he moaned, lips capturing yours in a wet kiss. “You feel so good, baby.”

He bent down to take one of your nipples into his mouth, rolling it between his teeth with just enough pressure to make your spine arch, fingers gripping his shoulders tightly to let him know that you wanted more.

“Rin, I-I… oh god-”

He straightened back up so he could look into your face, his thumb and forefinger continuing to play with your nipple. “Does that feel good?” he asked in a low voice. You nodded, eyes squeezed tight against the pleasure, and another soft whimper left your throat. “You’re taking my cock so well, baby,” he murmured; you could feel the knot in your stomach tighten at his praise. “Do you want more?”

“Yes, please, please…”

He quickened his pace even more, hips snapping into yours hard enough now to apply deliciously pleasant friction to your clit. You couldn’t have stopped the sounds leaving your mouth even if you wanted to; every thrust of his cock made you come undone a little more. The pleasure radiated throughout your entire body, making you feel slightly lightheaded.

Suna placed both hands on the backs of your knees and lifted them, pressing your legs towards your chest. The new angle of your hips allowed his cock to press into that spot inside you that made your breath burn in your lungs. The feeling was unbelievable; you had never felt pleasure like this before.

Your eyes snapped open. Suna was staring down, watching his cock sink repeatedly into your dripping wet pussy. When your hand gave his shoulder a small squeeze he looked up, eyes locking with yours. His face was etched with determination, all of his efforts going towards making you feel good. His cheeks were flushed pink, and his eyes contained something that you couldn’t quite place.

“Are you gonna cum for me, princess?” His voice was husky, gaze burning with desire.

“Yes, Rin, please don’t stop,” you breathed out between gasps.

He kept his pace consistent, hitting that sweet spot over and over and over again. Your nails were digging into his back, leaving tiny crescent-shaped indentations in his skin. The knot in your stomach was tightening, tightening, tightening—

“Rintarou!” you cried out as the second orgasm overtook you, breath catching in your chest. Your legs trembled under Suna’s hands as he kept fucking you through it, groaning as your pussy clenched around him.

He could feel himself getting closer. He slowed his pace, leaning over to press hard kisses into your neck as you came down from your high. When your breathing started to even out, his lips moved up over your jaw and to your mouth. You kissed him greedily, hands moving to entwine themselves in his hair.

“Where do you want me to cum?” he asked, voice slightly hoarse. He was still moving against you, cock pumping slowly in and out of your pussy.

“Ah… oh,” was all you could manage to squeak out.

“Hmm?” He nuzzled his nose against your neck, warm breath tickling your skin. “Where, baby?”

“Inside… I want you to cum inside me,” you whispered.

With a groan, Suna started thrusting into you harder again. The wetness between your legs was audible with each stroke of his cock, and the sound of it only made him come closer to the edge. The sensation against your clit was pushing you into overstimulation, tears springing up in the corners of your eyes from the sheer pleasure. You reached down with one hand to grasp at his thigh, nails digging into the muscles working to join him to you, desperately trying to pull him closer, closer.

“God, I’m so close…” he murmured, face held so near to yours that your noses bumped each time he pounded into you.

“Oh, you feel so good,” you moaned.

“Can you say my name, baby?” His voice was hardly above a whisper.

“Rin,” you sighed, and his hips snapped into you almost urgently. “Please cum, Rin, I want you to cum for me…”

He buried his face in your neck, groaning deeply as he came. “Fuck.” You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, hot cum spurting deep into your pussy.

He was still for a moment, breathing hard against your skin, before slowly pulling out and rolling over to lie beside you. You felt some of his cum drip out of you, blushing at the sensation. The two of you were silent for a while, your panting breaths the only sounds in the room.

“How was that?” Suna asked eventually, turning onto his side to face you. You suddenly found yourself unable to look at him, pressing your face instead into the crook of his neck and humming contentedly. He chuckled softly and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer to him. “I wasn’t too rough with you, was I?” he asked, an uncharacteristic note of concern in his voice.

“Not at all,” you told him. “I liked it.”

You fell silent again. With your body pressed up against his, you could feel the beat of his heart, slowly steadying from its rapid pace. His skin was so warm, and you didn’t even mind the slight sheen of sweat covering both your bodies. You took a breath, inhaling his scent; you couldn’t describe what he smelled like, you just knew that he smelled good.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but you must have been lying there for at least a quarter hour. You lifted your head to look at him and saw that his eyes were closed. Did he fall asleep?

“Rin?” you asked tentatively.

“Hmm?” His response was a low rumble in his chest; you could feel the vibrations against your palm. His eyes were still closed.

“Why were you nervous before?” You wriggled in his arms a bit, trying to get a better view of his face. “I mean, it wasn’t your first time.”

He opened his eyes, only to glance at you briefly before turning his head to look up at the ceiling. “It was my first time with you,” he mumbled, so soft you almost didn’t catch it.

With your hand still on his chest you could feel when his heart started beating faster. Peering at his face in the dark, you could have sworn you saw Suna Rintarou blush.

➣ masterlist

#sorry this is almost 5000 words sfbsgbgsk i got carried away #suna just makes me feel 🥺🤧🥵🥵#suna rintarou #suna rintarou smut #suna smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #suna x reader #suna rintarou x reader #suna #niakasi writing

833 notes · View notes

some-messed-up-writing-for-you · 3 years ago

Text

I really liked this prompt by @nuttynutcycle and felt the need to write something with it. Soo, here it is! (NOTE: the story starts before the prompt, so it appears in the middle.)

Warning: none.

~~~~ Flying through the air, Hero held onto Villain's body so hard they swore they could feel their knuckles cracking. All their limbs had tightly wrapped around the other as soon as they jumped out of the burning building, the hero's face buried in the other's shoulder to not inhale the smoke, and also so they wouldn't have to see the destruction around them.

The entire city had fallen into ruin, and the villain's henchmen were everywhere. Hero wasn't aware they had so many people working for them, as their enemy only ever had a couple of men with them. But- But this? This was an army.

Was that all part of the plan? Was Villain sparely using their minions to trick the hero? To make them think they weren't capable of something like this?

To make them think they couldn't possibly take over the capital city? Take over the country?

...

As the villain's boots thumped against solid ground, they loosened their hold on Hero, letting them crumple to the floor and frantically scramble away until their wounds forced them to stop moving. Villain had flown them both over to a nearby rooftop, which building had yet to catch aflame.

From their spot on the ground, the hero shivered under their nemesis' silent stare. As a fire burned brightly in the distance behind the villain, their form became shrouded in shadows, adding to their terrifying aura.

The silence was unbearable, and Hero decided to be the first one to break it.

"Y-You saved me." - The hero trembled like a leaf in the wind, head still swimming from the intensity of the last few minutes. "W-Why?"

Villain, still quiet, slowly approached them, making them tense up in anticipation. Hero's breathing grew shaky as their enemy knelt beside them and gently cradled their face with one hand.

"I want you there when I win." - The villain brushed their cheek softly, a small smile on their face. "Whether it's by my side or at my feet is up to you."

"I- I-" - the hero struggled to answer, stuttering out nonsense as they looked into the other's dark eyes. Villain's smile fell at their hesitance, and they flinched in fright as the criminal let go of their face and stood back at full height, towering over them again.

Taking deep breaths in hopes of calming their racing heart, Hero observed as their nemesis walked to the nearby edge of the rooftop, just a few steps away from their shaking body. Villain looked out over the burning city, one arm neatly held behind their back and the other one resting on the parapet wall protecting them from falling off the building.

Not that it mattered if the villain fell off or not. With how many powers they had, Hero was, at this point, pretty convinced nothing could hurt them.

"That would be the correct assumption to make." - Villain calmly said, still admiring the view.

Confusion decorated Hero's face shortly before they realized what had happened. Telekinesis. You can add that to the endless list of their abilities.

Expression still neutral, the villain asked, "Hero, do you want to know how I managed to pull this off?"

Honestly, the hero just wanted this craziness to end, but they'd be lying if they said that their curiosity wasn't eating away at them. So, like the cat that put his nose where it didn't belong, they replied, "I- I do..."

Slightly turning their head to look at their nemesis, Villain quietly explained, "I became a god."

Worry instantly gripped Hero's chest at the other's answer. What- What was that supposed to mean? They- They were a human! A powerful one, true, but... b-but a god? H-How-

"How could y-you possibly achieve s-something like- like that?"

The villain smiled again, and the hero really wasn't liking the look on their face. It made them feel weak, like they were only prey waiting to get caught.

"You're not like the others, Hero... Surely you've noticed over the years how I became stronger and stronger?"

Hero... Hero had noticed it. The process was gradual, barely visible unless you've been there from the start like they had been. It went from Villain getting shot, going into hiding, and reappearing a few days later fully recovered to Villain conveniently surviving deadly explosions or poisons. Until, eventually, years later, they were straight-up getting their limbs blown off and regrowing them instantly right before the hero's very eyes.

Shakily exhaling, Hero's mind floated to a memory from a few weeks ago, back when this hell had first started. They still remembered the dread that filled them at the sight of their nemesis floating high up in the sky, their voice bellowing across the city as they commanded their army. The sheer amount of power that came off Villain at that moment made the hero's knees nearly give out under them. At that moment, Villain was truly above everyone else in every sense of the word.

"Exactly." - the villain's voice suddenly sounded in their ears, and Hero jumped back as their eyes refocused and recognized that their enemy was suddenly right in their face.

The hero's breath hitched as Villain held their face again, this time with both their hands, as they lowly continued. "I've made myself unkillable, indestructible, invincible."

As a glint of possessiveness shined in the criminal's eyes, Hero's eyebrows furrowed in concern, the villain bringing their faces closer. "And I could- No. I will make you the same, whether you want it or not."

Trembling in the other's grasp, the hero questioned, "B-B-But h-how?"

Resting their foreheads against one another, Villain answered, "The same way I've made myself so powerful... The same way I've made my henchmen so loyal and unbeatable..."

Voice barely above a whisper, they claimed, "I will share my powers with you."

Hero froze, only able to keep listening as the villain caressed their cheek again and continued talking. "Not all of them, of course, but know that... where the hierarchy is concerned... you could be my equal, my partner."

Removing themself from their nemesis yet again, Villain loomed over them ominously. "And this is where my question returns, dear Hero."

Standing tall, arms neatly held behind their back, their mere presence demanded that the hero answer them as their shadow fell over them.

"Do you stand by my side and rule together with me, or... do you go from being the government's dog to being my dog... for all eternity?"

With tears stinging at their eyes, Hero pleaded, "V-Villain, please, just- How?! How c-can you share your-?!"

"It's a power that I stole."

"Wh- What...?"

Eyes shining brighter than the fire, the villain explained once more, "My power... The power that I was born with... Is the ability to steal the powers of others."

As they ranted, they looked off into the distance, for a moment getting lost in the past. "And over the years... I've gathered every power that I'd need and more."

Turning back to the hero, they ignored the fear in the other's eyes. "With time, I've learned how to mutate them, how to combine them to make them even stronger, to make myself stronger."

Done explaining, they squared their shoulders. "Now, answer me." - Villain growled out, odd desperation in their voice. "Will you lay at my side or at my feet?"

Hero stared at them for a long while, battling internally before ultimately, their gaze turned away from them, making them sigh in frustration. Clearly, they had to go about this a different way.

"Hero, you can't deny that we're not so different."

That got the hero's attention again, so the villain continued, "We both want what's best for this country."

Now it was Hero's turn to get upset, their face twisted into an appalled snarl as they demanded, "What's best for the country...?! HOW IS THIS WHAT'S BEST FOR THE COUNTRY?!"

They pointed at the destruction around them, nostrils blaring, as they paid no heed to the pain in their lungs, and Villain had to take a deep breath due to the other's stubbornness. Why did they have to be so difficult?

"Changes needed to be made. The system was broken, and you know it."

"W-Well yes, but-" - Hero faltered, trying to argue back, but their enemy cut them off.

"But what? Have you bothered to make a change, hmm? Bothered to take action?"

Not awaiting a response, Villain answered for them. "No, you didn't. You just followed your little orders, thinking that things would magically turn better."

"How is this better...?" - Hero croaked out, losing hope of winning this argument.

Frustrated, the villain yelled, startling the other. "GAH! JUST TAKE A PROPER LOOK AROUND, HERO!"

The criminal grabbed their nemesis by the arm and effortlessly dragged them over to the edge, making them look at the city, this time not through the lens of fear but the lens of truth.

As they finally took a real look at what was happening, a look not misguided by being down there in the heat of the moment, Hero noticed the way Villain's henchmen weren't attacking the civilians, but rather... escorting them away from the danger...?

They finally saw how the people willingly went with them, how they didn't even look scared of them. No, they only grew frightened when... when the heroes showed up... and... started mindlessly firing in the henchmen's direction..., not caring about the people who would... who would get caught in the crossfire...

...

"Do you understand yet, Hero...?" - Villain softly whispered, watching as their henchmen dutifully followed their orders, knocking the heroes out and capturing them, protecting the civilians from the necessary chaos.

"I want peace... I want equality... I want things to be right just as much as you do..."

As the wind softly blew against them, Hero turned to face their... enemy...? and was surprised to see tears spilling from their eyes as they continued.

"...But I can't make things right unless I'm in charge..."

Shaking, Villain questioned, "So tell me, Hero. Are you going to stand in my way? In the way of progress?"

With their fists clenching at their sides, the villain whispered painfully, "I don't want to force you to your knees..., but I will do it if I have to."

The hero looked at them, an array of emotions on their face, their own tears having fallen down their cheeks long ago. They opened their mouth to reply but failed to utter even a word. With conflicted feelings, their face scrunched up in thought, their gaze returning to the city below.

Villain stood beside them silently, awaiting their answer. Their body was more tense than the day they had opened fire upon the city. They didn't want to hurt Hero. They didn't. But... But if they had no other choice...

"Villain..." - the hero's meek voice barely reached their ears, but they stiffened nonetheless. "You..."

Arms suddenly wrapped around the villain's waist as Hero held onto them, muttering into their shoulder with an unsteady voice.

"...You better not make me regret this..."

With hope twinkling in their eyes, Villain asked, "D-Does... Does that mean you...?"

"I'll join you. I'll be at your side."

Relief flooded Villain's entire being at the hero's decision. They returned the embrace, tightly holding onto the other as if they would disappear at any moment.

"Thank you, Hero... And..., I'm sorry..."

Sorry? About what-?

Pain suddenly erupted in Hero's chest, their first thought being betrayal as their entire body burned with agony. They screamed and thrashed, trying to get away, but Villain held onto them with an unyielding grip, their heart aching at the hero's frantic shouts and thoughts.

Luckily, the whole ordeal only lasted about a minute, and Hero fell limp in the other's hold once it was over, breathing shakily, a few sobs escaping them from the unexpected pain and stress. As their heart rate began to slow back down and their mind had managed to calm down, they noticed that something was different and gasped quietly, as they felt something inside of themself.

Power.

So, so much power it made them shudder.

Was... Was this how Villain always...?

No, the villain didn't feel like this; they were stronger. Much stronger. Hero could feel it now, could feel the power thrumming inside their ex-nemesis. And as their mind focused, in the distance, all around them, they could sense Villain's henchmen, and even then, all the henchmens' and Hero's power combined was nothing compared to the villain's.

Villain was so much grander than all of them. They...

They really did become a god.

...

The feeling of a hand gently rubbing circles into their back brought the hero back to the present. Their eyes had closed at some point, so they fluttered them open again and lifted themself off the villain's shoulder.

Oh, when had they fallen to the ground? Both of them were on their knees, Hero's legs must've given out, and Villain probably lowered the two of them.

"I'm really sorry about that..." - the villain apologized again, a bit of concern on their face. "How... How do you feel?"

It was then that Hero noticed that they felt... good. Amazing even. They felt better than they ever had before. They were so full of energy, and their wounds had disappeared too.

"I-I'm good." - they eventually responded with a small smile. "And apology accepted."

With a smile of their own, Villain pulled themself to their feet, the hero moving with them. They stood there in silence for a few seconds, softly holding each other's hands. Both their gazes momentarily caught on one another's lips, but no. That could wait. After all, they had all the time in the world now and... some more pressing matters at hand.

Calling forth their power, the villain slowly lifted themself into the air, Hero following suit, listening intently as their partner instructed them on how to use their new powers. Together, they went off, conquering the country and at last making things right.

#hero x villain #villain x hero #writing #writeblr #prompt #writing prompt #short story #story #hero x villain community #writing community

164 notes · View notes

hookedonapirate · 2 years ago

Text

Beyond a Reasonable Doubt

Summary: Detective Killian Jones took an indefinite leave of absence from SBPD after his brother was murdered in the Line of Duty. Bitter and broken, he resides in a cabin on the beach when his brother's former partner, David Nolan brings him a case he knows the vengeful detective won’t be able to resist. A case involving Liam's killer.

Dr. Emma Swan makes all of her decisions like she operates on her patients—with care, competence and compassion. But when her colleague, Graham Humbert, is murdered in cold blood by the man who was freed because of a decision she made as a juror, she starts second-guessing herself. To make matters worse, her squeaky clean reputation is being questioned when she becomes a suspect for Graham’s murder.

There is one detective who believes she’s innocent, and he has a plan to protect Emma and find his brother's killer at the same time. When Killian finds himself caught between his duties to the SBPD and his need for vengeance, matters are only complicated by the feelings he develops for the woman he's supposed to protect.

He's impulsive and hot-tempered, and she's methodical and cool under pressure. Despite their differences, can they work together to bring the murderer to justice, or will the murderer get to them first?

A/N: I can't believe it's been a year and a half since I last updated. For that I am sorry, and I thank you for sticking with me! And a huge thank you, @ultraluckycatndcatnd for beta reading!

Rated: Explicit due to mature language, character death, violence, murder and smut. The scenes won’t be too graphic, but I’d rather overrate than underrate it.

Previously on Beyond a Reasonable Doubt: Emma performs Killian's surgery to save his life after he was brutally attacked. She goes to David about Neal about the cards and roses he's been leaving her and asks Elsa if she can stay with her because she doesn't feel safe alone.

Catch up: Pro I Ch 1 I Ch 2 I Ch 3 I Ch 4 I Ch 5 I Ch 6 I Ch 7 I Ch 8 I Ch 9 I Ch 10

Also available on: AO3 I FF.N

Chapter 11

As soon as Emma steps through the door, Elsa pulls her into a hug, squeezing her tight. “Thank you again, Em.”

“Of course.” Emma’s not used to people hugging her, but she figures this is a good excuse. Elsa could’ve lost her brother-in-law. Emma’s sure this day has brought back painful memories of when Elsa was visited by David to tell her the tragic news about her husband. He again brought her devastating news, though thankfully with a different end result.

And Killian was attacked by the same man who killed Liam. She’s not sure Elsa knows that yet.

Pulling away, Elsa places her hands on Emma’s shoulders, studying her scrupulously. “How are you doing?”

“Honestly? Not great,” she admits, her voice shaking. Tears form in her eyes again and threaten to fall for the millionth time that day. Truthfully, she should’ve taken the day off. She was a complete mess on the inside, and she so badly needed to take some time to cry out her frustrations and emotional distress after almost losing Killian. Hell, she never should’ve performed his surgery. There’s a reason doctors don’t perform surgeries on their loved ones. There’s just too much emotional attachment there to view them as just another patient. But there wasn't time to get another doctor. She did what had to be done in that moment.

“You really care about him, don’t you?” Elsa doesn’t have to say his name for Emma to know who she’s talking about. She knew sending that photo of Killian sleeping on her couch gave herself away.

Emma doesn’t have the energy or capability to deny it. “I do.”

Elsa nods in understanding, a small smile tilting her lips. “I can tell.”

Emma doesn’t want to talk about that, though. Thinking about her feelings for Killian only makes her sadder and angrier. She also doesn’t want to tell Elsa what Killian did. How he lied to Emma for the investigation. She wants all that anger Elsa would possibly feel—the anger Emma had felt after uncovering the truth—directed toward the man responsible for all of this. “Did David tell you who stabbed him?”

Elsa nods regrettably, her face clouding over with sadness as she looks down at the floor. “Cassidy.”

Emma places a gentle hand on Elsa’s arm. “How are you holding up?”

“Honestly? Not well either.” She lifts her head, anger pooling in her glistening eyes, her jaw hard as she curls her hand into a fist. “I want to find Cassidy and murder him myself. He killed my husband and tried to put an end to my brother-in-law’s life. Being behind bars will not be a cruel enough punishment.”

Guilt and regret pulse through Emma as she scoops her cousin into her arms for another hug. Elsa has no idea Emma fought for Neal’s acquittal. She has no idea her cousin is the reason why Neal is still alive. And that fucking eats Emma alive. But if she knew, Emma’s sure Elsa would never speak to her again.

~*~

Emma goes into work very early in the morning, unable to get more than a few hours of sleep. With Killian nearly dying, Gold still on the loose and the guilt from being the reason for it all weighing heavy on her shoulders, she knew it would be impossible. The only reason she was able to get a few hours was because of how exhausted and emotionally drained she was.

Killian is sleeping when she enters his ICU room to check on him. Her heart aches once more when she sees his battered face.

His breathing is normal but his lips are dry and cracked, a typical adverse reaction to surgery and fluid loss. She leaves only to search the nurse’s station for some medicated lip balm and returns with a small tin of it, sitting at his bedside.

Removing the cap, she makes tiny circles into the ointment to coat the pad of her finger. She spreads the ointment across his upper lip from one corner to the other and back again before moving to the lower lip, his breaths warm and even on her hand. She inhales sharply, remembering how soft his lips were just the other night after their date. This is hardly the time to recall the hot and heavy kiss they’d shared, but she had cataloged the taste of his mouth, the pleasant drag of his scruff across her skin and the softness of his tongue into her memory.

She has no idea what she would’ve done if she had lost him. Sure, she is still a bit angry at him for lying to her, but somehow, the threat of death had made her realize how much she had already cared for him in such a short period of time.

A few moments pass before she realizes she’s still touching his lips, following every contour over and over again, even though his lips are thoroughly moisturized.

She traces the seam just as he peels his good eye open, his intense blue gaze penetrating her soul, rendering her frozen and useless, her finger pausing. She sucks in a breath as she realizes his breathing becomes irregular, as opposed to how even it was before while he was asleep.

Groping for her, he gently grabs her wrist as if to keep her hand in place while he puckers his lips against the pad of her finger. Butterflies form in her stomach, and she wants to replace her finger with her lips, but before she can move, he’s already closing his left eye and drifting off to sleep again.

She releases the breath she’d been holding and slowly, regrettably, removes her hand from his.

~*~

“You know, I could kick your ass for almost dying on me.”

Killian tries to laugh but it hurts too much. It’s been five days since he was stabbed and he may be out of the ICU and he may be making progress, but he’s still not one hundred percent. “Nice to see you, too.”

David comes over to Killian’s bedside and grips his shoulder with one hand, his other one holding a sack. “I was going to say the same but damn, you look like shit,” he teases with a grin.

Killian closes his good eye. “According to the hospital staff that’s not possible,” he gloats, purposely leaving out Emma’s name, even though she was the only one who said those words, to his face at least.

David sets down the bag on the bedside table. “I figured you wouldn’t want to go back to your motel room after you’re released from here, so I checked you out. After the CSU team was done with it, I grabbed your things. There’s a change of clothes and toiletries, and Mary Margaret got you some pajamas since you don’t seem to own a pair.”

That’s because he doesn’t sleep in pajamas. But he refrains from saying so. He’ll wear them though. It will be far better than wearing a hospital gown. “What about my truck?”

“It’s in my driveway.”

“Keys?”

“In the bag, along with your wallet and phone.”

“Thanks, mate. You’re right, I don’t wish to step foot in that room ever again.” He still can’t get the horrifying image out of his head of that woman with a bullet in her forehead. To think, that bastard was on the other side of the bathroom door while he was in the shower. If Killian had known, he would not have failed at taking down Cassidy like Cassidy had failed at taking down Killian. Putting him in the hospital was not Cassidy’s plan. “And thanks for finding me when you did. I was told if I was found any later, I’d be dead.”

David plops down in the chair, inhaling a long breath, his expression growing serious. “I went to your motel room that night to apologize. I shouldn’t have been so hard on you.”

“Let me guess, the wife told you to say that?”

David pouts. “No. She doesn’t always tell me what to do.”

“Well, I admit, I was being a stubborn arse, wanting to do things my own way.”

“I won’t disagree with that,” David chuckles. “But as Mary Margaret says, your stubbornness is what kept you alive. How are your balls by the way? You kept whining about them like a baby when you were in ICU.”

Killian scowls at him. He was heavily medicated when he was in ICU, so he doesn’t remember much other than having an ice pack on his junk, but he does remember Emma applying lip balm to his lips the other night. He remembers the look they’d exchanged and he remembers her finger lingering on his lips. He also remembers her sitting with him and giving him sips of Sprite. She had been gentle and loving and he enjoyed seeing that side of her. “Just dandy. Wanna see?”

David holds up his hand and shakes his head. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Hey there, handsome. How are you feeling today?” Emma flashes Killian a smile as she enters his room.

Her smile immediately disappears when she rounds the corner of the small corridor and sees David sitting in the chair. The walls he had witnessed when he first met her go up so fast, it makes Killian’s head spin.

“Detective Nolan,” she says cordially.

David stands up to greet her. “Dr. Swan. How are you?”

“I’m fine. Just checking on my patient. You know, that’s what doctors do.” As she answers him, she does routine checks, pressing her stethoscope on Killian’s chest, quite aggressively, might he add. “How about you? Still interrogating innocent civilians?”

“It’s nothing personal. I was only doing my job. I’m sure you can appreciate not mixing business with pleasure.” He watches as she pushes aside Killian’s gown to examine his incision. “Unless you’re as personal with all of your patients as you are with Killian?”

Killian didn’t know how much venom one look could carry until now. He gets chills, and he’s not even the recipient of that look.

Emma puts his gown back in place, still scowling at David. “He’s my cousin’s brother-in-law. He’s family.”

Killian’s heart sags a little, even though he’s fully aware it’s more than that between them.

David crosses his arms, obviously not buying it. “Just like you passionately fighting for Cassidy’s acquittal, swaying the other jurors to change their minds and making sure he was freed from execution wasn’t personal either, right? Even though Liam was also family?”

Emma’s teeth are clenched, her jaw hard as she inhales a deep breath through her nose. She goes over, stepping a few inches in front of him. “Detective Nolan, I do not have to explain myself any further to—”

Something falls on the floor behind them, drawing their attention. “You fought for his acquittal?” Elsa’s voice is very faint but loud enough to catch the attention of everyone in the room. She stands there frozen with a big Ziplock bag full of cookies at her feet.

Emma’s face is white as a ghost as she gapes at her cousin. She obviously doesn’t know about the trial. “Elsa, I didn’t know he was Cassidy.”

“It’s true,” Killian chips in. “His real name is Neal Gold.”

“I don’t give a damn what his real name is. He’s done terrible things.” Her eyes dart to Emma, her brows furrowing. “He murders people for a living, and you fought for his acquittal?”

Emma rushes over to her, and Elsa takes a step back from her cousin. She picks up the bag of cookies and hands it to her. “There wasn’t enough evidence to prove he was guilty.”

“But David just said you changed the jurors’ minds. You didn’t just vote for his acquittal, you made sure he was freed.” She looks at David. “How long have you known my cousin was on the jury of this trial?”

His face clouds over with guilt, giving away his answer without words.

“And you didn’t think to mention it?”

“Elsa, I didn’t see the reason to put a wedge between you two.”

Emma scoffs incredulously as she turns to glare at him. “That is a load of horse crap if I ever heard it. You brought Killian back to Storybrooke to investigate me because you think I hired Cassidy to kill Graham!”

Now Killian is the recipient of Elsa’s icy glare.

“You knew about this, too?”

“Elsa, you know I would’ve told you, but we couldn’t tell anyone because it would ruin the entire investigation.”

He can see her putting the pieces together, and he swallows the hard lump in his throat. The one thing he feared after agreeing to help David was Elsa hating him when she found out.

Tears glisten in her eyes, and it makes his heart clench painfully knowing how hurt she is. “So that’s why you wanted to make things right between us? So you could use me to get to Emma? Is that why you guilted my sister into inviting you to her wedding?”

If he could stand up fast he would, but instead, he settles for sitting up slowly, and Emma rushes over to help him, taking his hand as he carefully swings his legs over the edge. Already out of breath, he looks up at Elsa, gripping the edge of the bed. “Making things right with you was long overdue. And I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner. But I had another chance to take down my brother’s—your husband’s—killer and I didn’t want to fail you this time.”

A tear escapes her eye as she glances between the three of them. “No, instead you lied to me. All three of you lied to me.” She walks over and plops the bag of cookies on the bed, along with a card she pulls from her purse. “Camila and I made these for you. I’ll tell her you loved them.” She spins around and marches out of the room.

“Elsa, wait!” Emma runs out, racing after her.

~*~

Elsa doesn’t stop until she reaches the elevator and presses the down button. Emma catches up with her just as the doors open, and she steps in behind her cousin. Elsa sighs as she punches the button for the first floor.

“Elsa, I swear, I didn’t know Neal Gold murdered your husband,” Emma breathes as she stands in front of Elsa, pleading with her.

“You told me already.” She crosses her arms and looks away at the elevator wall to avoid eye contact.

“Then what do I have to do to convince you of how sorry I am?”

Elsa shoots a glare at her. “So if you could go back in time and change things, knowing what you know now, would you still have fought for Cassidy’s freedom?”

“If I knew Neal Gold was Cassidy, I would have been excused from the jury because I would’ve told them he was a suspect to my cousin-in-law’s murder.”

Elsa obviously is not happy about her answer because as soon as the doors open, Elsa makes a beeline out of it, Emma hot on her heels.

“Elsa, please, can we just talk about this?”

As soon as they’re outside, Elsa spins around on her heels. “Okay fine. You wanna talk about it? Then tell me, would you or would you have not voted for Cassidy’s acquittal if you could have a do-over?”

“But I just told you—”

Elsa puts up her hand to stop her. “No. If you were not excused from the jury. It’s a hypothetical question, Emma.”

She nods and licks her lips as she thinks about her answer. Well, she already knows what her answer is, she’s just hesitant to say it. “Okay, if you want the truth, then I still would have voted for his acquittal. The evidence was lacking. And if I do recall, so was the evidence they had during the investigation of Liam’s murder.”

Elsa scoffs incredulously. “Oh, so now you don’t think he killed my husband?! Are you seriously kidding me right now?!”

Emma shakes her head. “I never said that. I only said the evidence was lacking. That’s why they couldn’t charge him with Liam’s murder.”

Elsa draws in a long breath, letting it out slowly, her voice much calmer when she speaks again, tears welling in her eyes. “I know you’re intelligent, Em. I know you’re skilled and you’re logical. You’ve worked so hard to be where you are, and you make a damn good surgeon. My brother-in-law is alive because of you…”

As touched as Emma is about the compliments, she knows there’s a big but coming next.

“But sometimes I wish you weren’t so smart and didn’t have to analyze every little detail. Sometimes I wish you didn’t have to do anything and everything to avoid your friends and family at all costs.” Elsa manages a small smile through a watery gaze. “I sometimes wish you would’ve gotten to know Liam more before he died and that you would’ve attended his funeral. Now I wish that more than ever because I think if you had, you would’ve never wanted his killer loose on the streets. Maybe then you would have opened your eyes during that trial and saw the monster Cassidy truly is. All of us can see it without the physical proof. I wish you could too.”

As much as Elsa’s words sting, she’s right about all of it. If she wasn’t so scared and closed off, she wouldn’t have dodged every opportunity to get to know Liam. To get to know her cousins more. To get to know her niece more. She wouldn’t have missed out on so much and maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t be so alone. Maybe she and Killian would’ve met each other much earlier. Elsa’s also right about Cassidy. If she had followed her gut instincts, then perhaps she would’ve voted differently.

Elsa steps closer and grabs Emma’s hands, taking her off guard. “This is coming from someone who hated the world for a long time after she lost Liam. Someone who avoided her brother-in-law for three years…I was an ice queen. I just hope one day you’ll be able to give that enormous brain of yours a rest”—she squeezes Emma’s hands before releasing them—“and just, for once, follow your heart instead.”

If Emma wanted to, she could argue all day about how following your heart is not always the better option. She had followed her heart once before, only to see it shatter to pieces. “I’ll find somewhere else to stay tonight.” She’s sure Elsa would insist on staying at her place if she knew Cassidy was stalking her, but honestly, she deserves the distance she knows Elsa wants from her. And Elsa deserves the distance.

“Okay. Tell Killian, I’ll come back to visit. I just need some space right now.”

Emma nods. “Of course.”

~*~

Killian’s heart cracks as he grabs the card and lies back in bed with David’s help. He hates that Elsa feels betrayed by the three of them, he hates that they had to lie to her. But he did it for her husband. He did it for his brother and he won’t apologize for that.

David releases a heavy sigh and grabs the bag of cookies, taking one out and biting into it. “Mm, Elsa and Camila make the best cookies.” He sets the bag on the bed tray.

Killian scowls at him as he opens the card. “Oi, those are for me. I’m the one who has to eat the crap they pass off as hospital food.” He smiles when he reads the inside of the card, which is in handwritten crayon, along with the little hearts drawn around the words:

Hope you’re feeling better, Uncle Killy.

Love, Camila

He’s touched that his niece made this card for him, and she is one of the many reasons he can’t let his relationship with Elsa slip away again.

“I guess that means Elsa won’t be inviting Emma back to her house tonight.”

Panic ripples through him. He hadn’t thought about that. Emma had mentioned she was staying with Elsa, which had comforted him because he knew she wasn’t alone and also because David had police parked in front of the house. “We need to protect her. She’s not safe alone.”

David lifts a brow. “She told you about the card?”

“What card?”

“The card you found in her bedside drawer. The one that says I’ve got a crush on you.”

“No, she didn’t say anything about the card.” He had tried to erase it from his memory, but the curiosity constantly ate at him.

“Emma said Neal broke into her house to give it to her, along with a vase of red roses.”

“What?” Once again, he wished he could sit up fast but his body would not allow that kind of speed. “And she didn’t report it?” Now it makes sense why she was so jumpy over roses. First the bouquet he brought to her before their date. Then the bouquet she received at the nurse’s station. When he’d asked about it after he was moved to a private room, she had told him they were from a grateful patient, but the fear in her eyes told him otherwise.

“She didn’t think anything could’ve been done about it, since nothing was stolen or damaged.”

“But someone broke into her house.”

“I know, but she has a knack for overanalyzing everything. And then she received a phone call from him.” David tells him Cassidy was harassing her and spying on her while she was in the bathtub like the fucking creep he is.

It’s a bloody good thing Killian can’t quite make it down the hall because otherwise he’d be out of this hospital and out for blood. He’d go to prison for murder of course, but it would be worth it knowing that piece of scum was no longer walking around on this planet.

“That’s how Emma found out about the stakeout and that you were in on it. Cassidy called her the night you went on that date with her. My guess is he got jealous when he saw you with her, so he ratted you out.”

Killian curses under his breath and then says out loud, “If he lays a finger on Emma, I swear to Gods…”

David narrows his eyes at him. “If you didn’t already know this, then why did you think she needed protection?”

“Because when Cassidy stabbed me, he told me she was his and that he was taking her away from Storybrooke.”

“Did he say it was Emma?”

“No, but I assumed as much since he said I was trying to take his woman.”

David flashes an offhanded smirk. “Well, are you?”

“This isn’t funny, mate. Emma’s in danger. Any word from the DA about Cassidy?”

David plants his hands on his hips and cocks his head. “What do you think?”

Killian sighs defeatedly. “I take it he thought I was full of crap when I said it was Cassidy who stabbed me?”

“Not in those exact words, but yes, he took your history with him into account. You holding a personal vendetta against him doesn’t help. It reduces your credibility.”

Killian doesn’t bother to argue any further at this point. On one hand, he knows he fucked things up after Liam’s death, but that doesn’t mean he’s happy about it.

“Well, I should get going,” David announces, placing a hand on Killian’s shoulder. “I’ll come back later with Mary Margaret and the boys.”

Killian manages a small smile and opens the bag of cookies, taking a bite of one. “I’ll be happy to see them.”

David heads for the door but turns around to look at him again. “I’ll check in on Emma later.”

“Thank you.”

But he doubts checking in on her is enough. He’s afraid Cassidy won’t stop until he gets his hands on her.

Now that he knows for sure Neal has been stalking her and is clearly obsessed with her, Killian is more anxious than ever to escape these hospital walls.

@everything-person @itsfabianadocarmo @snowbellewells @ilovemesomekillianjones @nikkiemms @teamhook @xhookswenchx @xsajx @julesep3026 @hookedmom @biefaless @cluttermind @yasbio2015 @kmomof4 @lfh1226-linda @harshini01 @noensnaringnet @xarandomdreamx @onceuponaprincessworld @annastasiarinaldiva @royalswan @brustudyblog @officerrogers @gingerchangeling @melly326 @singersdd @mzbossyboots @unworried-corsair @iamemmaswanjones @authorarsinoe @kingofmyheart14 @nightskylover @jamif @resident-of-storybrooke @iam2307 @winterbaby89 @chinawoodfan @mormonkryptonite @ultraluckycatnd @captainswan-shipper88 @killianswanjones @bethdacattfm @andiirivera

#cs ff #captain swan #beyond a reasonable doubt

9 notes · View notes

drarrily-we-row-along · 3 years ago

Text

Day 109: Coffee Shop

"I can't believe this actually worked," Ron said as he stared at the line of customers that was out the door and halfway down the sidewalk.

"You're starting to sound like your better half," Harry teased as he made a perfect latte for the customer at the end of the counter.

Ron laughed, "I'm sorry but I just couldn't have imagined that a coffee shop would work out in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes." He shrugged and snagged one of the scones Harry had made that morning, "I assumed that people would have thought we were trying to pull something."

"We need to hire some help," he said as Lee sent another half a dozen drink orders in his direction.

"Right," Ron said. "I'll post something."

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

Five days later, after the shop had closed, Harry started going through applications. "Seriously, Ron?" he asked. "Is this really the applicant pool? There are dozens of applications here."

Ron shrugged, "What did you expect?" he asked through a mouthful of pastry. "You're Harry Potter."

He groaned and continued digging through. "Wait," he said, pausing on an application. "Did you see this?"

"No," Ron said without looking up from sorting through the crate of potions in front of him.

"This application says Draco Malfoy," Harry said, brow furrowed as he read through the application in his hands.

"Bin it," he said.

But the further Harry read through, the more sense it made. "I'm calling him in for an interview."

(Read more below the cut)

Draco Malfoy came in the next morning before the shop opened. He actually arrived before Harry, in fact.

"Sorry to ask you here so early," Harry said, unlocking the door and gesturing for Malfoy to enter ahead of him.

"It's no trouble," he said, voice soft and a touch hesitant in a way that Harry couldn't have ever imagined. "Thank you for considering my application."

This wasn't the boy he'd known. "Sure," Harry said with a nod as he turned on the lights. "Can I get you a cup of coffee?"

"Oh," Draco said, sounding surprised, "Umm, yes please."

He started brewing the coffee, "So, why do you feel that you're qualified to work here?" Harry asked.

"Right," he said, "Sorry, are you actually interviewing me?"

"Yeah," Harry said, looking over at Draco, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Isn't that why you were here?"

The other man shook his head, "Yes, of course. I'd very much like to apply for the job, it's just," he glanced down at his hands, shaking his head.

"Just what?" he asked curiously.

Draco glanced up, "Just that normally people don't actually want to interview me." He looked down again, avoiding Harry's gaze.

He cleared his throat and changed tactics, "I saw on your resume that you'd completed your Potions Mastery. Wouldn't you rather work within your own field?" he asked as he poured two cups of coffee. "Do you take cream and sugar?"

"Just sugar," Draco replied. "May I be blunt?" he asked as he accepted the cup from Harry.

"Please," he said, nodding toward the tables.

Draco took a seat and crossed one long leg over the other. "I can't find work in anything to do with creating potions or health care. Not that I blame them," he hastened to add, "But people don't generally want to trust an ex-death eater with their health."

"You were cleared of all charges," Harry protested.

A sardonic little grin appear on Draco's face, "You underestimate people's capacity to hate."

"Well, anyone with a Potion's Mastery ought to be able to manage making coffees and doing a little baking," Harry said, deciding right then and there that he was going to hire Draco Malfoy if he'd have them.

Draco blinked, "Yes," he said quickly. "Yes, I can."

"It's full time," Harry said. "We're able to offer 2 galleons an hour-"

"That's above minimum wage," Draco said, obviously surprised, "That's fairly uncommon for people who work in cafes."

He shrugged, "Perhaps, but it's the right thing to do. And whoever is working will split the tips. We're looking for a bit of flexibility where the hours are concerned. Lee, Ron, George, and Angelina rotate through to help with the busier hours but the position we're hiring for would be to cover more of the hours including opening duties and closing duties on a rotating schedule."

Draco nodded eagerly, "Yes," he said. "Yeah. I can do that."

"Good." Harry nodded, "Great, in fact. When can you start?"

"Are you serious?"

"Yes." Harry said before he took a sip of coffee.

"Sorry," he said, shaking his head. "I can start any time. I can start today, if you'd like."

"I would like that very much," Harry replied. "The shop is only open for 8 hours, but we're in an hour before and an hour after so once you're trained in we'll stagger a bit."

"Thank you," he said. "Seriously, I don't even know what to say."

He gave him a smile, "Don't thank me yet. You haven't been through a morning rush." With a little chuckle he stood up, "Let me show you opening procedures."

"Alright," Draco nodded, standing up and following Harry back behind the counter. "Potter," he said hesitantly.

"Harry," he corrected, glancing over at him from where he was pulling out aprons for the two of them.

"Harry," Draco said, "Sorry."

"Stop apologizing," he said, "You're welcome to ask any questions you have."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Honestly?"

Draco nodded.

"Because you were the only applicant that I felt like wasn't going to be more trouble than you were worth."

He swallowed, "I feel it's only fair to warn you that I have a rather undesirable effect on business. I wouldn't promise that I won't be more trouble than I'm worth."

Harry couldn't help but smile at him, "What I mean is that you are the only candidate who wasn't applying simply because you wanted to get close to me." He patted Draco on the shoulder, "I trust you."

He was surprised to find that he was telling the truth.

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

Draco learned quickly. He was a good listener, he had a good memory of what repeat customers wanted, he was friendly and nearly always in a good mood, and he made food and drinks accurately. Harry couldn't have been more pleased.

They had the odd run in with people who didn't take kindly to being served by Draco but Harry was quick to nip that in the bud.

"I'm sorry," Draco said, after the first time Harry had kicked out a customer who had berated him."

"What on earth for?" he asked in befuddlement.

Draco was fiddling with his apron strings, "Chasing away your business-"

"Don't be ridiculous," he replied, "I have no interest in that sort of business," he bumped Draco's shoulder with his. "You're worth a hundred of him."

"Thanks," he whispered.

"Don't mention it," Harry replied.

----------

The longer they worked together, the more Harry liked Draco Malfoy. He was clever and funny, he worked hard, and he never made Harry feel like he was anything other than a guy who worked in a coffee shop. It also didn't hurt that he looked more attractive than anyone had the right to in slacks, an apron, and a button up shirt with rolled up sleeves.

One night, when Draco was supposed to have left a few hours before close but ended up staying because of how swamped they were, Harry couldn't help but blurt, "Can I get you dinner?"

Draco stopped wiping down the counter and turned to look at Harry, "You don't have to do that. I don't mind staying to help."

"Not because you stayed late," Harry said, "Just," he shrugged "because."

"Because?"

He nodded, "Because I like you," he confessed.

A delightful blush covered Draco's cheeks.

"I'd like to get to know you better," he said. "If you'd like?"

Draco smiled and nodded. "I'd like that very much."

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

Within a year, Harry's coffee shop inside of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes became Harry and Draco's coffee shop.

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

Day 108: Ideal | Day 110: Rough

#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #drarry #drarry ficlets #drarry drabbles #coffee shop au #fluff #sorry-i'm a little wine drunk while I'm writing this so I'm not sure how this turned out lol #falling in love #becoming friends #friends to lovers

299 notes · View notes

certified-sloth · 3 years ago

Note

Scenario: mc hating being jealous and the feeling of envy just bcuz and I quote "it's make me feel gross...and stuff"

*the brothers trying to make mc jealous by spending less time with them and hanging out with other people*

Mc unfazed: oh I didn't notice u were gone! Did u have fun atleast? Where they nice??

I'm not sure if they would really do that... but i'll try to relate it as much as I can

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Lucifer

Sighing in frustration, he frowns deeply at your awfully fake smile.

"MC, you do realize this is all related to my line of work. Of course I'd have to deal with it, as per Diavolo's orders." He tries to explain.

"Really? Like how it was Diavolo's orders for you to keep me 'alive' for the program? That's how we started out right?"

He groans and shakes his head in disapproval. "I didn't ask you to assess me like that. Clearly, you're accusing me of something I am not guilty of."

"We need a break. Then we'll talk about this once we both clear our heads."

He concluded, as he left you alone feeling as if you've drowned from disappointment.

Of course, the 1st born was a prideful demon. There's always a limit to his patience, and you were not an exception.

Mammon

He tries to explain it to you, but you wouldn't understand.

"Was I making you jealous? No! Can't you just stop jumpin' into conclusions? It makes me feel like you never trusted me..."

He does no good, but never had he done anything to try and hurt you purposely. If he did, then he's sorry.

This man is head over heels for you, and you still think he'd do something as far off to spend less time with you? Just for someone else?

The 2nd born may be a fool but he can be sensible at times.

"Then what were you doing with them?" You asked with a frown. He sighs and ruffles his hair.

"I was tryin' to ask them help with some gift for your birthday. I don't wanna ask my brothers since they're gonna scramble up ideas of their own gifts." He explained rather honestly.

You blinked, not sure if you should believe him or not. He's used these tricks on his brothers, what's the difference if it were you?

"D-don't look at me like that! I'm not lying! I wanted to surprise ya but I didn't want you to wrap your head in things that ain't true..." he stammered as he looked away with in embarrassment.

Sighing in defeat, you went to pat his head.

"I believe you... and, i'm sorry for doubting you too." You apologized and he glanced at you before letting out a chuckle.

"I mean ya ain't wrong with feelin' like this, at least now ya know how I feel when I see you with my brothers."

You laugh and nodded at his statement.

"Yes."

Leviathan

It clearly doesn't end well... you're glaring daggers at his back while he was playing a game.

He's a shut-in, sure he's still supposed to have the outside world's communication, but making you jealous? With a real person involved? Along with having to interact with them?

Now that's just not realistic. The most way he could make you jealous is to just talk about Ruri this and Ruri that. Nothing else.

You must be out of your mind to think he has the guts to pull in another normie when he already has you.

His Henry.

"I don't get why you would suddenly think someone like me can get anyone else... I mean there's my brothers, but me? I'm just not fit for that."

He frowns and hesitantly holds your hand, trying to ignore that fast pace of his heartbeat.

If it weren't for the background music from the game still viewed on the screen, you would've been able to hear his heart close to jump out.

He's been there. He's the literal avatar of envy, feeling jealous of others and what they have is his job.

So the fact that you're like this... he would've been happy that you feel jealous of someone that wants him.

But in reality, he knows how disgusting the feeling is. Instead he tries to talk you out with experiences like that.

It's a heavy feeling on your chest, as if you'd end up suffocating. Especially if the other had done nothing to assure your assumptions.

Slowly but surely, you and him end up creating a deeper bond by talking about those little moments and just end up laughing or get all embarrassed about it.

Satan

If you wish to accuse him, quit beating around the bush and tell him in a forward manner.

He doesn't read minds, but he's observant. He just wants to be sure of his conclusion as to why you seem upset with that fake smile of yours.

Your body language was enough to tell him what you were feeling, but he hopes you tell him honestly.

"Is this about the succubus I told you about the other day?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

When you didn't answer him, he took that silence as a 'yes'.

He sighs and leads you to the couch to stare at you seriously. If he wants this to be dealt with peacefully, both you and him will have to talk this out in a mature way.

"MC, she's been asking for tutoring. She has made her advances, but I declined. She was failing her grades so I had someone else to help her." He explained.

"So you didn't tutor her personally?"

"Of course not. I don't want to interact with someone who had actively showed their interest in me when they know I already have you." He assured with a smile.

He then noticed your shoulders slump slightly in relief and he chuckles at your sudden change of expression.

Tucking your hair from behind your ear, he offers to read this new book he just got from Akuzon.

Asmodeus

He's been staring at you almost offended of your accusation.

"Darling, I am the avatar of lust, surely you realized that whatever advances I make to others are merely fake." He assured, putting a hand on your shoulder.

"You're the only one, and every word I tell you are nothing but truth." He said sincerely as you look down, feeling lost.

He knew how it was hard to be with him. You're dating the embodiment of lust itself, surely it seems as if he's not into commitment.

But he tries, because you didn't love him for his looks. If ever you were to be insecure, whether you tell him about it or not.

"Did it seem as if I were neglecting you? I'm sorry, how would you want me to make it up to you?"

He only wishes the best for you, at this point, even the avatar of lust himself is hooked.

Beelzebub

Why are you looking at him like that as if he's done something much more horrible than yesterday?

You only frowned with how clueless he is and ended up telling him what was the matter.

He looks at you in distaste of your words. Shaking his head, he cleared that he thought you were mad at him so he decided to give you space.

"I didn't want to push in your comfort zone especially if you looked mad the other day... and the lady was the manager of the new restaurant that opened."

He smiles and picks you up. "I was asking for arrangements to take you there to cheer you up, i'm sorry."

You slowly look away, muttering an apology for misunderstanding. It's just that you've been insecure of your own capabilities.

And Beel had always assured you that there was nothing wrong.

"It's ok to be insecure MC, it's part of your humanity... from what Satan said, and I still love you this much. Please don't belittle yourself."

...ah, to think that a demon would acknowledge your self-worth more than you ever could.

Belphegor

Are you sure you hadn't dreamed of it instead? He hasn't even left the bed for two days.

"I'm not trying to spend less time with you, i'm sorry." He apologized sincerely.

Although he's half-asleep, he knows how you don't like feeling like this.

As he showers you with love, you clearly were stubborn to reject his advances.

He would've been mad that you didn't trust him enough to assume he was seeing others.

Nuzzling close to your neck, your back facing him as he held you close. Kissing your neck gently with soft apologies in between.

He already learned that one of you should yield in times like this. If you see him at fault, then sure, he'll accept it.

It went really bad when the both of you had stayed stubborn, he doesn't want to repeat it.

"It feels... disgusting." You whispered how you felt, taking hold of his hand as your consciousness was beginning to fail you.

You could feel him smile as he hummed softly on your neck. "I know, i'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that."

"I'll make it up to you tomorrow, but don't expect too much from me." He finished, and you've heard him clearly.

But your consciousness had already slipped away before you could answer as you slowly fell into deep sleep.

#request #writing ideas #obey me shall we date #om!#obey me scenarios #obey me imagines #obey me fic #obey me headcanons #lucifer obey me #mammon obey me #levi obey me #satan obey me #asmo obey me #beel obey me #belphie obey me

117 notes · View notes

spacexcowgirl · 4 years ago

Text

I’d Lie - G.W.

George Weasley x Reader

Summary: Y/N fell for her best friend, but she can’t let him, or anyone else, know that.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Alcohol usage/intoxication, swearing, mentions of food, LOTS of pining and unrequited love, I don’t think there’s anything else?

A/N: This is a song fic inspired by the wonderful unreleased song “I’d Lie” by Taylor Swift! mmmm this is my first fic without a *happy* ending and boy does that make me sad. But do not worry I quite literally already have a second part planned oops. Pictures are from Pinterest.

message to be added to tags :)

I don’t think that passenger seat

Has ever looked looked this good to me

He tells me about his night

And I count the colors in his eyes

Y/N distracted herself with her fingers, tangling and untangling them and cracking her knuckles. It was all she could do to stop herself from completely ogling the boy sitting beside her on the couch. He was positioned towards her, one leg bent at the knee and resting between them on the couch. His hands moved back and forth wildly as he spoke, recounting some story that had happened during quidditch practice that night.

“Are you even listening?” George cut himself off, his tone light. When Y/N snapped her head up to look at him, she found that he was smiling, but still he looked a bit offended.

“‘course I’m listening.” Y/N reassured quickly, her eyes finally meeting his. That was all it took, and suddenly she was being reeled into those chocolate brown eyes, drowning in their various shades and hues, with no way out.

Y/N wasn’t sure when her feelings for her best friend shifted from friendly to something more. It was as if one day his messy hair transformed from something to giggle and roll her eyes at to something to swoon over. When his pranks made her admire his genius rather than scold the disturbance they caused. When his incessant teasing shifted from mild annoyance to exuberant joy from receiving any attention from him. Of course, these shifts all happened slowly, over a period of time, but the realization of them hit Y/N all at once. She was head over heels for the boy, and she hadn’t even realized she had been falling.

If she didn’t know any better, she’d be convinced that someone was slipping her a love potion. Or, maybe, she just hoped that, because Godric would it be less embarrassing than the reality of things. Because the reality was, Y/N really had just fallen for George Weasley, no potions or gimmicks needed, and while she was irrevocably in love with him, he had no clue.

“Seems like you zoned out for a second,” George lightly nudged her with his elbow, although a glowing smile remained illuminated on his face. “What’s on your mind?”

“Just…” Y/N racked her brain for an excuse, something believable, because she knew George could always see right through her. “Just classes, I guess. Umbridge. All of it. I guess I’m just stressed out.”

“So you’ve been letting me carry on about quidditch?” George sounded shocked, but his teasing smile was comforting. “Please, love, if you need something to take your mind off things, you should’ve just said so.”

Without Y/N even having to tell him what she needed, he was up and off the couch, rushing towards the boys’ dormitory steps. Y/N only had a moment to furrow her brows, before George was rushing back down them with a jumper in one hand and a bag of sugar quills, her favorite, in the other. Y/N exhaled a deep sigh, before the involuntary glow and warmth overtook her. Because no matter how much she longed to only view George as a friend, everything about him permeated her subconscious, lamenting and solidifying his place as more.

He’ll never fall in love he swears

As he runs his fingers through his hair

I’m laughing ‘cause I hope he’s wrong

Y/N and George walked side by side down the corridor, laughter bubbling from both of their chests. Y/N adored moments like these, when she could forget everything for just a moment and just bask in the presence of her favorite person. Ultimately, they always were ruined by her feelings hitting her like a truck, or by someone coming to steal him away, so she always tried to live in those few peaceful moments for as long as she could.

George nudged her with his elbow after making a joke, and just as she was about to respond she noticed the change in his demeanor. He was no longer laughing, but instead a small smirk had appeared on his face as he nodded a few feet ahead of them. Y/N followed his gaze, her eyes landing upon his twin brother leaned casually against the wall. In front of him was Angelina, his girlfriend, rocking on her heels as she giggled at something he said.

“Sickening, aren’t they?” George prodded, shaking his head a bit as Fred swooped down to steal a kiss on her lips.

“I think they’re cute.” Y/N tugged her books into her chest, tilting her head to the side as she watched the love-stricken couple. Angelina could have a tough exterior, and Fred could be a lot to handle, but they just got each other so well. Y/N would never say it aloud, but she envied them.

“You would think so,” George scoffed lightly. “You don’t have to listen to him ramble on about her every bloody second of the day.”

“Maybe you’re just jealous.” Y/N teased, turning her body away from the couple to face George instead.

“Hardly.” George rolled his eyes, shifting his books into one arm. He slowly raked his fingers through his newly cut hair as he spoke again, entrancing Y/N entirely. “Love’s just not in the cards for me right now. Someone’s gotta worry about products, and about making Umbridge’s day as awful as possible.”

Y/N laughed at his joke, although she felt a little sting in her heart. Sure, he had said ‘right now,’ and perhaps that should have incited some hope in her, but it didn’t. It just made her chest ache. She knew it was foolish, but she couldn’t just drop it. She had to push on, test her luck and hope that George would offer her any sort of solace.

“Come on, I think it would be nice.” Her voice was quiet, and she found she suddenly couldn’t meet his eyes. “Someone you could share everything with? Yanno, they could just be like… your person.”

George seemed to mull over her words for a moment, before swinging his arm around her shoulder and continuing to push down the corridor.

“Well, I already have you for that, right?” George beamed down at her. “Why would I need a girlfriend? You’re already my person.”

Y/N was certain her heartbreak could be heard throughout the school.

He looks around the room

Innocently overlooks the truth

Shouldn’t a light go on?

Doesn’t he know that I’ve had him memorized for so long?

The party was in full swing, blinding lights and near deafening music. It was risky, what with Umbridge slinking around every corner, desperate to give students a detention, but they needed this. Something about this year felt different, and not in a good way, and Fred and George knew one of their infamous parties was just small way to lift spirits.

Y/N scanned the crowd of people, nursing sips of her firewhisky every few moments. Parties weren’t necessarily her thing, but she couldn’t deny that she needed to unwind. As her eyes finally fell upon their desired target, she couldn’t help the warmth that bubbled in her chest or the smile that involuntarily rose on her lips. Once George met her gaze, he shot her a wink and beckoned her over, and she was quick to oblige.

“Having fun, darling?” George rested his weight against her, clearly much more drunk than she was.

“A bit,” Y/N giggled. “Not as much as you, I reckon.”

“What’s that s’pose to mean?” George slurred, giving her a drunken pout.

“Nothing, nothing,” Y/N teased innocently, shifting her weight to better support the boy. She wrapped an arm around his back, using it to steady both him and her. “Maybe you should lay off the drinking for now though, what d’ya think?”

“Fineeeee.” George elongated the last vowel before grinning down at the girl. “Always taking care of me, aren’t you?”

Y/N hummed in response, a small smile of her own growing as she felt her cheeks begin to heat up. “What would you do without me?”

“Hm. Probably die. Fred’s doing, no doubt.” He leaned down to rest his head against the top of hers, shutting his eyes for a moment as he centered himself. “Honestly though, I’m really thankful for you. I don’t think I say that enough.”

Drunk George was always a bit sappy, but Y/N certainly wouldn’t complain. His words felt like a shock flowing through her nervous system, hitting every neuron and sparking her to life. Alternatively, she also felt completely useless in producing a response.

“Godric, I really do have the best friend in the world.” He hummed.

And just like that, the shock was sucked from her body and she was left feeling nothing but empty.

He sees everything black and white

Never let nobody see him cry

I don’t let nobody see me wishing he was mine

Y/N had searched for George for hours. After Gryffindors win over Slytherin, what should have been a wonderful celebration quickly went south. Y/N had watched from the stands as three team members held Fred back and Harry loosely clung to George, as both boys attempted to charge Draco. Of course, she couldn’t hear whatever he said that got the two so worked up, but from the look on George’s face she was certain it must have been bad. Everything seemed to move in slow motion once she saw Harry let go of George, and she watched with bated breath and wide eyes as he lunged at the Slytherin boy.

Of course, she had heard about the twins’ and Harry’s lifetime ban from Quidditch, and she knew George must be feeling awful now. So, she had to find him. Even if he didn’t want to see her, or anyone, she had to be there for him.

She had checked just about every spot in the castle she could think of, sighing profusely each time that she came up empty. Fred and George knew the hidden corridors and passageways of the school better than anyone, and she was certain he had used that to his advantage.

Just as she was about to give up, she decided to check one last spot that she knew of. She crept slowly up to the seventh floor, careful to make sure no one was following her. She paced back and forth three times, just as she had been taught, and breathed a sigh of relief when the door appeared. Quietly, she pushed it open, and her breath hitched in her throat when she caught sight of the familiar head of red hair. She had found him.

It didn’t appear he had heard her come in, and she used that to her advantage as she slowly surveyed the room. She felt her heart shatter into a million pieces as she took in the familiar sight of the burrow living room and heard George’s quiet sobs from his place before the fire. After the day he had, all he wanted was the warmth of his home.

“Georgie?” Y/N whispered quietly, letting the door shut behind her.

Immediately, George straightened up and wiped at his eyes. She had never seen him cry before, and she knew there was a reason for that. Fred and him both felt they had to be strong all the time, they had to be the ones cracking jokes and making people laugh even when it was hard for them. When he glanced back, his face was red and splotchy, but a forced smile was plastered on his face.

“Hey, darling.” His voice sounded scratchy, and it was clear it was taking all of his power to keep it together. Y/N could see that his lip was busted, illuminated by the fire, and she wanted nothing more than to cup his face in her hands and nurse him back to perfect health. “Reckon you saw the fight earlier?”

“Your lip…” Y/N spoke softly, approaching him with tentative steps. She didn’t have the capacity to answer his question, not when he looked so broken and beaten down.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” George swiped his thumb over his lip, and Y/N didn’t miss his slight wince. “You should see the other guy.”

“You don’t have to do that.” She finally reached him, taking her place beside him on the carpeted floor. “You don’t have to joke and pretend everything’s fine, not with me.”

George studied her for a moment before a shuddering breath left his lips. As the tears began to pool once more, he could no longer meet her eyes. And that killed her.

“I don’t know why I’m letting this get to me so much.” He spoke, sounding entirely disappointed in himself. “But, the things he said, about my mum, my family. And then Umbridge…” His words cut off as the tears began to roll down his cheeks once more.

“I’m so sorry, George.” Y/N reached out and gently cupped his cheek, allowing her thumb to brush a few tears away. When he leaned into her touch, her heart soared. “You don’t have to shut yourself off, though. I’m here for you, always.”

“I know.” His voice was soft as he squeezed his eyes shut, willing the tears away.

Slowly, Y/N leaned forward and brought her forehead to his, letting her eyes shut as well. Her hand drifted from his cheek to the back of his neck, gently playing with the hairs at the base of it. The action seemed to calm him a bit, so she continued to do it. By the light and warmth of the fire, the two sat in silence. Neither needed to say anything, they just wanted to be near each other.

“I love you, you know that?” George was the first to break the silence, not bothering to open his eyes or pull away from her touch.

“I know.” Y/N spoke quietly. “And I love you too.”

And Godric, did she mean it. But she was aware that they meant it in entirely different ways, and that George had no idea.

He stands there, then walks away

My God, if I could only say,

“I’m holding every breath for you.”

Months had passed since that night in the room of requirement, and while so much had changed, so much had stayed the same as well. Y/N had felt herself drifting from George everyday, and not because either of them wanted to. George and Fred were leaving, Y/N knew that, and they had to get everything in order to do so. So, Y/N had to push through everyday with him no longer constantly by her side, and she swore it was killing her.

A few nights prior, he had let her know that this was it, that him and Fred were really doing it. She had faked a smile, excitedly throwing her arms around his neck as she expressed how proud she was. And she was proud, but her chest ached and she swore she felt her stomach in her throat. It was selfish, sure, but she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to get through the year without him.

Now she stood in the corridor outside of the great hall, bouncing nervously on her heels as she watched him say his goodbyes to Lee. She had promised herself she wouldn’t cry, but there was already a stinging behind her eyes and she feared no matter how hard she tried to keep her emotions at bay, it would be futile.

When George finally turned and took a few long strides to where she stood, her fears were confirmed. Her tears spilled involuntarily as she threw herself into his arms, burying her face in his chest.

“Hey, none of that,” George pleaded softly, gently scraping his fingers up and down her back. “You know I’ll write the second that I’m out of here, and it’s only a short bit before you graduate and I see you again.”

“I know, it’s just…” Y/N sniffled, forcing herself to imprint the moment in her brain. She wanted to remember his scent, and the way it felt to be wrapped up in his arms, and the sound of his voice. Perhaps it was cheesy, or overdramatic, but Y/N could feel her heartbreaking by the second, and holding onto ever piece of him that she could was the only thing keeping her together. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, darling.” George chuckled softly. He pulled back slowly, planting his hands on her shoulders as he looked down at her. “You’ll be out of here before you know it, I promise.”

“You’re right, I know.” Y/N sniffled, wiping at her tears before finally meeting the boy’s gaze. The look he was giving her made her knees weak, and she found herself wanting to spill all of the contents in her heart to him.

He studied her face for a moment longer, but then Fred was calling his name and they both knew it was time. He gave her shoulders a soft squeeze and pulled her into a hug one last time, placing a kiss to the top of her head. Nothing further needed to be said, so he gently ruffled up her hair and gave her a reassuring smile, before turning back towards Fred and beginning to walk away.

The moment was ending, he was really leaving, and she hadn’t told him how she felt. Her heartbeat started to pick up, and her palms began to feel sweaty, because it felt as though it were now or never. She wanted to tell him. She had to tell him.

“George!” She called out, causing him to halt and whirl back around.

“Yeah?” He smiled warmly at her, a few paces ahead.

As she gazed into his blissfully unaware chocolate brown eyes, she found that she just couldn’t. She couldn’t drop this on him, not on one of the most important days of his life. So, she bit down on her lip before shaking her head and forcing a smile.

“Give us a show, yeah?”

“Always do.” George winked.

And just like that, he walked away. And Y/N was left feeling entirely empty.

First thought when I wake up

Is “My God, he’s beautiful.”

So I put on my make-up

And pray for a miracle

Months had passed since the fateful day that the Weasley twins left Hogwarts behind. Just as Y/N had predicted, her time left at the school dragged on horribly. Umbridge only seemed to get worse, even in the twins’ absence, and George was no longer there to comfort her. Still, she pushed through.

After graduation, Y/N was quick to get a job at a coffee shop in Diagon Alley, figuring she’d save up her money while she determined what she wanted to do. It wasn’t the worst job, but with the Wizarding World getting darker by the day, she felt constantly in fear. Still, George was close by, and she once again had him for comfort.

Most nights she’d crash on the twins’ couch, finding it easier to get up in the early mornings and go in to work than staying with her parents in the suburbs. Which usually meant waking up to George preparing breakfast, sleep thick in his voice and his hair still messy. And Godric, was he beautiful like that.

“Sleep well, darling?” George rasped out, a sleepy smile on his face. Y/N wrapped her arms around herself as a small yawn left her lips.

“Mhm.” Y/N hummed, leaning in the doorway of their kitchen. “You?”

“Pretty good.” George grinned, sliding a mug of tea down the counter towards her. Like always, he had made it perfectly to her liking. Y/N cupped the mug in her hands, letting the warmth slowly spread throughout her body and wake her up. “Think I might stop by the cafe on my break, pick up some pastries and coffee.” Just as he finished his sentence, Fred tiredly stumbled into the kitchen.

“You can just say you want to come see me, Georgie.” Y/N teased.

“It’s not just you he wants to see.” Fred winked at the girl, causing her brows to furrow.

“Oi, shut it, Fred.” George glared at his brother.

“What do you mean?”

“He hasn’t told you about his little crush?” Fred smirked, ignoring the daggers being shot his way. “Elizabeth, that girl that works with you. Georgie fancies her.”

Suddenly, even the mug in Y/N’s hand felt ice cold in her grasp. Quickly, she placed it back down on the counter, fearing she would drop it and let it shatter to the ground. A bit of hot tea sloshed out of the mug, scalding her hand and forcing her mind away from her breaking heart.

“Shit, are you okay?” George had already hurried towards her, but Y/N was quick to brush him off.

“‘m fine, I, uh, should just go get ready.”

Y/N didn’t give the boy’s time to question her change in demeanor, but rather quickly gathered her overnight bag and hurried to the bathroom, locking herself inside. She cast a silencing charm before slowly sliding down the wall, allowing herself to sob freely.

Just as she always knew, she’d never be what George wanted.

I could tell you his favorite color’s green

He loves to argue, oh, and it kills me

His sister’s beautiful, he has his father’s eyes,

And if you asked me if I love him

I’d lie

Y/N felt in a daze that entire day at work. She made drinks, rang customers up, and wiped down counters, but she was unable to think about anything other than the revelations of that morning. Of course, Elizabeth was the only other person working with her, and while she normally adored shifts with the girl, she couldn’t find it in herself to even crack a smile at her. It wasn’t Elizabeth’s fault, of course, and she would never purposefully take it out on her, but Y/N just didn’t have the energy to try that day.

When lunch time rolled around and Y/N knew George would be arriving soon, she busied herself with meaningless tasks, intent on avoiding him and saving her heart any extra heartbreak, at least for the time being. She offered him a small smile when he entered, then ultimately let Elizabeth take his order.

As they chatted, Y/N noted the way he lit up with every giggle he pulled from her lips, and she swore she could hear her heart shattering. When he finally left, coffee and pastries in hand, he called out a quick goodbye to Y/N, but she only offered a small nod in return.

“Godric, he’s charming.” Elizabeth sighed, coming to lean beside Y/N. “You two are friends, yeah?”

“Mhm.” Y/N didn’t look up from the sugar packets she was organizing, watching as her hands shook slightly.

“Well, tell me about him!” Elizabeth urged, nudging Y/N with her elbow. “Is he seeing anyone?”

“No,” Y/N sighed, finally forcing herself to look up after finishing her task. “What do you want to know?”

As much as it killed her, she knew what she had to do. George deserved to be happy, and she was his best friend, so she had to help him get there. George would never want her the way she wanted him, and maybe seeing him with someone else would help her get over that fact.

“Anything. Everything.” Elizabeth beamed, her perfect smile on full display.

“Well…” Y/N sighed, gathering her thoughts. “He has a twin, Fred, and they run the joke shop that just opened down the way. He’s a middle child, sort of, I mean Fred is technically the middle child but that’s just because he was born a few minutes earlier. They’ve got three older brothers, then a younger brother and sister. His favorite colors green, but if you ask him he’ll say it’s orange because of his hair. Um, he was shit at potions, but I think that was just because he hated the professor, because really he’s a genius. Oh, and he’s the funniest guy I’ve ever met, which I tell him all the time but cannot say in front of Fred. I don’t know, I guess he’s just about the best person I know, honestly.” Y/N sighed, finishing her rambling with a forced smile.

“Merlin,” Elizabeth stared at Y/N, wide-eyed. “Sounds like you’re in love with him.”

“No, really I’m not. We’ve just been best friends forever.” Y/N laughed, the lie tumbling easily from her lips.

Because that’s what she had to do, that’s what she’d always done. To keep George in her life, to make things easier, she kept her feelings close to her heart. And no matter how much it killed her, she would continue doing it. If that’s what it took to see George happy, that’s what she’d do.

She’d lie.

TAGS: @theweasleysredhair @letsgotothehop @wand3ringr0s3 @sarcasticallywitty15 @mischiefisbeingmanaged @gcdricreads @destourtereaux @thisismysketchbook @george-fabian-weasley @evermoreweasley @amourtentiaa @lunalovecroft @sunshineandshadowss

#george weasley x reader #george weasley fanfic #george weasley x you #george weasley x y/n #george weasley

453 notes · View notes

parkers-gal · 4 years ago

Text

why T.H.

wc: 6k (angst)

jerk!tom makes an appearance

You were angry, that was for sure. Tom knew why, it was his fault after all, but he'd never admit it. He would never 'man up' to you and just apologize like he should. At least, not when he should, but he would later, when the damage was already done and set in.

Truth be told, you were furious. How could he do that when he promised not to? You were more hurt than angry, if you were being honest. You didn't want to be the 'mother' but quite frankly, you were disappointed too.

It was your dream to own a bakery, but a bakery in London was something to get your hopes up. Dreaming big never ended well for you in the past, but after years of working your ass off, you had managed to achieve something you had wanted since you were young.

Your bakery, Flour Before Frosting, also happened to be where you met Tom, your boyfriend of almost 18 months. He had walked in one day, charming with a dashing smile, and asked for "your best made velvets, frosted with your number." You remember that day vividly, for it was one of the many times Tom would drop by before eventually taking you out and officially making you his girlfriend. Eight months and 17 days later, you moved out of your crappy flat and into his house (though it really just made things easier because you were already over every night).

You were in your shared bedroom, writing down new plans for how to decorate your bakery for the holidays.

"Hey, babe!" Tom called.

"In here, Tom," you yelled back.

"Oh- hey, luv. Got an old friend visiting next week, so I won't be by for our Wednesday lunch plans," he informed you.

"Oh, okay. Do you want some cupcakes and tea? Gonna have a new batch on Tuesday, fresh with new tea that Jackson just got. I think he made it- anyways, he gave me a sample a few weeks and I absolutely loved it. I think you'll like it too, it's just right for you." You rambled, and Tom laughed and shook his head at you.

"Yeah, darling. I'd love some cupcakes for my guest, gonna have to show off your amazing skills, aren't I?"

You blushed, waving your hand in the air as a hint for him to leave so he would stop flustering you. He ran over to kiss your cheek, leaving a Hershey kiss on your desk before yelling out that he'd be at the gym with Harrison for the next two hours.

Wednesday had come by, and you were on a lunch break, leaving Jackson in charge before heading to your favorite café for coffee and some light reading, and maybe even more planning. Heading in, you ordered and sat down in a booth. The door chime rung, making you look up from your papers and notebooks you had spread out to start your organizing. Tom, and what must've been his friend, walked in. You smiled as they went to the side of the restaurant with the small library of old, vintage books. They were facing away from you, sitting side by side in the angled lounge chairs. You were about to go over to and say 'hi' but your waitress came by with your coffee, so you stayed seated and went back to your work.

You saw Tom with the Tupperware box you gave him, enclosed with the small lunch note you always wrote him. He opened the box, giving a cupcake to the man talking to him (you were right in earshot), before reaching in for his, and the note. Before he got the chance to even look at it, his friend spoke up, frosting on his upper lip.

"You said these were made by a friend? This is fucking disgusting. Is it chocolate or..? Damn, ew, is this frosting healthy?" he laughed.

Tom nodded along, "I, uh, honestly couldn't uhm.." he trailed off, his friend looking at him with a confused expression, expectantly thinking for Tom to agree with him. "Yeah, man, I don't really fucking know."

His friend took another small nibble before playfully gagging, and looking at Tom while he bit into it for the first time. Tom reacted in the same way, 'gagging', to agree with his friend, before putting it on the table with his friend's cupcake.

"Who made that? Certainly wasn't Gordon Ramsey."

At this, Tom laughed. Whether he thought it was funny, or if he was just trying to ease the tension, you couldn't tell. You were too busy blinking tears away.

"You said you had tea?" he questioned Tom. Tom nodded. "Good, need something to wash away that disgusting thing people call a cupcake."

You cringed, turning your head to the side with squinted eyes because you truly couldn't sit there and listen to what someone thought was wrong with your life's work.

Tom didn't reply, just getting the tea in the thermoses in his bag, handing one to his friend while opening his. You were contemplating on if his lack of response was a good thing. On one hand, he wasn't completely encouraging the hate you were getting, but on the other hand, he didn't stick up for you either. Right now, that was all you could think about. But then, everything slipped your mind when both boys tried the tea you had specially made (early, for it wasn't to be sold in your shop for about another month) just for them.

Tom opened his thermos, smiling when he took a sniff at it, because you were right. It smelt like something he would love. His friend, however, would not agree. Taking one sip, he was just as rude about it as he was with the cupcake, going as far as spitting it back into the thermos.

He got up, taking both cupcakes with him, and dumped the thermos out in the trash can, the cupcakes following not long after. He sat down next to Tom, shaking his head with a coy grin before speaking.

"Next time, let's get Chinese or something," he laughed, Tom nodding along with him before slipping both thermoses back into his bag, dropping your note in the process. Before he got to pick it up, his friend crumpled it up and threw it towards the trash can, laughing probably a little too loudly about it. You were certain he knew it was a note from Tom's girlfriend.

You were still for five minutes, stunned. Ultimately, you decided to cut your lunch break short, packing up your stuff as quickly as possible, leaving a tip and rushing out, your back to the boys.

You had yet to bring anything up, though you weren't noticeably acting different around Tom. But when he mentioned the next week that his 'old friend' wanted to "eat dinner and get drunk" you were hesitant. You hoped this 'friend' was temporary, because the effects were already starting to show, and you didn't like what they were.

Tom didn't tell you when he'd be out with, Andrew, he said his name was? but you didn't think it would be the immediate week after the cupcake incident.

You were sitting on the kitchen stool, jotting down ideas for your shop when he came in.

"Oh, Y/N! Andrew and I decided to go out this Friday, said something about clubbing or shit. Anyways, he said don't expect me home early, but I might sneak away if he's drunk enough," he said, rather quickly, for while he was talking, he was filling a water bottle and grabbing some fruit.

"Wait, this Friday? I thought we-"

"Thanks, Y/N! Gotta head out," he was practically yelling, running to kiss you on the cheek before racing out and slamming the door shut.

Did he mean this Friday? His only day off for the rest of the month, the one where you two planned a film night, with take away and late night talks and star walks in the park?

It was only eight o'clock on a Wednesday morning, your late opening day, but you decided to head in early. Walking in, Jackson had already opened for you, being the gentleman he is, just setting up for the day, knowing you didn't want to walk in to a store full of customers without being there. He was sitting at a window table with his boyfriend, Jeremy, giggling and eating a muffin. When the door chime rung, he looked up, his boyfriend turning around to smile and wave while Jackson was coming towards you.

"Hey, Y/N! We're a little short on shortbread today," he laughed at his pun, "so I put in a new batch about 20 minutes ago. The chalk board is set up and the cappuccino machine is on-" he was about to turn away before he stopped abruptly. "Oh! And Tom stopped by while I was in the back. Jeremy said that he wanted you to know something about not eating cupcakes for this new diet? I don't know, he mentioned something about Anthony telling him about some diet that would help fo-"

"Andrew!" Jeremy cut in from behind, correcting him.

"Right, Andrew told him it would help for his job. So he said to stop making his weekly order."

"Oh," you weren't quite sure what you could say. Thank you? What the fuck? It was all jumbled into your brain too fast. "Thank you, J. Well, guess we should open shop for the day." With that, you worked until seven-thirty, an hour later than you usually would.

Arriving home, you walked in and set your bag down, heading for the kitchen to get water. Mid-drink, Tom walked in.

"Why are you home so late?"

You swallowed, placing the cup down, "I was working," you deadpanned, maneuvering around him so your shoulder wouldn't hit his on your way out. He followed you into the living room.

"It's almost 8!"

"Yeah? I don't know what you want me to say, Tommy. I'm sorry? I'll tell you what you want to hear, but that doesn't mean I mean it. "

He was silent for a second, laughing slightly, seemingly letting it go. You weren't joking, but you didn't want to argue, yet. "Right," he laughed again, "Sorry. I did want to talk to you though."

"We are talking."

"Smartass," he joked. You giggled slightly. "I've got to go back to press next week. I leave on Tuesday." You stopped laughing.

"For how long?"

"I'm always gonna be away for the same amount of time, Y/N, you know that. I'll be back mid October."

October? It was only the beginning of April.

"Well, I'll be back in London for a few days in July so you'll have that. Press ends around September, but I need to finish up Chaos Walking. I'll be here for Halloween though," he smiled encouragingly.

You nodded. "Okay.. do great things, Tommy," you always told him.

Friday rolled around, and you you were going to close the shop early for your night with Tom, but he was going out, so your plans were out the window. Instead, [your best friend] would be coming over at around eight. Tom would be gone by that time, right?

It didn't matter, because he wasn't even home when you got back from work. It was barely seven, you two usually had dinner together. Well, not this past week because he had plans with Harrison, and his brothers, and Andrew, and Tuwaine...and practically everyone else. Seeing as you had about an hour, you decided to shower, changing into some casual clothes. Tom was going clubbing... he wouldn't be back before 4 A.M., right? You didn't care, [your best friend] would spend the night anyways. You had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

You were wearing a cute tank, your favorite sleepwear, and some loose sweat pants. You were drying your hair with a towel when the doorbell rang. It rang again, so with the towel in your hand you ran down the stairs, yelling, "just a second," but it rang again. You swung the door open, confused, because [your best friend] always came in unannounced because you two were completely comfortable with each other. Instead, you were met with the boy from the cafe, Andrew. You looked around, and saw Tom's car parked by the curb, Tom waiting in the driver's seat while talking to someone in the back.

"Hey, Tom texted you or- whatever. We're going clubbing, can you get his stuff?"

"Uhm.. stuff?"

"Yeah.. he said you'd put his stuff inna backpack so he could get ready at my place," he answered confidently, as if you knew about this.

"I'm- uh, sorry? I don't have anything," you answered.

"What?" his eyes were wide with annoyance and disbelief.

The car honked, and Andrew turned around, shrugging his shoulder and mouthing something to Tom, before Tom came out and up to you.

"Didn't you get my text, Y/N? About the stuff sitting on my dresser?" he asked, straight up without so much as a 'hello' or 'how're you?'.

"No, I- no. No I didn't get your text, Tom."

"Well-"

"Well?" you interrupted.

"Thanks for, nothing I guess," he responded, moving past you and into the house to retrieve his things. Once again, you were left with Andrew on your porch, only this time he was eyeing you up and down, winking at you before yelling to Tom and going back to the car, Tom following not long after. This time, he didn't even bother saying goodbye on his way out. Just as they drove off, [your best friend] walked up.

"What the hell was that?" she shrieked.

"What?"

"That whole, 'thanks for nothing' bullshit. What kind of boyfriend thinks he can say that to his girlfriend?!"

You started heading in, taking one of her bags with you as she followed you inside. Placing her things down, you turned around, giving her a bear hug which she gladly returned.

"It wasn't that bad. Besides, he's been worse this week," you explained.

She was silent for a moment, shaking her head before talking. "Okay, I see why you called for a girl's night on such short notice. C'mon, lets get changed into some pajamas and get the snacks ready. It's been far too long since we've had actual time with each other," she gave you a sentimental smile, soft and sweet. You nodded, already planning on what to get and where to make the fort of blankets you already knew she wanted.

About half an hour later, she was in comfortable clothes, and you were in the kitchen making hot chocolate, getting chips and dip and pretzels and candy and everything in between. You had both decided to use the guest bedroom, which was accompanied with it's own bathroom. The room was probably a little smaller than the master bedroom, which was normal, but the bathroom was more expensive than yours. Plus, this one was used when the boys came over, so the Xbox, all the video games, movies, and the music equipment was here. Even with all this expensive stuff, the room was still as big as ever, so putting a fort in front of the bed barely took up any space.

You had to make at least three trips for all the food and stuff you were bringing, and because this was a guest bedroom, it had a mini refrigerator. Both of you decided to keep it pg-13, no alcohol or rated-R movies. Tonight, it was a Disney marathon with hot cocoa. At around 11:30, you had just finished your third movie, Beauty and the Beast, when [your best friend] stopped the ending credits and turned to you.

"Before we watch anything else," she turned to you while you did the same, "let's talk. We can fall asleep watching Disney, but we can't fall asleep and keep talking," you interrupted her, laughing, before nodding away. "So.. what's going on? With Tom, I mean, because you mentioned that he was worse earlier this week than he was today, and tonight he was pretty nasty so I mean- yeah, what else has he done?"

You paused, looking down and sighing, giving in. "Well, it started with Andrew, some 'old friend' he wanted to catch up with. I gave Tom some cupcakes and tea from the shop to eat with him. I was on my lunch break when the boys came into the same cafe and started eating. They didn't like it and- well.. they sorta threw it out after gagging about it," you said. Her eyes went wide. "I don't know, [best friend's nickname], I mean at first I was stunned, hurt obviously because it seemed to be on purpose because Tom knows I always go to that cafe on my lunch break. Is it a coincidence that he came to the same cafe at the exact same time I have my lunch break?"

You went on to explain how Tom had cancelled two dinner dates and a movie night within the past two weeks, and that he was going clubbing without inviting you, cancelling his weekly cupcake order and calling you clingy after you texted him about making sure he ate dinner. Not to mention he only just mentioned him leaving next week on a press tour, and spending his only day off with Andrew even though you two had planned spending that day together for a month.

By the time you were done listing off all the reasons, you were sobbing into [your best friend's] chest, trying to catch your breath. It was too late though, because Tom wasn't here and the events leading up to an attack like this could have only been noticed by him, seeing as [your best friend] wasn't here to see them herself. You couldn't hear anything, your pounding heart being the only thing filling your ears. [Your best friend's] attempt to calm you down wasn't working, resorting to the breathing exercises which were slowly drowned out. You could't even get a breath in. The realization hit you: if you didn't take control, you would faint. You had never had an attack this intense in at least four months, so everything needed to help you would take too long to get.

You gripped her arm, unable to focus on anything except for the fact that you were going to faint.

"I'm here, Y/N, I'm right here. It's going to be okay, right? We're gonna work things out. Yeah? Everything's gonna be alright. We're gonna be alright. We'll be alright," she cooed.

You blacked out, only for about two minutes, but you did. When you woke, you sobbed again, finding a steady breath before completely crushing [your best friend] with a hug, gripping her tightly.

"Thank you," you whispered.

She got you settled, convincing you to snack lightly before brushing your teeth, making sure you drank water. The fort was ready, untouched since your movie marathon, so you both climbed in and fell asleep watching Disney.

Four hours later, it was four o'clock in the morning, and the front door slammed shut.

"Y/N!" Tom slurred, dragging out the last syllable of your name. "Y/N!" he repeated, the same way but louder. "Where the fu-! OH! OW!" he screamed.

You and [your best friend] were already starting to sit up, confusion spreading across your faces before she got up, following her directly after. She opened the bedroom the door, and you stepped out, making your way down the stairs and seeing Tom sitting on the ground, missing a shoe with a rip on his shirt sleeve.

"There you are! I wus at the club a-and Andrew and I were hanging out and he took home some girl- he said if he was getting laid that I should come home and get laid by my lame-ass girlfriend, so come here! Fuck me!" he slurred, talking too loudly for your liking.

"Did you just call her a lame-"

"Tom, you're drunk. Go to bed," you cut her off, knowing how protective she would get. Honestly, you wanted her to scream and shout and yell at him, and you wanted to join her. But if you were going to, you wanted him to be completely sober so the guilt would really sink in.

"No wonder you're a lame-ass," he muttered.

"What was that?" [your best friend] yelled.

"Nothing! I'm going up to bed, see?" He looked at both of you before running up the stairs like a kid.

You both stood there, a little hesitant, before going up the stairs, talking on your way.

"Y/N, I swear if you hit him, you better knock some sense into him because that boy is so ridiculously stupid and undeserving of your love."

You laughed, growing quiet because you were beginning to think she was right.

The next morning, you and [your best friend] got up at nine to make pancakes and bacon, your usual sleepover breakfast. The speaker was playing One Direction, both of you singing and slightly dancing when Tom came downstairs, disheveled and hungover.

It was Saturday, his last Saturday with you, but it had taken him too long to get interested in hanging out with his girlfriend. "Hey, Y/N. Wanna do something today?" he asked.

[Your best friend] looked at you, but you had already made up your mind. "Sorry, Tom, [your best friend] and I are going shopping together. Next time, though," you said, before putting your dishes in the sink and slipping out of the room, [your best friend] following you out.

That night, you and your best friend departed ways, telling her you'd call and let her know when she could come over again. You got home, and decided to put your new things in the guest bedroom, because your clothes from last night were still there. The mess, luckily, was cleaned up thanks to [your best friend], who convinced you to help with the cleanup.

It was nearly ten-thirty by the time you got situated. You were in a new set of pajamas, sitting in front of the tele in the guest bedroom on the floor, looking at all the new things you bought. You found this super cute sweater, and a pair of jeans [your best friend] insisted on buying for you. You also found a pair of shoes to go with an outfit you had planned in your head; it was perfect. People say your looks shouldn't matter, but you felt good when you looked good, so you loved fashion. Overall, you and [your best friend] must have spent at least $800.

At around 11, you heard footsteps running around the house, before Tom came into the guest bedroom.

"What're you doing in here? Aren't you gonna sleep in our room?" he looked worried.

You lowered the shirt you were looking at, making eye contact. You hesitated, "I- yeah... Yeah I guess."

"You guess?"

You just shook your head, trying to be playful with it, but ending up avoiding his gaze all together and going back to looking at your new things.

"Y/N?"

You looked up, "Yeah?"

He looked -- surprised almost? There seemed to be a glint of hurt in his eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked.

You nodded, getting up and setting the shirt back in its bag, "C'mon, lets just go to bed."

He mumbled an agreement, turning around and walking to your bedroom. You left the guest room, closing the door and going into your room. It was weird-- to even consider it your bedroom, because you hadn't slept in it for about three days. The last time you did, Tom wasn't with you. Was it normal? Did all couples go through things like this? You didn't have much time to dwell on the thought, because you were already under the covers, sleep consuming you before Tom got the chance to talk to you about anything.

It was almost noon when you woke up on Sunday. Rolling over, you felt Tom's side of the bed empty. The feeling of the cold sheets didn't come as a surprise to you, he was gone every time you woke up even though he didn't start filming until around 10 A.M. . It was different this time, because it was your last weekend together. He was always at home on the weekends he wasn't away filming.

You pulled the covers off you, walking downstairs into the kitchen where you were met with Tom and Haz, quietly whispering things to each other. You didn't get to listen long, for both boys shot up and stood straighter, smiling to you. You just looked at them, slightly rolling your eyes before grabbing some juice and heading back into the guest bedroom.

When you came down ten minutes later for breakfast, both boys were talking normally again.

"Just talk to her, alright man?" Haz spoke.

"What am I supposed to say man? I can't just go up to my girlfriend and tell her I'm fucking pissed at how she's been ignoring me. Not gonna be rude like her-"

"Woah- woah woah, Tom. She's not that rude. Just have a civilized conversation with her. It's easy, you're just overthinking it."

"Okay.. okay, yeah- yeah," he stuttered, turning around on his heal but abruptly stopping when he saw you standing in the doorway. His jaw dropped, noticing your anger immediately.

"Maybe I should go-" Harrison started.

"No, no don't bother. I'll go, it's obvious you both want it."

You turned around, going up to Tom's bedroom and getting a change of clothes, immediately putting on your jeans and the rest of your outfit, before Tom came barging in.

"No- Y/N, I'm sorry. Please, let's talk," he begged.

You ignored him, getting some more clothes, enough to last you two days, before going into the bathroom for your makeup bag and some deodorant. Going back into the closet, you grabbed your work backpack, making sure all your notebooks and journals were in it, before shoving the things you had in to join them.

"Y/N, please. I- listen to me, please. I'm sorry, let's just talk. Talk it through, yeah?" he asked.

You looked up, talking rather emotionless. "No. We can talk when we've both thought our shit through, although I thought it was only you who needed to get their shit together, but obviously I was wrong. I'll be back after work on Monday, if you're even here to notice." With that, you moved past him, grabbing your phone and texting [your best friend], picking up your keys from it's hook and heading for the door. Haz was standing in the living room, and when you passed him he gave you a sentimental look, but you payed no mind as you glared him down, opening the door and slamming it in Tom's face, for he was downstairs too late.

About 10 hours had passed since you left, and Tom had only thought about you for two of them. Andrew and 'the gang' had called him, insisting that him and Haz join them for some fun. Tom had reluctantly agreed, much to Harrison's dismay.

At around eleven o'clock, Tom had had enough 'fun'. The guilt in him was killing him, but his anger for you was killing him even more. Telling Haz he'd be heading out, he drove home, getting into bed and thinking about what you'd talk about when you got back.

Monday had passed, and you were doing better than you thought you would be. You opened shop about 30 minutes early that Monday morning, knowing it was better to keep yourself occupied. It was [your best friend's] week off, so she offered to come with you to work, and 'volunteer' almost. She had quite some experience in waitress-ing , so you gave her that job. Around noon, Tom came into the shop, and [your best friend] called out, "Incoming, [your nickname]."

You looked up from the cappuccino machine, turning around to face the door Tom had just entered. The minute you saw him coming towards you, you spoke. Luckily there weren't that many people around who didn't know you, so they didn't react when you yelled at Tom.

"Get out."

"I just wanted to-"

"Get OUT!" you yelled, louder when Tom didn't listen to you.

He moved forward, leaving a Hershey kiss near the cash register, looking to you for your reaction. You picked it up, and threw it to [your best friend], who unwrapped it and ate it herself. He left after she pointed towards the door.

When you closed shop, you decided to head home, seeing as he was leaving tomorrow and you had obviously thought a lot about what to do. The only option, really: talk it out.

Walking in, you placed your bag by the door and went to get some water in the kitchen. Tom was standing there, staring into space. He noticed you come in, and immediately stood up straighter, obviously becoming more aware of his surroundings.

"Are you- are we talking now?"

"I'm here, yeah. Let's talk," you answered setting your cup down.

"What's your problem?" he asked. You looked at him like he was crazy, so he went on. "I mean, these past few weeks, you've completely ignored me. And when you did acknowledge me, it was a rather rude encounter. "

"You think I'm rude?" he nodded, and you scoffed. "Well I'm sorry you think I'm rude. You wanna know what I think is rude?"

"Look, I'm sorry my being honest upset you. But nobody said the truth was nice," he interrupted.

"Tom, what the fuck?"

"I'm just saying! Out of the two of us, you're the one who has more problems!"

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means that you are always the one who cries over shit, and gets upset at little things," he answered. You looked at him in disbelief. "What I'm saying is you're over-dramatic and too sensitive."

"Oh for fuck's sake," you started. "You just- you just don't know when to quit, do you?"

"You said to talk! I'm talking!"

"You're being completely unreasonable."

"Am I? Because all you've talked about is how you think I'm crazy. Do you even have anything to say?"

"Fine! You want me to talk? I'll talk. I've been rude to you because you are the one who let that man you call a fucking friend insult my life's work. You completely agreed with him, took in my hate and didn't even stand up for me!" You yelled. Tom didn't know you knew about that, and he was about to interject but you kept going, "And to make things worse, you kept seeing him! Every single fucking week, it was 'Andrew said this!' 'Andrew said that!'. You cancelled dates to see him! Call me over-dramatic, but when your boyfriend cancels a date on his only day off, I think most girls would be pretty fucking pissed," you walked out of the kitchen.

Tom was in the living room too, following you. "Yeah, well I'm sorry I cancelled our plans, but we live together. Don't you think we see enough of each other because of that?"

"Wha- what?"

"Think about it! We see each other all time because we live together," he reasoned.

"Yeah, I guess you're right,"

"See-"

"If you were ever around, I would see you a lot. But you're never around, so no, Tom, we don't see each other a lot. I work too, remember!"

"Not like I do," he mumbled.

"What?" you yelled.

"Nothing."

"No, Tommy. If you have something to say, you better fucking say it or so help me-"

"I said 'not like I do'!"

"What? Because I'm not some movie star with his head up his ass, I don't work hard?"

"My head's not in my ass, yours is! All I wanted to do was talk things out, not get fucking blamed for things that aren't my fault!"

"Yeah? Well all I wanted was someone better," you quipped back.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"What have I done wrong! Please, enlighten me! All you've done is complain about the stupidest things!"

"So my feelings are stupid, now?"

"Did I fucking say they were?" he yelled, voice raising as he stepped closer.

"Sounded like it to me!" you yelled, raising your voice to meet his.

"Just tell me! Do you have anything else to say?"

"You- you really are stupid, Tom."

"No, Y/N. I'm not. You are, not even telling me why you're so fucking angry at me."

"I'm angry because I had my first attack in months because of you. You! The person who told me he'd always be there to help me through one, not cause one. I'm angry because you go out without even bothering to ask if I'd like to join you. A-And then you just throw it at me that you're leaving for, what? Seven months?! Not to mention you completely stopped eating things from my shop because of a so-called diet? And you're off with that Andrew guy, who eyed me like a pervert even though he knows I'm taken. You know how uncomfortable I am with that! And don't you dare say you didn't know, when you're the one coming home drunk telling me he's picked up another girl and telling you that you should go home and get laid too. God knows you'd listen to him if he asked you to cheat on me. Not to mention how you called me fucking clingy because I was checking up on you. You want me to stop making sure you're okay? You want me to stop caring?" you screamed. "Because you say the words and I will fucking back off for good. "

He was silent for a second, only missing a beat, contemplating on if he should apologize or keep fighting. Because he didn't want you to be angry, but he wanted to win. He needed to win. "Yeah, I wish you would back the fuck off. You're always on me!" he screamed. "And I get wanting to be affectionate, but you're just fucking sickening. Too much love."

That made you stop. "You think I'm loving you too much?" you asked quietly, and Tom looked at you, really looked at you, after hearing the change in your voice. You were quiet, practically whispering now. It wavered slightly, your eyes were glossy and red.

"I- I didn't-" he started, but it was no use. The damage was done.

He knew better than anyone about your past, which had caused a massive buildup in insecurities that were inevitably killing you. When you met Tom, he had promised to discard each and every one of your insecurities until you loved yourself as much as he did.

"No, you did. And you fucking know it." You were walking upstairs, getting yet another bag ready to last you until Tom left for his press tour.

"No, no Y/N, I'm sorry. Listen to me, baby. I didn't mean it," he begged.

"You wouldn't have said it if you didn't mean it," you said, choosing a few shirts to shove into your backpack. "Your intentions were pretty clear, Tommy. I'll stop caring for you, stop putting in effort for this toxic relationship. I'll stop loving you, because right now, it seems like loving you is the one thing wrong with me," you said, finding some pants and your makeup bag.

You were making your way downstairs now, "Y/N, Y/N please. Please I need you. I can't leave us like this- not when I leave tomorrow."

"What 'us,' Tom? There is no 'us' anymore."

"What're you saying?" he asked, tears finally falling from his face.

"I'm saying it's time I move on from you. Moving on means not having you. So, we're done," you opened the front door.

Tom stood in the doorway while you gripped the handle. "So- we- we're.."

"I'll be out before you come in July," you filled in. With that you slammed the door, driving to [your best friend's] house, while Tom sobbed on the floor in what used to be a home of two people who loved each other.

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland angst #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #tom holland blurb #tom holland oneshot #tom holland series #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fluff #tom holland angsty fic #tom holland blurbs #tom holland hc #jerk!tom holland #tom holland x reader insert #tom holland x baker!reader #tom holland x chef!reader

475 notes · View notes

storytellerofuntoldlegends · 3 years ago

Text

gods and the mortals they worship

A/N: honestly this idea started out due to the fact that scott and jack are gonna be housemates, and a friend and i were like "haha what if c!scott moved into Innit Hotel with jack" which turned into "haha what if c!scott was the god of mcc but he just seemed like a Dude to everyone else" which made my brain go brrr and think "haha what if god!scott and goddess!kristin met for tea" and then this fic happened. it got much angstier than i intended it to whoops

Warnings: implied/referenced temporary character death, grief/mourning, hugs, emotional hurt/comfort

Summary: Kristin, the goddess of death. Scott, the god of champions. Two deities that at first glance, have nothing to do with the other. But all the same, the two deities are close friends, meeting for tea and talking about the mortals they adore. However, some conversations painfully remind them of the mortality of their loved ones.

Kristin rather enjoyed it when a fellow deity joined her for tea. Not many would, XD was a little wary of her, being her opposite in a sense. And his sister Drista visited her often enough, but the young goddess was a bit on the rambunctious side, which was expected for the trickster. But the deity's whose visits pleased her the most were Scott's. The god of champions was always lovely to chat with, and she looked forward to each event he organized- always rooting for her husband's team, of course.

They met for tea weekly, but this visit... something seemed off about Scott. He seemed cheery enough, talking about how he had recently moved into the Innit Hotel with Jack and the other servers he was drifting between. But there was a melancholy expression on his face for a brief moment as he traced the flower pattern on his teacup, and a lost, faraway expression would come over his face from time to time. These were expressions Kristin recognized all too well- grief. She saw it in the faces of many mortals when she called their loved ones to her side- and it was unnerving to say the least to see such an expression on a god's face.

"Who are you mourning?" she asked, startling Scott slightly. The god's ever color-shifting eyes refused to meet her.

"The loss of my mcc team, of course," Scott countered with a half-hearted smirk. Kristin gave him an expression of disbelief, and the smirk melted away to something more downcast as he fiddled with something on a chain around his neck. A ring.

"Oh Scott," she said softly.

"Tried the married life thing. It was nice, for a bit. But it was a modified hardcore world, and it didn't end well. For him... or for me," Scott said, hand drifting to his throat with a grimace. Kristin set down her tea, placing a comforting hand on Scott's shoulder. Scott had a unique position as a god- he was one of the few who felt the sting of death. As he willingly lived among mortals most of the time, his godly power had to be diminished to do so. Which meant he could die- but it would never truly stick for him. Granted, death didn't really stick for most of the crowd he stuck around with. They would be reborn into other servers, maybe retaining impressions of the ones before- but Scott was the only one who truly remembered each server he had been on.

"I'm so sorry. Is he..." Kristin trailed off, unsure if she wanted to know if Scott's husband had been reborn into a different server.

"He's on another server with me now. Empires SMP. Calls himself the Codfather these days. I keep hoping he'll remember... but I don't know if I want him to," Scott said, eyes watery.

"Why not?" Kristin asked. If she was in a similar situation with Phil, she absolutely would want him to remember her.

"Because what kind of god can't even keep his husband alive?! I couldn't protect him before, who says I could do it now. Besides with my luck, by the time he'd remember me, I'd only lose him again. Why waste the effort on more heartbreak," Scott said, something vengeful in his tone. The aura around him tinged red, and Kristin drew her hand back with a jolt. Scott took notice of his surroundings, and with a sheepish smile his aura shifted to something more neutral and warm.

"That's why you're hiding in the Dream SMP with Jack, isn't it? You don't want to risk him remembering," Kristin asked softly. Scott let out a sigh.

"I'm not... hiding, exactly. Just lying low, somewhere where I don't have to pretend I'm not a god," Scott explained with a faraway glance.

“What if you were to tell this... Codfather," Kristin suggested. Scott wrinkled his nose in disgust in the name.

"Jimmy. His name is Jimmy," Scott corrected, sounding reverent as he murmured his name the second time. It was almost silly, a god worshipping the ground a mortal walked on- not that Kristin was one to talk. But then again, Phil wasn't exactly mortal.

"Then why don't you tell Jimmy the truth about who you are," Kristin prodded. Few knew the truth about Scott's godly status- Phil, most notably, and Wilbur. And now, she supposed, all who were on the Dream SMP. Otherwise, most knew Scott as someone who had a connection to the god of champions, and carried out his invitations to the games- not that Scott himself was the god in question.

"I... I don't know. Maybe it's safer for him if he never knows," Scott said with a sigh. Kristin squinted at him suspiciously.

"Scott, I've known you for centuries. Tell me the real reason you don't want to tell him," she said pointedly. Scott laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. With a deep breath, his expression settled into something more solemn.

"I don't want things to be different between us. I liked the way it was, on that modified hardcore world. We had a flower valley, with a pond and overgrowth and- and his silly insistence on wanting to protect me, like I was the fragile one, not him. I even experienced a brief afterlife with him, after we had lost all our lives on that world. And that... that was beautiful. But then things reset, and he was reincarnated. And how could I not follow him?" Scott said wistfully. His eyes shone with bittersweet tears, a fond smile on his face.

"You truly have the heart of a mortal, my friend," Kristin said with a soft smile. Scott chuckled, shaking his head.

"Well I certainly can't let anyone know that, think of my reputation," he joked. Kristin laughed.

"Oh please, we all know how much you cherish your champions," she teased.

"Don't tell a soul," Scott said in a mock-serious tone.

"Oh please, the only souls I know are dead ones," Kristin replied with a chuckle. Scott laughed too, but it fell short as his eyes landed on the flowers that decorated the teacups.

"I think the worst part is that he sees me as an enemy. I guess rightfully so, I pushed him away because I was afraid of letting him back in. I don't think I'll be able to look him in the eyes if we end up on the opposite sides of a battle," Scott said, voice fragile as the delicate teacups on the table before them.

"Maybe there's still time to make amends. You could extend some token of peace towards him?" Kristin suggested gently.

"Maybe. I just..." Scott trailed off.

"You just want to mope around in a world of constant hardship and destruction?" Kristin teased lightly, smirking. Scott laughed.

"I guess the Dream SMP isn't the greatest place to hide out," he said, still chuckling. Kristin was relieved to see her friend back to his more genuine smiley self, multicolored eyes glinting with amusement.

"Maybe not. Are Phil and Wilbur staying out of trouble?" Kristin asked, picking her tea back up to sip at. Scott laughed again.

"Staying out of trouble is asking a lot for your family. But I think Phil has forced Wilbur to make friends with Ranboo," he replied, picking up his tea as well.

"Oh? How did that go?" Kristin asked.

"Not sure, honestly. I think they opened a burger place? I've mostly been keeping to myself in the Innit Hotel," Scott said with a shrug.

"I'm sure Tommy loves that," Kristin said dryly.

"Oh yes, cussed me out until I threatened to not let him on mcc anymore. He changed his tune pretty quickly," Scott laughed.

"Doesn't Jack actually own the hotel now?" Kristin asked.

"Yes, but Tommy doesn't seem to know that," Scott answered with a sigh, shaking his head.

"I'm sure he'll get over it. Probably still a little jumbled from being brought back," Kristin muttered, unable to help looking miffed at that. She wasn't exactly fond of people being torn from her domain, especially by an overzealous mortal and the god who he eerily resembled. Although she couldn't exactly blame XD, the book had called him and he was forced to answer.

“Maybe life and death shouldn’t be toyed with anymore,” Scott said softly, after a few beats of silence. Kristin thought of Scott’s struggles with death and rebirth, then thought of her own family. Her husband who survived and lived, never dying- and her son, who fought and died, but ended up living.

“You wouldn’t see me complaining,” Kristin replied, voice coming out more melancholy than she meant it to. Scott looked to her with brows creased in sympathy.

“What a pair we make,” he said with a humorless laugh. Kristin laughed too, just as bleak as Scott’s own laugh.

“The goddess of death whose loved ones live, and the god of champions whose loved ones lose,” she said, voice forlorn. Scott set down his tea, dropping his gaze from Kristin’s.

“I do tend to be drawn towards the lost ones, don’t I?” he said with a weak smile.

“Nothing wrong with rooting for the underdog,” Kristin pointed out with a shrug. Scott looked at the flowers on the teacups, and his smile was a bit brighter this time around, less sad and bittersweet.

“I guess not. Maybe you’re right, maybe there is time to smooth things out with Jimmy,” Scott said, looking back up at Kristin.

“Good! Being mopey doesn’t suit you. And telling him the truth couldn’t hurt either,” Kristin insisted brightly. Scott rolled his eyes with a chuckle.

“Okay Mumza, no need to get on my case. I said I’d try and smooth things over, not reveal that I’m an all-powerful god that was married to him once because I like playing mortal,” he replied, dragging out her nickname with a teasing grin. Kristin grinned back.

“I guess your situation is a little different than when I told Phil I was a goddess,” she said semi-sheepishly.

“Phil was also hopelessly head-over-heels for you when you told him. Jimmy is decidedly not,” Scott pointed out with a laugh.

“Oh Jimmy will come around eventually. If he knows what’s good for him,” Kristin said, sipping at her tea. Scott blinked at her in confusion.

“Are you threatening my ex-husband?” he asked, tone so adorably baffled that Kristin couldn’t help but laugh.

“All I meant was that he doesn’t know what he’s missing. Any man would be lucky to have captured your attention," she clarified with a teasing grin. Scott flushed in embarrassment, the aura around him tinging pink.

“You’re acting like an embarrassing mum trying to convince her son to get out there and start dating,” Scott huffed, trying to play off his flusteredness.

“You’re the one who called me ‘Mumza,’” Kristin pointed out, still grinning.

“This is rude, I’m being attacked and you’re twisting my words against me now-” Scott cut off with a laugh, unable to keep up the mock-offended act as his aura shifted back to being a neutral warm color. Scott finally looked the most himself that he had been all day- aura full of warmth, a smile on his face, and color-shifting eyes sparkling.

“Oh, whatever will you do?” Kristin teased. Scott shook his head, picking up his tea and finishing it off with one last sip before standing from the table.

“I think I’m gonna leave, actually. It’s about time I head out anyway,” Scott said. Kristin looked at how low her own tea had gotten, and sighed before standing with a gentle smile.

“Well as always, it was wonderful to have you. I hope everything works out,” she said softly, holding out her arms. Scott hugged her without hesitation, and Kristin got the feeling he was silently thanking her for her advice through the hug.

“See you next week?” Scott asked after he pulled away.

“I look forward to it,” Kristin replied. Scott smiled, giving a two-fingered salute before disappearing in a burst of color. The lightshow faded, leaving Kristin in her rather gloomy domain. The loneliness after a fellow deity left was always the worst, and the heavy conversation from before didn’t help matters much. Scott and Kristin were very similar beings for two deities that ruled over extremely different things- both of their hearts were too big, too smitten with mortals. Scott could at least compete alongside mortals if he so chose, but Kristin was in a plane of existence that her loved ones could only reach through tragedy. Perhaps Scott had it worse- Kristin could at least distance herself from mortals, while Scott stubbornly refused to. But all the same, Kristin was hopeful that things would work out for the god of champions. And maybe, things would work out for her family as well.

MCYT Taglist: @corazon10000 @damiensaidno @franticfandomfanatic @hetapeep41 @space-ace123

#dsmp #3rd life smp #empires smp #mumza #scott smajor #mcyt #mcyt fic #hurt/comfort #sage writes

140 notes · View notes

axwalker · 3 years ago

Text

Creep 2: I don’t care if it hurts

HIGH SCHOOL AU

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Lexie O’Brien) Book TRR

MASTERLIST HERE

Synopsis: Drake and Lexie are star-crossed lovers. Her father hates him and forces Lexie to stop any contact with Drake. Lost and heartbroken, he “bullies” her for two years until he discovers the truth of Lexie’s behavior.

A/N 1 This came up to me after I got an ask from @nestledonthaveone to write a fic based on the song CREEP.

I used to hear this song when I was a teenager, so when I read this ask, I immediately wanted to write something angsty but situated in high school.

A/N 2: Because they’re younger than usual, I decided to change my FC.

Words: 4,110

WARNINGS: Parental abuse, domestic violence, toxic love.

THIS IS NOT YOUR USUAL MARSHMALLOW DRAKE. He was abandoned as a boy, he’s tortured and he doesn’t know how to express his love. His behavior is not excusable.

This is a dark love story. If you’re not comfortable with it, PLEASE do not read it.

ALL MY FICS ARE 18+

TAGS ON THE COMMENTS

As this is darker than usual; I’m only tagging the people who commented in the previous chapter. If you want to get on or off the list for this fic, please do not hesitate to ask!!

DRAKE

Even if she never looks at me or speaks to me again, she’s mine. Even if I’ve been a horrible jerk to her for two years and she pales every time I pull into the parking lot on my motorcycle, she is mine. Just seeing her with him enrages me, so I walk straight toward my usual seat, directly behind Lexie, and slam my textbook down onto the desk.

Startled, Rys looks up at me, “Hey, Walker. What’s up?”

It’s not the first time he tries to make a move on Lexie. Last time –two years ago, we almost killed each other. Pretty boy might be an entitled ass, but he knows how to fight. Maybe he thinks Lexie is game again after all this time. He couldn’t be more wrong.

“Don’t you have a class this period?” I ask him. Liam cocks his left eyebrow, adjusting the straps of his backpack.

“I fail to see why that concerns you, Creep.”

My smile is murderous. “Get the fuck out of here before I break your face, pretty boy.”

I think he has a death wish because he looks at Lexie when he talks, “See you after class, Alexis, when your watchdog will be busy mowing my lawn.” Finally, he just shakes his head and gets out of the classroom. I resume my daily routine. Staring at the back of Lexie’s head, tracing the curve of her perfect neck, my cock getting hard over her perfect cherry scent.

“So that’s what you like,” I say, leaning forward to speak an inch from her ears. “You like them with blond hair and pink polo shirts. Prospects for Cambridge or shit. A huge trust fund. Don’t you? A brat like you needs someone who can spoil her. I bet you’d introduce him to daddy, wouldn’t you?”

She doesn’t respond. She never does. Her eyes stay stubbornly on the front of the class where the teacher has started writing today’s lesson on the board—my hands fist in desperation. I’m dying for her to talk to me. To look at me. Anything. “Too bad, Lexie. I’ll scare every single one of those fucking entitled boys off. You’re going to sit alone in your house on prom night, crying into your designer sheets like a baby. And I’m going to enjoy it.”

The only sign that she hears me at all is the quickening rise and fall of her shoulders. Even that tiny display that I’ve upset her is agonizing, floods me with self-loathing, but I can never stop. She ripped out my fucking heart, and I can’t deal with the consequences of that alone. I can’t let her go. I’ll never let her go. This toxic feeling is the only thing left between us. My hands shake with the urge to take her in my arms, to stop the trembling I caused. To protect her from everything. Even myself. I’d love to move my fingers up into the silky, brown hair that reaches the middle of her graceful neck. I don’t have a lot of money; most of the cash I earn as a handyman goes to food and fixing my dad’s cabin, but I’d give every last cent for her to turn and lock those soft brown eyes on me, just one last time. Sometimes when I jerk off, all it takes is fantasizing about Lexie looking at me, giving me one of those shy smiles, and I lose it. One stroke. Maybe two. Done. I can’t breathe without having her close. And I can’t breathe with her close. It’s a strange condition, this obsession, but she’s an addiction that I just can’t give up.

How could I? She’s intelligent, strong, and so damned gorgeous. Once upon a time, I thought she had a good heart too. But that was before she broke my pathetic heart only because I’m poor. I’ve been hurting since then, and I need her to hurt too. To know what it feels.

“Do you actually think that dumb rich boy would be a good choice for your first time, Lexie?” I grip my desk so tight it nearly breaks down, just thinking about her being kissed –touched by someone else. “At least that’s one thing us poor motherfuckers have going for us. We know how to fuck. If you went out with Rys for a while, you’d eventually give in and come slumming it one night, wouldn’t you? Knock on my rundown cabin door, begging me to fuck you as we both know you’d like.”

A pretty blush is starting to climb her neck. I have to take a deep breath to keep from kiss her pink cheeks. But I think if I got to touch her skin, my wall of bullshit would crumble. I’ve only fucked one girl. Since seeing Lexie for the first time freshman year, there’s been no one but her. I want no one else. She owns my cock as sure as she owns my heart. How easily she’s forgotten about both leaving me in agony.

“Stop,” she breathes. I freeze. Did she just speak to me? It’s the first time in two years that she’s even remotely acknowledged my existence.

“Lexie,” I managed to say. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. That’s all it took. One pleading word out of her mouth, and I’m done.

“Just stop,” she says again, turning her head slightly. “Please.”

I fall back in my chair, my heart thundering on my chest. If we weren’t in the middle of class, if I didn’t feel like a monster, I would pull her into my arms right now. I’d hug her until she stopped struggling, then beg her to hit me, bruise me, make me pay for every shitty thing I’ve ever said to her. But before long, the class is over, and she’s leaving the classroom to get out of here. To put distance between us as quickly as possible—and I have no choice but to watch her because I feel physically ill. Still, I manage to get out into the student-packed hallway, my plan to apologize for being crude and a jerk and torturing her for so long.

My head is telling me not to apologize, though. It’s telling me she deserved it for being such a snob, for breaking me, for valuing money and status like everyone else. My damned heart is telling an entirely different story. It’s insisting there is an explanation for her behavior. Am I going to apologize or not? The decision is taken out of my hands when Lexie opens her locker, and the little gift I left before class falls down. It’s a picture I cut out from our last yearbook. In the photo is a gorgeous smiling Lexie above the caption Most Likely to Succeed. Except I’ve crossed out the caption and added my own. Most Likely to Be a Trophy Wife. Watching her read it, I almost get sick right there in the hallway. Usually, she’s perfectly composed, not betraying a trace of emotion where I’m concerned—a real Ice queen. I’ve always thought she honestly didn’t care. Today, though… she’s not pulling it off. Something is not okay with her, and I don’t like it. She has to bite down on her bottom lip to stop it from quivering as she puts the photo back into her locker, out of sight, her bright eyes finding me briefly, massacring me where I stand. Betraying with one single look how much she has been affected by my actions. Christ. She hasn’t been indifferent at all.

Before I can react, before I can call her name, she’s gone, vanished into the crowd of wild students excited to be leaving for the day. And I know what I have to do. I have to see her. To apologize. To get an explanation for everything. Tonight. I’ll return to her house for the first time in two years.

LEXIE

I’ve known this was coming all day. Sitting on the couch in my living room, trying to make myself as small as possible, I watch my father pace. He rants, gesticulating noisily. This isn’t new, my father’s rage threatening me. But it’s going to be worse than usual. Business has declined for him and it’s put his temper on a trigger. Dad’s new wife, Nancy, hates to be on a budget, and she’s been spending his money like crazy all over Paris --where she’s now. When dad gets home from the office, he’s rarely in anything but a horrible mood. A tornado eating up everything in its path. Completely terrifying. At least dad’s temper makes me forget what Drake told me today, the ugly words he said to me, the boiling anger in his eyes when he looks at me.

“Are you even listening?” The slap across the face comes as a shock because I’d momentarily disappeared into my thoughts, but the sting quickly brings me back to reality.

“Yes, sir,” I say, my ears ringing. “I’m listening.”

“This C on your algebra test is going to drag your whole average down.” He’s waving the test in my face. “What a disappointment you are, Alexis. Your teacher shared my disgust.” I nod solemnly, but I’m listening for the rain outside. “I guess you’re your daughter’s mother after all. A poor Mexican girl who could barely count.” It’s not true. My mom learned English and Greek by herself, and she was a great Spanish teacher in Portavira, but my father would rather die than acknowledge how smart she was.

“Don’t talk like that about her,” I retort.

My father snorts. “I beg your pardon?” He takes a step towards me, and I can see the threat in his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” I hate to be such a coward, but I know what he can do to me.” I’ll do extra credit. Something to bring my grade back up to an A.” I wet my lips. “Even if I can’t manage to raise the grade, it’s not going to show up on the college transcripts I sent off with my applications.” That’s the reason I let my focus slip a little in algebra. The finish line is in sight for everyone, and we’re just waiting to find out where we’ll be accepted for college. It’s a wonder I’ve been able to maintain my focus this long in any class, considering Walker sits behind me in every period, brooding making me feel … something. At the reminder of him, I want to close my eyes and dream about him. I replay that night in my garden when he kissed me two years ago, so tenderly and passionately, when he spoke to me so sweetly and honestly before he became the second villain in my story. Someone I dread, as much as I crave the sight of him.

At least that’s one thing us poor motherfuckers have going for us. We know how to fuck. If you went out with that punk for a while, you’d eventually give in and come slumming it one night, wouldn’t you? Knock on my trailer door, begging me to ride you right.

Should I be ashamed of the way my body reacted to those words? I grew uncomfortably damp in the hard plastic chair, the center of my body clenching, seeming to beat like a heart. His breath on my neck made me shiver, head to toe. Even the way he scared off Liam Rys did something to me. Aroused me. Deeply. It got so bad that I broke the rules and asked him to stop. I can still hear him saying my name in that tortured way after. That shocked, uneven sound. Lexie. And whether I’m ashamed of myself for it or not, I know I’ll think of it when I touch myself tonight. His voice, his hands, his eyes obsess me.

“College?” My father snorts, tearing the test in half. “You’re not going to college.”

This grabs my attention. A horrible feeling is making me cold. “I’m…what? What do you mean? I applied to nine different schools. I have a four-point five GPA.”

For the first time, I notice his red face is about more than just rage. There’s…humiliation. I’ve never seen him display that emotion.

“None of the American colleges that accepted you offered scholarships.”

“I’ve been accepted?” I gasp, sitting forward, heart pounding in my chest. “Where? I didn’t see the letters—”

“All the mail in this house goes through me, Alexis. I read them. And you failed to get academic scholarships. You failed. Not that I’m surprised.”

I don’t point out that his refusal to let me participate in any extracurricular activities is more than likely to blame for that. I’m too worried about what he’s saying, what this means. The blood is draining from my head, making the room spin around me.

“Okay, I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry. But…we have money. We can pay tuition, can’t we? Or colleges in Cordonia are almost for free. I can go to any of them; I don’t have to go to NYU.” I have to get out of here. I have to get out of here. This is my way out. College is the escape route. I counted on going back to New York, but I can stay here and go to college in Cordonia City.

“Listen to you, so quick to spend my hard-earned money—spoiled brat. And of course, you can’t go to college in Cordonia. What for? To end up being a schoolteacher like your mom? A housewife as Nancy?” He laughs bitterly. “No, you’ll stay here, and I’ll help you find someone suitable to marry.”

I shake my head. “There’s financial aid, then. Loans or I can get a job and go to college in Portavira…”

“You want to leave, just like her, don’t you? You’re all the same.”

I don’t even flinch when he yanks me to my feet, shoving me into the wall. In fact, for the first time, I took him right into his eyes. And I can see the violence burning on them has nothing to do with me. It never had anything to do with how I behave, my choices, how hard I worked in school. How welcome I made Nancy feel or cooked a roast. It’s about him and his self-loathing. It’s his sickness. Not mine. I can also see that he was never going to send me to college. Because he wouldn’t be able to control me from a distance or stop me from sharing what I’ve been subjected to since my mother died. Not like he does now. He wasn’t physically abusive all the time. Especially not when his new wife is around. But she traveled often, and then he’d push me. Shove me. Slapped me several times. I’ll graduate at the top of my class for nothing. He knew I would all along.

That’s when I realize I’m free. I don’t have money, but college is free in Cordonia. I can work, save a little and go to college in one or two years. I’ll be a writer; it’ll just take more time than I thought. “Go to hell,” I whisper.

He steps back, giving me the momentary satisfaction of his shock. “What did you say?”

Liberated, I scream it this time. “Go to hell!” From the moment I sat down to have this conversation, I knew tonight would be worse than usual, but I’ve just bought myself a ticket to hell. Usually, I can retreat to the untouchable place inside of me as he unleashes his rage, but not tonight. He doesn’t stop at one or two slaps. He punches and kicks, and I’m present for every punch and kick. Every yelled insult. Finally, I start to get scared. I’m crawling across the carpet on my hands and knees, searching for a weapon I can use in my defense when I glance out the window and see Drake staring back at me, his face a mask of horror.

Drake

What I’m seeing just isn’t possible. It can’t be real. My head won’t accept it. Not until her terror-filled eyes meet mine through the window and the truth pounds on my chest, leaves no doubt that this is real life. Lexie’s father is beating her. Her mouth is bloody, one of her eyes beginning to swell, arms and legs visibly weakened. I can barely fucking process it before my body is springing into action, desperate to protect her. To put a stop to the worst thing I have ever seen. What the fuck. Scorching hot rage takes over. I kick in the front door and throw myself between Lexie and her father. His fist is raised, but it pauses when he sees me, his momentary confusion giving me the time I need to knock him out cold. It only takes one right uppercut from someone his own size, and he goes down, his blank, glassy eyes staring at nothing, mouth opened. It’s not satisfying enough.

Nothing will ever be satisfying enough. I want to kill him, destroy him, but my Lexie is struggling for breath behind me, and she’s all I can think about. Turning, I approach her, my heart threatening to jump off my chest. As gently as I can, I catalog all of the cuts and purpling skin. No. No. Who could do this to her? Who could lay a finger on her in anything but reverence? Get her out of here. Calling her name, I reach down to pick her up, but she flinches and hurries back, bringing her body up against the wall.

“Don’t touch me!” Those words filled with fear rip the soul clean out of my body. My hands drop limply to my sides and two years come rushing back, hitting me in the chest like a hammer. Every word, every action. Everything I did to make her life harder when this is what she’s been dealing with at home? Fuck me.

“Lexie…” My voice is as kind as I can. I feel broken. “I’m sorry. I came here to apologize. For everything.”

She puffs a humorless laugh, testing her cut lip with the tip of her tongue. “Bet you weren’t expecting to see this.”

“If I knew this was happening, I would have been here a long time ago. I would have stopped it. I swear Lex.”

Her expression can only be described as stunned. Maybe even a little pissed. “You are not my savior, Drake. You are my enemy. You’ve been for two years, and I want nothing else from you now.”

“I am not your enemy.” Those words barely make it out of me, my chest hurts so fucking bad. “Don’t say that.”

Unsteadily, she uses the wall to try and stand. I try to help her, but she recoils, and it’s a dagger straight into the center of my throat. Nothing less than I deserve, though, isn’t it? Her distrust of me is entirely my fault. I’ve made her hate me. There has to be some way to fix what I’ve done. Please God, let there be away. But right now, my main concern is her physical safety. Knowing she’s been in danger all along is unbearable. I only decided to come here tonight a few hours ago. What if I didn’t? What if I arrived an hour later? The possibilities are going to haunt me for the rest of my life. From the floor, her father groans, shifting slightly.

“We need to get you out of here,” I say, anxious to get her free of this place. “Now, Lexie. I need to get you somewhere safe.”

She’s standing now. Leaning against the wall and cradling one arm to her stomach, regarding me warily. “How do I know I’m safe with you?” It’s so much worse that her question is honest. Not meant to hurt me. She honestly doesn’t know if I pose a threat. It guts me where I stand.

“You are the safest with me,” I say thickly, cursing myself. Wanting to erase the last two years so badly, my hands shake. “Please believe me. I’d die before hurting you. I’d never, Lexie. I’d never do something like that.”

Her father rolls over onto his back and slurs a few words before losing consciousness again. Still, the sound of the older man’s voice seems to scare Lexie, “I…maybe you can just give me a ride to…a motel maybe?” She pushes off the wall, her step uneven as she walks toward the stairs. “I need some things from my room.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her we don’t have time, but I’m just grateful she’s trusting me enough to leave with me, so I don’t argue. I just wait until she’s halfway up the stairs, then tie her father’s hands behind his back with my belt in case he wakes up before we leave. I have no problem knocking him out a second time, but Lexie has seen enough violence for one night. Cautiously, I walk up the stairs toward the light coming from a room halfway down the hall. This place is a far cry from my home. It’s elegant and clean, and tasteful, but it lacks any warmth whatsoever. It’s cold, like a museum. Turning the corner into Lexie’s room, it’s time to hate myself all over again. There is nothing on the walls, none of the expensive furnishings. Just four white walls, a bed, and a dresser that doubles as a desk. Several textbooks. She looks back at me over her shoulder as if judging my reaction, and I keep my features impassive, though I’m dying on the inside.

“What can I do?” I ask.

“How long do we have?”

“As long as you need.” It’s physically painful not to pull her into my arms when I’m standing this close, and she’s hurt. Sad. Yet full of more inner strength than I’ve ever witnessed in another human being. I’m lucky just to be in her presence. I fucked up royally. And if she allows me back in, I’ll never do it again. It’s probably, definitely, too much to hope for. Being allowed back in. She doesn’t even look sure about having me in her room. Let alone her heart. I was trying to protect my own heart, but I lost it instead.

“Um…” She closes her eyes to focus, a familiar trait I’ve seen in class countless times. “There is a black bag in the hallway closet. Can you just stuff anything into it from the bathroom that looks useful?”

Ask me to bring you a unicorn. I’ll find a way to do it. “Sure.” We work in silence, Lexie taking things out of drawers and adding them to the bag, which I’ve left open on the floor. I add toiletries from the bathroom, and once it’s zipped, I wait, watching her hesitate in the doorway.

“Lexie?” Conflicted chocolate eyes meet mine.

“I can’t just leave, can I?”

“You’re not safe here, baby,” I say softly, trying to keep the residual rage at bay because it’s the last thing she needs. Not to mention she’s had her fill with negativity from me. No more. “How long…how long?”

She shrugs, the saddest expression in her eyes. “My mom died five years ago. Ever since then, it’s gotten worse and worse. Although I never had a chance to talk to anyone about what happened behind closed doors, you know? I don’t think a person can evolve into a monster. It’s inside him.”

“I don’t know,” I say. “I became one, didn’t I?”

That gives her pause, forms a line between her delicate brows. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

She starts to walk past me, stops, standing close enough to fill my nose with cherry. “He told me if I ever spoke to you ever again, he would hurt me. Ruin you, have you evicted. Make sure you never got hired again. I didn’t mean to…hurt you. Or hurt your feelings, if that’s what happened.”

That revelation destroys me, sets me on fire. “Jesus, Lexie. You were protecting me? And I…I tortured you for it?” I twist the neck of my T-shirt, trying to calm down, but it doesn’t work. I’ll never be calm again “I’m so fucking sorry.”

She glances at the doorway, then back at me, eyes closed again in that way that says she’s thinking. “All I want from you now is a ride out of here, okay? And on Monday morning, you’ll stop.” She opens her shining eyes again. “No more bullying, Drake. If you’re really sorry, you’ll do that for me.”

Fuck. I couldn’t say one more single shitty thing to her if my life depended on it. Put me at gunpoint, and I’d rather get shot at than torture this girl for one more second. But I’m highly, painfully aware that with an end to the bullying comes an end to the possessiveness. No more scaring off guys who show interest in her. No more getting close enough in class to count the hairs on her head, to smell her sweet fragrance. And to tell the truth, I’m pretty fucking worried I don’t know how to give those things up completely. I don’t think I can physically do it. This addiction with Lexie isn’t something I can cut off. A leg would be easier to sever. But my hesitation is causing her eyes to worry. If I don’t agree to, essentially, let her go… she’s not going anywhere with me. And that means her safety won’t be guaranteed. I need it to be. More than anything.

“No more bullying,” I say, finally. A moment later, I follow her out of the room and down the stairs, trying desperately to count the hairs on her head before I no longer have the chance.

#tw domestic violence #toxic relationship #tw bullying

67 notes · View notes

troubatrain · 4 years ago

Text

new year’s day - m.tkachuk

a/n: i wasn’t going to write a part two to tis the damn season, but i couldn’t help but feel like new year’s day was an excellent excuse to write one so here we are. i started this blog about a year ago sometime after new year’s and it’s been a little crazy but you guys are honestly awesome. i just wanted to thank you for constantly supporting my fics and chaotic ways i write and all of the people who i get to idea dump with. thank you & have a happy and safe new year’s!

Life was sweet.

Matthew had been blissed out since the moment you both arrived back in Calgary, like the last piece of his life had fallen back into place. You were the kind of peace he needed, someone who anchored him down before his ego got the best of him, and someone who could see past all of the bullshit to begin with. Matthew knew a storm was on the horizon, the talk about what any of this means after you left to go back to St. Louis. Matthew fucked up the first time, because he a dumb kid who wasn’t ready for anything life was about to throw at him. He got scared, all of the new pressure in his life got real and he ran away from the only thing that comforted him.

For the moment, none of that mattered. What was important to him right now was watching you laugh with a few of his teammates in a dress Matthew intended on taking off later. A laugh he could have recognized anywhere. It was New Year’s Eve, and Matthew was hosting, something he never thought would happen. His teammates thought he was kidding when he asked if they wanted to go to his place for a New Year’s Party, but he was being serious. You outdid yourself, telling Matthew he couldn’t possibly have a party with any sort of decorations.

“You look good with a girlfriend Chucky,” Matthew’s stare was broken but Mark’s voice behind him. A hand lands on his back of his neck to cover the blush. You made him better, that’d been clear from the moment you walked in your freshman English and sat next to Matthew. He had a perfect grade in that class, because he spent a year trying to impress you before he finally just asked you.

“Trying not to fuck it up this time,” Matthew admits sheepishly, because he was so nervous about losing you again, “She’s always been it for me, but I can’t just ask her to stay here-”

“You don’t have to, just let her know she’s part of your plan,” Mark suggests, and it makes sense to Matthew. When you dated the first time, he had all these plans. His plan for where he’d go before he got drafted, his plan to play his first year, and none of them ever included you. Well they did, but Matthew wasn’t about to tell you he wanted to marry you at seventeen. You deserved to know that when he thought about his future, it was with you.

It was here. It was watching you joke with Johnny and Sam like you’d known them for years. It was the first game you went to after you landed and Matthew got to skate out for warm ups and see you against the glass. It was the other morning when he caught you peeking out the windows of his condo while snow was falling, your eyes sparkling at the site. Matthew couldn’t think of anything else he wanted for the rest of his life besides you.

Matthew excuses himself from the conversation, catching a glimpse at the time. It was five minutes to midnight, a New Year was about to ring in and he got to spend it with you. He sneaks behind you, grabbing your waist and pulling into him, “Hi.”

“Matty,” You squirm, giggling while Matthew tickled at your sides. He didn’t care who heard you call him Matty because it was you. You look up at him, a smile on your face while you pressed a kiss to his cheek. Matthew scoffs, pointing to his lips, “At midnight bubs.”

“Yeah bubs,” Sam teases, Matthew lifting up his middle finger. You grab his hand, lacing your fingers with his.

“Just admit you’re a big baby Matthew, it’ll save us some time,” You smirk, Sam breaking out in laughter. Matthew was a big baby, constantly whining when he couldn’t pull you close in bed or pouting his way through something he didn’t want to do, “Now countdown to midnight with us…”

Five

Four

Three

Two

One

A chorus of cheers and New Year’s wishes filled Matthew’s place, but all of that was static with your lips pressed against his. His hand was splayed across your back, the bare skin peeking out of your dress was on fire from his touch alone. His other hand was tilting your chin up, holding you close to him.

“Happy New Year baby,” Matthew mutters, another quick kiss to your lips before he pulls away. Your eyes fluttered open, snapping back into reality.

By the time it was two in the morning, Matthew had managed to push his party guests out and his next task was you. You were spinning around his bedroom, and Matthew was waiting for you to trip over your own heels every second. You finally flop down on his bed, kicking your feet out, “Please?”

Matthew sighs, pausing from unbuttoning his own dress shirt and sitting next to you on the bed. He unbuckles your heels, “Have fun tonight?”

“I like it here,” You whisper, as if you’d been afraid to admit it. You snuggle into the bed, your eyelids getting heavier by the minute, “Because you’re here.”

“I like it here more when you’re here too pretty girl,” Matthew grins, his eyes soft when he looks down at you, “You need to get out of this dress.”

“Get me out of it,” You smirk, picking your head and giving Matthew a wink. If you weren’t five tequila shots deep he probably would have, but he knew you were far too drunk for that. He chuckles, shaking his head and tossing you one of his shirts and walking into the bathroom. He finally got back into his room, your head on his pillow while you waited for him.

He finally jumps into bed, throwing an arm over your waist and pressing a kiss to your shoulder, “Goodnight.”

“Matty?” You call out, whispering before he falls asleep on you. He hums, waiting for you to speak, “Don’t give up on me this time.”

And Matthew could have sworn he felt his heart break.

***

You woke up with a massive headache, only getting worse by Matthew’s snoring in your ear. The past week had been nothing short of perfect, Matthew pulling out all the stops to prove he really did want you back. You roll over in his arms, tracing the side of his face, he wasn’t going to wake up. Matthew hadn’t changed, and that meant he still slept like a rock. Your fingers moved along the stubble across his chin, a new addition with change you were starting to love.

You finally got out of bed, tossing on whatever hoodie Matthew had closest to the bed and padding down the hallway to turn up the heat. Calgary was cold, a bitter kind you were in a hate/love relationship with. Most of the love came from why you were here, and the weather was something you just needed to deal with. You walk through the living room, plastic cups from the night before were covering the place. Confetti and polaroid's thrown across the coffee table with intentions for them to be a problem for another time. You pick one up, of you sitting on Matthew’s lap. You were looking at the camera, a wide smile on your face while Matthew was just looking at you.

“I want that one,” Matthew’s raspy morning voice caused you to jump, his long arm reaching over and holding the picture in his hand, “For here.”

You give Matthew a small smile, watching him run his finger over the picture. He’s quiet for a minute, biting his lip like he’d been debating what to say, “Matty?”

“I see you in my future,” Matthew breathes out, his last and final confession he had to make to both of you, “When I think about all of the things I want, you’re always there.”

“What if it happens again?” You whisper, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes. The very real fear of this imploding on the two of you scared you like no other. You had to put those pieces back together alone, and you weren’t sure if you were prepared to do it again, “What if this is too much and-”

“It won’t be, I’m ready this time,” Matthew assures you, “I was ready then too, but I didn’t think you’d be. I had to give you up because you deserved better than following me around while I got myself settled. I am, I’m here and I’m ready for this.”

Matthew’s voice was raw, pleading with you that he was telling you the honest to god truth, “This isn’t going to be easy.”

“I’d rather do hard with you than easy with someone else Y/N,” Matthew smiles, his dimples poking out.

“Matthew I swear if you break my heart again,” You threaten, poking your finger into his chest, “I will let your brother kick the shit out of you.”

Matthew chuckles pressing kisses all over your face, the sound of your laugh flooding his place. You spent the rest of New Year’s cleaning the condo, picking up the empty champagne bottles left from the night before and spending the day on the couch before your flight left.

***

What Matthew didn’t know then, was that it would work. Long distance was rough, but you’d both made enormous sacrifices for each other. It took planes, trains, cars and a whole of patience, but by the time the next year rolled around- things still seemed to work. You walked through the lobby of Matthew’s place in Calgary, your suitcase felt heavier than it had been on any of your previous trips. You had a late Christmas present for him, one that if you didn’t give him in person it wasn’t going to be the same.

“You’re here!” Matthew hops off the couch when you let yourself in, he grabs your waist picking you up and spinning you around. Matthew presses a kiss to your lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth when you stopped him, “Babeeeee…”

“Quit your whining, I have something for you,” You stop him, opening up your suitcase and pulling out a folder. He furrowed his eyebrows, sliding it open. It was a job offer. One for your dream position. In Calgary.

Matthew was stunned, speechless while his eyes read over the offer four times. It was real and if it meant what his brain thought it did it meant that a year of long distance was about to be so fucking worth it. His finger ran across the paper, looking up at you. You had a grin on your face, happy with yourself for not telling him until this very moment.

“I’m going to take it, if that wasn’t obvious-” You start to explain, but Matthew had scooped you back into his arms before you could finish speaking. His arms were holding you tightly, muttering something into your shoulder, “What was that?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Matthew’s eyes were bulging out his head, and you narrowed your eyes at him. He was lying to you, you just gave him the best news of his life and he’s lying to you.

“Stop lying”, You demand, stepping out his arms, “Do you not want me here?”

“Fuck, no baby I do, I just-” Matthew sighs, running into his arm and rummaging through his drawers. You stood by the door, confused as to what had gotten into your boyfriend.

“I was going to do this tonight, I even flew out our families, because I got you back on New Year’s and,” Matthew steps back into the room, a blue box in his hand in a color you’d be damned if you didn’t recognize, “In all of my life, I’ve only ever known that I was supposed to be with one person, and that was you. You’re my soulmate, and the world has constantly tried to pry us apart but I swear it just made us stronger. We’re the best god damn team in the world Y/N, and I think we’d be even better if you married me?”

Your hand was over your mouth, tears spilling out while Matthew’s soft blue eyes were staring into yours. He was right, you were the best team in the world. You were two people who could look at each other in a crowded room and know what the other was thinking. You were in love, and the few years where you tried to convince yourself it wasn’t always going to be Matthew at the end were just a part of the story. You nod your head, watching Matthew put that ring on your left hand and you couldn’t help but think about the way you’d get to tell your children and grandchildren your most epic love story.

Because after all, you wanted his midnights, and everyday after that.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #my writing #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

368 notes · View notes

drarrily-we-row-along · 3 years ago

Text

Day 111: Smile

"Auror Potter! Auror Potter!" the wizarding press started shouting the instant the doors to the Wizengamot opened following the trial, and Draco watched as Harry's shoulders stiffened. "Smile for the cameras!" one witch shouted.

"Tell us about the case, Auror Potter!"

"How did you catch Hollister?"

"What's the status on your relationship with Ginny Weasley?"

"Smile!"

He watched as Harry carefully put on a mask of indifference, making his face pleasant and amiable in the way that only someone who has spent years in the public eye is able to do.

Harry held up a hand, "Thank you for your interest in this case. We're asking that you respect the Griffiths Family's privacy as they go through the aftermath of this harrowing ordeal. Alden Hollister has been brought to justice; I will leave it to the court reporter to give you more of the details."

The reporters started in shouting at him once more, asking all sorts of questions both professional and personal.

"Sorry," he said, "If you'll excuse us please. Auror Malfoy and I have had a very difficult few days and we're long overdue for some rest," he added, chuckling amiably at them. "Thank you," he nodded. "Good night."

Without waiting for anything else, Draco reached out and grasped Harry's elbow and apparated them out of there and back to the apparition point just outside the Ministry. They had to apparate home separately, Merlin knew the press would have a field day if they knew the full truth about the nature of their relationship.

(Read more below the cut)

Members of the press were waiting by that apparation point as well, Draco watched a tremor of unease sluice up Harry's back. He was sure that he wouldn't have suspected a thing if not for how long he had been watching Harry Potter. Sometimes he wondered if he knew Harry better than Harry knew himself.

Harry held up a hand but Draco beat him to the punch this time. "Move," he snapped, pushing his way through the press but keeping Harry half a step ahead of him so they couldn't suck him in. "Auror Potter's already given an interview to your insipid colleagues. The DMLE and the Wizengamot will be issuing official statements within the hour, I suggest you wait for them."

They were followed into the lobby but fortunately the reporters couldn't come any further and within a few moments they were ensconced in the relative safety of the elevator.

Once they got inside, Harry leaned back against the back wall and let his head fall foward while Draco hit the button to their floor before joining him.

"Thanks," Harry murmured.

"Don't mention it," Draco replied, reaching across the gap between them and hooking their pinkies together.

He released his finger the floor before theirs and stepped away, "What do you still have to do?" he asked.

"You're submitting the report, right?"

Draco nodded, "It's just about done. I'll need a few minutes to finish."

"I just have to straighten up my desk, then. I'll head home first."

The elevator dinged and the door opened onto their floor, Draco gave Harry a little nod and they stepped out.

Harry was done straightening his desk and putting things away in ten minutes and he stood and stretched before patting Draco congenially on the shoulder. "Nice work, Malfoy," he said. "I'll see you in two days. Enjoy your couple of days of recovery," he added.

"Thanks, Potter," he replied. "You, too."

He didn't let himself watch Harry leave, didn't let himself look at his retreating form to analyze what he was feeling and thinking. No, he went back to finishing his report and after another fifteen minutes he was done as well. He dropped the report in Robbard's mailbox and headed for the apparition point, knowing that Harry would have used the floo network to avoid as many reporters as possible.

Fortunately, the reporters left him alone for the most part and he reached the apparation point without incident. A heartbeat later he was standing in their entry way, breathing in the comforting scent of home, the warmth seeping into his bones and washing away all of the tension and stress.

He kicked off his shoes, tucked his bag into the closet, and hung up his cloak before turning and heading into the kitchen. Harry was standing over the hob, cooking chicken tikka masala by the smell of it, and that told Draco everything his needed to know about how draining this case had been on Harry.

Harry only cooked after a case when he was especially frustrated, when he was desperate to care for someone, to fix the hurts he was able to, to heal. He ached with how much he loved the other man.

"Hey," he murmured as he wrapped his arms around Harry's waist and hooked his chin over his shoulder. "Smells good."

Harry leaned into him, "Good," he replied, setting the wooden spoon down and turning his head to press a quick kiss to Draco's lips. "How are you?" he asked softly.

"Tired," Draco replied honestly.

Harry hummed and turned back to his rice, pulling down the jar of jasmine and adding some. "Me too."

"I'm going to open a bottle of wine," he said, pressing a kiss to Harry's shoulder. "White okay?"

"Sure," the other man replied, giving him a worn, weary smile.

Draco opened the wine and set the table, getting everything ready while Harry finished preparing the food.

"Dinner's ready," Harry said, bringing over the rice and chicken tikka masala, and a batch of naan that he'd had under stasis for a moment like this.

"Thanks," Draco replied and the first part of dinner was quiet, companionable, like it always was.

Then, once Harry was almost done with his first helping he started to talk. "Godric, I hate those vultures," he grumbled before taking a sip of his wine. "Can you imagine how heartless you have to be to stand outside of a court to ambush someone after the kind of case we just finished?"

"They're awful," Draco agreed.

"I always wish I could tell them to fuck off," he added, shaking his head.

"What a sight that would be," he said with a laugh. "I'd give my entire vault at Gringotts to see it. Can you imagine their faces?"

Harry laughed too, "It sure would be something." But then after a moment he said, "What's happened to me?"

"What?" Draco asked, panic spearing through his chest. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head, "No, nothing like that," he said, soothingly. "Sorry. It's just," he paused as though he was trying to put his thoughts in order. "When I was seventeen I would have told them to piss off in an instant. I would have told them that they were heartless, soulless leeches without hesitation."

"You've just learned to be more diplomatic," Draco replied, tearing off another piece of naan to soak up more of the tikka masala.

"But why?" Harry asked. "I'm sick of it. It's exhausting."

Draco nodded, "I don't doubt it. But I'm sure even you would get in trouble for telling off the press like that. You are the Ministry's Golden Boy, after all. You've got quite an image to uphold."

"Why do we do this job, Draco?" he asked suddenly.

Draco blinked, their conversations after a case usually centered around the case itself and Harry's guilt for not being fast enough, clever enough, etc. "Well, when we started, you wanted to catch bad guys, save people, the works. And I wanted to redeem myself, do some good for once, and piss off my father."

Harry swallowed down the remainder of his glass of wine, "I hate it."

"What?"

"Being an Auror," he said. "The only time I'm ever happy is when I'm with you, the only time I feel like I'm actually me is when I'm with you." He shook his head, "I don't know how I became this person. How I became someone who could put on a fake smile and be polite to people who are such arse holes."

"What are you saying?"

He blew out a breath, "I want to stop." Running his fingers through his hair he said, "I don't want to do this anymore."

"Alright," Draco said, covering Harry's hand with his own. "We'll quit tomorrow."

"We?" he asked.

He nodded, "Ninety percent of the reason that I am still an auror is to keep an eye on you."

Harry leaned in to kiss him, both of them smiling so widely that it made kissing rather difficult. "What'll we do?" Harry asked.

Draco shrugged, "Let's not rush into anything."

"Alright," Harry agreed, bringing Draco's hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to his wrist. "I'm sure whatever we decide on will be good, as long as we're together."

"I love you," Draco murmured.

Harry smiled and squeezed his hand, "I love you, too."

And even though he didn't quite know what tomorrow would bring, he knew that everything would be okay.

---------

Day 110: Rough | Day 112: Intimacy

#100 Drarry Drabbles in 100 Days #established relationship #auror partners #love #drarry #drarry ficlet #drarry drabbles #fluff #my writing #secret relationship

247 notes · View notes

chuckbass-love · 4 years ago

Note

56 and 100 with andy or steve plss

Hellooo lovely. First of all thank you for the request and i’m sorry for the long wait. I was taking a break from requests to work on the multiple series that i’ve got going on but i’m back now and i hope this is worth the wait. Secondly, i chose Andy for this and i really hope you love it.

Prompt #100: “Call me selfish, but i don’t ever want anyone else to touch you”

Prompt #56: “Come sit on my face, let me show you how much i missed you”

Disclaimer: My work is not to be translated or to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Andy Barber x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Jealousy, fluff, smut, oral sex ( f receiving), language and ass grabbing. 18+ guys

Word Count: 2,861

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @lovingpostit go check them out💜

I’ll Show You

It’s been one hell of a day at work today and all you want now is just to cuddle up on the couch next to Andy, a glass of wine in hand and some random movie that he’s been dying to watch all week on the TV. To tell the truth you don’t even care what movie it is, all that matters is that he’s next to you, holding your body close to his with his cologne filling up your senses and intoxicating you. Oh and lots of kisses are also a must.

You could honestly spend forever in his company and it’s been that way since you first met, you’ve always been drawn to each other like magnets, to put it in the most cliche way possible. But it suits the two of you because you’re both introverted and home bodies. So any time you get where you can just sit together and enjoy each others company, you take it no questions asked.

This week has surprisingly dragged, probably due to all of the clients you’ve had. Your calendar has quite literally been chock a block full not to mention the severity of the things your clients unload onto you. It’s been tough. But you got into this business because you can’t help but help people and you knew the second you started on your journey to becoming a therapist that it was never going to be easy. Nothing good ever comes easy. But you don’t mind that, you’ve never shied away from a challenge before and your brains are just another thing added onto a long list that Andy keeps of why he fell in love with you.

That along with your heart of gold.

On the drive home you decide to turn the radio volume up a little more than usual, you need something to keep you going until you can run into the arms of your love and as Led Zeppelin comes onto the radio, you know you picked the right day to crank the volume up. What a band.

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

Andy is just making his way out of his own office and down to the parking lot to drive home himself. He’s usually home before you but tonight he had to clear up a couple things before he got to leave and much like your career, his is also never stress free, but he loves it too much to give it up.

As you park your car you notice Andy’s isn’t here yet which isn’t unusual, you know he’s most likely had to stay behind a little later so you decide that you’ll be the one to start cooking dinner ready for when he arrives. You step out of your car and head to the back seat to retrieve your bag along with your jacket from this morning before strutting up to your front door. But before you can even put the key in the lock, your neighbour Ian jogs over, calling your name to catch your attention.

“Ian, hi” you beam, greeting him with a friendly smile, one which he returns gladly.

“Y/N, me and Julie were just talking and since i’m taking the boys out golfing tomorrow, she’ll have a spare coupon for the spa, if you’re interested in joining her”

You have been rather tense lately and since it’s Saturday tomorrow, you’re not gonna pass up such a wonderful opportunity to relieve the tension building and the knots forming all over your back.

“Sure, that would be great. What time?”

“11” he responds simply and you nod your head rather enthusiastically.

He places his hand on yours as he smiles from ear to ear “brilliant, she’ll be over at half ten then just to be safe. Have a nice evening” and with that he walks away just as Andy is walking towards you with a not so cheery look on his face. Must have been a tough day at work for him too.

“Hi handsome, what’s with the pouty face?” you tease as you let the two of you into your shared house but he doesn’t seem to be laughing at your not so funny joke.

“Andy?” you press him for some kind of response even if it’s a nod or mumbling, you’d rather something than to be blanked by him but to no avail.

He just shrugs his coat off, hooking it onto the coat rack before slipping his shoes off and placing them in the shoe holder. And since he doesn’t seem to be responding any time soon, you do the same before padding into the kitchen to have a look at what you have in the refrigerator and the cupboards to cook for dinner. You eventually settle on a simple dish, mac n cheese. It doesn’t take too long to cook and that’s exactly what you need seeing as you’re starving.

You take one of the many pots and pour some water in it before setting it on the stove on a medium heat to boil whilst you change into something a little comfier.

As soon as you enter your shared bedroom you see Andy making his way into the closet too and when you walk in he turns his head to see you staring right back at him, confusion all over your face.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, hoping that this time he might actually tell you rather than acting like you didn’t open your mouth “what did Ian want?” is all he says and it’s all he needs to say for you to know just why he’s acting off with you.

Ian and Julie have lived opposite you ever since you moved in and you automatically got along, all four of you. They’d get a babysitter for their children and you’d double date every now and then but those fun times were interrupted when Andy insisted that Ian had a thing for you. Although you tried to convince him that it wasn’t true and he was just paranoid, you couldn’t help but notice the evidence too. The way Ian would look at you and hold his stare a little too long, the way he’d flirt without you realising it at the time and obviously today, the way he had his hand on yours. Andy must have taken one look at that and assumed the worst.

“He asked if i’d go to the spa tomorrow with Julie, i said yes, why?” you have to be sure though, although you’re assuming now, you want him to be able to tell you what’s got him so bitter.

“I don’t trust him” he mutters as he finishes changing into some sweatpants and a sweatshirt.

“He’s harmless Andy”

“I saw the way he was with you just now, touching you and giving you that shit eating grin, he knew what he was doing”

“Andy, whatever he thinks of me, i don’t care. I’m with you for a reason, can you just trust me”

“It’s not that i don’t trust you” he snaps

“Except it seems that way”

You hold off on changing for now, deciding that storming off childishly is the better option. Once you’re back downstairs you then place the pasta into the now boiling water, making sure to turn the heat up one more too.

“Why can’t you just see things from my perspective here?” he wonders out loud as he leans on the kitchen counter, catching your attention. The way his hands are in his pockets and his shoulders are hunched over, it makes you feel bad for even getting mad at him. Sure jealousy isn’t great but when he gets so worried about other men stealing you away you can’t help but realise just how much he loves you. He loves you so much that the thought of you leaving breaks him let alone if you were to actually go.

But he doesn’t have to worry about that and you’ve told him plenty of times.

“It’s not that i don’t see things from your perspective, it’s the fact that there’s no telling you. I would rather be alone for the rest of my life than be without you yet you’re too caught up with Ian having a little crush to notice that”

“Yeah well call me selfish Y/N, but i don’t ever want anyone else to touch you let alone flirt”

Instead of fighting back against him you step closer and wrap your arms around him as you stand on your tip toes and just as your lips touch his, his hands grip your face gently.

His grip tightens the more you kiss him and when you slip your tongue in, he loses all control. His hands dance all over your body, leaving no spot untouched. Goosebumps form all over as the kiss heats up, the pasta long forgotten on the stove as you’re too busy being ravished by your man.

“Someone’s very possessive” you mock, smirking a little into the kiss before he kisses you so hard it knocks the air from your lungs and when you pull away you’re gasping.

Your breathing hitches as he rests his forehead to yours, his handsome face inches away from yours and all you want to do is just claim his lips, just like you did seconds before. You can’t get enough of him.

However, he beats you to it, gripping your chin aggressively as he bites down on your bottom lip with need. You pull him closer by wrapping your arms around his neck loosely to which he happily obliges.

“Is that a problem?” he asks, raising his brows at you as you struggle to regain control of your breathing, you simply shake your head no in response, half expecting it to end here. But he has other plans.

“Good” he starts, slowly walking into the lounge leaving you stood there confused. So you decide to follow, only to find him laying down on the couch with his eyes trained on you.

“Now, why don’t you come sit on my face, let me show you how much i missed you today”

Your heart skips a beat as you watch him smile afterwards, you can’t quite believe that he’s all yours.

Without another second left to pass, you head over to him and begin to straddle his waist. He quickly takes control, moving you further up until you’re hovering above his chest.

Large calloused hands grip the hem of your skirt, slowly pushing it up to expose your laced black panties. Andy can’t help but choke on air as he sets his eyes on your panty clad mound. But rather than waste time, he starts to devour you over the lace before eventually slipping them to the side and feasting on you like a man starved.

The sensation causes you to throw your head back and practically scream due to how good it feels. His tongue on you like this will never get old, it’ll always be one of the best things in life, one that you’ll continue to enjoy for many years to come. The way his skilful tongue glides over your puffy folds with such precision before he eventually latches on to your bundle of nerves, it’s almost too much to bare and you can feel the coil tightening already with every suck and lick.

And when he slurps on you as he drinks the juices that pour from your fountain you’re unable to stop your hips from moving on their own accord and before you know it, you’re grinding yourself on him desperately as he lays there taking it like the greedy man he’s always going to be for you.

For him, you’re it. You’re the one and you always have been since he first met you.

After Laurie he didn’t expect to ever want another woman again until you came along. You rocked his world, turned it upside down and since then, he’s been hooked. He’s obsessed with the taste of you, the smell of you, the sight of you and the sound of you. You ignite a fire within him, alert all of his senses and turn his whole body into gooseflesh. Just the way he loves.

He flickers his eyelashes before looking up at you as his hands make their way to your perfectly shaped ass so that he can dig his claws into the soft skin of your round globes, causing you to keen for more.

The sounds your making should have alerted the neighbours by now but even if they do, Andy doesn’t care. He just loves the music you make as you arch your back, still riding his tongue as he pushes it further into your tight and wet hole.

“Please, Andy” you cry out, reaching down to run your fingers through his fluffy hair, you’re desperate now, even more so.

“Hm?” he mumbles, the noise vibrating onto your pussy “i’m gonna cum” you breathe out heavily, trying to gain control over the situation but failing miserably.

Andy rests his hands on your hips, stilling the movements before diving back in for more. He swirls his tongue around your folds once again before ultimately settling his plump lips around your pulsating clit and sucking like his life depends on it.

You can’t hold back anymore, the sinful moans are enough to make him cum too without you even so much as touching him.

And with one final suck and two of his fingers massaging your folds, you cum with a frantic sob. Your body launches forward and he pulls you down so that you’re laying on top of him.

He strokes your back delicately, soothing your shaking body. He can feel your legs jolting every couple of seconds.

Eventually you get off of him and attempt to stand up but of course, you fail miserably.

“So, how was that?” he rasps, chuckling simultaneously

“Perfect, oh and i missed you too today” you smile and he eventually stands up as you slouch down.

“Good, now just let me finish the job then we can order takeout” he says, causing you to furrow your brows but the unasked questions have their answer once he gets on his knees on the floor between your legs and dives right back in.

You shiver a little, your pussy is still trying to recover but he just can’t get enough. His tongue laps at the cum still spilling out of you, making sure that every last drop is inside of his mouth before swallowing it all.

“Now i’m done” he quips and you sit up a little, pulling him closer to you so you can get a taste of yourself on his tongue. Once he slips it into your mouth you can’t help but get carried away, until the door knocks, disturbing you from your peaceful and romantic moment.

You stand up to go and answer it, quickly sorting out your appearance in the hallway mirror before you open it. It’s Ian.

“Ian, hi... again” you giggle nervously as you turn to see Andy’s face change from content to angry in seconds. He practically jumps up off the couch to join you at the door, his beard still damp with your arousal.

You watch as Andy stares the poor man down before wiping at his face.

“I was just stopping by to let you know that Julie wants to leave at 10 instead, you know because of traffic and all” you can practically smell anxiety on him and Andy notices it too.

“Sure, that works for me” you say before the situation turns awkward.

You glance over at Andy who is just stood there watching him intently but he’s coming off rather intimidating.

“Anyway, we’re about to order takeout Ian so we have to go” Andy adds in before snaking his arm around you waist and pulling you closer to him, you follow Ians eyes as he looks down at your skirt and you can only hope Andy didn’t spot that but judging by the change in his breathing, he did.

Shortly after Andy bids Ian goodbye and as he’s walking off, you’re still in the doorway.

You turn to your jealous boyfriend and tut, resting your hands on your hips but he soon disbands your serious facial expression as he smacks your bum which causes you to squeal.

“Andy”

“Let’s get you to bed so i can really show you how much i missed you” he kicks the door shut as he picks you up to carry you to your shared bedroom and you just know you have a long night ahead of you.

-----------

General Tags: @deadlymistress24 @coffeebooksandfandom @chris-butt @holtzkinnon @mychemicalimagines @llamadelreyx @haus-of-bitch-talk @buckstaybucky @thewinchestergirl1208 @chrissquares @patzammit @dummiesshort @cevans-fics @americasass91 @toni9 @aaliferous @bradfordmyworld @thereisa8ella @candlefics @yassspose @randomsevans @fanficforfun

Just Chris & His Characters Tags: @onetwo3000 @sheofthegarden @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @mrsbbarnesrogers @princess-evans-addict @stxvercgersslut @chris-evanslover @bval-1 @thejemersoninferno @denisemarieangelina @janeyboo @evansphnx12 @dwights-new-plague @whxre4cevans @cherry-gemz

LMK if you wanna be added to any of my tag lists...

127 notes · View notes