#also thanks to ebs for 'is that a knife or are you just happy to see me?'

[wolfpup026]

Inspired by this gifset by @meep-meep-richie 💖

Thanks to @rins-love-wins for helping me with the caption!

[reidsworld]

In the Arms of Eternity

Summary: After holding your dying body in his arms, Elijah realises what he has to do to protect you, even if it means breaking your heart in the process. Based on this request.

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Fem!Human!Reader

Category: Angst

Content Warnings: more hurt than comfort (sorry), happy ending, blood, cursing, arguing

Word Count: 3k

Mars speaks… Thank you so much for requesting this, I really hope you enjoy it!

Masterlist

The battle had ended, but its aftermath was a haunting echo in the stillness of the night. The forest, once alive with the sounds of struggle, was now eerily silent, the air heavy with the scent of blood and damp earth. Elijah Mikaelson stood amidst the carnage, his chest heaving as he surveyed the scene, his heart seizing as his gaze fell upon the figure lying motionless on the ground.

“Y/N!” The name tore from his throat, raw and desperate, as he rushed to her side, the world narrowing to the sight of her pale face and the dark red stain spreading across her torso. Her breaths were shallow, each one a struggle, as her life ebbed away with every passing second.

Panic, an emotion Elijah had long since learned to suppress, surged within him, threatening to overwhelm his centuries-honed composure. He dropped to his knees beside her, his hands trembling as they hovered over the wound, unsure where to begin. He could feel the warmth of her blood, see the life slipping away from the woman he loved, and it was more terrifying than any foe he had ever faced.

“Y/N, stay with me,” he murmured, his voice cracking as he cradled her in his arms. Her eyes fluttered open, their usual brightness dimmed by pain, but she still managed to find him in the haze, her lips parting to form his name.

“Elijah…” It was barely more than a whisper, but it cut through him like a knife. Her hand weakly reached up, brushing against his cheek, a small smile tugging at her lips despite the agony she was in. “I’m… okay.”

“No,” he breathed, shaking his head as his vision blurred with tears he refused to let fall. “No, you’re not. But you will be.” With a swift, decisive movement, Elijah bit into his wrist, the sharp pain barely registering as his blood welled up, rich and crimson. He pressed the wound to her lips, his other hand cradling her head as he urged her to drink.

“Please, Y/N. You need to drink,” he pleaded, his voice thick with fear and desperation. “You need to survive. For me.” His words were a command, but also a plea, as if her survival was not just necessary but inevitable.

Y/N hesitated for only a moment before the instinct to survive took over, and she latched onto his wrist, her lips parting to accept the lifeline he offered. Elijah watched, his heart in his throat, as she drank, the color slowly returning to her cheeks, her breathing becoming less labored with each drop of his blood.

When he finally pulled his wrist away, the wound on his arm healing instantly, Elijah could feel the tension in his chest begin to ease. Y/N’s eyes fluttered closed, not in death, but in sleep, as her body began to heal itself with the supernatural strength his blood provided.

He stayed with her for a long time, his fingers gently brushing through her hair as he watched the rise and fall of her chest, ensuring that she was truly out of danger. But as the night wore on and the adrenaline began to fade, another emotion took its place—fear. The fear of losing her, of being the cause of her suffering, gnawed at him, and with it came a realization that twisted his heart.

He had brought her into his world, a world of danger and death, and nearly lost her because of it. And as much as he loved her, as deeply as she had woven herself into his very soul, Elijah knew that he could not allow her to be hurt because of him again. The thought of losing her was unbearable, but so was the thought of her being harmed because of his presence in her life.

So he made a decision, one that broke his heart even as he resolved to follow through with it. He would protect her, even if it meant pushing her away. He was doing this because he loved her, he’d rather her hate him than to have to see her get hurt again.

The days that followed were a blur for Y/N. She woke in the comfort of Elijah’s bed, the memory of the battle a distant, hazy nightmare. The wound that should have killed her didn’t even leave a scar, a testament to the power of his blood and the love that had driven him to save her.

But as she recovered, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Elijah was distant, his usual warmth replaced by a cold formality that made her chest ache with unspoken dread. He was still there, still attentive, but there was a barrier between them now, an invisible wall that kept him at arm’s length.

He no longer held her close at night, no longer whispered sweet nothings in the quiet moments they shared. The gentle touch of his hand on hers had become brief, almost clinical, as if he were afraid to linger. And though he still looked at her with the same intensity, there was a sadness in his eyes, a sorrow that he tried to hide but that she could see as clearly as if it were written across his face.

It broke her heart.

“Elijah,” she finally confronted him one evening, her voice trembling as she stood before him in the grand study, the fire casting long shadows across the walls. He was seated at his desk, a book in hand, but she could tell he wasn’t really reading it. His gaze flicked up to meet hers, a flicker of something—guilt, perhaps—crossing his features before he quickly masked it with his usual composure.

“Y/N,” he greeted her, his voice smooth but distant. “Is everything all right?”

“No,” she said, her voice breaking slightly as she forced herself to hold his gaze. “Everything is not all right, Elijah. You’ve been distant… ever since that night. Ever since you saved me.”

Elijah's jaw tightened, and he looked away, as if the sight of her was too much to bear. “Y/N,” he began, his voice colder than she had ever heard it, “you needed time to heal, and I needed time to… think.”

“Think about what?” she asked, dread pooling in her stomach. His distant demeanor, his evasive gaze—it all pointed to something she couldn’t bring herself to believe.

“About us.” His words were like shards of ice, stabbing into her heart. “I’ve come to realize that this—whatever we have—was a mistake.”

Y/N felt the world tilt beneath her feet, her heart pounding in her chest as she struggled to process his words. “A mistake?” she repeated, her voice barely a whisper.

Elijah turned his back to her, putting the discarded book that he was reading back on the shelves, trying to keep his mind occupied, unable to face the pain he knew he was causing. “You’re human, Y/N. Fragile. Mortal. I’ve lived for over a thousand years, and I’ve seen the devastation that comes from caring too much, from allowing a human into my life. It was foolish of me to think this could ever work.”

Each word was a dagger to her heart, tearing at the love she had thought was unbreakable. “So… you’re saying that all of this meant nothing to you?” she asked, her voice trembling. “That we meant nothing?”

“It’s not about meaning,” Elijah replied, his tone clipped. “It’s about reality. And the reality is that I can’t see myself with you in the long term. You deserve a life of safety, of normalcy—something I can never give you.”

Y/N took a shaky step forward, desperate to close the distance between them. “Elijah, please don’t do this. You’re lying to yourself, to me. I know you love me.”

But Elijah steeled himself, his expression hardening. “You’re wrong,” he said, his voice hollow. “What I feel for you… it’s not enough. It’s never been enough.”

His words were a death sentence, and Y/N felt the tears she had been holding back spill over, hot and bitter. “So you laying over my dying body, sobbing, begging me to stay with you, to survive for you—meant nothing?”

He opened his mouth to reply, but before he could utter a word, she cut him off, her voice trembling with anger and pain. "If you're going to break my heart, Elijah, at least have the fucking guts to look me in the eye while you do it."

Elijah’s mask of indifference nearly cracked at her words, but he forced himself to remain cold as he turned to face her. He had to do this, for her sake, even if it destroyed him. “It was a moment of weakness,” he said, his voice tight. “Nothing more.”

Y/N’s breath hitched as the finality of his words sank in. She had fought so hard to survive, to be with him, and now he was ripping her heart out with the same hands that had once held her so tenderly.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Don’t do this, Elijah. Don’t push me away. I love you, and I know you love me too.”

But Elijah shook his head, his eyes closing as if to block out the sight of her tears. “Goodbye, Y/N,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I hope you find someone who can give you the life you deserve.”

With that, he turned away and walked over to the bookshelves, his fingers trailing along the spines as he searched for something—anything—to focus on, trying to avoid meeting her gaze. His movements were frantic and uncoordinated, as if he were desperately looking for a book that could offer him an escape from the pain he had just inflicted. Y/N, her heart shattered into a million pieces, watched him with a mixture of disbelief and sorrow. The silence grew heavy between them as she turned on her heel and walked out, her footsteps echoing in the dimly lit study. As the door clicked shut behind her, Elijah remained by the bookshelves, his fingers gripping the spines of the volumes as silent tears began to fall. He choked back a sob, overwhelmed by the weight of his actions, his face hidden from view as he allowed his anguish to spill over.

The days that followed were unbearable. Y/N tried to move on, but everywhere she turned, she was haunted by memories of Elijah. His touch, his voice, the way he had looked at her as if she were the most precious thing in his world—it was all a cruel reminder of what she had lost.

She barely slept, her nights filled with dreams of him, of the life they could have had. And each morning, she awoke with the same ache in her chest, the pain of knowing that he had chosen to walk away from her.

Elijah, too, was suffering. Every moment without her was agony, but he forced himself to endure it, believing that he was doing the right thing. He buried himself in work, in the affairs of the Mikaelson family, but nothing could distract him from the emptiness that had settled in his heart.

He had told himself that he was protecting her, that pushing her away was the only way to keep her safe. But in truth, he was haunted by the fear that he had made the wrong choice, that he had destroyed the one thing that had ever brought him true happiness.

It was nearly a week later when Y/N found herself back at the Mikaelson estate, her heart heavy with unresolved emotions. She had tried to stay away, to respect his wishes, but the pain of their separation was too much to bear. She needed closure, needed to hear from him one last time, even if it tore her apart.

She found him in the study, where their last conversation had taken place. He was seated at his desk, the same book in his hands, though it was clear he hadn’t turned a page since she had last seen him.

Without hesitation, she burst into the room, her emotions boiling over. "Y/N—" he started, surprised by her sudden appearance, but she cut him off sharply.

“No, Elijah, don't say anything,” she snapped, her voice trembling with barely contained anger. “You’re going to sit there and let me talk.”

Elijah froze, his eyes wide as he looked at her, his usual calm demeanor shaken by the fire in her gaze. She didn’t give him a chance to respond, the words pouring out of her with all the pent-up frustration and hurt she had been holding in for days.

“You don’t get to decide what’s best for me, Elijah,” she continued, her voice rising. “You don’t get to push me away because you’re scared. Do you think I didn’t know what I was getting into when you told me what you are? I knew, and I stayed because I love you, Elijah! I love you more than anything.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but she wasn’t finished. “You’re more than just an original vampire—you’re the love of my life. And no near-death experience will scare me off. Not when I have you.”

Her words hung in the air, raw and powerful, and for a moment, Elijah was at a loss for words. The walls he had so carefully constructed around his heart began to crumble as he looked at her, truly seeing the depth of her love for him.

Slowly, he stood from the desk, his movements hesitant as he approached her. “Y/N…” he began, but his voice cracked, betraying the emotions he was trying so hard to keep in check. “I never wanted to hurt you. I thought… I thought I was protecting you.”

“Protecting me?” she repeated, her tone softening slightly as she looked up at him. “By pushing me away? That’s not protection, Elijah—that’s fear. And I’m not afraid. I survived because of you. And I’ll keep surviving, as long as I have you by my side.”

Elijah reached out, his hands trembling as they cupped her face, his thumbs gently brushing away the tears that had begun to fall. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I love you so much. I just… I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.”

“You won’t,” she whispered back, wrapping her arms around him and holding on as tightly as she could. “You won’t lose me, Elijah. I’m yours. I always will be.”

The tension that had been building between them melted away as they stood there, wrapped in each other’s embrace. Elijah’s hold on her tightened, as if he could somehow keep her safe just by keeping her close, and she smiled against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her cheek.

The fear and pain of the past days slowly began to fade, replaced by the warmth of their love, the unspoken bond that had always connected them. Elijah pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt her chin up so he could look into her eyes, his gaze soft and filled with a tenderness that made her heart swell.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice breaking as he finally allowed himself to feel the depth of his emotions. “I promise, I will never push you away again, I love you.”

Y/N smiled, a radiant, heartfelt smile that lit up the room. “I love you too, Elijah. And I’m never going anywhere. No matter what.”

Elijah leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her lips, pouring every ounce of his love and devotion into that simple act. Y/N responded in kind, her arms winding around his neck as she pulled him closer, deepening the kiss with a desperation that matched his own.

When they finally broke apart, breathless and flushed, Elijah rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closed as he savored the closeness he had denied himself for too long.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “For staying. For loving me.”

“Always,” she replied, her fingers gently tracing the lines of his face, as if memorizing every detail. “I’m not afraid of your world, Elijah. Because it’s our world now. And as long as we’re together, we can face anything.”

He opened his eyes then, gazing down at her with a look of such reverence that it made her heart skip a beat. “You are my eternity, Y/N,” he said softly, his voice filled with a promise that spanned centuries. “And I will spend every moment of it making sure you know how deeply you are loved.”

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with the certainty that they were meant to be together, no matter the challenges they might face. “And I will spend every moment loving you right back.”

With those words, the last remnants of the darkness that had hung over them dissipated, leaving only the light of their love to guide them forward. In that moment, in the safety of each other’s arms, they both knew that they had found something truly eternal—a love that would endure through the ages, unshaken by the trials of the world.

Together, they would face whatever came their way, knowing that their love was strong enough to overcome anything. And in the quiet of that night, as they held each other close, Elijah and Y/N made an unspoken vow—a vow to cherish, protect, and love one another for all of eternity.

And as they stood together, wrapped in the warmth of their love, they knew that whatever the future held, they would face it side by side, always and forever.

Mars speaks... (again) Thank you for reading, any and all feedback is appreciated. If you wish to be added to my Elijah taglist or my taglist for anyone else I write for, lmk!

[writertitan]

Saturday Cartoons

pairing: levi x reader

word count: 2001

themes: semi-mature content, morning after fluff, some good old-fashioned friends to lovers 

requested by anon

Sunlight peered curiously through Levi’s curtains and caressed your face and your bared shoulders, gently coaxing you out of whatever dream you’d been having, already long forgotten. Though your back is turned to Levi now, you feel his warmth radiating towards you. With a blush, you remember the previous night, how his warmth enveloped you and made you dizzy with pleasure. 

It had been the first night together after prancing around each other idly for months and months, always flirting secretly with glances and touches, never following through. After all, it was a little unwise to sleep with a friend. Nonetheless, you’d been invited along to happy hour with Levi and your little group, laughing into the night with no care for the time. The Friday night happy hours were the best; drinks upon drinks after everyone got off of work, empty complaints about the trials of the day and sometimes the entire week, and no worry about needing to go back the next day to do it all again. 

Last night, however, things were electric in that buzzing bar with Levi and your mutual friends. It was one of the only times that you could stare at him as much as you wanted. Other times, everybody else strived to be inclusive, group conversations forcing you to look between everyone equally. Gawking at Levi would have earned a few jokes, a few jabs at your expense. But as the night wore on, your friends all getting more and more tired, more intoxicated, wrapping themselves into more intimate conversations of pairs of two or sometimes three, you seized the opportunity to melt into a one-on-one conversation with Levi. And, with each drink, the two of you had gotten closer and closer, thighs touching, shoulders brushing, and you were happy. It came as a shock when Levi whispered in your ear that you had to be more discreet so your friends wouldn’t get suspicious, more of a demand than anything. The acknowledgment of where this was headed was a surprise. Usually, the two of you skittered around it, halted the flirting before it became too serious, too solid. Not tonight. He told you to wait until it was time to go, and then you’d catch an Uber together. All you did was nod. 

Now here you were, in his bed, one hand tracing the edges of sunlight on his crisp sheets as you struggled to prepare yourself for the inevitable and awkward morning after. 

Your head throbbed just a tad, only a mini hangover dulling your mind, which you were thankful for. It was nice to be able to enjoy the morning, breathing slowly and evenly as you replayed last night in your mind over and over, your eyes closed as you thought of Levi’s lips, his hands…

His hands. 

Your eyes snapped open when you felt feather-light traces down your spine, fingertips caressing you softly, barely noticeable had you not already been awake. Your face got hot instantly, knowing Levi was awake too, and you contemplated whether you should turn around or not. 

Silly, you thought to yourself, I should turn around.

So you did, your eyes finding Levi’s stormy ones as his hand retreated back to his own bubble of space. He looked a little embarrassed, as though he’d been caught red-handed, but he played it off coolly. 

“Good morning,” you whispered, voice still raspy from sleep. 

“Good morning,” he echoed, eyes unreadable for a moment as he regarded you. Again, your face heated up, not knowing what to do next. Maybe he hadn’t expected you to stay the night? Maybe he’d expected you to leave before he awoke? 

“I had fun last night,” you said, honest as can be. Slowly, you realized it wasn’t as awkward as you’d anticipated. Levi was, after all, still a dear friend to you. Things had just reached a new level. You contemplated for a moment how that would change things going forward. 

Levi didn’t respond, but you smiled brightly upon seeing the small upward curve of his own lips, a rare smile gracing his features. One thing you knew about Levi: he smiled with his eyes. Even if a smile didn’t play on his lips sometimes, you could always see it in his eyes. 

The rare smile on his lips touched the smile in his eyes today. 

A silence wrapped around you again, not awkward but not comfortable, but filled with something you couldn’t quite make out. Unspoken words. 

“There’s...a brunch place across the street,” Levi started, clearly a little uncomfortable, “Are you hungry?” 

As if on cue, your stomach rumbled and you hid your blush by burrowing most of your face into one of his pillows, eyes still on his as you smiled with pure embarrassment. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” 

“How embarrassing,” you complained, but you laughed as the words tumbled out. You sat up, shyly keeping the sheets wrapped around you. “Let’s go. I think a Bloody Mary will help with my headache.” 

Levi perked up at that, cocking his head to the side. “Hungover?”

“Not quite, but I guess I had enough to make me feel nasty,” you told him, easily slipping into a normal conversation with him. 

“Wait here,” he muttered, and you catch the way he hesitates before throwing the sheets off himself to bare himself to you. Of course you’d seen it all last night, but it was different in the morning, in the muted daylight peeking into his room through his curtains. Bashful, you looked away, also wanting to respect his privacy as he pulled on his boxers. 

While Levi was gone, you scrambled to dress back into your clothes. You hadn’t made it very far, only able to have put on your undergarments and shirt, before he was back with a bottle of water and a bottle of painkillers. The thoughtful gesture made you blush again and you smiled, shy and grateful, as you took them from him.

“Thanks, Levi,” you said, popping two pills into your mouth and chasing them with some water. You were sitting on his bed, legs tangled into the sheets once more for some warmth, and you gazed at him as he also sat back down to join you. “So, when are we headed out?” 

Levi was quiet for a moment, his expression a little thoughtful, but you couldn’t read the other emotion there until he spoke up. 

“I was thinking we could just order in. Eat it here? Maybe just hang out?”

The idea made you perk up, finally picking up on that subtle shift in the atmosphere around you. Of course things weren’t going to be the same after sleeping together, but there had been a part of you that had been so sure that things weren’t going to change too much. Levi was offering to spend more time together and it made your head spin. 

Not just a one night stand. You’d never wanted it to be, but this felt almost surreal. 

You found yourself nodding eagerly before you registered what was happening. 

Levi pulled up the website and let you look through the menu on his phone, not so subtly leaning in close so your cheek pressed against his shoulder as you browsed. Being more or less on the same page, wanting to still spend time together and not disregard last night as a one time thing, had made the energy clear and the awkwardness dissipate. You protested with Levi when he paid for the entire order, offering to give him money, but he scoffed and told you to knock it off. 

Neither of you made a move to leave the bed. Unlike last night, this mood was calm and relaxed, both of you leaning into each other as you sat up against the headboard and gossiped and resumed your conversation from last night while you were still out at the bar. It was so easy with Levi, always. The only difference now was that you still felt nervous to test the waters. You were side by side, shoulders together with one of your legs draped carelessly over his, but could you stroke his arm if you wanted? Could you rest your chin on his shoulder while he talked about his clueless new intern? 

The doorbell rang in the middle of one of your own tangents and you hesitantly pulled away from Levi to follow him to the door. He had pulled on a t-shirt and some sweatpants to go and answer to pick up your breakfast, and you awkwardly swayed in the background just out of eyesight, still clad in just your shirt and underwear. 

As you moved to sit at Levi’s small dining table, he gives you a questioning look and nods to his living room. 

“More comfortable,” was all he said, and you agreed. You sat on his couch and helped him take out your containers of food, watching Levi turn on the TV and immediately flip to the channel still showing Saturday morning cartoons. Your breath can’t help but catch in your throat as you flashed a small smile; you’d mentioned in passing last night that you sometimes liked to watch cartoons on your lazy days. The fact that Levi had remembered made your heart flutter. 

This time, you weren’t going to be so shy and question if something was okay or not. The energy around you both was constantly shifting, ebbing and flowing, but there was no denying it. Though the question hadn’t come up just yet, you felt it now, stronger than ever: this was a new beginning. 

You felt more confident about the way you pressed into his side as Levi smeared jam onto some toast with a plastic knife, and mumbled a thank you when he gave it to you to snack on. He casually lifted his legs to rest on the coffee table, with you mirroring him, and the both of you rested your breakfast on your lap as you watched cartoons. 

Levi, always the ridiculously fast eater, finished way before you did and moved to immediately clean up after himself, but found himself right back at your side moments later. This time, however, his hands were free and you watched him stretch his arms above his head, not-so-subtly moving one behind you on the couch, and then slowly moving down to rest around your shoulders. You leaned into him and offered him a bite of your pancakes, which he was happy to munch on. As if it were the most natural thing in the world. 

Each action got a reaction from you. When he started stroking your arm lightly with his fingers, you rested your head on his shoulder, eyes still on the screen. When you were finished eating and he wordlessly set the container aside without getting up to properly clean up, not wanting to make you feel like anything less than a welcome guest, you were huddling closer into him, practically on his lap. You knew the two of you were feeling the same. Nervous, excited, confused.

Finally, during a commercial, you were building the courage to speak the words into existence. However, Levi beat you to it. 

“Is this okay?” he asked, head tilted down to look at you, still resting on his shoulder. You blinked a few times to regain composure, biting your lip as you looked at him. 

You knew what he meant, of course. Did you want to be here? Did you want to be like this? Was the direction this was going okay with you? 

“More than okay,” you replied in a breathy whisper. Levi physically seemed to relax under you and you couldn’t help the small chuckle that left you. “I’m...really happy. I don’t regret any of it.”

“Me too,” Levi assured you. 

You felt a hand in your hair, threading through it gently, calming you, a silent action to let you know that he was willing to give this a try if you were. 

And you were. 

[prfctethereal]

bad idea. | remus lupin

thank u, next x marauders

alexa, play bad idea by ariana grande 

pairing: remus lupin x reader (rivals to lovers)

summary: you and remus are rivals. after james and sirius find out about your fear of werewolves, they use it to exploit you, and help remus

word count: 4,393 (i'm sorry)

warnings: violence, language, mentions of trauma

a/n: haven't worked on this series in a while but whatever lol. this piece took my like two months from when I first started it because I kept changing it but oh well, enjoy - kennedy

***

Nothing felt better than being top in the class academically. Seeing the perfectly round ‘O’ at the top of a paper after getting it back was one of the few things that made me truly happy and proud of myself. I always thought that getting all these excellent marks would place me first place in my class, but I guess I was wrong. Unfortunately, I wasn’t first place. I was first equal.

Remus Lupin: the only person who could give me a run for my money. Every day in class was a battle to see who would win the unspoken competition. Subtle glances, snide comments, rolling eyes, you name it. It was even harder with the fact that Remus was a lot of the time my work partner as most teachers had the same idea of pairing up their brightest students.

I didn’t necessarily hate the guy. There was just something in my guts that made me nervous around him, something disguised as a disliking. He was just too friendly, it didn’t make sense why out of everyone, he didn’t like me.

***

Another day, another frustration. Potions class had started and it was brewing day. The classroom was stuffy, making it hard to breathe through my tightly collared shirt. My hair was pulled off my face as I tried desperately to cut up fluxweed into manageable. The swimming fumes of the half done potion was flooding my senses and making it hard to see or perceive anything that was going on. It was roulette for the cutting knife and my finger.

“You’re doing it wrong.” Remus muttered under his breath, bringing his attention to how I was preparing the ingredients. Huffing, he pulled the cutting board towards his side of the work bench and held out his hand, asking for the knife silently.

“Don’t I get a say in this?” I scowled, reluctantly handing over the knife to the rough looking boy. My eyes lingered a little too long over his delicate skin, mentally tracing each and every one of his mysterious scars, until my thoughts were cut still by Remus shoving the cut weeds in front of me.

“I hope you know how to put them in the cauldron.” There was a hint of cheek in his comment which I glossed over, poking my tongue out of my mouth and turning away from him, doing what he said. One by one, I carefully dropped the fluxweed into the bubbling concoction.

Grabbing my wand, I mixed the potion, watching Remus out of the corner of my eye. He seemed fixed and concentrated on cutting the leeches up, ignoring my presence completely. It wasn’t unusual to get the cold shoulder from my potions partner, but somehow, it still hurt like the very first time.

“Add these in now.” Remus commanded nonchalantly, pushing the cut up leeches onto the bench for me. Rolling my eyes, I brought my forefinger and thumb to the nearest leech and picked it up, feeling the grimy texture on my skin. All of a sudden, I felt a burst on pain ripple through my finger, my vocal chords letting out a loud yelp, as the leech’s teeth bit deep into my forefinger. Looking down, a thick line of blood was dripping down my finger, the leech still connected to my skin.

“Are you okay?” Remus must’ve heard my cry and immediately turned to me. He brought his hands to mine, gently cradling my bleeding wound. There must’ve been some poison in the leech’s venom as my finger started to discolour and turn a worrying shade of black. Even my head was feeling lightheaded. Trying to keep my balance, I placed my nondominant hand on the workbench to help keep me up, but it failed, falling into Remus’ arms.

“No.” I croaked out, the pain almost unbearable now. The veins on my hand were red and livid, with a dark, black bruise circling the bite mark. The leech was removed from my finger, probably by Remus, and my wound was on clear display. To top it all off, blood must’ve dropped into the ongoing potion as it was hissing angrily, turning a deep purple, not the soft yellow colour that it should’ve been. “You said you cut all the leeches. Why was that bloody thing alive?”

“I’m sorry.” Remus helped to sit me down on a chair but I was failing to keep my weight on my feet, toppling over at the slightest change in balance. My head was swarming with pain and white splotches danced in the corners of my vision. “I thought I cut them all. I didn’t realise I had missed any.”

By now, Professor Slughorn had come to see what the commotion was all about and had seen me barely conscious on a stool. He was trying to communicate but all I was focused on was the infection spreading up my hand. All the veins on my hand were now brick red, throbbing desperately. Shooting tendrils of pain were spiraling up my arm; a one way track to my heart and lungs. The only thing keeping my tethered to reality was Remus’ tight hold on my body, keeping me up right and conscious.

“Take her to the infirmary.” I could just make out what Professor Slughorn was saying by the way his lips moved and the vague sounds coming from his mouth. My lips involuntarily squinted as I felt myself being hoisted up and forced to walk out of the classroom, Remus’ tight grip around my waist never faltering.

He seemed desperate to keep a conversation with me going, talking to me the entire way to the hospital wing, trying to keep me from passing out. We were just about halfway there when my feet got caught up in the ground and my eyes succumbed to the white light ebbing my vision. My eyes rolled back into my head as I passed out in Remus’ arms.

***

“She just passed out?” Sirius asked, almost incredulous as Remus retold his encounter with Y/N from earlier in the day.

The four marauders were sitting in the grand hall, slowly munching away at their lunch. Guiltily, Remus took small bites, feeling remorseful as he knew Y/N wouldn’t be able to spend her lunchtime in the grand hall too. She was still in the hospital wing being treated for something Remus did.

“Flabbergasted leech! I forgot that they were deadly venomous. I should’ve been more careful when cutting them up.” Remus stabbed angrily at his salad, twirling his fork in exhaustion, his eyes never looking up to meet his friends.

“It’s not your fault, mate,” James tried stepping in to calm him down, placing his hand on Remus’ shoulder in a calculated manner. “Anyway, I thought you hated her.”

Remus scoffed, taking a bite out of a stray lettuce leaf. “I don’t hate her. She just gets on my nerves. Always trying to get top in the class. I don’t even care about being top, it just pisses me off that she tries so much.”

“But why?” Peter shrugged, a confused look on his face as Remus pondered the question.

In all honesty, Remus had no idea why he had such a negative attitude towards Y/N. Something about her always riled him up in a way he never expected. He just had to get on her nerves and annoy her. It was like he craved to come out better than her.

“I don’t know. I just really want to knock her down a peg. I’m not sure if it’s the full moon talking but I just want to annoy her in some shape or form, y’know?”

“Let’s prank her. Rile her up a bit.” Sirius suggested playfully, poking Remus with the fork in his hand, prodding at the thinking boy.

“Maybe. She’s already pretty pissed at me because of the leech situation. I don’t want to get her even more annoyed.” Remus looked quickly between the three other boys, who already seemed encapsulated in another conversation. “Whatever, I don’t care. Prank her if you want. After the full moon tonight though.”

Sirius’ face lit up with delight when he heard those words fall from Remus’ lips. “Alright! That’s more like it.”

Clapping Remus on the back, James nodded eagerly, mischievous looks bouncing between the three of them. Remus couldn’t care less. All he could think about was if Y/N was okay.

***

Stumbling through the halls, I managed to find my way to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. I had just been discharged from the hospital wing, with Madame Pomfrey advising me to stay longer. I left though; I hated missing class. Also, Professor Merrythought said that it was going to be a practical lesson today and I didn’t want to miss it.

Apparently, there was still a little bit of poison left in my bloodstream, but according to Madame Pomfrey, it would be all out of my system by tomorrow morning. I just had to be careful that I didn’t injure myself anymore.

Standing outside the door, I swiftly knocked and entered the classroom. I wasn’t entirely late; class had only started ten minutes ago. Everyone seemed to be crowded on one end of the classroom, so I easily blended in with the group of students. Without acknowledgement, Professor Merrythought continued on with her lesson, only a slight look in my direction to tell that she was aware that I had shown up.

“Can anyone tell me what is in this wardrobe?” Professor Merrythought asked the class. Annoyed, I realised that I couldn’t answer the question as I hadn’t been there for the start of the class and had missed all the introduction. Scowling, I noticed Remus’ hand shoot up in the air. “Yes, Mr Lupin?”

“It’s a boggart.” Remus started, blissfully unaware that I had arrived in class. “A boggart doesn’t have a permanent form and takes the shape of what fears you most. No one knows what it looks like when it isn’t in the form of a fear.” He finished smuggly, a cocky grin smothered all over his face. Unknowingly to him, he had forgotten a crucial detail.

When Remus finished his monologue, I raised my hand up from behind him, a sly smile also on my face. Professor Merrythought caught my hand with her eye and nodded sweetly at me. “Yes, Miss L/N?”

Remus spun around. His brows were knitted together and he looked annoyed, that cheeky grin wiped off his face. Winking at him discreetly, I continued with what I was going to say. “The incantation to eradicate the boggart is Riddikulus, though it won’t banish the boggart indefinitely; only disarm it temporarily. While saying the charm, you must think of an element of fun as the only thing to get rid of a boggart is to get rid of the fear itself.”

“Exactly.” Professor Merrythought began addressing the class. “Now, I would like you all to go off and practise saying the charm for ten minutes. Then we can reconvene and practise on the actual boggart.”

Leaving the group of students, I went off to a quiet corner, muttering “riddikulus” over and over under my breath. Pointing my wand and waving it with the right hand motion, I practised the charm, until I felt a warm hand on my shoulder, waking me from my daze.

“Remarkable work, L/N. I see hospital life wasn’t treating you too well? You’re back sooner than I expected.” Remus quipped, obviously trying to start a quarrel with me.

“Oh, well, I wouldn’t want to miss a lesson of Defence Against the Dark Arts, would I? Then I wouldn’t get to see your darling face.” I replied sarcastically, a fake sickly sweet undertone in my voice.

“You’ve seemed to mistake my friendliness as infatuation. I must change my attitude towards you immediately.” His voice was trying to come out dauntingly, but it was quite cute.

“You’ve must’ve interpreted my words incorrectly. You see, it wasn’t my longing for you that made me turn up to class. It was actually because I didn’t want your ego to get too big, thinking you were the top student. I came to class to put you in your place.”

The sternness in his face seemed to let go as he noticed how serious my tone was. I admit, it was quite harsh but I didn’t care now. My message went across loud and clear. Unfortunately, our conversation was interrupted by Professor Merrythought calling us students back to the wardrobe.

“So,” Remus said, starting a conversation, “what’s your biggest fear?”

I chuckled slightly, turning to look at Remus’ genuine face. “Honestly, I have no idea. I wouldn’t know where to start when thinking about my fears. Maybe failure? I’m not sure.” I let the vulnerability fall from my lips, forgetting that it was my biggest rival that I was talking to. “What about you?”

“Same. Haven’t a clue.” Remus said as we arrived at the group. Remus walked slightly away from me, back towards his group of friends, so I walked up to some nice Ravenclaw girls that I had always gotten along with and listened to Professor Merrythought speak.

“Alright kids, I’d like for you to make a single file line. Miss L/N, Mr Lupin, since you two have the most knowledge already about boggarts, can you please start off today?”

Nodding, I walked to the front of the line, Remus getting in behind me. Behind us, the rest of our class formed a line, ready to get their hands on a boggart.

“Now, Miss L/N, what’s your biggest fear?”

Reiterating what I had said before, I informed Professor Merrythought that I had no idea what my boggart would turn into.

“Not to worry dear. You are very smart. Just, think of something funny, first thing that comes to mind. Now, I’ll open the wardrobe now,” Professor Merrythought walked closer to the wardrobe and placed her hand on the doorknob. “Are you ready?”

I nodded, my firm grip on my wand never wavering. As the wardrobe door swung open, the boggart emerged from the wardrobe in the form of a werewolf.

A werewolf?!

All of a sudden, memories start swarming in from my childhood. I started remembering all about the night where my younger brother was attacked by a werewolf, barely making it out alive. Tears started spilling from my eyes as my arms shook. As the werewolf darted forward, all I could remember was the night where our family was cornered. I had had nightmares for years afterwards. Subconsciously, I fell to the ground, unable to cope with the intense emotions anymore.

My head was feeling heavy and for the second time today, I felt like I was going to faint. It didn’t help that I still had poison in my veins, fogging my head from being able to think properly.

There was movement around me as I could vaguely hear Professor Merrythought say the incantation herself, putting the boggart back into the wardrobe. I was minutes away from collapsing onto the ground, the only thing keeping me up were two strong hands gripping onto my arms.

It became too much and for the second time that day, I fainted into Remus Lupin’s arms.

***

Sirius and James had watched what had happened in Defence Against the Dark Arts today, and they had taken notes. They had noted down how Y/N reacted to werewolves and a plan had formed collectively in their mind.

Tonight was the full moon and they both knew that meant Remus was going to transform into a werewolf himself. What better way to shake up poor Y/N then to let her meet her greatest fear.

***

Coming to, I woke up in the hospital room again, a pounding in my forehead. It seemed that waking up in the infirmary was becoming quite a familiar thing for me. Annoyed, I pulled the covers off my body and started for the exit, before being stopped by Madame Pomfrey.

“Miss L/N, please, just stay here overnight. You’ve dealt with a lot of trauma today and it would be best for you to rest here until morning.”

I knew where she was coming from but there was nothing worse than sleeping in one of those uncomfortable hospital beds, so I shook my head, giving Madame Pomfrey a grateful smile.

“I think it would be best for me to continue resting in my own dorm.” I pulled myself out of Pomfrey's grasp and opened the door, stepping out into the corridor. “Thank you for your concern though.”

The corridor was less stuffy than the hospital wing and the fresh air did wonders for my forehead. I felt like I had just been born again as I walked out of halls and into the outside world. The sun had just set over the horizon and the full moon was peeking up over the hills. It looked beautiful tonight, the bright light shining in the sky, reflecting on the black lake. The stars stood out against the moon, the constellations telling stories I couldn’t even decipher. I felt at peace in the night air.

Deciding to take the long way back to my common room, I disregarded the curfew rules, opting for a peaceful stroll instead. Walking out of the clock tower, I made my way through the courtyard, the light breeze sending ripples of goosebumps onto my skin. It was slightly chilly but nothing that bad, so I continued my journey.

The grounds were quiet tonight. Hagrid must’ve gone to sleep early tonight as there was no light shining from his cabin. It was an unusual sight but it made me realise how dark it was actually getting. Knowing that since I had already had two sleeps today and I probably wasn’t going to be able to sleep right away, I decided to stay out longer, muttering “lumos” under my breath. Immediately, my wand lit up, letting light shine into the night.

That’s when I heard rustling from the bushes. Cautiously, I spun around, my wand pointing directly at the direction of the noise. Squinting, I tried to make out what was coming from where the noise came from.

Was that a person?

All of a sudden, I could make out the face of Sirius Black, absolute terror replacing his normal dug grin. His eyes looked frightened and he was a stuttering mess.

“Oh merlin, Y/N, I’m so glad you’re here.” He was panting, stopping to catch his breath. “It’s Remus. He’s hurt.”

It was as if all my negativity towards Remus dropped in an instant. All I felt was concern for my self delegated rival. Immediately, I went off running from the same direction that Sirius came from, with Sirius eventually coming up at my rear, running beside me.

“Quick, towards the shrieking shack.” He stated and I nodded along. There was noise in the air tonight. I couldn’t tell if it was a dog howling or an owl hooting, all that I knew was that it made me sick to the stomach.

We stopped running when we reached the Whomping Willow. My heart stopped as I looked up the tree branches, somehow immobile. My gut was telling me to run away, but I looked back at Sirius, a pleading look in his eyes, and remembered that Remus was supposedly in there, supposedly injured.

“Lead the way.”

I gestured to Sirius and he beckoned me to follow him, kneeling down as he crawled through a hole at the base of the tree. Nervously, I followed, taking out my still illuminated wand and holding it close to my body. Only the light from my wand was lighting up the tunnel as Sirius and I walked further and further into the darkness. As we walked, the more and more concerning sounds I heard, including whimpering and some howling. My skin was itching but I fought the urge to run and we were suddenly at the entrance to another area.

Carefully, Sirius opened the door, leading us into a run down house. The walls were scratched up with claw marks and there were shreds of fabric littered all over the ground. A dingy smell of body odour and flesh was filling the room and I noticed how bloody hot it was in this shack, common sense telling me to pull off the sweater I was wearing.

Suddenly, Peter burst in through one of the rooms, always wearing a panicked look on his face. “Quick. James is injured here.”

I paused for a moment, my head spinning. I thought Remus was the one that got injured? But I didn’t have much time to think as a deer randomly sprinted out from one of the rooms, racing past me, it’s prongs slicing past my arms. I hissed as blood sept slowly from the wound, a stinging sensation flooding my arm.

Creeping in the direction the deer came from, I emerged into a room, stopping as I noticed the creature in the corner of the room. A huge werewolf was standing there, panting loudly, whimpering from its mouth. It’s paws were paling anxiously at the wall.

Then, it spun around, it’s nose twitching with excitement. It pounced forward at me, obviously being able to smell me from the other end of the room. I was too scared to move, the mouth agape as I watched the werewolf corner me against the wall.

It’s claws came swiping at me, cutting deep into my chest. One of the sharp talons cut on my neck, the wound bleeding much more than the others. The pain washed over me as I felt a tug at my arm, pulling me into another room. The door locked behind us, leaving the werewolf alone in the room.

Sirius was looking down at me as I fell to the ground. I couldn’t do anything anymore. Exhaustion caught up to me and I passed out for the third time today. The only thing different was that it wasn’t in Remus’ arms.

Oh shit.

Remus.

***

It wasn’t unusual for me to wake up in the hospital wing now. It seemed to be late morning, as sunlight was streaming in through the window. I felt groggy but I mustered up another courage to prop myself upright on the pillow and scanned around the room. Directly in front of me, I could see James lying down on one of the hospital beds, a deep wound on his arm, bandaged up.

Next to him was Peter. All he had was a bandage over his head and a black eye, but he seemed to be completely asleep, as he didn’t wake up to when Sirius started talking to James next to him.

Sirius didn’t look nearly as injured, although he had a few bruises littered on his legs. He seemed to be in a furious conversation with James and someone else. With all I could, I listened in to the conversation, trying to grapple on to what happened.

“We shouldn’t have brought Y/N to the shack.” My heart dropped, remembering what happened. There was a werewolf that attacked me last night. It must’ve attacked all four of the marauders. That’s why Sirius was looking for me, because Remus was attacked. That’s why Peter said James was injured. He must’ve also been attacked by the werewolf.

Keeping my consciousness a secret, I slipped out of bed, avoiding the prying eyes of Sirius and James, and darted to what I assumed to be Remus’ bed.

His bed was surrounded by a curtain for the most privacy of the five of us. I didn’t know why until I looked inside and saw how battered and bruised he was. He must’ve been attacked the worse by the werewolf.

There was a gash, cutting across his face, slicing up his eyebrow. His chest was bare as a bandage was covering what seemed to be a deep cut, as it was already bleeding through the crème coloured linen, turning it a scarlet red. Remus did seem to be awake though so I approached his bed.

Sitting beside him, I reached out for his hand. I startled him, as he turned briskly around but melted at my touch as he saw my face. A look of guilt was spreading through his eyes.

“I’m so sorry Y/N-”

I cut him off. “There’s no need for you to apologise, Remus. You were also attacked by that werewolf last night.”

A confused face appeared on Remus before it contorted into something else. Contentment. “Right. I was attacked by the werewolf.”

“And you seem to have gotten the worst of it. You look terrible.” I tried making a joke and ease the tension, but making Remus laugh only seemed to cause him more pain as he clutched his rib.

“Y/N…”

“Remus?”

“Why are you afraid of werewolves so much?” He asked. I sighed, knowing there was no avoiding this question now.

“My family was attacked by a werewolf when we were younger. Well, I say my family. My younger brother was the target and he suffered a lot. I just feel so upset and guilty because of it. It should’ve been me. He was too young.”

“I’m sorry.” Remus said, reaching out so his other hand was touching mine. “That’s a horrible thing to go through.”

“I’m sorry for being so horrible to you.” I finally admitted, looking Remus dead in the eye. “I’ve always been so cruel to you for no reason and there’s no excuse for it. Like today, you helped me when I fainted twice. You had no need to do that, yet you did. Thank you.” Remus started talking but I cut him off. “Seriously Lupin, you mean a lot to me. I’m sorry our little rivalry got to me.”

Remus stayed quiet as his finger rubbed gently against the back of my hand. It seemed like he didn’t know what to say next so I decided to break the ice and end the awkwardness. Leaning forward, I pressed my lips gently to Remus’ cheek, watching as a pink tint flushed to the surface. I pulled away from his grasp, walking to the curtain.

“Again, thank you.”

And I walked away, hurt that he never said anything back.

[stickyy]

could i get a reader x ururaka where the reader kidnaps her and forcibly 'protects' her by coddling her and keeping her in a soft room with everything she could need and not letting her leave, even if it means restraining, or even injuring her? tysm! i'm really looking forward to seeing your blog grow! (btw if you cant/dont want to write ururaka, midoriya or shinso are also good!) ♡

thank you so much for your kind words!! :D i hope you enjoy, i kind of went for a more somber tone bc i like Angst, so this was moody and fun to write!

warnings: yandere!gn!reader, kidnapping, very mildly graphic mutilation (hands and ankle), drugging mention, very vague vomit mention, angst, best friends to lovers (gone wrong) /s

word count: 1.5 k

note: the scene describing mutilation is sandwiched by two dashes (-), incase u dont want to read it :D

AFTERMATH

The pattering of rain against the kitchen window is loud, accompanied by the sizzle of food on the stove and the distant chatter of news anchors coming from your TV in a domestic cacophony of sounds. It’s a Saturday morning, and it would be a pretty relaxed one if not for the deep pit of dread in your stomach. You had a rough night, to say the least. Trying to keep yourself present, you rub the dark bags under your eyes as you tend your routine of making breakfast every morning. Maybe a meal between the two of you will fix things. You hope so, at least. You tune into the television in an attempt to distract yourself.

“... are still in search for missing Hero, Urav-”

You’re suddenly uninterested, shutting the cable off with haste. Breakfast is as good as finished, anyways. 

The house is quiet, save for the rain, and the silence settles as a sickly chill under your skin. Taking your time to ensure your footsteps are quiet, you head towards the door at the end of the hallway. The normally innocuous door frame looms over you and you want to shrink away, go back to a time where things were okay. You place the tray on the small table outside of the room, fishing for the keys in your pocket. There are 3 locks; two require keys, while the other is an opposite facing deadbolt. You make quick work of opening them, daily practice rendering you nimble. With the door open and the keys back in your pocket, you grab the tray and push the door in with your hip, your stomach dropping and your heart fluttering simultaneously at the sight of Uraraka, still sleeping peacefully.

You place the tray on her bedside table gingerly, opening the curtains to her window afterwards. The dim, muddy light wakes her, her form stretching under the plush covers.

“Good morning!” you chirp, over enthusiastic as you sit on the edge of her bed. Her hair is messy, skin splotchy from laying in one place all night (you give her sleeping pills at night, and they tend to keep her in one place). She rubs sleep from her eyes cutely, sighing before speaking to you.

She hums in response. Even when she’s angry, she’s always so polite, sweet enough to offer you any response after what you did to her. Her gentle voice, no matter if she’s laughing or talking or screaming or crying, is music to you. The noise does more to set you at ease than you’d like to admit, her voice like stitches to your wounded heart. You can’t help but smile, warmth spreading over your skin. You love her so much, it’s why you do what you must to keep her safe.

“Did you sleep well?” you ask, as you do everyday, setting up her breakfast in front of her. She’s silent. You expect as much, yet it still stings, and you spare a glance at her to see an expression you can’t quite read and don’t quite like. That’s all it takes for the pit to return, guilt and remorse stirring through your veins. You can only muster offer a soft noise in response, sitting back with your own plate of food. You start first, choosing to focus on the flavor of the food, the softness of the duvet, the rain- anything but the silence. 

But it’s so difficult; you want nothing more than to be able to ignore her, to not feel so attached and needy and sorry. She burns so brightly, even when she’s upset, and you’re a moth to the flame, unable to look away for long. You don’t even realize that you’ve scarfed down half of your food, but it’s glaringly apparent when you look to Uraraka’s food to see it untouched, cooling rapidly. You glance at her face yet again, and her forlorn expression prompts you to break the thick silence.

“Does it still hurt?”

She flinches but doesn’t respond, hugging her arms to her chest and turning away from you. The rain is deafening against the window, and you notice you’re not hungry anymore.

“I told you I was sorry,” you say softly, eyes unconsciously darting to the bandages on her hands, trailing down to her legs, obscured by the covers. She continues to ignore you. You can’t take it, you need to hear her say something, anything.

 “You know I hate hurting you. I hate it, but you tried to run again. Why? We’ve been doing so good, I thought you were happy! I thought you finally understood! You have everything you need here, and even if you don’t, I can get it for you. I’m not even mad, not anymore, so please just-”

“Just let me leave,” her voice is hoarse, and you can see stray tears trailing down her flushed cheeks, pained eyes trained on your face. You swallow, using all of your willpower to turn away from her gaze. You stand suddenly, taking a deep breath before heading into the bathroom, grabbing the first aid materials you left in there. You make the executive decision that it would be better if that conversation never happened, so you pretend as such when you return to the room, replacing your somber expression with a warm smile.

“Let’s get this cleaned up,” you peel back the covers and take a look at her ankle. 

-

Her shin is twisted slightly straightened yet still awkward in angle, absurdly swollen, skin littered with large splotches of wine purple, faded blue, and putrid yellow bruises. It looks like it hurts, and you feel yourself deflate, guilt chewing at your insides yet again. You’d never meant to do this to her, but you had no choice. Last night, while you were cooking dinner, you figured you’d let Uraraka keep you company as you chopped vegetables, seeing as she had been extraordinarily compliant recently. That was a mistake, as you had to act quickly when you heard the screech of the chair pushed back suddenly and the loud stomp of feet against hardwoods. You caught her before she could reach the front door, threw her to the floor, and in your irrational fit of panic you stomped hard, once, twice, three times, over and over until the sickening, dull crunch of bone snapped you out of your frenzy. In all of your time with Uraraka, both pre and post living together, you’d never seen her cry quite like this. Her loud, pained, fearful sobs made your stomach turn, and no matter how hard you tried to console her, she wouldn’t stop, thrashing to get your arms off of her. She couldn’t move far, and so you had to wait and watch her writhe in agony until she tired herself out, chest heaving, face covered in tears and snot and drool. You helped her to her room and quickly wrapped the wound, leaving her alone for the rest of the night. You were unable to sleep, hunched over the toilet for the majority of the early hours due to waves of nausea, crying spells ebbing and flowing.

(The bandages on her hands are different. Ridding her of her quirk was the only way to ensure she’d stay put. You’d had a few drinks, taken the largest kitchen knife you owned, and did what you had to. The wounds were cauterized and healed, but you kept the bandages on so she wouldn’t have to look at the scar tissue where the last ligament of her pinky fingers were missing.)

You clean her ankle, gently caressing the distorted flesh with rubbing alcohol. She returned to her reticence, save for small (cute) pained noises when you pass over a particularly tender spot. You take solace in the moment, cherishing the chance to take care of her. 

(When you rewrap the wound, you’re deliberate in doing it incorrectly. It will heal, but it will heal wrong, and then she’ll have to rely on you to get anywhere. The idea is tantalizing, and you suppress a shiver.)

-

“There, all done,” you grin up at her, surprised to find her looking back, expression exhausted but aware, awake. You pack the materials up quickly, climbing back onto the bed. You take note of her breakfast, undoubtedly cold now.

“I can heat that up for you.”

“‘M not hungry.”

That’s that, then. You decide not to push, instead opening your arms in a gesture of peace, knowing how much she loves (tolerates) your cuddles. She gives you a scrutinizing look, before nodding once, the only invitation you get. You move the tray to her bedside table, quickly scooting next to her and wrapping your arms around her gently. She doesn’t quite reciprocate, settling for just leaning against you, but you’ll take anything you can get. Your nerves are set alight, and you vow to yourself that you’ll never hurt her again. You know you did the right thing, keeping her fed and pampered and safe. You’d make up for it, devote yourself to seeing her smile again, even if only once.

“You’re not mad at me, right?” you can’t help but ask, always seeking her approval. 

She’s silent. The rain doesn’t stop. 

[whatareyousearchingfordean]

Happiness Begins

Part 21

Chapter Summary: The reader sets out to drown herself in another mistake, leading Jared and Jensen to finally say what they have been holding back. 

Warnings: Language, excessive alcohol consumption, another verbal altercation

Word Count: 2.7K+

Author’s Note: I mixed in a few funny moments to try and cut all this angst I’m throwing your way. Plus, the next part starts to lighten things up just a little bit. Thanks again for sticking around and reading, I love every one of ya! xoxo Alex

Catch up with the series masterlist and check out Alexandra’s Library for more works by yours truly.

It was harder than she anticipated to pull herself from the state she had allowed herself to fall into. She would never admit to how broken she now was. Long ago she had promised herself that she would never let another man define her life, and here she was sobbing like she had nothing left to live for. She felt pathetic. She felt like she was twenty-five again. 

As the sobs ebbed away into short hiccups, Y/n wiped away the mascara running down her cheeks. As sad as it was, she just felt lost again. Nothing made any sense to her anymore. Everything that she had thought she had known, about her brother and her boyfriend, had all crumbled to the ground in a matter of weeks. Now she was left to pick up the scattered pieces. The only problem was she didn’t know where to start. 

Before Jared could get home to find her there, Y/n decided that what she truly needed was one last bad decision. So, she pulled herself together long enough to fix the tears stains down her cheeks and hide the puffiness under her eyes. Then she was off to drown her mistakes in alcohol. 

****

The lights from the city below bled into the light shining from Jensen’s television. He sat perched on the couch, a beer in hand that had long since gone warm. He wasn’t paying attention to the sitcom on the screen, his gaze instead fixed on the peeling label on the bottle. 

There was no way he could have truly anticipated her reaction to him telling her they needed to take a break. Y/n was a smart woman, but she was also much like her brother, deeply rooted in her emotions. It was not a bad thing, in any sense of the word, but it meant that he saw this going two ways. One was exactly how it had played out. Jensen has gone over in his head time and time again how he could have reworded things in a vain attempt to try and ease her pain. The second was her understanding. It was not far fetched of him to believe that she would have been thinking the same thing, that maybe, just maybe, them taking a break may help heal all of their relationships. 

Jensen was not lucky this time. 

The sound of his phone vibrating against the coffee table broke him out of his daze. He glanced at the number, recognizing the local area code. Intrigued, he answered, completely unprepared for what await him. 

****

The bar sat in the middle of nowhere on a two lane highway with nothing but trees as far as the eye could see in all directions. Jensen got chills as he pulled into the parking lot. The place looked like it could have easily been one out of an episode of Supernatural, and he was scared what all he would find once he made his way inside. 

It was a Friday evening, yet there didn’t seem to be too many cars outside, for which he was thankful for. The less people witnessed him carting off a drunk woman the better. Not to mention it would be Jared’s little sister he was helping stumble out the door. He couldn’t worry too much about that now though, his bigger focus was on making sure Y/n got home safe. 

The bell jingled overhead as Jensen pushed the door open. No one paid him any mind, all of them too inside their own head and their own troubles to worry about a new patron in the bar. A quick scan of the room didn’t turn up Y/n, so he went with plan B. He made his way over to the bar, leaning over the wooden top and tapping it with his knuckles to get the bartender’s attention. “Hey, buddy, I’m looking for Oliver.”

“You Jensen?” The guy wiped his hands on the towel he had stuffed into his apron as he made his way over to Jensen.

“Yeah, where is she?” 

“My manager has her in a booth over there.” Jensen’s eyes shifted in the direction Oliver nodded his head, seeing Y/n slumped in her seat, her arms crossed and a pout on her lips. “She’s been trying to coax her to drink some water but she just won’t do it. I was going to call her an Uber, but her address is listed in her phone as Texas and I don’t think Uber does that. Found your name in her emergency contacts, she’s been muttering nonsense about you since about her fourth glass.” Oliver leaned his weight onto his hands upon the bar, eyeing up Jensen. 

“Thanks. Here, this should cover her tab, no?” Jensen held out a few bills for the bartender who nodded and took the cash. Jensen stuffed his wallet back in his jeans before heading over to Y/n. She perked up when she saw him heading her way. 

“Jensen…” His name slurred from her lips, equal parts happiness and despair. 

“Hey, sweetheart. I’m here to take you home, how does that sound?” He squatted down next to the booth, bringing himself eye level with her. 

“No, I can’t go back there! I hate Jared.” She shook her head violently. Jensen put his hands on her arms, rubbing up and down to soothe her. 

“You don’t hate Jared. You love your brother.” He tried, but she wasn’t having it. 

“I do, I hate him. And I hate you.” Her brow furrowed as if she had just remembered her new distaste for the man come to rescue her. She hiccuped before continuing. “You two and all your stupid meddling. I’m a grown ass woman, I can decide what’s best for me, you know?” Her words twisted the knife already piercing his heart. 

“I do know. And I think you know that you need to get some rest. But you can’t do that here. Let’s get in the car and we can go from there. How does that sound?” She chewed on her lip, contemplating his offer for a moment before nodding solemnly. “That’s my girl.” Jensen stood and offered his hand out to her. She took it, but in her inebriated state, needed help not only to stand, but to walk out to the car. Jensen leaned down and threw her arm over his shoulders so he could help support her weight and help her stand. She stumbled over her heels a little as they made their way to Jensen’s car. He slid her into the back, laying her across the bench seat. She curled into herself instantly, her eyes fluttering shut. 

Jensen sighed as he shut the door behind her. He had never seen her even close to this drunk. Or this sad. The sadness that flickered behind her eyes when she had first saw him made his gut wrench. He hated thinking that he had driven her here. That had never been his intention. He was only trying to do what he thought was right for everyone. He loved her, he couldn’t deny that now, but Jared was important to him too. It was better that he was just friends with both of them than losing both of them forever. He had hoped that Jared would get over it, but things had only gotten worse. And now, he was dragging a drunk Y/n home because he had broken her heart. He only hoped Jared didn’t hit him again for this one. He blamed himself enough as it was. 

He made sure to keep an eye on her as he drove, glancing in the rearview mirror frequently to make sure she was still breathing. Thankfully, she slept peacefully the whole way. She was going to be mad when she realized where he was taking her. It was the lesser of two evils. Either he took her to his place and let her like him for a little while longer but then Jared chews him out for not calling him, or he takes her to Jared, who keeps an eye on her and she gets mad at Jensen. He was just hopeful that if she does get mad, that she doesn’t remember it in the morning. 

It was nearing two in the morning as Jensen pulled into Jared’s place. He climbed into the back seat, hovering over Y/n so he could wake her gently. “Hey, Y/n/n. It’s time to get up so I can get you upstairs and into bed.” He brushed her messy hair from her face as he spoke to her. Her eyes fluttered open easier than he thought they would, a small smile on her lips as she registered what he had said. 

“I’ll always get into bed with you.” Her hand smacked against his shoulder in what he assumed was supposed to be a sensual movement. 

“Alright there. Come on.” He moved back out of the car and dragged her along with him. Her little nap as Jensen carted her across town did little to sober her up. And apparently she had already forgotten she was supposed to hate him. He wasn’t sure what her worse, knowing she loved him so much she drank herself stupid or that she loved him so much she was trying to convince herself that she hated him. 

Y/n was still unsteady as Jensen guided her inside and up to the apartment she shared with Jared. Her fingers gripped tightly into Jensen’s coat as he knocked on the front door. Even if he had been able to find her keys, he didn’t want to just barge in on Jared. 

The sounds of Jared shuffling around could be heard through the door before it finally flung open.

“What the hell?” Jared was trying to let his eyes adjust to the brightness of the hallway as he took in the scene in front of him. 

“I got a call from the bartender at Trappers saying she needed to be picked up. I was closer so I went and grabbed her.” Jensen explained as he brought her inside.

“Hey! You brought me to Jared’s!” Y/n slurred as she turned into him, nearly causing him to trip over her feet.

“I did, because this is where you are staying right now.” Jensen explained to her, causing her to start giggling. 

“Like brother like sister right? You remember that, when Jared had to be carried in here drunk because he found out we were fucking?” Her voice lowered on the last word of her sentence, like Jared may overhear their “secret”. Jensen caught her hand that had snuck its way to his jaw, pulling it from his face and casting a wary look at Jared. He couldn’t stop her actions or the words that came out of her mouth, but he could at least try and limit them for Jared’s sake, and ultimately his own. 

“Alright, you’re done talking.” He assured her as he moved her body so he could finish taking her to her room. 

“She didn’t even tell me she was going out.” Jared sounded confused as he followed Jensen into Y/n’s room. Jensen pulled back her comforter and laid her down onto the pillows. She didn’t want to release her grip on him at first, nearly pulling him down with her. When he regained his balance, he moved to take off her shoes, setting them on the ground by her bedside table. She mumbled something he didn’t quite hear as he tucked her into her blankets. 

“Jensen,” Her voice was louder this time, cracking like she was about to break down into tears as she gripped his wrist when he tried to leave. Jensen sat down on the edge of her bed, leaning in close to her.

“Yes?” 

“Don’t go. Please?” 

“I can’t stay. You know that.” Jensen smiled down at her, trying to be reassuring even though he had no idea if she could even tell with the way her eyes were drooping. 

“I don’t.” Her brow furrowed as she struggled to understand. 

“Jared’s going to take care of you from here. You’ve gotta sleep now, though.” Jensen promised her that she wouldn’t be alone when he left. 

“No, you.”

“Y/n/n,” Jensen sighed heavily. He had known how stubborn she could be, but Jared was already breathing down his neck and he didn’t wish to push his luck. 

“I love you. Please, don’t leave me.” Jensen didn’t think his heart could break any more than it already was, but he was mistaken. Hearing the sob rock her body as she gripped his bicep like it was her lifeline physically pained him. He wanted nothing more than to try and fix what he had destroyed, but now he only feared he had made it worse. This wasn’t what he wanted to be in her life. A destructive force that ruined her closest relationship and broke her heart. He never meant to make things so complicated. Now, he had no idea what to do to make things right. 

“I know.” He leaned into her, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. The only thing he could do was wait until she fell asleep. He let the backs of his knuckles run up and down her arm until her grip on him loosened on its own. Once he was free from her grasp, he slipped away and out of her room.

Jared was leaning against the wall opposite her door as Jensen pulled it closed behind him. Jared had a deep frown on his face, the lines in his forehead scrunched together in thought. He didn’t say anything as Jensen walked past him and towards his front door, he simply followed after him. 

“You guys assumed I was just doing this to spite you, but this is exactly what I was trying to avoid. I didn’t want to see my sister hurt yet another time! Yet here we are because you did exactly that!” Jared pointed an accusing finger at his co-star. 

“Tell me, Jared, have you really always thought that low of me? Do you think that I just go around getting a kick out of breaking women’s hearts? I thought we were closer than that.” Jensen had spun back around when Jared’s voice stopped him before he could open the door. Both were on the verge of shouting, but remembering the woman sleeping just down the hall, were trying their damndest to keep their voices even. 

“You’re right, I did think we were closer than that. Then you went and slept with my sister behind my back and now she’s lying comatose in her bed because she drank half a bar when you broke her heart!” 

“Jesus, Jared. You can’t put that all on me. I admit it, we made a mistake and I’m sorry that we hurt you, I am. But I love your sister, more than I’ve ever loved any other woman. And I know that to her, family is everything. You are everything. Since it seems you won’t move on and forgive us, I made the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make.” Jensen swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing as he fought back the tears in the corner of his eyes. “I had to let go of the best thing to ever happen to me, so she could have you. She might not be able to see it right now, and I hate myself for how she is hurting, but she will come around one day. Y/n will know that you mean more to her than I ever could. I can only hope when that day comes, she will no longer hate me.”

“So it’s all my fault, then?” Jared’s jaw ticked as he stared down Jensen.

“No, weren’t you listening? I’m saying it’s all our faults. No one is innocent in all of this. I’m just taking responsibility and trying to fix what I can, for both of you.” Jensen was done talking about this now. Things were still too heated for an adult conversation, unfortunately. He truly believed what he was saying to the man he had once considered his brother. He could only pray that Jared and Y/n could see his side of things. He turned and pulled open Jared’s front door. He paused one last time, his shoulders sagging. 

“I’m sorry.” He offered one last time, only hope in his heart that Jared would actually hear him this time.

“I know.”

Part 22

Forevers: @spn-impala​​ @22sarah08​​ @turtlepad​​ @callmekda​​ @chaldei​​ @hobby27​​ @cowboysnwinchesters​​ @tranquility-or-chaos​​ @pikabootoyouchu​​ @dawnie1988​​ @grease222​​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​​ @polina-93​​ @clarinette07​​ @moonlight-babeh​​ @suckerforfanfics​​ @witandnargles​​ @sleepylunarwolf​ @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan​ @geeksareunique​ @akshi8278​ @superfanficnatural​ @malfoysqueen14​

Et Cetera: @jbbarnesgirl​ @hillface89​ @arses21434​ @thevelvetseries​ @sslater34​ @mrsirishboru​ @smoothdogsgirl​ @spnfamily-j2​ @encounterthepast​ @facadeformyrealblog  @supernatural-bellawinchester​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​​ @rebeccathefangirl​ @squirrelnotsam​ @heartinmyhead1​ @1d-killed-me​ @samsgirl93​ @deans-baby-momma​ @deanmonandnegansbitch​ @woodworthti666​ @supraveng​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @heartsaved​ @know2grow​ @littlewhiterose​ @surprisinglysarah​ @stoneyggirl​ @carryon-doctor-lock​ @thebookisbtr​ @youaremyfiveever​ @kalesrebellion​ @lilulo-12​ @winchester-fantasies​ @vicmc624​ @supernatural3002 @winchester-writes​ @maralisa124​ @therollingstoners​

[finleyjayne]

Pain of Devotion

Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Sex, Nudity, lack of immediate aftercare, Bucky is a dumbass for a good five minutes, but he’s a cute dumbass. Reader is also a dumbass, sub-drop, dd/lg vibes, swearing, cuteness, angst with a happy ending.

Word Count: ~1500

Summary: Bucky and Y/N finally take the next step in their courtship, What happens next though?

A/N: This is my first time writing anything close to smut so please be nice. Just a reminder that my ask box is open for requests and love. Also, special thanks to @star-spangled-beard-burn for helping me come up with a title when my brain decided to jump out the window this afternoon.

To Bucky, Everything was great. It was better than great. He had just had MINDBLOWING sex with the woman of his dreams. He was certain she was satisfied; both of you were almost incapable of moving from the absolute intensity of the experience. It was like nothing he had ever had. It wasn't even kinky, just sweet, loving, doting, vanilla love-making.

    Bucky lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, praising everything that got him to this point. His euphoria flooded through his veins as he worked out a plan for what happens next. He definitely was going to have to have a repeat of this heaven he found himself in. As the haze left his mind, the rubber started to become extremely uncomfortable, prompting him to tidy himself. A deep groan left him as he walked to the en suite.

    You, on the other hand, were struggling. Bucky had unquestionably fulfilled you. He was everything you had ever wanted from a partner, everything that you dreamed he would be. That didn't help the heaviness that had started to pile onto your chest. You knew that he wasn't going to be like any of your previous sexcapades. This wasn't a one night stand. He wasn't going to just up and leave you, especially not when you are high out of your mind, legs of jelly, and extremely vulnerable. Or that's what you thought. Then you realized he wasn't touching you anymore. At all. In fact, he was about as far from you as he could get on your king-sized bed.

    Basking in your afterglow was impossible now that you noticed how far away Bucky was from you. 'Why was he so far away? Was he not happy? Is he regretting it? Is he going to leave now? How could you handle it if he didn't feel the same way?' Your brain kicked into complete overdrive when Bucky groaned and rolled out of bed, leaving you without a word.

    It felt like the bed was no longer beneath you—the last fogs of your high leaving you as you immediately felt like you were going to vomit. The finality of the bathroom door clicking shut and the rush of water through the pipes in the wall were the last stones placed on your cairn. Your body was shattered into a million pieces—the noise of all your exes' nasty words flooded back into your brain. Of course Bucky wouldn't want to stay. Your body curled into the fetal position as you prepared for the inevitable noise of the shower.

    Tears flooded down hot cheeks as you heard the sound of running water. You didn't even hear the soft click of the bathroom door opening before you were bombarded by Bucky's distressed voice.

    "Shit! Y/N, what's wrong? What hurts?" Bucky's hands hover over you, you could feel the warmth of them, but it wasn't what you really wanted. What you desperately craved in that moment. The fact that he still wasn't touching you was the twist to the knife killing you. Were you really that gross that he couldn't bear to touch you?

    All your exhausted body would do was sob into the pillow you had clutched onto, shaking your head no. Needless to say, this only brought Bucky into a higher panic, he couldn't see anything wrong with you. But something was up. Quickly as he could, Bucky grabbed the Minky blanket that sat in your window seat, carefully swaddling you up and lifting you.

    "Hush Baby, I got you, We'll get you to medical. They will know what to do. How to make it better." The fear coating his voice barely hidden by his need to take care of you. To make sure he didn't really hurt you. To make sure that he didn't ruin the first good thing he has had in the last several decades.

    You didn't hear any of this, though, and you definitely were not inclined to leave your bed, let alone your room, anytime soon. So when Bucky tried to lift you from the soft sheets, your resounding 'no' accentuated your desperate grasping hands. You clung to the sheets crying harder and writhing in Bucky's hold. He didn't want you. After all, he still wouldn't touch you without a barrier between your flesh and his.

    "No, just leave Bucky. If you don't want to be here, then leave. Just leave me here like all of the rest. It's fine. I'm fine." You fought, trying to get back into the bed where you could cry out your disappointment.

    Through your struggle, the fluffy blanket slipped. Bucky refused to let you fall. Finally, his hand touched your overheated, sensitive skin. That simple touch was a key to the door you had started stuffing all of your feelings into. It was a balm to the burn of perceived rejection. Your sobs ebbed, and you melted into your lover's arms. You flung your arms around his neck and clung to him. Afraid he would push you away.

    Bucky was overwhelmed by this new development, and he stood frozen, his hands subconsciously stroking your back comfortingly, bringing you tight to his chest. Even with his heightened cognitive function, he couldn't grasp what had caused you to go from sobbing fighting mess to sobbing clinging mess. Finally listening to what you were saying, Bucky grips you even tighter, his metal arm slipping to your thighs, encouraging you to wrap around his waist, rocking and bouncing you in a soothing motion.

    "Baby, I'm not going to leave you. Why would I leave the love of my life? You are my one, Y/N. You are my forever. I will stay until you tell me to go, but not if you are crying. I couldn't leave my best girl by herself when she is clearly in pain." He cooed in your ear, occasionally pressing kisses into your hairline. His arm rubbed your back, grounding you back into the moment.

    As he started repeating himself, you finally caught what he said. choking out a whimper as you pull back to look into his face. "You love me?" you sniffle.

    "Of course, Babygirl. Loved you for a long time now."

    "Then why didn't you touch me? Why did you leave?" You simpered to him, tears reflecting the light from the soft light.

    "I left to get a cloth and a glass of water for you. Where did you think I was going?" He answered, brushing off the little stars gently with his calloused thumb.

    You shrug and grumble, "I dunno, thought you were done with me."

    "Oh no, sweetstuff, I will never get tired of you. You're my best girl, you can't really believe I'd ever be done with my best girl, can you?" He gave you a stern look. When you tried to bury your face back in the comfortable hiding place of his neck, the hand that had been rubbing your back wound around your waist, holding you in place. "Nuh-uh, Babygirl, you gotta look at me when I'm asking you questions."

    You look at him through your lashes as you gently speak. "I thought you were playing me. You didn't touch me before you got up."

    "And that Is my fault, Babydoll, I should'a let you know where I was going. Now, do you still want me to leave, or was that just because you thought I wanted to leave?"

    You gave him a panicky shake of your head, gripping onto him with both hands as hard as you can. "Okay, are you hurt?"

    Another quick shake of your head had him releasing the tension you didn't realize he was holding. "Okay, good, that's good. Do you need more snuggles, or can I put you down for a bit so I can change the sheets?

You hold onto him tighter for a second before letting him go, looking at him for a few seconds expectantly.

    "I'll take that as an affirmative for the latter," he says, chuckling, grabbing the glass of water off the nightstand where he left it before setting you in your sun chair. He handed you the glass, pulling the blanket that had sagged around your hips tight around you. He hurriedly changed the sheets.

    Watching him struggle to keep the corners of the fitted sheet brought you to giggles, a light warmth flooding you as you realized that you were right. Bucky wasn't like any of your other partners. He was so much more, and you couldn't wait to be there with him through every step of your journey together.

    My Lovelies: @buckys-broody-muffin @tossacoin2yourwitcher @beanisintrovert @megthemewlingquim (I wanted to make sure you two saw the post that I was referencing earlier.)

[ariannnawinchester]

A Hell of a ride

Characters: Reader, Dean, Bobby, Sam, Lisa & Ben.

Pairings: Dean x Reader & Dean x Lisa.

Warnings: Angst, language and some fighting.

Summary: Part 1 of a new series. Set in Season 6, Sam and the Reader have been living questionable lives after they crawled out of hell. Dean gets dragged right back into the life with his new family. The stakes get way to high, can they win? Will Dean’s love for the Reader fix everything?

A/N: Yes, I know I have been gone for way too long and I am deeply sorry. However, I am back, with stories that with tantalise your mind and leave you wanting more. Hahah. Thank you for reading. Constructive criticism and feedback is highly appreciated as always.

“Y/N.”

Your name tumbled out of his mouth in stunned whisper. He was frozen for almost three heartbeats, just standing there with his haw slack as he blinked slowly. He was in shock and you couldn't blame him. You could see the gears, whirring behind his eyes, the information seeping in. The realisation finally crashing into him like a tsunami.

He whipped around, the deadly accusatory glare directed at Bobby, who could look everywhere except at Dean.

“You know they were alive this whole time?” he spat, “this whole goddamn time?” his jaw clenched shut and his temple throbbing from the fury brewing in the pit of his stomach.

Bobby cleared his throat and rose from his chair to walk towards Dean. He lifted his hand to lay it onto Dean’s shoulder. But Dean, he just dodged Bobby’s touch. The betrayal evident on his face, “Of course you knew Bobby. You just failed to inform me. How long?” His voice growing louder as he demanded answers, “How goddamn long have they been back?”

The guilt was bubbling it’s way to the surface of your skin but all you did was stay standing next to Sam, with your arms folded across your chest and watched Dean pace up and down the study and lose his mind.

“A year.”

Dean cast his eyes to you and Sam, his lips curled into an angry scowl as he smudged away on lone tear that fell down his cheek, “You’re kidding right?” he shook his head, refusing to believe what he was hearing. He resumed his pacing just for the sake of movement.

A brief looked passed between you and Sam before you stalked up to Dean and grabbed him by his collar, forcing him to stop moving so he could finally look at you for more than two seconds.

“Don’t you dare blame this on Bobby.” you growled, “he did what he thought was best for you.” you stabbed a finger into his solid chest, the frown of his face ebbing away and the softness returning to his eyes at your words but that didn't stop you, “You finally had a life. A good life that you deserve, so sue us for wanting to keep you out. Now, do yourself a goddamn favor and stay out.” You release his collar from your grip and shove him back.

Before your own tears threatened to fall, you stormed out, slamming the door behind you as your tried to block out their raised voices. Once again, blaming each other for the shit show that was the last couple of months.

The nippy air bit at your exposed skin as you sat at the work bench in the scrap yard, twirling your bronze knife between your fingers and watching the metal reflect the light. There’s no handbook to help when you come back to life, it ain’t no walk in the park either. When you woke up, you were all alone in the cemetery, the rain falling in sheets but you could feel anything. There’s this massive void inside your ribs that you cant seemed to fill. You tried, god knows you tried to feel even the slightest bit normal again but nothing worked. Not alcohol, not sex, not even the thrill that came from the hunt but blood..

One thing hadn't changed though, you felt it in your bones. One specific detail was sewn into your very being. That Dean was still the love of your life. You didn't have the courage to tell him that the first thing you did when you rose from the ground was to try and find your way back to him. You had walked miles to him, covered in dirt and grime, your sheer determination fuelling you. But you couldn't will yourself to walk up to the door, you just stood at the opposite side of the street and watched them being a family through the slits in the curtains as the sun began to set. He deserved her and the boy, he looked happy and he deserved to be. Regardless of the gnawing jealousy the crawled into the pit of your stomach, you walked away. You had to, because you knew it was for the best.

“I knew I’d find you here.” his voice jolting you to the present, his smile throwing you off balance as he sat down in front of you. His fingers settled on the carving in the wood, tracing the pattern of a heart and your initials with his.

A scowled found it’s way across your lips, “Where else could I be? Not like I could go to Hell twice in a row. Or is that just jinxing it?” you added with a sarcastic smile.

Dean was stunned, like you had just slapped him across the face and wreaked baby all in one go. His eyes glossed over as he sucked in a breath, using the moment of silence to figure out the right words to say.

“I could think about what I want to say for days but nothing would be enough. Nothing will amount to the sacrifice you made.” his voice cracked, “I’m sorry. I am so sorry. I went to her because Sam made me promise, you made me promise. If I had known you were alive, Jesus, I would have dropped everything, anything for you and Sammy. For my brother and my girl.” He was shaking as he spoke, his lip trembling as his tears fell freely.

Like a spring, you shot to your feet, “Whoa!” the shock evident in your voice, “It doesn't work like that okay? We can’t just pick up were we left off.” your chest was heaving, ‘I died, okay? I died. Like dead as a fucking door knob dead. I’m not the same girl anymore. The girl you knew and loved died in that cemetery. And, she’ll never come back.”

Dean just stared at you, like a wounded puppy with his green eyes big and teary. He looked like he was barely holding himself together, the anguish busting his seams. But what could you do? Nothing. You had to let him be and let him go.

You sighed, tucking your stray strands of hair behind your ears, “If you’re thinking of leaving Lisa for blood covered machetes and a dead girl, you’re making a big mistake. A fucking colossal mistake. You have something with her, so don't throw it away. She obviously loves you and was there in ways I could never have been. So, just go live your life. You can repay me for my sacrifice by doing that.”

You pocketed your dagger, sparing one last look at Dean, you walked back towards the house.

You were on your knees, ruffling through the kitchen drawer in search of a bottle opener when you felt a hand graze your shoulder.

“Y/N right?” Lisa questioned, a thin smile on her bare lips.

As you straightened up, you dusted your dark jeans at the knees before you reached out to shake her hand.

“The one and only.” you answered, trying your hardest to be polite, “It’s nice to finally meet you and to put a name to a face.” you lied, walking to the fridge just for the sake of something to do, “Beer?” you offered, “Canned beer because the bottle opener is lost to the world.”

Barely any reaction crossed her features, she just nodded and leaned against the table whilst opened and handed her the beer.

The air was thick, the silence suffocating you. Something felt off about the whole situation but your just couldn't figure out what. Your blood began racing in your veins, burning hot like it was laced with acid and all you wanted to do was run. But you didn't. You stayed put and rose your gaze to face her.

“Sorry about not introducing myself properly earlier. I’m not exactly big on reunions or a people’s person.” you scoffed and leaned against the counter. You opened your beer, the satisfying ‘tshhh’ sound filling your ears before you took a huge gulp and spoke again, “I’m also sorry that your boy got dragged into this. But I’m sure you knew. That everything and everyone in this life is messy and every single thing comes with terms and conditions or a consequence.”

She let out a gust of air, her lips pulled in a tight line as she set the untouched beer down and shook the condensation of her fingers.

“Oh you mean like you? Your noble sacrifice? You left him and he was so broken. I had to try and put him back together and still he used to talk about you.” utter heartbreak lacing her voice, causing your eyes to dart to her face, “Only in his sleep. He’d never speak about what happened when he was awake. He didn't wanna speak to me.” she shrugged, her shoulders sagging.

“Lisa, you don't have to wor-” you began to say before she interrupted.

“I pieced two and two together. Now, it finally makes sense to me. Of why he chose you, why he’ll always choose you. I want to hate you, I want to hate you so bad, for his heart belonging to you. But I can’t. You died to save the world. You’re great, more than I’ll ever be.” she choked back a sob, “He might have physically been there with me but you were the only thing mattered to him. You and Sam. I love him. And it hurts so much because he’ll never love me back. He will never love me back.” She clutched onto the table for support, the grief and agony washing over her as her tears began to fall.

You were awful in situations like this. You never knew what to say or what to do.

“Lisa.” you started, trying to bring some comfort, “he cares about you and your son deeply.” you smiled gently, pointing towards the kitchen window to show her Dean and Ben sitting on the hood of a scrap car, just talking.

“No!” she yelled, the shrill of her voice startling you as she shoved you back hard enough to make you land on your ass, “You don't understand. It hurts. It hurts so much.” she was trembling, her eyes bloodshot and her tears running black down her face as she walked towards you, “You don't know how much it hurts to give someone the best of you and watch him choose someone else. You’re the dead girl and he’ll still choose you.”

She bared her teeth and leaped at you.

[ultrafangirlishness]

Alone On Christmas (Part 2)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Synopsis: Deceit hates Christmas, especially now that it’s without Virgil— his first Christmas alone. Or so he thought.

Word count: 2,317

Pairings: None romantic, all platonic

Warnings: slight Deceit angst (some anxious and insecure thoughts), sympathetic Deceit, minor arguing/tension, Christmas themes, lots of fluff, fluff ending

A/N: Hey everyone, this is my FIRST FIC EVER, inspired by this post by @max-the-queer. I had a lot of fun with this and am excited to present this totally self-indulgent fic. Unfortunately I forgot about Tumblr’s textbox limit, so I had to split it up. Feedback is welcome and greatly appreciated! (Also note this is pre-Remus). Happy Holidays, everyone!

Other parts here: 1 | 2 | 3

Special thanks to @sparkleydoggy-main​ for editing.

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Deceit woke up to the smell of coffee and bacon.

He sat up rubbing his eyes. Today was the day.

Deceit threw off his covers and stretched, listening to the sounds coming from outside his room. It was obvious all the others were already up and making breakfast. He heard the muffled voices of Patton and Virgil in the kitchen as the oven timer went off. Roman was singing to the Christmas music playing on the radio as plates and silverware clanked; probably Logan setting the table.

Deceit swallowed hard and braced himself. You can do this, he told himself. It’s just for one day. They don’t hate you. At least, most of them don’t…

He opened his bedroom door and was flooded with the sounds and smells of Christmas morning. He blinked the light out of his eyes and saw just as he’d expected: Patton was at the kitchen counter, casually chatting with Virgil as he was finishing the icing on a tray of cinnamon rolls. Logan was indeed setting the table but was having a difficult time with Roman stretched out across it, using a spatula as a microphone and singing along with Mariah Carey.

Unfortunately he spotted Deceit standing in the doorway, now making him the target of the song.

“‘Cause I just want you here tonight,” he sang, pointing to a flustered Deceit, “Holding on to me so tight!”

“Roman, you need to move so I can finish preparing the table,” Logan said. “Take your solo elsewhere.”

“But this is my stage, and you’re ruining my performance!”

“It’s not, and you need to move.”

“C’mon, Teach! At least let me finish!”

“No. If you don’t move, I will have no other choice but to take drastic measures.”

“Oh yeah? And what would that be?”

Logan stepped toward him with a butter knife, expressionless. “I will—"

“Oh, you’re up! Perfect timing!” Patton said when he noticed Deceit standing there, silently observing the scene that unfolded before him. “Breakfast is just about ready!”

Logan, Virgil, Roman, and Deceit took their places at the table while Patton brought over the food. “This is going to be so wonderful having everyone together like this!” Patton explained as he set down the last tray.

“Thanks for breakfast, Pat, you’re the best,” Virgil beamed. Patton just smiled and ruffled Virgil’s hair as he made his way to his place at the table.

“Merry Christ—"

“Hold up!” Roman interrupted with a hand in the air. “There’s something missing, and we mustn’t continue Christmas without it.” He turned to Deceit expectantly, looking him up and down. “Ahem. Deceit, your sweater?”

“My s…?”

For the first time since he’d woken up, Deceit noticed all four of them were decked out in their yearly Christmas sweaters—Patton in light blue with white paw prints, Roman in red with gold and white stars, Virgil in purple and black plaid, and Logan in deep blue that simply read, “This is a Christmas Sweater”.

The prince’s eyes suddenly grew wide. He held up a finger as in, just one moment, and took off from his chair, tearing down the hallway and running into a room.

“Wait! Roman!” Virgil cried frantically, scrambling after him.

Patton snapped his fingers, a smile growing on his face. “Oh, that’s right! It’s only tradition for us to all be wearing our Christmas sweaters!”

Deceit looked to Logan for confirmation.

“I’m afraid Roman and Patton are correct,” he said coolly, clearly trying not to smile, “It is tradition.”

Roman came running back out, producing a black and yellow knitted sweater with little snake patterns. “Ta-da! One snuggly serpentine sweater!”

Deceit nearly choked. “Wait, how…? Where’d that come from?”

“Virgil held onto it!”

He took it gingerly, staring at it in disbelief. Virgil looked like a teapot ready to boil over.

“Sorry, Dee,” Logan said with false sympathy. “Looks like you’re not getting out of this one.” He said it as though he were saying trust me, I’ve tried.

Deceit slipped on his sweater, trying to ignore all the eyes trained on him. There was a small applause from the rest of the table.

“Perfect! Now may we continue, Roman?”

The five of them ate well. It was a simple meal, really, but the most amazing one Deceit had had in a long time—eggs, bacon, cinnamon rolls and coffee.

“Typically we do a Christmas breakfast instead of dinner,” Patton explained to Deceit through a mouthful of food. “So instead of spending all day preparing food, we can have the rest of the day to open presents and spend time with each other! We usually do our big dinner the night before. Sorry I didn’t catch you sooner.”

“Oh yeah, you totally missed out, Deceit! Logan is an amazing cook!” Roman said excitedly, thrusting his fork with scrambled egg into the air for effect.

“Thank you, Roman, but it was a group-effort, really,” Logan said modestly, but there was no mistaking the small amount of pride in his voice.

“Wasn’t it great, Virgil?” Roman elbowed his arm.

“What? Oh, yeah. Yeah, it was great,” Virgil muttered unenthusiastically. He’d hardly touched his breakfast, mostly just pushing the food around the plate with his fork, his head resting in his other hand.

Deceit hoped Virgil was okay. The bitterness and skepticism he’d felt from the previous night had mostly ebbed away from a good night’s sleep. He no longer wanted to be there if it truly made Virgil uncomfortable and unable to enjoy himself. Deceit just wanted to see his old friend happy. Even more painful, he wanted a second chance.

“So,” he began, “Do you all live here together, or…?”

“Oh heavens, no,” Patton laughed, putting his hand to his chest, “I could never do this much hosting for more than a couple days at a time. No, this is just the biggest house of us four, my parents’ old place, so we always spend time together here for the holidays.”

Deceit thought about that. Really it would’ve been just three of them, with this being Virgil’s first Christmas with them and all, but he decided not to say that. He couldn’t understand how quickly they’d accepted Virgil as a part of their family, the four of them talking and laughing like they’d spent their whole lives together.

“Well, you’ve been a great host thus far,” he offered politely. And it was true.

Virgil snorted. Suck-up, Deceit could practically hear him say.

“Awe, thanks Dee! Let me tell you, it’s not easy, but I love getting to spend the holidays living with my best friends!”

Deceit wondered if someday he’d be considered a part of this group Patton considered his best friends. Probably not.

After breakfast was present-time, where the five gathered around Patton’s Christmas tree. Deceit was once again beginning to regret his stay; he hadn’t brought a single present for anyone. Yet somehow there were still five neatly wrapped gifts gleaming under the branches.

“Who wants to go first?” Patton asked.

“Oh, oh! I want to go first,” Roman said excitedly. “I had you, Pops!”

Roman handed Patton a beautiful box wrapped in red paper and gold ribbon. Patton opened the gift and gasped, his face lighting up. “Kitten Mittens?” Patton held up a pair of blue fuzzy mittens, complete with cat ears on the knuckles.

“To match your sweater!”

Patton squealed in excitement and scooted over to throw a hug onto the prince. “I love it, Roman, thank you! Now it’s my turn. Virge, I had you!”

“Cool,” Virgil grinned and took the small blue package Patton handed him. “New eyeshadow? Thanks, Pat, you know me well.” Virgil leaned over to give Patton a hug.

“I guess that means it’s my turn then,” Virgil said, handing Logan a present. “I had you, Logan.”

“Excellent.” Logan carefully stripped away the purple wrapping to uncover a hardcover copy of Alice in Wonderland.

Before Logan could get a word out, Virgil cut in. “Sorry I took your last copy,” he said with a nervous laugh.

“It’s quite alright, Virgil. Thank you.” Though he didn’t say much, his eyes were crinkled in a smile. “And I had you, Roman.”

“Oh goody,” Roman unwrapped the crisp blue wrapping to reveal a brand-new sketchbook.

“It appears you’re nearing the end of your current one, so I thought maybe you’d... you know…” Logan shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant.

“Thank you, Logan!” Roman leapt across to tackle Logan in a hug, who ungracefully accepted.

“And that leaves you, Deceit!” Patton said, pointing to the one present remaining under the tree.

“For me? But… I didn’t get anyone anything. Who… who got me a gift?”

“Oh, don’t worry, it was Santa Claus,” Patton said with a wink as he handed Deceit the present.

“You mean Sanders Claus,” Roman pointed out, but Deceit wasn’t even listening anymore. A present? For him?

His tongue flicked the air. It definitely smelled like Patton, but when would he have had time to get him a gift when he’s been hosting this whole time?

Carefully, he unwrapped and opened the box. Inside was a long yellow scarf.

“Patton, this… you really didn’t need to get me anything.”

“Oh, it was a group effort!” he said proudly. “Logan said you needed something to keep you warm, Roman said you needed a pop of color, and Virgil had the idea of a scarf! He said it seemed like ‘your kind of thing.’”

Virgil blushed and pulled his knees up to his chest, trying to make himself as small as possible. “It was nothing,” he squeaked.

“I was just the one to go out and buy it,” Patton finished.

It was no doubt one of the best gifts he’d ever received. One of the only gifts he’d ever received. He was so excited, his natural dialect began slipping through.

“Everyone… thank you. This is… the worst gift I’ve ever received.” The second it’d left his mouth, he knew what had happened.

“Wait, no! I didn’t mean to say that!” he said in a panic, his face burning bright red. He waited for the others to be disgusted, to kick him out for being rude. He’d lost his one chance and re-building a friendship with these people.

There was a half-second of shock and confusion. Then, to deceit’s surprise, they burst into laughter.

“We did that good, huh?” Logan smirked.

“Oh boy, that was amazing,” Roman said, wiping a fake tear. “Comedy gold.”

Deceit took a deep breath, laughing a little himself but more relieved than anything. He really was no good with this Christmas stuff, nor the mushy social interaction, but the others didn’t make him feel bad about it. They didn’t seem to mind his silly mistakes, and that thought alone kept him going. “It’s the best gift I’ve ever received,” he corrected. “Thank you.”

Next up on the Christmas activity list was games. The five of them were seated in a circle on the floor of the living room, criss-cross applesauce. Wrapping paper and boxes were strewn across the carpet.

Patton brought out a deck of cards. “Any suggestions?”

“How about ‘Lair’?” Logan suggested. “Seems about right for the occasion.”

At first no one said anything. The five of them sat in silence, considering their options. Between Logan’s deadpan voice and his impeccable poker face, he was too good. Then it clicked.

“Ha-ha, real funny,” but Deceit was laughing along with the others. Virgil just smiled and rolled his eyes, shaking his head slightly.

“Seems like you’ve been spending too much time with Patton over here, Specs,” Roman laughed.

“Yes, it seems his terrible humor has began to rub off on me,” Logan teased, elbowing Patton next to him, who just smiled, looking very pleased with himself.

The group did eventually play Liar, which was fun for everyone except Patton, who flushed and laughed nervously every time he tried lying.

“Gosh darn it! How did you know?” He asked Roman after the fourth time of being called out. Everyone laughed, including Patton. Virgil leaned over to give him a sympathetic hug.

Between Deceit’s deceptive skills and Logan’s strategy and perfect poker face, the two were neck and neck the entire time. Eventually the game had to be considered a tie; neither one would back down and everyone was getting tired of playing.

“Would you just look at that snow!” Patton said excitedly, looking out the front window. It was about three in the afternoon and it hadn’t stopped snowing since the previous evening. A thick blanket of snow covered the entire town. “It’s a white Christmas!”

Roman strolled over to join. “Yes, the perfect conditions to make a beautiful sculpture! Or to have the most epic snowball fight!”

Logan, Virgil, and Deceit joined the other two at the window.

“It is quite beautiful, isn’t it?” said Logan.

“It’s just snow,” Virgil and Deceit said in unison. They glanced at each other, but quickly looked away, annoyed. The other three were trying not to laugh.

“I know cold isn’t your favorite, Deceit, but would you like to join us outside?” Logan asked. “We don’t often get a white Christmas, and when we do, we always make a point to go out and enjoy it.”

“We can make sure you’re extra bundled up!” Patton added. “We can lend you a proper coat instead of just using your cape.”

“Yeah, I’m sure Virgil wouldn’t mind sharing one of his old ones,” Roman said teasingly.

“No pressure, though,” Logan put his palms up. “We wouldn’t want to put your health in danger.”

“No, I… I think I can do it,” he said. As much as Deceit hated the cold, he wanted to do this. Everyone here had been so kind and welcoming. Even Virgil, in his own way— The fact that he’d even let him over at all was enough. He didn’t want to push it all away now. “Let’s do it.”

[jovialyouthmusic]

Silver Service

A Royal Romance AU fanfic sequel to Protect and Serve

Bastien gets his mojo back... 

Word Count 3289

A/N NS*W

2a Normal Service...

After the press conference there was nothing to do but wait to see what the public reaction would be, and Bastien and Sophia went back to their suite and had a light lunch together.

‘Oh!’ Sophia said ‘I forgot, I told Drake you were seeing the doctor this morning, and he ordered something for you to cheer you up’ Bastien perked up

‘Oh yes?’ he asked as she produced a cardboard box of the type used to put pastries in. His heart leapt in anticipation as she opened it, staring at the contents curiously

‘Cannoli’ Bastien said reverently, saying a silent prayer of thanks to his young friend, noting there were four in the box.

‘Oh!’ said Sophia, tilting her head to the side ‘They’re very – unique. We should have them after d…’

‘NO!’ cried Bastien suddenly, making her jump, then taking a deep calming breath. ‘I - that is we – deserve a treat. Let’s have one now. Have you ever…’ He waved his hand over the box, the  sweet aroma of the phallic pastries already making his mouth water. The prospect of watching Sophia eat one made his head spin and his manhood stir.

‘No, I’ve not had one before. It’s – sweet is it?’

‘Yes’ he breathed, reaching out

‘Okay I’ll get some plates’ she said and he groaned in disappointment at having to wait another second to watch her. She looked at him oddly ‘We don’t want crumbs on the upholstery’ He slumped in defeat and waited impatiently, taking hold of the box and inhaling while she disappeared into the tiny kitchenette he had for preparing simple snacks and drinks. He remained sitting on the footstool and she settled on the couch, perching on the edge and handing him a plate. Carefully he put one out for her, then took one for himself before looking at her.

‘Should I get a knife or spoon?’ she asked, and he shook his head impatiently

‘No, use your fingers agápe mou’ he instructed her. Gingerly she picked it up and moved it closer to her lips, parting  them softly. He watched her intently, and realised his mouth was hanging open, so he picked his up also and covered by lifting it up to take a bite. He watched as she opened her mouth wide and bit into the pastry shell, the filling oozing closer to the other end of the confection. All at once he realised it wasn’t just phallic – it was hollow, and if he poked his tongue out to take the sweet mascarpone, it was erotic in quite another way, not to mention the oozing of the sweet white filling.

Sophia’s eyes widened and her pupils darkened as she tasted her dessert and watched Bastien delicately lick his.

‘Bas, this is – so erotic’ she said, wide eyed. ‘How can pastry be erotic?’

‘Oh my sweet one, have you never indulged in food play?’ he murmured. ‘We have a whole world to discover together. Although this particular item is pretty obvious’

‘Well’ said Sophia ‘I suppose it looks like a…’ she rolled her eyes toward his groin, which to his delight was rapidly rising to the occasion. He nodded as her eyes darkened.

‘and yet…’ his tongue darted out and captured the creamy filling from the pastry tube, and she groaned in appreciation. She put her sweet down and leaned toward him hungrily

‘It’s been so long Bas’ she said throatily, and he took a large bite, crumbs cascading to the floor and cream dotting his lips. He rolled it around his mouth and poked his finger inside the tube, taking the white cream on his finger and offering it to her. She opened her mouth and sucked eagerly, moving closer still and moaning. He took his finger back and leaned close to taste her lips, feeling the familiar surge of blood to his manhood, knowing he would be able to satisfy his lover at last.

They kissed, tasting crumbs and cream and each other, bodies striving to close the distance between them. Sophia broke the kiss to pull her dress up over her head as he took off his sweater. Their lips crashed together again and they fumbled at each other’s clothes – Bastien for her bra, she for his belt and pants. Together they worked to strip naked, and Bastien bore her back to the couch, nudging the remaining pastries out of the way, only partly concerned in preserving them for later. They had already worked their magic and all thoughts of being neat or tidy were banished in his eagerness to join with his lover at last, his member fully ready for action, leaking precum. Sophia backed up against the back of the couch, pulling her knees up and opening her thighs, almost weeping at the feel of his familiar hardness against her. He pulled back slightly to slip his fingers inside her.

‘Soft and creamy’ he murmured by her ear, bringing his fingers to his lips and then to hers to suck. ‘Sweet – so sweet, my goddess’ Her back arched and she rocked her hips against him, craving him, craving all of him, her hand to the back of his neck, working up, tangling her fingers in his hair, fusing her lips to his, allowing him to delve deep into her mouth like he had with the pastry, tasting the sweet cream again. His fingers dove into her again, probing and searching, pressing and pulsing, bringing her closer, closer until she felt as if she was exploding, pulsing tight around his fingers, gasping and trembling.

His hands roamed over her skin, possessing her, trying to feel every square inch, letting her slow and recover before nudging at her with his hard throbbing length, greedy for her, greedy to have her come again and again.

‘Yes Bas’ she gasped ‘Yes, fill me, take me’ pushing herself toward him as he inched inside her to the hilt, marvelling that he felt no pain from his thigh though his shoulder ached a little – but sex was an anaesthetic, he discovered as he cautiously set up a rhythm. It had been so long – he had not even taken care of himself for two weeks, longer than he had ever gone before save for his training for the Guards. He lost himself in her – they were no longer separate. They moved as one, knowing what each wanted, giving themselves completely, surrendering to the moment. Together they spiralled toward their climax, heedless of the noises they made, uncaring as whether others could hear. They were outside of time and space in their own little bubble, as if nothing else existed. The climax built and built – peaked and rolled and crashed and ebbed away, leaving them in a twisted sweaty heap on the couch, gasping for breath. Slowly Bastien carefully disengaged himself, finally finding the twinge of pain in his thigh and shoulder, grimacing and stumbling a little as he got up. He held his hand out to Sophia

‘Perhaps we should shower’ he smiled ‘We certainly broke our fast’ Sophia grinned back and started to gather their clothes together. Miraculously the pastries were still intact, and she put the remains back in the box. ‘Leave them’ Bastien said, casting his eye over her rear end as she bent to the task ‘Come to bed with me, theá mou’ Her eyes widened

‘Again? What about showering?’ she asked, watching as he started to harden again.

‘Forget that’ he said ‘We have a lot of catching up to do’

------

Bastien started awake at the sound of a soft knock at the door to the suite. He and Sophia had made love again and she was currently on four orgasms and he on two. She was asleep beside him and he  looked at the bedside clock. His recovery rate was pretty much what it had always been, but his stamina was compromised, and he’d fallen asleep. He realised that it was dinner time and their dinner cart would now be waiting outside the door, so he slipped on his dressing gown to go and fetch it in. One of the maids was passing as he stepped out, dressed for bed at six pm, and she goggled at him. He gave her a stern look and took the trolley inside.

Sophia was just stirring as he prepared the table, and by the time she came through into the lounge in her dressing gown, it was laid out ready for her and he stood at the table, a napkin over his forearm, holding her chair for her like a waiter.

‘Dinner is served, Madam’ he intoned gravely

‘Thankyou’ she said, sitting and winking at him ‘Play your cards right and there’ll be a generous tip coming your way.’

‘I already have everything I need’ he smiled, sitting opposite her ‘I have my goddess here with me’

‘Oh I’m sure I’ll find something to reward you with’ she said huskily ‘and we still have the pastries for afters – they won’t keep, you know’ Bastien already felt himself harden at the idea but decided he needed to eat in order to keep up his strength. He poured the wine – a white Chablis – and raised his glass to her ‘to a long and happy future for us and for Cordonia’. They ate quietly, stealing glances at each other from time to time. Sophia reached out her foot to fondle Bastien’s ankle, and he smirked back, his glance turning to a smouldering look that made her bones turn to water.

‘If I wasn’t hungry I’d have you spread out on the table’ he said ‘If I did everything I wanted to do to you, I’d most likely expire from exhaustion – and sadly my stamina isn’t what it was’

‘I have enough stamina for both of us’ she promised. ‘But I’ll be gentle with you’ They carried on, making short work of the meal, and Bastien cleared the plates back onto the trolley. He put it out in the hall for staff to take back to the kitchens, and went back to see Sophia had put the box with the cannoli on the table. He pulled his chair around so that they sat close and beckoned her to swivel so that they were knee to knee. He slid one of his knees between hers, and got one of the pastries out. He held it reverently,  his mouth watering and blood surging to his member.

‘We share this one’ he announced, and leaned toward her, holding it in between them, open end toward each other ‘Ready?’ he poised ready to take a bite, and watched as Sophia parted her lips. The bit into it together, and he swiftly poked his tongue into it, so that the creamy filling oozed out of Sophia’s end and she squeaked with surprise and her tongue darted out to rescue it. Bastien grinned, rolling the pastry around to melt in his mouth as she struggled with her own mouthful, putting her fingers to her lip to wipe it off, sucking her fingertips suggestively. She glared at him playfully as they finished, and he leaned toward her, holding half of the treat between his teeth. She paused, looking at him critically.

‘No tricks this time mister’ she admonished him, and he shook his head and placed his hand on his heart. They bit into it together and sat back to savour it. The last bite of the pastry shared, their lips met and they kissed, tongues exploring, catching the last traces of sweet creaminess and flaky pastry. They broke away for a moment

‘We have one more’ Bastien said ‘We should eat it before it gets stale – and it should provide stamina for another couple of rounds’ He picked up a knife from the table and carefully cut it in two ‘Last one to finish has to go down on the other’ he said solemnly, his grey eyes flashing. Sophia giggled, and popped the whole of her portion into her mouth, rolling her eyes as she sucked and chewed.

‘Ummm delicious’ she said in a muffled tone, leaning forward so Bastien could see she was naked under her silky dressing gown. He growled and nibbled and licked at his suggestively, waiting for her to swallow before he gobbled the whole of his pastry, licking his fingers and giving her a smouldering look. Much as he wanted to pick her up and carry her to the bedroom, he held back and grabbed her hand to lead her there.

‘You are a wicked woman’ he rumbled ‘I’m going to make you come so hard you’ll beg me to stop’

‘Promise?’ she laughed

‘You know I always keep my promises’ he crooned ‘And I try my very – very best at everything I do’ They reached the bedroom ‘Now take that dressing gown off, temptress’ She stood facing him, biting her lip as she let her dressing gown drop off her shoulders to the floor. He sucked his breath in as he took in her naked form, taking a step toward her as if he was about to kiss her, then pushed her back onto the bed with a yelp of surprise. Quickly he knelt on the floor, picking up her legs and putting them over his shoulders.

She wriggled and squeezed her knees together around his neck, but he pushed her back up the bed a little, ducking down and flipping her onto her front. Swiftly he got onto the bed and drew her over his thighs, placing his palm over her buttocks, circling it so she squirmed in anticipation.

‘You deserve a good spanking’ he growled

‘no, no, I’ll be good’ she squealed

‘Too late’ he growled, and brought his hand down with a resounding slap. She gasped and wriggled again, feeling the sting. Bastien looked at her skin reddening, knowing that it would fade and the stimulation was just that – a little sting, no lasting pain, just something to draw her attention. ‘Do you promise not to tease your poor old sea god?’ he asked, and she turned her head toward him

‘No, I can’t, you enjoy it too much’ she said breathily, then squealed as he stroked his palm over her cheeks and brought it away, holding it up as if he was about to bring it down again. She squeezed her eyes shut and shivered in anticipation.

‘What a shame’ he said, and brought his hand down again. Her squeal was a little more throaty, and he rested his hand between her cheeks, stroking his thumb over her moist folds. She shuddered, and he pivoted, slipping her back onto the bed and flipping her onto her back. She bit her lip as she looked up at him. His expression was grave, his tone sombre

‘I’ll just have to find another way to admonish you’ He knelt on the floor, and this time as he pulled her toward him and put her legs over his shoulders she relaxed and wiggled her hips expectantly. ‘No coming unless I say so’ he scolded

‘Mmmm so bossy – I love it’ she purred as he stroked her thighs, moving closer to her centre, gazing at her petal like parts, he scent intoxicating. He was hard as a rock and all doubt about the return of his prowess disappeared. He had a plan, and started to lick and taste her, dizzy with desire but determined to keep his promise. There was nothing he liked better than feeling or hearing or seeing her come undone – even more than his own pleasure. Tentatively he pushed her to the edge then drew back until her fingers, twisted in his hair, pulled at him, trying to urge him on. He chuckled and slapped her hand so she drew it away with a disappointed moan.

‘Not yet my goddess, my wanton woman’ He noted how even his words pushed her closer and he slipped two fingers inside her, bending them and angling them upward to find her gspot. She wriggled again and protested

‘I need to pee’ she gasped, but he shook his head

‘No, I just hit the right spot’ he said ‘Though we may need some towels. Wait here’ She whimpered with disappointment as he got up, giving her thigh a reassuring stroke as he went to the bathroom. She gazed up at the ceiling

‘I don’t think I could move if I wanted to’ she murmured ‘My bones are like jelly’ Bastien came back and tucked a folded up towel beneath her and put another on the floor where he knelt, but before that he moved over her to claim a kiss and spoke in her ear

‘Don’t be afraid – it may feel as if you want to pee but it’s nothing to worry about. If you feel like that again, tell me. Just tap on my head or squeeze my hand’ She nodded, too far gone with passion to question what he meant, just trusting him completely. He knelt again and bent to his task, stroking and teasing, leaning forward to lick at her clitoris. She went into overdrive, writhing and calling out.

‘Bas – please’ she cried, and tapped his head shakily, the tapping turning to drumming as she fought for control. He smiled triumphantly, lifting his head to see her glazed eyes, mouth open, soft breasts peaked with her hard pink nipples.

‘Yes, come for me my goddess. Let go, I have you’ he crooned, and she cried out, a strangled noise with no heed, no regard for volume or coherence, whole body going into paroxysm. At the same time, a gush of liquid poured out of her vulva. His triumph was complete – she was a squirter – or he had unlocked it with patience and skill. It didn’t matter which, he had achieved his goal, and she was coming hard, on and on, pulsing, shaking, gasping, thrashing, sweating with her orgasm. He made sure the towels mopped it all up before he lay down on the bed beside her and drew her into his arms, gasping and twitching like a fish out of water. Her face was flushed, glowing, so beautiful it almost hurt him to look at her.

He stroked her hair and murmured soothingly

‘Shh, shh, it’s all right, I’ve got you. Let go, let go Sophia, theá mou. Ti amo, I love you.’ She lay in his arms, slowly regaining control.

‘What – what was that?’ she asked faintly ‘It never felt like that before’ He chuckled

‘Have you heard of squirting?’ he asked and she nodded faintly ‘Well then, that’s what just happened. They still aren’t quite sure what it is – one theory is that it is actually urine mixed with other fluids, and another says it isn’t. Whatever it is, stimulating the g spot seems to trigger it - it’s difficult to achieve but – as you just found out – is very intense and pleasurable. I’m exceedingly proud that we achieved it – I’ve only managed it once before’

He didn’t tell her who it had been, and he prayed she wouldn’t ask, as it was Lady Adelaide who was a screamer and a squirter. It was a little white lie he had just told, as she’d managed more than once. However, he didn’t feel it was proper discussing former partners, whether he was emotionally involved with them or not. He never had romantic feelings for Adelaide; she had challenged him when he was young, and his pride hadn’t allowed him to refuse her. Socially she made him feel awkward, but in the bedroom he was most definitely in charge, so she had come back to him a few times and he had no reason to refuse her - until now.

Next Chapter 2b ...is restored

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

CSUAPR 47 start

Life with Curtis was trying... Lance was trying his hardest to keep up with him, while he was trying Curtis’s limits when it came to binge watching awful TV. The medication Curtis’s friend had prescribed had helped with his mouth, throat and sense of taste. The prescription was delivered by an overly sweaty Pidge. Lance had nearly run. He couldn’t talk to her properly, yet she either didn’t care or had been prewarned he couldn’t speak properly. The burgers and fries she’d brought had gone to Kosmo, while they settled down to watch something Pidge insisted on as she “wasn’t trekking back through the woods while she was digesting”. Lance had the suspicion she’d talked to Hunk leading to Hunk telling her to stay with him as long as possible to ascertain his welfare and wellbeing. After a few days on the pills for the thrush, food tasted more like food again, leading him to being “tortured“ with three large meals a day. He’d pick at them over the few hours between meals, or Curtis would decide they’d been sitting out too long and he needed his next meal as soon as possible. For that reason Kosmo was now firm friends with Curtis. Mornings started slowly, then a little before lunch Curtis would get him up and make him walk around the house. He’d also found all sorts of exercises to help with his back pain. They’d kind of had a talk after Lance went sleep walking, for the first time, the second night at the cabin. He’d managed to get himself lost in the woods while he walked, Kosmo had dutifully stayed at his side. When he’d finally decided he was done walking, Kosmo had teleported back to the house to fetch Curtis who’d been going slightly crazy after finding them both gone. Waking up in the middle of the forest with Curtis across from him, wasn’t the best thing to ever happen. Curtis had wrapped him up in a thick blanket, then insisted he needed to lean on him all the way back to the cabin. The man fussing so badly he took his shoes off to put them on Lance’s feet because the night was freezing. Returning to the warmth of the cabin, Curtis then ran around lighting the fire in the grate and fetching a bucket of water in order to clean Lance’s feet up. Unable to cope with the influx of care, he’d spilled about his past... in particular how he didn’t deserve Curtis being kind after what he’d done... and how he’d relapsed. A few days after their talk, Shiro had called them. He’d stolen a bloodied tissue to have it tested due to his medication. Lance was angry Shiro had betrayed him like that. He’d told him he needed it... not thinking that his blood would be screened and his relapse would be picked up like that, he hadn’t been prepared for Shiro’s anger. His hurt and betrayal... then his anger at Curtis because Lance had told him about his fuck up. The “punishment” from the incident led to his daily walks and exercises. Every time he felt down, Curtis would order him up and force him off to do something he didn’t want to. They’d fought about it. Curtis didn’t understand how hard it was to get down on the floor or to get back up. He didn’t understand the whole “don’t touch when he’s having a panic attack”. Or screaming nightmares had become a thing again. Or that sometimes just on the very edge of his vision he saw Allura standing there. He also didn’t understand the mornings Lance struggled with getting out of bed due to all the thoughts in his head. He did. He kind of. But where Keith would lay there and hold him, Curtis would make him get up and waddle around. It didn’t matter if Lance was walking around with tears rolling down his face. It was apparently healthier for him than being in bed, not that he agreed. Especially after a sleepless night, being up with reflux that wanted to murder him, feeling like his back was broken in a dozen places, or a night tossing and turning because his head wouldn’t shut up about Keith. Napping on the sofa turned out to be the one action that Curtis would forgive and let slide. Perhaps because that was the only time he had control of the TV remote, after the first few nights of movies before bed. When they were still adjusting to being thrown together, before Curtis had decided he needed to get into alien wrestling. Lance didn’t love it. There were some moments that weren’t awful, but it wasn’t his idea of a great night. Shiro and Curtis could keep their wrestling kink to themselves. He had his own problems in that department, so didn’t need to be reminded that the pair definitely got far too hot and heavy on Altea thanks to the arm wrestling. He’d nearly forgotten, as he’d been forgetting more and more lately, until Curtis made a joke about it. Lance was in no way, shape, or form horny for Curtis... yet it’d be a lie not to say he felt the constantly ebbing arousal stirring in his blood. That was another reason Curtis dragging him out of bed sucked. Curtis seeing him with a boner had been mortifying, more so when he started the “you’re a healthy young man talk”. He wasn’t though. He wasn’t exactly healthy, not with his depression running rampart, and Curtis trying to kill him healthiness. Keith’s birthday was rapidly approaching, as was the day he gave birth. So despite the facade, the appreciation of company, the struggle to keep going, somehow he was still there. Still waiting for Keith to come home and fix everything that Curtis couldn’t. He might be an amazing man, but Curtis couldn’t fill the Keith shaped hole in his soul. * Spending the past few quintants in and out of consciousness, Keith knew the doctors had run a series on tests on him that he was supposed remember. He was exhausted, and from what he gathered, he was also now a big brother. His little sister was the cutest baby he’d ever seen in his life. She was a chubby little thing, with her mother’s eyes and her father’s hair. Thankfully she hadn’t got Kolivan’s ears. Staring down at her, he’d felt a rush of pride and love that he hadn’t expected. His smile was wide as tears ran down his face. Everything in his head was a little scrambled. He had no idea why he was there. He had no idea why he was there and his mother wouldn’t tell him where Lance was. Another quintant passed without answers. Then what he assumed was another. Either that or it was an exceptionally long quintant. He’d asked to see Lance, then fought his hardest to stay awake. Lance hadn’t come to see him... He didn’t like that his husband hadn’t come to see him. He was confused as to why he’d woken up with the photos of his father propped up on the table next to the bed. He may have also forgotten he was going to be a father, but that had come back. The doctors all wanted to know what the last thing he remembered was, leaving him with the feeling he’d said the wrong thing when he’d said “that water planet with the sky the same colour as Lance’s eyes”. Krolia had looked uncomfortable, then passed Korra over to him before he remembered to ask why everyone was looking at him in confusion. His long quintant felt overwhelming. He had a baby sister... she was actually finally here... He had the suspicion that despite his efforts he’d nodded off as she’d suddenly not been in his hold without him remembering the in between. His communication skills weren’t exactly up to their usual high standards. Krolia explaining it might be because he hadn’t talked in 7 movements. That was the most overwhelming thing. 7 movements with no idea how Lance was. He was happy to have a sister, but he was happier still when Shiro came striding through the infirmary door, gathering him into a hug so tight he felt almost crushed in his brother’s arms “Keith. Oh thank god... thank god...” Patting Shiro’s arm, his brother loosened his hold. Shiro had no way of knowing he was as happy as him to see him. His mother wouldn’t tell him about his husband “It’s good to see you too” “I think I’m happier to see you than you are to see me. You had all of us worried” “Even Lance?” Shiro stiffened, then relaxed. None of his family were great at hiding things when it came to sore topics “Especially Lance. How are you feeling?” “Tired” “Tired? Isn’t being in a coma enough sleep for you?” “Nope. Where’s Lance? Has he... am I...?” “Slow down. You’ve barely woken, and it’s common for the first few days to leave you confused. He’s fine. He’s safe. He hasn’t given birth, as far as I know he hasn’t booked a date for the caesarean and he’s still pregnant with your twins” “Where is he?” “He’s on Earth. Curtis took a leave of absence to make sure he wasn’t alone” That made no sense to him. His fatigue was catching up, while talking felt weird “Huh?” “You look pretty exhausted kiddo. I promise I’ll be right here when you wake up again, but for now you should get some rest” “Wanna see Lance” “I know you do. When you’re a bit more awake, I promise you can call Lance” “Let him know...” “I’ll let him know. Let’s get you back to sleep, mister” Being babied by Shiro wasn’t terrible. He was like a father to him as he settled him back down and brushed his hair back from his forehead. A few ticks later he’d fallen back to sleep, Shiro remaining by his side. The next few quintants things fell into place. He didn’t remember the party or the explosions. He remembered the previous planet they’d visited but not the latest. Through his powers of deduction he’d reasoned something had happened between Lance and Krolia. Shiro had been stuck with him asking the same questions about Lance until it finally stuck in his head. Lance was on Earth with Curtis. When it stuck, his immediate desire was to return to Earth to see his husband. Only... he needed to build his strength up first. His strength being the thing that suffered the most. He could write his name, and was embarrassed to find they’d all been worried about him as he’d been slurring his words when he’d woken. He could use a knife and fork, though he was on a liquid diet with the need to work back up to solids. He could walk and talk. He was just exhausted sooner than he’d normally be. He was also cranky. Shiro had to go back to work with the promise that he’d be back to organise rehabilitation exercises for him back on Earth. That bit wasn’t great. Neither was he particularly happy when his team flooded in and showered him in attention. He wanted Lance to be the first one to know he was awake. Not the last. His husband would be scared... and he was scared that their time apart had ruined their marriage. During their visit Ezor had let it slip that Krystaal had kissed him. His team had been kicked out after that. His mother unhappy as she admitted that it’d happened. Lance had forgiven him... but he’d still gone and left him. He wasn’t getting the full story and it frustrated him. He could only hope that Lance hadn’t been treated like this when he’d woken up. His husband would have hated all the unnecessary “fluffing about” as he would call it. All his troubles would have been eased had he been allowed to see Lance. In the end, when he did finally get an explanation over what had happened between his mother and Lance, it’d come when his mother was emotionally raw from Korra testing her lungs out as she serenaded Krolia and Kolivan all night long for no apparent reason. He was livid with his mother for driving his husband away. He didn’t understand how she could have fought with him, when Lance had had no choice but to put himself first. He didn’t feel comfortable on Daibazaal as he wasn’t comfortable in his own skin. He preferred the obstetrician on Erathus, and it was his right to do what right for him. Calling Shiro, Shiro had explained the whole incident to him. Krolia had talked with Shiro after the incident. They’d all been overbearing. Scared to take their eyes off each other lest something else happen to one of them. They were also stressed and on edge from the Coalition’s mess. Things accumulating until they’d resulted in this mess. A mess that Krolia deeply regretted. Keith knew his mother as a proud woman, he also knew Lance would understand why she’d acted the way she did... but that didn’t mean that his mother didn’t need to swallow her pride and apologise to the man he loved. Knowing she’d screwed up, she didn’t want him to leave when he barely 6 quintants out of a coma, but on the concession that he let himself be placed in a pod to triple check he was physically fine, Keith secured his freedom off Daibazaal... in another two quintants time. By the time he’d packed, boarded Shiro’s pod and forced himself not to lose his cool at his mother, Keith had chewed his fingernails down to nearly nothing. All he could think about was seeing Lance. That meant he held the burning desire do so, yet on the other side of the same coin, he was nervous as quiznak about walking back into his husband’s life. He’d been awake a whole damn movement and he hadn’t heard from him. He hadn’t talked to him. He hadn’t messaged him. He probably wasn’t actually up to making the trip to Earth. His wedding ring was around his neck. Miraculously the clip had held despite what had happened... but... he had no way of knowing if Lance was wearing his. He had no way of knowing how Lance would be. Keith knew that his return wouldn’t magically fix whatever had been happening Lance’s head. His husband had weeks on Earth to fall apart without him. He’d missed so much of Lance’s pregnancy. He hated it. He hated every stupid step that the Physio therapist at the palace had made him take. Every sensory test. Every fine movement and memory test. It only told him he was weak and that he’d failed his husband. Shiro hadn’t been there when the incident had happened, all he had was a second hand account from Curtis. Curtis who told him that Keith had made a strategic call to search for Shiro while Curtis aided both Lance and Krolia. Keith couldn’t remember what was going through his mind. Trying to think of that night hurt his head. He was told not to rush the memories, but with no memories how did he know what to say? He’d left Lance. He’d left Lance with Curtis... The half-Galra knew he’d have had to assess the situation then come to the conclusion that was the best chance for a successful outcome. Curtis couldn’t go. Krolia was too pregnant... and Lance... He wanted to kick his past self’s arse for not leaving him clear instructions over what the quiznak had happened.

[msruchita]

Who Knew? - Part 2

Summary: It’s been 5 years since the snap, Bucky doesn’t seem to be coming back. Enters a stranger who is a balm to her soul. Will she dare to love again?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Erik ‘Killmonger’ Stevens x Reader

Warnings: 18+ (There’s just a lot of smut, so please, swearing too)

Here’s my fic for KC’s @buckmesideways22 prompt ‘You’re a slave to pleasure’ for her challenge. 

Also, thank you so much to @thesaltyduchess for literally helping me get through this series. I almost gave up if it wasn’t for you.

Let me know your feedback and seriously, every like, reblog, comment is appreciated. I always aim to make myself a better writer. So, to stop rattling on, I hope you guys enjoy! Plus, my Taglist is open, but I will stop tagging you if after a few fics; I see no activity from your end

@brazen88brat @lancetuckersmustache

Masterlist

‘Beg me.’ He commands you, voice deeper than usual.

‘Please Killmonger, please fuck me. Please!’

He dips a finger into your swollen folds, your pleas tugging at his heart strings but he needs to be sure, toying with your nerves.

‘I need you in me.’

He chuckles, claiming your mouth, but doesn’t give in to your cravings.

‘I will have you writhing, screaming, clawing at me, screaming my name under me before I give myself to you.’ He grins against your lips, watching you with piercing eyes.

You almost scream with frustration, your body so tightly wound up as all you can do is need his cock inside of you. You need it, you want it, he belongs to you. It makes sense now.

He releases the bruising hold he has over your throat, stroking the marks left behind softly in apology as he rams three fingers back inside, massaging your walls feeling you gush all over his hand. The other comes behind to squeeze the ample flesh, fuck, he will never get over your ass. Your previously ebbing orgasm roars back to life, approaching rapidly as you manage to choke out, ‘Erik, I’m going to cum, I can’t hold on. Please, let me cum.’

Panting, you see him give you a long, searching look before removing his hand, one coming to grip your waist and the other around your throat back again. ‘You’re a slave to pleasure. Denying it to you, is absolutely euphoric.’

With no warning, he’s inside of you. There was no indication and you barely felt him move, the thick length burning deliciously, stretching you out as he grunts, waiting patiently as you adjust against him, nibbling at your ear, watching the flush on your face deepen from pink to red.

The moment you’re ready, he sets a gruelling, bruising speed that has you hanging on for dear life, your eyes squeezed shut against the sparks of pleasure. He carefully pulls out of you before slowly moving back in, moaning at how tight you are. You bite down on his neck, wrapping your arms around him, tangling your hands in his hair, pulling slightly as you begin to shake under him.

He picks up speed, throwing you down on the bed, holding your thighs down, pounding into you as you feel each thrust till your womb, the sensation nearly making you scream. Gripping your hips, your legs wrap around his waist weakly, legs trembling from the strain as he pounds into you mercilessly.

His fingers travel back down, a hidden vibe in his hands as he sets it on your clit, the vibrations making you jerk.

‘Erik, oh God, I can’t.’ Tears roll down your face as pain/pleasure blends into one intensity, as he pulls you up again, your hands automatically going into his hair, your bangles scratching his neck, almost undoing him.

‘Come for me babe.’ His hand tightens around your throat, squeezing the breath out of you as he murmurs into your ear. ‘Let me hear you come for me.’

One final thrust, and he presses the vibe against you and you come hard, squirting all over the two of you, biting down hard as you muffle your screams into his shoulder. Erik removes his hand, biting down your neck on an unmarked area. A moment later he groans, his release spurting between the two of you, when he slipped out of you, you had no clue.

Somehow supporting himself, he gently twists both of you, laying on your sides, slowly stroking your back, your hands still loosely tangled in his hair.

He rolls on his back pulling you on top of him, as you lay spread out on his chest, breathing deeply as you kiss the scarred skin.

‘Nobody else will ever own my heart but you.’ You whisper quietly in his ear as he wraps his arms tightly around you.

You flipped your butterfly knife over and over, repeating the same pattern, waiting outside the throne room as you heard Erik and T’Challa embrace each other, the rage and desolation you felt clouding your thoughts of happiness for them.

Blood trickled from a cut on your cheek, as you wiped it carelessly with the back of your hand. Looks like the doctor missed a spot, as you grimaced at the sweat and grime matted in your hair. Your breaths still came in shallow, painful waves as you stumbled slowly from the infirmary to the throne room, coming as no surprise that Erik had called you in for a private audience away from the Avengers. Either he had heard about the stunt you pulled or that thanks managed to get you; your bet was the former, he wouldn’t call like this if he didn’t believe you needed to be punished for your error.

Dr.Cho managed to stitch you up to the best of her efforts, the gaping wound in your stomach now carefully bandaged from where Thanos had stabbed you as you entered at his toneless voice to see him sitting regally on the stairs, his silent appraisal sending shivers rolling down your spine.

‘So, the yoga teacher decided to play hero, and look where it got her. You couldn’t even take down a small alien on your own? No surprise, you needed help, predictably.’ You watched his composure slip for a brief second, surprise giving way to anger to fear.

There was a strained beat of silence as Erik stood up sharply, crossing the distance between you, grabbing your arms and shaking you roughly as you forced back a wince. ’I explicitly told you not to go. I told you to stay behind, watch over the palace in my place. What were you thinking rushing headlong into the fight?!’

Your eyes narrowed dangerously but he continued seething, turning around to pace. ‘You disobeyed a direct order from me, putting yourself into danger like that. Do you have no regard for yourself? For me? For all of us?! You could have died Y/N!’

Rage swirled inside of you at the accusations as you whirled around, raising your hand to slap him, but he anticipated your anger, catching your wrist deftly in his hand. He sneered into your face as he backed you into the nearest pillar, tightening his grip. ‘You dare to strike your love, your King? I expected better from you.’

He pinned his hips against yours, securing you firmly against the pillar, his hand crushing your wrist above your head as you let out a startled, pained gasp. The stitches on your belly, merely a few minutes old, started to tear as the bandage came loose under the fabric of your shirt. He immediately loosened his grip.

‘How dare you. How dare you think I would intentionally risk my life so recklessly, as if it means nothing to me? I tried my best, and sometimes, it isn’t enough, so be it.’ You whispered dangerously.

You grimaced at your own thoughts of fear, anger and excitement, suddenly yearning for something more salacious at the intimate position he had trapped you in. You looked up to see him staring at your waist, staring in horror at the blood that seeped through your shirt coating his arm with blood. You wrenched your arms free from his grasp, ignoring the wince from him, wrapping your arms around your waist, trying to stop the blood flow.

A brief look of hurt crossed his face as he reached forward to caress your cheek with his palm, the warmth bringing about a sting of tears, tenderly stroking your skin in its warmth as you closed your eyes. ‘You belong with me. Y/N, look at me.’

The command was soft, but you shook your head, closing your eyes tightly, willing the tears not to spill from its dam. ‘Y/N, baby, please.’

His voice had dropped to a whisper, as he cupped your face in his hands, gently bring you down to sit beside him. If there was one thing you knew, it was that Erik ‘Killmonger’ Stevens never begged for anything in his life, and to hear him grovelling, just for you; you couldn’t refuse him and you opened your eyes, tears rolling down your cheeks slowly as he gently grasped your shirt, undoing the buttons to reveal the loose, bloodied bandage.

‘Why didn’t you tell me? That it was this bad? When Dr.Cho told me, I couldn’t believe it, I have failed you.’ He gently pulled you into his arms, whispering into your hair.

T’Challa slowly backed out of the room, quickly searching for a certain soldier who might be able to help defuse this situation. He had not expected to find Erik screaming at you when he decided to enter back in, seeing you enter, to thank you for your courage, completely missing the way Erik held you like a lifeline, not understanding what he felt for you. His eyes were on Bucky’s ashen face, the soft look of happiness faded into one of terror at the memory of you bleeding all over the floor.

‘James, Y/N needs you.’

You were completely undone, sobs wrecked havoc on your abused body as he cradled you, shushing you, wiping away your tears. ‘I swear on Wakanda, and on my father’s grave, I will never fail you again, I love you so much. I should have never said those things. Let me make this right sweetheart, please.’

Tenderly brushing a lock of hair behind your ear, he cupped your face in his warm hands, silently begging for permission.You nodded simply, floored by his admission as he quickly closed the gap between you and kissed your lips softly, promising his undying love, hope and everlasting happiness.

Grabbing a special nano gel salve from his cargo pants, he slowly unravelled the bandage, whispering soft words of love as you sucked in shallow breaths, brushing the salve with his hand lightly over the huge wound, his words keeping your steady as the flesh began to knit together till all that was left is a giant bruise. His normally cold, brown eyes were warm with lingering concern and reverence of your strength.

Cupping your neck, Erik kissed each of your eyelids softly before bringing his forehead down to rest gently against yours. ‘I’m so sorry Y/N, I just can’t bear to lose you, not you.’

You captured his lips in a heated kiss filled with forgiveness and compassion.

‘And you never will.’

The door closed with a soft snick as Bucky leaned against the heavy wood, the glimpse of his friend resting his forehead against yours, the gentle way you started running your hand through his hair, gently stroking the back of his neck. It was just a glimpse and then your scent bowled him over, the subtle, teasing scents of sandalwood as your laughter danced in his ears, tears glittering unshed…

‘I love you, Bucky, forever. That doesn’t change’.

She quietly took his metal arm, pulling him down on her, resting his head on her chest. His body was rock hard, tense and big, almost like a statue up until she started running her hand through his hair, gently stroking the back of his neck. He could smell the perfumed oil she used, the subtle scent of sandalwood weaving a heavy spell as he slowly began to soften, almost like he was trying to melt into her, the sounds of heavy rain and thunder cracking soothing him deeper. She cradled his head in her arms, the gentle hug allowing him to swallow.

His arms came around her waist, the metal tightening almost immediately and he was glad she never commented when he brought their bodies flush together. All of a sudden, the combined weight of it all had him take a deep, shaky breath, and then tears fell down the curve of her breasts. He couldn’t help himself. Bucky Barnes, The Winter Solder, was fucking crying. But not just that, weeping like an actual baby in the arms of the most beautiful soul he had ever encountered. He tried his best to bite his lips, keeping as silent as he could be, but her fingers, soothing and kind, had him twitching as wracking sobs left his lips.

Quietly shushing him, holding him tighter as he lifted his face up to hers, gasping for air as she peppered his eyes, his nose, his cheeks, his forehead with tiny kisses for a few minutes, feeling her own tears leak down on his face. His metal arm locked suddenly and like lightening it was around her throat squeezing as he continued gasping, trying to breathe, his eyes wild and red.

‘я не могу дышать без тебя, не отпускай (I can’t breathe without you, don’t let go)’, he choked out, the arm unwinding from her throat to clutch at his chest.

She couldn’t understand the words, but she understood the sentiment when she wiped away his tears, shushing him softly, scooting downwards till she was eye level with him, stroking his cheeks. He leaned forward and kissed her. Hard. Desperate and needy, and it ended just as quick as she stared at him in shock, her lips still parted as he pulled away, and then he look away, ashamed.

She slowly had him turn to face her, placing her forehead on his, her way of telling him that she understood, he needed that kiss, needed her and she was going to be there through it all. She stayed there, his breath relaxing and following hers, their hips growing numb from laying on the floor even with a yoga mat. When she looked up, he was right there, staring at her intently never breaking eye contact.

He gently rolled on his back bringing her with him, smoothing out hair that had fallen out of her ponytail, bringing her forehead against his, the gentle weight stabilising him as he tipped his chin up to kiss her deeply one more time, wrapping his arms around her waist.

‘Can…can this…’, he looks away unable to form the question.

Nuzzles his nose with hers, ‘This will be our always.’

The memory of their always blurred as he tried to erase the scene he just witnessed, a fist in his mouth to stop from sobbing as tears streamed down his face. All he ever wanted was you, more of you, all of you, everything you had to offer him. But, that was no longer available.

Y/N, was no longer his anymore. She had moved on.

6 Years Ago

‘Yoga? You signed me up for yoga sessions?!’ Bucky’s gaze narrowed dangerously as Steve held his ground, arms folded across his chest as he and Okoye gave each a long look. It spoke volumes as to how frustrated and worried they were; Shuri had already given up, practically throwing him out through the window after he practically growled at her for being ‘An insufferable know-it-all’ in Russian, uncaring of the consequences as T’Challa yelled at her in isiXhosa about how much it cost to repair the windows the last time.

There was a still silence as he watched them, twisting his hands slightly nervously, knowing they were just trying to help, they had tried everything and nothing helped. He still woke up screaming, sometimes choking whoever was next to him, always feeling the biting chill of the Cryo, as if he was still trapped in that tundra, nowhere to run. Steve looked back at him, no pity, no judgement, just quiet sadness and kind resilience that he had always come to rely on him for. Okoye nodded once at him, a brief smile on her face, knowing he would agree. What did he have to lose?

They dropped him off at the studio, a simple building where the moment he stepped in, he was greeted immediately by a middle-aged man introducing himself as Jack, speaking in a soft, soothing tone immediately putting his frayed nerves to rest. He explained how his privacy and safety was of utmost priority and he wouldn’t be disturbed by anyone. Following extremely strict, rigid protocols, SHIELD had screened everyone of their employees before deciding which instructor would be best suited for him. Whenever he would come for his sessions, the studio would be empty except for himself, he and his instructor. They paid for 10 Hatha Yoga sessions out of which four were Hot Yoga and he was under no obligation to attend all 10 but the first four sessions were mandatory.

The nervous tension he felt earlier returned just as Jack took him down a winding corridor with the strangest background music playing through the speakers as he handed him a yoga mat, a towel, a foam block, a nylon strap, and a pillow, ushering him into a small room. ‘If you like we can change the music, our instructor is slightly young and she feels ‘chillstep’ is a bit more grounding than airy yoga music.’

Jack chuckles slightly at the bewildered look on the soldier’s face, hoping Y/N will take it easy on him, the former assassin looked about ready to bolt for the door before he relaxed a fraction. ‘No, this music is good, different, but good.’

He clutched the pillow like a lifeline, were they going to take a nap? That actually wouldn’t be so bad, maybe he could finally catch up on some much needed sleep. Setting up the yoga mat in the middle of the room, placing the items next to his mat as he took a good look around, noting it was really so simple, no mirrors, no strange music, no incense or candles burning. Just a rush of warm air surrounding him, thankfully the room didn’t stink of sweat, breath and heat. Just a pleasant vanilla scent, as he checked the clock, it was already 4 minutes past 7. What if she ran away the moment she saw him?

There was no chance of that as she entered inside, a vision in blue and maroon, deep blue leggings, an oversized maroon shirt, and he could just see the strap of her bra peeking from one shoulder as she adjusted the collar, muttering a hurried apology for being late. Rolling out her yoga mat and settling down on it, she smiled at him. His jaw cracked as it dropped open in surprise, his eyes slowly taking her in, she was gorgeous.

‘Alright, so firstly, how should I address you? Do you prefer James or Bucky? I’m Y/N.’ She leans forward to shake his hand, his eyes going immediately to her yoga bra gaping through her shirt as he swallowed and reached to shake her hand, noting it was slightly calloused, not super soft like he expected.

‘Bucky is fine.’ He finally managed to speak, rusty nails against sandpaper making him wince. She merely rubbed her palms on her leggings, a sheepish smile as she wiped a drop of sweat from her brow.

‘Okay, then Bucky, anytime you feel any discomfort or pain, let me know and stop immediately or rest in child’s pose or mountain pose.’

Nods slowly as he brings himself to the same cross legged position as her, hands itching to clasp together. ‘I also want to point out, this class will get really warm, you may sweat a lot, even feel faint. Let me know if I need to reduce the temperature, hmm?’

He couldn’t help but smile at her thoughtfulness, rather than going into a five minute monologue about energy, spirit, awakening, maybe something inner peace. She waited for him till he nodded as she smiled at him again, his heart skipping a beat. ‘I want you to close your eyes, and place your palms at heart center.’ Her voice was nothing like he expected as he took in the smooth creaminess of her flushed cheeks, closing his eyes. Like whiskey and smoked honey, it slid over his senses, his body, warming him up just slightly.

The first thing she asked was to hang his hands by his side and then gently bring them up to stretch the abdomen, repeating it five times over as she repeated, ‘Inhale up, exhale down. Good, again. Inhale up, exhale down.’

He tried not to focus on her chest, glad when the next pose was side stretch. ‘Place your right hand on the ground and stretch to your side. You should feel the stretch on your left side, you can place your right elbow on the ground if you’re more flexible.’

Stretching, he suddenly felt soft, firm fingers on his abdomen, tilting him slightly so that he’s facing forward, pushing him down further as he groans at the deep stretch. ‘Is this okay?’

He manages to nod, her touch so warm he felt it through the thin cotton shirt. Repeating it on the other side, she doesn’t correct him this time, leaving him slightly bereft of her touch, as they do alternate sides fives times, his cheeks very slightly pink as she smiles encouragingly at him.

The next pose was table top position, and Bucky was painfully aware of how the pose must look, the perfect Mount Me Pose, before she mentioned that they would be doing some cat-cow stretching.

Cat-cow pose. What the fuck was that? Cow pose was when you arch your back downwards, sucking in your abdomen, pulling in your belly, and he having no belly fat immediately felt the tremors shaking. Cat pose is when your arch your back straight, your butt almost lifting itself in the highest position it can go, like a cat stretching in the morning sunlight. Alternating between those two poses, had his paranoia thinking he definitely looked like a giant, sweaty, dry heaving cat trying to yak a hairball.

The room was now a steady 34 degrees, and he had never been more grateful in his life to be inhaling her scent of Ailing oils that he had seen her dab on her wrist, the soft citrus and peppermint scent allowing his mind to relax a fraction rather than being trapped in a room full of people, breathing each other’s body odour, expelled carbon dioxide and other unmentionables.

After the Yaking Kitty Flow where he told his mind firmly, he will not imagine her as a kitten rubbing against him, they moved to child’s pose. Having encountered Morgan and a few of Clint’s kids, he felt this name was severely inaccurate.

Child’s Pose or Moon pose; should either be having your hand out asking for candy, pointing across the room because another kid did some stupid shit like spit in your mouth, or squirming around holding your crotch. This particular pose looked like a slave bowing to their masters in old films about Egypt, and he was having a very hard time trying not to imagine her kneeling, looking up at him, staring at the soft curves of her breasts through the shirt.

Bucky was slightly confused laying in this pose as Y/N, he felt he could say her name now without blushing, that if he need to take a break or if it too tough then he could always revert back to Egyptian Slave Pose and this pose wasn't particularly comfortable other than being able to stretch out his back and arms. And unless he was about to pledge his allegiance to the Anubis, God of Death, he chose to stay up in Thunderbolt pose, sitting on his heels, wondering what would Thor think of this.

Probably be rather amused and shrug, exclaiming loudly that he always knew the humans would see his true prowess. He winced not wanting to think of any man now. Y/N whipped off her shirt to reveal an electric blue sports bra, with so many straps entwined, he wondered what exactly was the fabric for, especially as she leaned forward into a plank position, and his mouth went dry. Her breasts already pushed up from the bra were now hanging like two ripe fruit, in front of his eyes, and he tried to adjust his sudden hard cock in his sweatpants inconspicuously.

Unaware of his dilemma as he nearly slipped trying to balance with his metal hand, she went into dolphin plank, elbows on the ground. He tried valiantly to stay still as his flesh hand slipped on the mat as he tried adjusting and holding the plank, before finally being able to compose himself. That’s when he realised, this was just the beginning…

They held the plank for almost a minute, yet, it felt like years to him as sweat dripped down his ears before she asked to go into three-legged dog, where you raise your foot all the way back from downward dog, and he made the fatal mistake of looking up and immediately choking on his spit. His eyes honing in at the sight of her ass, gulping before he drooled all over himself.

Once you’re completely jelly, should have been the next command; his flesh arm trembling under the strain, they swung their leg down towards their chest to touch the right leg to right elbow, then leg back up again, again swing down to right leg to left elbow and then the leg back up again before coming down to right leg to chest and holding for 10 counts. Bucky honestly felt like he would pass out, his abdomen shaking.

He was the freaking Winter Soldier, and he could practically hear the darkly muttered Russian at the back of his mind about being a pussy, but, hot yoga, was not something to be trifled with. No wonder Steve refused to join him, he probably tried a session and realised this was just another level of intense. His thoughts wandered, just managing to hear the last of her next instruction. ‘-Warrior 1 pose.’

‘I’m sorry, which pose?’ He tried not to gawk as a drop of sweat trickling down from her neck down into the valley of her breasts as she smiled gently at him.

‘Warrior 1, I’ll show you. So, I want you to spread your legs, and go into a lunge, but keep your back foot flat, yes, good. Now slowly turn your torso, and raise your hands up, like you’re holding up your phone searching for a signal desperately.  

She giggled, and he swore he was addicted to the soft tinkling,’ Okay, you need to angle your torso to face more straight? If that makes sense.’

Her hands from behind grasped his waist, as the heel of her palms pressed against them briefly aligning him right and he whimpered softly from the loss of her body heat. From there, they changed positions, going to Warrior 2, hands outstretched, gaze looking over his right hand, as he couldn’t help but admire how strong she looked.

Slowly, they went into reverse warrior, his legs beginning to tremble as he caught sight of her grinning. ‘Burns doesn’t it? See if you can hold on, just a bit more, okay?’

He would gladly fight in another war for her if it meant he could see her radiant smile light up her face.

‘Thanks for that, sunshine.’ The endearment just escaped as she stared at him, and he panicked, completely ready to run when she smiled at him, laughing, a hint of blush on her cheeks.

‘Charmer aren’t you? Okay, now side angle, lean your elbow on your thigh, keeping your chest straight and tilted to the side, leaning your left arm over your head, bicep touching the ear.’

Again, she came up behind him and corrected him, taking care even with his metal arm, as his balls throbbed at the soft, sweet touches, wishing she sunk her fingers deeper. Staying for just a second, they disappeared, as she talked him through the sequence on the other side, his shirt completely drenched in sweat as it reached 35 degrees and he could feel the sweat trickling down his legs in his sweats.

The tension of keeping both arms up, became unbearable after a while and he finally brought them down a couple counts later, panting as she nodded encouragingly at him. She had him stand in mountain pose next, standing next to him, speaking about how everything had to be straight and erect, his cock jumping at that one word before she gestured him to bend forward, touching hands to the ground and he almost came at the sight.

Her ass in full glory stretched out the leggings, his hands itching with the fact that one quick pull, just one, and he could have her, naked, in front of him. She turned to look at him and he bent quickly, able to touch the floor fairly easily, when he felt her hands at his lower back push more, bringing his chest to his legs, and it wasn’t his hamstrings stretching that him trembling. Her hands moved to his tailbone, pushing more, patting, asking if it was okay as his cock pulsed with every pat.

He was quite proud of garbling out a hissed, ‘Mhmm, fine.’

‘Alright from here, we’re going to do Sun Salutations. Just a few. With me so far?’

He could only nod, as she jumped back into a plank, his arm trembling slightly, before she did this sort of circular push up that ends with your head up and your chest thrust forward like The Little Mermaid coming out of the ocean. He only knew Ariel because Morgan made him watch the movie 16 times, and it honestly, felt like a lap dance manoeuvre. One he would never ever tell anyone he did, least of all Sam.

Then she went into downward dog, before bringing their legs back to the front and slowly rise up. Then it was just rinse and repeat, and he was extremely distracted by the sweat trickling down her abdomen and her waist, allowing him sneak glimpses of her tattoo glistening as they went through the flow.

After that she had him get on his belly, and he was sorely disappointed his sunshine, yes, she was now his, nobody would get to have her but him. At that point, he didn’t care that he may have sounded a teeny bit creepy or obsessed. So, back again, that she didn’t get on her belly as that would have allowed him to check out her ass. All nervousness gone now, there was a hint of a smirk on his face till she asked him to raise his legs, bending them, and grab the ankles from behind to go into bow pose.

Due to the extreme sweat, he was unable to grasp either ankle, one little bastard slipping from his metal hand just as he lunged for the other one. His entire seduction plan completely laid to waste when she came over, grabbed the nylon strap from beside him, and put him into a Self-Hogtie Pose. It was so fucking embarrassing, and it was making him wish he had his knife so he could just slice off her clothes and take her on the wooden floor. Completely tangled up, he had no choice but to hold the pose, till she took pity on him and released him out of it slowly, pressing gently where the shoulder and back muscles had knotted and any other person, any other; he would have slit their throat or choked them, watching the life ebb out of them in a moment just for daring to touch him.

Her, he just watched carefully, as she never shrunk from his sudden murderous expression, merely matching it with a stern gaze of her own, pressing firmly down at the sore muscle. Then, slowly she had him lay down, and he was just about to chuckle darkly at her forwardness when she said to lift his legs straight up to 90 degrees before slowly bringing them down to 45 and holding it there, keeping his feet flexed and pointed. His abs had never vibrated so much in his life like it did right in that moment.

He growled softly, wondering when this self-inflicted torture would end, then groaning when he remembered he had another 3 more sessions to go, but with her as his instructor, he didn’t mind so much, especially when it finally ended, and he could bring his legs down, his t-shirt and sweats clinging to every line of his body, as she had him lay down as a corpse and then just rest.

Playing the same kind of music he heard outside, she spoke in a soft soothing tone, about how much work he had put in his body and that he should be proud of that effort. Those simple words brought tears to his eyes, and he grimaced that someone who didn’t know anything about him, could make him feel so vulnerable. He got up, tucked his tail and left the studio without a backward glance.

Six minutes later he walked back in to apologise, stuttering nervously.

A week and two sessions later, he asked her out, unable to believe when she said yes, tucking a lock of her behind her ear, blushing.

One month later, he was whispering against her lips, after she teased him while walking topless, in skin tight leggings around STARK Towers, unafraid that anyone could walk in. Crushing her to his chest, he bent her almost backwards to suck a new mark on her skin, watching the red-purple bloom.

‘You are my sunshine and I will never let anyone take you from me.’

[crimes-and-gelato]

Only Half a Blue Sky (Chapter 6)

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark/Bucky Barnes

A/N: If you're still here, thank you for staying. And I'm sorry for adding another chapter, because I wanted to write a long one to tie everything up, only for my real life drama to hinder my writing. So, I'm sorry for cutting y'all short with this chapter. But at least we still have another one next week. Yayyy???This one is unbeta-ed because I wrote it sooo late, I couldn't find the heart to burden someone with my unchecked grammar. So, if there are any spelling mistakes or grammar error, please look at it with kindness and tell me in a soft voice, yeah? Thanks.Chapter title is from Maroon 5's Daylight, because that song is about leaving. Or well, that's how I perceive it.Also just T/W: there is detailed (but not really because I can't write) torture in this chapter, and assumption that Tony is dead. If that's not for you, I'll see you next week where it'll be more fluff. This whole chapter is just angst. Okay, now on you go. Enjoy.

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if the hurt comes so will happiness. -be patient || rupi kaur 

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Cold is the first thing that registers into his mind as he slowly gains consciousness. The pain follows like an inevitable addition to the discomfort. Why is JARVIS not doing anything about the temperature? He should be at least warm even when he’s in pain.

He’s about to ask his AI to turn the heat up; only that, he opens his eyes to an unfamiliar surrounding. The words die in his tongue.

Where is he? What is this cold, semi-dark place that smells of rust and decay? He tries to rummage his hazy brain for clues. And the only thing that answers him back is more pain. God, his head feels like he’s been hammered by Thor himself. It takes him back to those mornings with a hangover. Only worse.

Shit! His head is pounding so bad it makes him nauseous just opening his eyes and looking around for clues as to where the fuck he is.

Oh, and he’s tied up to a metal chair. Great! Why didn’t he notice that before? Right, because his brain was having a hard time processing everything with how painful it is to even blink.

And gosh, lucky him, he’s got burns littered all over his arms and legs. A few lacerations too on places he can’t specify, because every inch of him hurts that it’s hard to figure out which part of him is not aching. Just fucking fantastic!

At least his not bleeding out… yet. No, he’s only being held hostage on an ugly looking chair. Fucking fantastic indeed. And of course, very classic: kidnappers and chairs. When will villains get creative? Tony can think of other ways to hold people hostage. Not that he’s ever going to share them with the bad guys.

So, how did he end up here?

He scans his memory for clues again because his heart rate is starting to quicken, and the arc reactor in his chest suddenly feels too heavy, that it’s making it difficult for his lungs to distribute the correct amount of oxygen in his body. And he’s not looking forward to the worst case scenario when he’s still in a middle of another worst case scenario.

He needs to keep calm and think of solutions, because if he looks closely into his current predicament it’ll only spiral him into thoughts that’ll push him into a panic attack. He can’t have that right now.

He can’t.

He can’t. Not even when everything about this reminds him of Afghanistan. The cold, the rusty smell of decaying metal, the foul scent of an unkempt room. Somewhere he can hear a faint water droplet that makes his stomach churn at the thought of dirty water and lack of oxygen.

Tony shakes his head to control his rogue thoughts. He’s not going down that rabbit hole. It’s not going to help him get out.

‘I see that you’re awake, Mr. Stark.’ A man appears from the only opening in the room. His English is accented with Russian that completely matches his hard military feature. He fits the perfect role of a HYDRA agent.

‘We’ll it’s hard to stay asleep when your place lacks warmth and cosiness,’ he replies and tries to ignore the uncomfortable dryness in his throat. ‘Also,’ he gestures to his handcuffs, ‘we need to work on consents and safewords for this kind of thing, don’t you think?’

The evil man smiles, showing off chunky yellowish teeth. ‘It’s amazing how you still have humour after all that injury.’ He moves closer, right in front of Tony’s chair. ‘Guess that’s a good thing.’

‘Is it?’

‘Yes, Mr. Stark.’ He takes a stool from the side and occupies it. ‘You see, we need you alive at least.’ He studies Tony’s face, and his eyes gleam of something sadistic. He smiles again and it makes the genius shiver because he doesn’t like this man’s wicked eyes that promises pain. ‘Things apparently didn’t go as planned.’

‘It doesn’t always,’ Tony agrees just to humour this villain. ‘Word of advice? Accept it and move on.’

Another wicked smile as he scratches one of his eyebrow with his pinky. ‘Thanks, but no thanks.’ He pulls out a short knife from his back. His adept fingers plays with it, tosses the blade from one hand to the other. ‘We’ve figured something out.’

‘Who is this we?’ He’s trying not to look intimidated by the sight of the knife. ‘HYDRA?’

‘Can’t tell you… because then, I have to kill you.’

Tony’s not sure if the stranger is humouring him as well, or he’s being honest. But he did say that they — whoever they is — needs him alive. So, they’re not going to kill him. That doesn’t mean that this bad guy won’t make him suffer though. Sadistic bastard!

‘The thing is…’ The man throws the knife in the air and snatches it swiftly, just to plunge it on Tony’s thigh.

The groan escapes his lips as the pain spreads into his body. And here he’s thinking that he’s numb to feel any pain with how much every nerve ending is burning from his injury from the explosion.

Yes, there was an explosion when they were trying to infiltrate a lab that the officials said to be of HYDRA. The officials wanted it to seem like they’re doing government check-ups on private organisation. But it seems like there was a mole on Bruce’s alliance team.

‘We really need a safeword,’ he jokes through gritted teeth.

‘It won’t be necessary as long as you tell your friends to give us back the sceptre,’ the man whispers into Tony’s ear, hand gripping on the knife handle and twisting it slightly, earning him another muffled groan from the engineer. ‘And they could send back the soldier as well,’ he adds. ‘Tell them to obey… or else they’ll have your body, back in a bag.’

‘Is that why you need me?’ The blade sinks further. ‘As leverage?’ He chuckles darkly and the man leans back away, looking at Tony like the genius has lost his mind. ‘That’s a very stupid plan.’

‘Oh please… They’ll bargain for you,’ the man spits, putting on his sadistic mask again. ‘You’re their precious teammate. An important person in society.’ He produces another knife. ‘Surely, they’ll come for you and exchange you for the Winter Soldier.’

‘Not really.’ Tony shakes his head and has the greatest urge to tell this idiot of the truth. How, firstly, there is no way in seven hells Captain America will ever let James near these assholes. Neither will Tony, over his dead body. And secondly, there’s no room for argument that his life can be use as a bargaining chip in exchange for the life of those who will be affected if HYDRA gets their hands on the sceptre. Because duh… he’s not worth it.

Back on his first reason. Has these idiots forgotten that Steve is bonded to James, and would probably sacrifice anyone — much less Tony Stark — to keep his soulmate safe? Seriously, bad guys should study the laws of soul bonding too because they are just clueless as to how far people would go for those they love.

‘I’m being honest with you, buddy,’ he says. ‘They won’t exchange Winter and the sceptre for the likes of me.’ He shrugs. ‘So, unless you have another plan, it’s better if you change route right now.’

The man doesn’t believe him. ‘I’ll come back for you when you’re ready to talk, Mr. Stark.’ The second knife vanishes, but thank goodness not under Tony’s flesh. But the bloke did twist the knife that’s still attached to Tony’s thigh before he leaves the room. Probably going to report to his masters.

Tony’s not sure why he’s trying to convince his tormentor that he’s team cares so little for him. He blames it on the lack of common sense and sanity when all he can register is the pain. The last time it hurt like this it’s because he was betrayed. And he was betrayed because he deserved it — he deserves to be alone since he’s never going to be good enough.

His burns, the old wounds, and the new one eats away his logic. Maybe it’s true that the team won’t come for him, especially not Steve who won’t even risk James’ safety. And he agrees with that.

Maybe Rhodey will come for him. But his platypus is busy fighting more important battles that’ll save myriad of people who deserves to live. Not like Tony.

And Pepper — his dear lovely Pepper — who manages his company better than he did, making sure that every single employee is taken care of. Pepper will also not come for him, it’s protocol that SI will never pay ransom money for him.

No one will come for him. No one. So, he should probably stop staring at the door like someone’s going to come busting in and rescue him.

He doesn’t know how long he stares at the door. But he sees the man returning with renewed hope and sadism in his posture.

‘Have you still not changed your mind, Mr. Stark?’ The evil minion occupies his stool once again.

‘Now that I think about it… I never got your name,’ he says. ‘So, what is your name? Or does HYDRA do the whole Hunchman One, Hunchman Two, etcetera thing?’

‘Well,’ the man sits comfortably like he’s simply lounging around with Tony, ‘if it’s all the same to you,’ the punch completely catches Tony off guard, so did the pain, ‘I’d rather not get us both acquainted.’

There’s a new addition to his collection of pain with that blow. There’s a fresh batch of headache that follows the other one that had just ebbed from the explosion. Ah, just his luck.

Tony spits blood on the floor and glares at his oppressor.

‘Beg your Avengers, Mr. Stark,’ he orders. ‘Beg for them.’ Another blow to the other side of his face. ‘Or else, I’ll have too much fun breaking you.’

**

**

It’s cold. It’s always cold, Tony notices. And he’s not sure where he is. He’s sure the bastards that have kidnapped him had stripped him of all his tracking device. Maybe it’s time to install one deep within his flesh like JARVIS had suggested.

And his suit, no one has mentioned about his suit. They must have abandoned it somewhere. Smart of them, because the suit has a tracking device, a good one too.

He needs to escape. He’s not going to be leverage for these assholes. They’re not going to be able to use him, no matter the amount of colourful addition on his face, not to mention the twin knives that’s sunk on both his thighs.

Everything hurts. Everything.

There’s that annoying sound of a slow water drip from inside the room as well. It’s damn irritating, especially that it seems to echo the blood that drips from both of his twinning thigh wounds. Fuck, everything hurts, but at the same time he’s slowly losing feeling on his legs.

Few more hours and he’s going to to bleed out. And this could be it for him.

He lost count of the time Mike — that’s what he calls his instigator, the man didn’t appreciate it (rude much) and lands a rather heavy blow on Tony’s left lung — had come into the room to wreck him into submission. Tony is very close to his breaking point. He can feel his sanity slipping away with each punch that lands his face and body, with each twist of the knife, and the amount of pooling blood beneath him.

His tormentor has promised a much better means next time he sees him; something wet he said, that had Tony’s breath hitching with fear at the vague indication. He’s still have nightmares about dirty water and gasping for air. And that might just be the last straw that breaks the camels back.

But he can’t give up now. He can’t break now. Stark men are made of iron, his own subconscious repeats over and over again. He hates it because his own subconscious sounds like his father’s voice.

And just like he had done before, Tony draws strength to the one thing that grounds him and gives him peace of mind when everything falls apart.

‘Steve,’ he whispers in reverence as if on prayer. ‘Steve.’ He smiles a little, the name tastes safe in his mouth, easing some of his discomfort. His soulmate to Steve Rogers — Captain America, the guy who lost everything and still managed to survive, the guy who Tony wants to become, the man he wants to be with. Brave and wonderful Steve Rogers: Tony’s soulmate. ‘I think… I might miss you, Steve.’

The tears that pool his eyes finally run down his cheeks as he closes his eyes in the hope to never wake up to more suffering. Death doesn’t seem so bad, right? Everyone he loves is safe. His team have recovered Loki’s sceptre — based on Mike’s tantrum — and they’ll be able to end HYDRA once and for all.

And that’s his last thought before darkness finally takes him.

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Everything is in chaos: Tony Stark is missing. And Bucky’s not ready to face the worst case scenario that it completely breaks him; that’s how Steve finds him when the rest of the Avengers returned back home after being unsuccessful in locating Tony in Europe. They have all decided to recoup and plan.

Steve had to fix him back together after his melt down, and he feels bad for stealing Steve’s own rights to mourn for his missing teammate — and probably, the man Steve loves that he doesn’t know yet. It’s embarrassing to need Steve like that because it had always been the other way around, with him taking care of Stevie. But times can change.

It wasn’t his best moment as well, he gets clingy and panicky when he’s not in the same room as Steve, or when he doesn’t see the man. And the weight of Tony’s loss still brands his chest like an empty crater. It’s the sort of ache that won’t go away. It’s the sort of ache that squeezes your heart time and time again just to remind you that it’s there.

Twenty-four hours later, they received a message from the low class HYDRA franchise in Sokovia that had held Tony hostage. They are trying to hold the genius ransom for Loki’s magical sceptre (which Thor and Loki had successfully retrieved). And for him, the Winter Soldier.

Bucky wanted to say yes… to both. He doesn’t give a fuck what happens to him or to that blasted sceptre. All he wants is for Tony to be safe, to come home. But of course, that decision isn’t up to him, and he knows that if they all follow his thinking it’d be a disaster, because honestly, he’s not even logical.

Well, they can’t blame him, he’s not very sane to begin with. Your soulmate being threatened and in the face of danger doesn’t make the most rational human being either. So, he waits, instead of voicing out his idiotic ideas.

But it’s hard to ignore his questionable ideas when a cryptic video arrives eight hours after the offer has been announced. And that video alone makes what’s left of his sane brain cells perish, because the video is awful. Painful to watch.

There’s this bald Russian guy that tortures Tony to beg the Avengers to rescue him in exchange for the sceptre and Bucky. The methods are simple: a few punches and a few stabbing. Nothing worse than Bucky had gone under HYDRA’s hands. But then, Bucky’s a super soldier, who heals easily; Tony on the other hand is a non-powered human, looking all bruised and battered with his injuries from the explosion and now the current tormenting.

It’s wreaking to watch. They were all angry, he can tell. Even Bruce who is usually relax looks a little green. Natasha is physically an embodiment of chaos and destruction at the sight of the second knife digging into Tony’s thigh.

‘JARVIS, I hope you’re tracking the source of this video.’ There’s a hardness in Steve’s voice that he’s never heard before. Steve is usually gentle when speaking to people, especially towards JARVIS or the bots.

‘On it, Captain,’ JARVIS replies severely.

The video only last five minutes, but it feels longer. It plays on a loop, with them cursing every second of it. But they have to study it, in case it clues them to where Tony’s being hold up.

Every quiet groan and tormented scream rams into Bucky’s soul like ton of brick. Mutely, he promises terrible pain to those who’ve caused Tony’s painful screeches. Morality be damned. There is blood and suffering to be paid in full.

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It takes two more days for the next video to arrive. It contains the same stomach churning gore of Tony’s torture. They can all see how the genius slowly withering, despite how he still has his sass intact.

‘Can’t that alien god help locate him?’ Bucky demands, watching the newest set of video for too many times that he knows isn’t healthy. His therapist would disapprove. ‘What use is his magic?’

Steve looks just as weary as Bucky is. They all do, but he thinks him and Steve has it worse. His other soulmate is being maimed, and somehow he thinks Steve can feel the negative and dark energy within him. It might has something to do with how they are soul bond.

So, Captain America has to shoulder Bucky’s hidden anxiety, and he has to worry for his friend. Hence, Steve looking worse for wear.

‘It’s not that easy, Buck.’ Steve runs a hand over his tired face. ‘We’ll find him.’ The blond reaches out a hand to comfort, but Bucky moves away from it. Hurt and confusion mixes in Steve’s face.

‘But when, Stevie?’ he shouts. ‘When he’s dea—’

‘Don’t say that,’ Steve cuts him off sharply. ‘Tony’s one of the strongest people I know.’ He squares his jaw as if daring Bucky to challenge the unquestionable faith in his voice. ‘And we’re doing our best to find him… And we will.’

Being pessimistic probably doesn’t help anyone. And really, he’s only hurting himself by thinking of the worst. Yes, the worst could happen. But not now, not when he’s got Steve to tell him that it won’t. He’ll believe Steve, he always will. Steve could believe for the both of them.

Because god, if the worst do happen, Bucky’s not sure how he will survive. He probably won’t, right? He doesn’t think he’s that strong to survive this heartbreak. He can deal with HYDRA and all their torture, but not the loss of a soulmate. That feels too impossible. Even now, just looking at Tony suffering is killing Bucky, too.

‘We’ll find him, Buck.’ Steve pulls him in a hug, which he accepts because he knows the blond needs it, too. ‘We’ll find him.’

It’s almost a miracle Steve doesn’t ask him about his rather passionate feelings towards Tony Stark. But maybe Steve doesn’t notice it as well, too lost in his own worry for the genius.

**

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The next video comes sixteen hours after the last one, Steve and Bucky were the one standing vigil for any news. The team had developed a schedule to have someone — usually a pair — wait up for important updates. Not that any of them get any sleep longer than two hours when they are not on duty. Ever since Tony was gone, sleep has been a scarce commodity in the tower.

The video holds the usual disgusting torture of the engineer. But this time Tony looks like he’s at his breaking point. The pool of blood on the floor is also concerning. There’s a haunting paleness in Tony’s face that makes Bucky’s chest twist painfully.

Tony looks weak and fragile and broken. And it’s heart-wrenching to see that he deflates the ball he’s been playing with the bots. There’s far no greater pain than watching his soulmate slowly ebb to death.

‘Steve,’ comes Tony’s weak voice from the video.

Bucky has long accepted that Tony had feelings for Steve, just as Steve has feelings for Tony. But witnessing it so bluntly is something else. He waits for the pain or jealousy to come. Surely, it’s inevitable for him to feel any of the two or both, given that his soulmate uttered someone else’s name when all hope is lost in Tony’s eyes and Steve’s name sounded like a saving grace.

The pain or jealousy didn’t arrive. Yes, there is pain, but it’s the same one he’s been nursing since Tony had gone missing and was tortured.

Bucky aches for his imprisoned soulmate. And he’s about to tell Steve that they really need to fasten shit up and rescue the genius, because he can’t stand these awful videos anymore.

‘Wha—’ Steve’s motionless as he stares into the monitor, horror and confusion sits on his face.

‘Stevie?’ He reaches for his soulmate in concern. A hand on the blond’s shoulder for support. Did the videos finally break Steve as well?

Steve’s tortured expression turns to Bucky, his lips are agape, but no words passes them. ‘Buck,’ he says like he’s remembering Bucky’s there. He holds on to Bucky’s outstretch arm like it’s the only thing that’s keeping him upright. ‘Tony… h-he’s… he’s…’

It’s a good thing that Bucky’s a super soldier because Steve is heavy with how he’s relying all of his weight on Bucky’s arm. He’s never seen his soulmate so startled and terrified.

‘Oh god,’ Steve mumbles quietly with disbelief and fright as he looks everywhere but Bucky’s own worried face.

Steve’s action is scaring Bucky, and he’s about to ask the blond man what’s wrong when —

‘Steve,’ Tony mutters again.

Steve whips his head back to the screen in a flash that Bucky’s amaze he didn’t break his neck in the process. Steve’s sudden alertness to Tony’s call is an embodiment of a siren calling to a sailor; like a sunflower following the sun in the sky.

But god is it clear to Bucky what’s happening. It’s written all over Steve’s face with how his eyes looks like he’s seeing Tony for the first time.

One single word.

One single name.

Bucky knows by experience what it feels like to have Tony say your name for the first time and be envelop by a phantom sense of safety and happiness. It’s like finding meaning to life all over again, and being lulled in euphoria. But he can’t imagine what it’s like for Steve when there’s also that dreadful emotion of fear for the life of a soulmate which had sat painfully on Bucky’s chest for days now. A few days that felt like years.

‘I think… I might miss you, Steve,’ Tony says as he closes his eyes.

They both stare at the screen in silence. Waiting for the genius to say something more.

But nothing.

Tony remains still. So still that Steve’s hand grips on Bucky’s so tightly it hurts.

Damn it, Tony! Open your eyes! Bucky yells mentally in anger and desperation. Please… Please. He watches and waits for any sign of motion.

The seconds tick by, but Tony continues to be static.

Open your eyes, doll! His own hand digs into Steve’s shoulder as they both try to support each other. Open your eyes.

‘No,’ Steve says in defeat and heartbreak. ‘Tony.’ His voice is wet and bleak and aching.

And Bucky mutely asks for some miracle, staring at Tony’s motionless body on the screen. It doesn’t fit Tony to be this still when he’s always full of energy and life.

God no, Bucky thinks as the tears cascade his cheek.

**

[softdarkiplierimagines]

I know you don't know me, but I just wanted to let you know that what you do on this Blog IS important. I am a happy individual 95% of the time, I help other's and solve problems with ease. I had a mood drop and no one was there for me. I considered self harming, had my exacto knife in my hand. But I got a Tumblr notif saying you posted, so I go look and I've spent hours reading everything again. I no longer want to hurt myself and I feel content. Thank you for helping me, for being here.

Me not knowing you matters very little in the context of keeping you, or anyone for that matter, from self harm or suicide.I will also say that acting on self harm urges is a serious issue- even if you are happy 95% of the time, if that 5% is such a severe downward shift then it's a problem in anf of itself while also ebing paired with self harm. I know no one can be happy 100% of the time and the 95% is likely an exaggeration, but it could be an ommitance of self honest about your true feelings.Regardless, I hope next time someone, who you love and trust, can be there for you. I am also glad my blog could serve as comfort for you and possibly others.I am not sure what else to say other than this ask really made the whole "One person can make a difference" redric very real to me. It also make some nervous to empty my queue but that's a different issue and I'll think over this for a good long while.

[clairekatswritingcorner]

Don’t Keep Me Waiting

Word Count: 1,504

Summary: Jealousy can appear in many complicated forms, sometimes even as a method of reassurance.

*Author’s Note*: I tried to do something a little different with the plot of this fic, and I think it worked out! Or at least, I hope it did. There are so many ways to write jealousy and reactions to it, so it can be fun to experiment with! This is the last commission of this batch for @bad-blue-moon-rising, and I really hope you enjoy it!

Although it wasn’t common for Alexys to visit Tom at his job, the opposite became true for the couple as their relationship progressed. He wasn’t big on crowds or places with lots of open space that made it hard to stay discreet or hidden. He didn’t walk around like he was always trying to stay under the radar, and he didn’t have to, but there was still a natural part of him that couldn’t help feeling a touch of unease out in public. Alexys knew about and respected this trait of his, and took it into account when planning any outings the two had together. But one simple place where Tom knew he could always see Alexys was at her work, and that was a place he’d already become fairly comfortable with.

Unfortunately, it seemed he wasn’t the only one. Not only who was comfortable with the clinic, but who was comfortable interacting with Alexys. Tom was able to hang out in the back due to Alexys’s status and influence at work, and he usually spent his time watching her conduct surgeries or diagnose patients, sometimes even getting to play with a few of the animals that were brought back for further evaluation or testing. It was a hard job, and Tom respected Alexys for it immensely; the one thing he couldn’t respect, though, were the people that got just a little too friendly with his girlfriend.

It may have seemed like an unrealistic response, but then again, Tom wasn’t the most predictable of people. When he was dedicated to something, he gave it his all and then some, and his relationship with Alexys was no different. The beautiful, compassionate, smart, and all-around wonderful woman that had saved his life on more than one occasion was the light of his life. Such a claim was far from an understatement, and sometimes Tom felt even all of those descriptions weren’t enough to accurately illustrate how amazing she was.

He wasn’t the only one who had noticed her greatness, however, and that got under his skin. Sure, he was happy to know that people appreciated his girlfriend like she deserved, but for him, there was a clear line between respect and pining. He’d had enough experience with the latter position to know when he saw it, and any time some stranger or client gave Alexys a sly smile or scrutinizing gaze, a red tint blurred his vision. He knew it wouldn’t be wise to spill any blood in the middle of the day in a place like this—especially human blood—but his fingers would still twitch, imagining the knife he would sharpen and use to put said random bystander back in their place.

Alexys went about her day mostly oblivious to both of these matters, simply interested in doing her job to the best of her ability and saving as many animals’ lives as she could. She found it a little ironic that the love of her life happened to be in the business of snuffing out human ones, but she’d decided long ago that there was nothing she could do about her feelings. They’d forged an unbreakable bond the night they’d met, that fateful evening that he’d practically fallen into her arms, and she’d pulled him back from the brink of death. She’d never stop being grateful for that night, or the fact that she was able to see Tom with even more frequency than before.

Working things out so he could spend time with her at work while also avoiding running into any of her colleagues was a lucky arrangement. Tom had expressed a desire to see her more often, and considering the opposition of their work hours, being together at the clinic was about as good of a compromise as they could get. She began her break and headed to the backroom where her boyfriend took refuge for a majority of the day. He’d seemed a little…off today, like something was bothering him, but it couldn’t have been any of the usual stuff. This time his aggravation felt different, gave him a different expression, a different demeanor.

He had to cover her mouth as she stepped through the doors, launching a surprise attack on her from behind that required him to muffle her startled yelp. Alexys tried to turn around and look at him, wanting to face him when she asked him what was wrong, but it seemed Tom wasn’t interested in letting her go just yet. He held her in place with his arms, trailing his lips across her hair and down her neck where he stopped to place a soft kiss against her skin. Goosebumps erupted from the spot that had been touched by his lips, and Alexys couldn’t help the shiver that made her spine tingle in response.

“What’s gotten into you today?” she asked with a playful voice, although her delivery was a little shaky due to the breathtaking gesture he’d just unleashed upon her. “You seem a little more…tense, than usual. I guess that’s the best word I can think to describe it.”

“I just really love you,” he whispered against her skin, and she couldn’t help shivering again as his warm breath ghosted over her shoulder. “And I want to make sure you know it. And I wish I could go out there and make sure everyone else knows it, too.”

“What are you talking about?” she continued, her limbs starting to tremble along with her voice. “I mean, did something happen that I’m just not aware of?”

“People just like to take advantage of you,” Tom explained in a slightly venomous tone, but it only filled Alexys with admiration and excitement. “And I could kill them for that, I really could. I know I try my best not to make jokes like that, especially when I know how you feel about them sometimes. But in this case, I just can’t help it. I can’t stand seeing those other people look at you, seeing them giving you those looks, and thinking they can just get away with it. I know I promised to behave, but it only seems to be getting more difficult. If this keeps up I’m going to have even more steam to let off at my job tonight than usual.”

Alexys reached up and caressed his face, leaning back into his torso as he wound his arms around her waist. “So, someone’s feeling a little jealous, is that it?”

Tom gave her a light nip on the shoulder, and she was more prepared to control her volume this time. “You sound a smidge pleased by that. Do you like it when I get jealous?”

Alexys laughed softly. “I don’t want you to feel insecure, if that’s what you mean. I love you, Tom, and I always will. You’re my phenomenal, handsome fox—”

“And you’re my beautiful, precious bunny,” he added, and Alexys felt her blush expand over her neck and ears.

“Well, I’d like to think I am. If you still see me that way, that’s all that matters. I want to be precious to you.”

“You always will be; the most precious thing in the world,” Tom reassured, and Alexys turned her head to give his jaw a tiny nudge.

“Back to what I was saying before,” she redirected as some of the distraction ebbed from her thoughts. “I don’t want you to feel insecure. But if you’re feeling just a little bit possessive, or a little envious of who gets my attention…well, I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t make me feel special to hear that. All of my love and affection is reserved for you, you know, but it’s nice to be reminded that you want me just the same.”

“Mmm,” Tom mumbled against her neck, trailing up it with kisses until he reached her jaw. He planted a few across there as well, and Alexys decided she really didn’t want to go back to work right now. If she could, she would have left this instant, and gone somewhere with him where they could continue their intimate little rendezvous to their hearts’ content. But she knew she couldn’t, it wasn’t a good time; that only meant she had something even more exciting to look forward to after her shift.

“Thank you for loving me,” she whispered, and his arms tightened around her waist. “And thank you for giving me the chance to love you. Would it be acceptable if we postponed this conversation until I finish my shift? I promise I’ll do my best to take care of everything, so I can even leave a little early.”

Tom chuckled and spun her around, pressing every curve of his body against hers. She was lovely, and amazing, and his. He couldn’t help bringing his lips to hers one last time, leaving her with a kiss that took her breath away. “I suppose I can agree to those terms. Just make sure you don’t keep me waiting too long.”

[thefloorisbalaclava]

Rancher!McCree AU - Chapter 5 - Jesse McCree x Fem!Reader

A/N: I left chapter four on sort of a cliffhanger so I’m making it up to you with this new chapter. You still may not like me after this but you gotta have the angst before the fluff.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 6

Words: 1,653 Warnings: violence, mentions of blood

It took a few seconds for you to realize what had happened. McCree stared down at your stomach and the searing pain finally hit you.

“N-no,” McCree says, still reaching out to you. He hadn’t gasped because he got shot, he gasped because you were hit.

You touch the ever-growing bloodstain on your vest and look at your hand. “Jesse…” You start to feel weak and cold and the only thing you can focus on is McCree’s worried face.

“Someone help!” You heard him shout. “We need a doctor!” He cradled you to stop you from falling hard and hurting yourself more. “Anyone…please!” His voice sounded as though he was moving further and further away from you. “I told ya…I told ya to stay inside, dammit. Oh God…” He looked down at your stomach then looked away quickly.

“I’m sorry…I didn’t…listen…” Your eyes started to close, and you heard Jesse telling you to stay with him, but you just needed to rest. The pain ebbed, and you knew for sure you were dead.

Where was the light? Why wasn’t your life flashing before your eyes?

Suddenly, your mother’s voice came to you and you called out to her. “Mama, am I dead?” you asked.

“Not if you fight. You gotta fight, baby. It ain’t your time,” she answered.

“I miss you, mama.” You began to cry until she hushed you.

“I’m always with you and I’ll be waitin’ here for you. Now, open your eyes. You got a lot of life left in you.”

“I love you,” you said before waking up, tears staining your cheeks. Your eyes adjust to the light. You felt stiff and sore and you shivered as the air hit you. There’s some movement then a shout in a language you don’t understand.

“Jesse! She’s awake!”

That you understood.

Jesse.

He barreled his way into the room and stopped when he looks at you looking at him. “You gonna scold me?” you asked, and he laughed, removing his hat and holding it in front of him. He moved closer and say on the edge of the bed, wincing as you shifted a little.

“You’re awake,” he said with a huge smile on his face. He started laughing again and there were tears in his eyes. You assumed they were from him laughing so much, but he got serious all the sudden, touching your hand gently. “I thought…I thought I lost ya there.”

You put your hand over his, “I told you, Jesse, you ain’t gettin’ rid of me that easily.” Your thumb idly rubbed against his knuckles. “How long was I out for?”

“A lil’ over a week. You still got a bit of a fever, but it ain’t as bad as it was…thanks to John.”

John.

You smiled at that and McCree noticed but didn’t say anything.

“How are you?” you asked, and he didn’t expect you to ask about him.

“Me?”

“Yes you, Jesse McCree.”

“Well, I reckon I’m just fine now that you’re back with me…I mean us.”

“I’m happy to still be here.” You looked around the room which seemed slightly familiar. “Am I in your bed?” He nodded and now you felt bad. “Where have you been sleeping?”

He made a face the answered, “Your bed.”

“Good, I didn’t want you sleepin’ on the floor or somethin’.”

McCree chuckled, “You just about died, and you’re worried about me sleepin’ on the floor? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve taken a shine to me,” he teased.

You shrugged and smiled, “You sure it ain’t the other way around?” It almost looked as if McCree blushed and it made you giggle. The door opened, and John poked his head in.

“How is she?” he asked.

McCree cleared his throat and looked at John, “She’s fine.”

“Hi John. I heard I should be thankin’ you.” You smiled, “Thank you.”

He walked into the room, shaking his head, “It was no problem. I would do it all again if I had to.”

McCree stared straight ahead now, and you could probably cut the tension in the room with a knife. He stood and walked to the door, “I’ll let you two catch up.” He looked at John then at you and nodded before leaving. What was that about?

“I think he’s jealous,” John blurted out.

“Why on earth would he be jealous?” you asked, seriously puzzled.

“He does not like how close we are.” John remained in his spot by the door as you tried to fathom what he just said. “He is just as he was when we were boys. He wants things to himself. These things now include you.”

You almost sat up but the pain in your stomach prevented you from doing so. “Don’t joke around ‘bout stuff like that, John.” Was he saying what you though he was saying?

“I’m not joking. He’s very…protective of you, especially now.” You laid there and stared at the ceiling as he spoke. “He hasn’t slept properly in says,” he said.

“What? He told me he slept in my bed.”

“Maybe so, but not often. Most days he sat right in that chair and watched you.” He nodded towards a chair across the room.

“Did he…?” You looked down at your body which was hidden by a blanket at the time.

“He helped, yes.” It was a silly thing to be embarrassed about now, but you were nonetheless. “We had to bring in someone else to calm him down. He wouldn’t leave the room at first. When you started screaming I thought he was going to cry.”

“Don’t be silly. McCree would never cry over someone like me.”

“I think he –”

The door opened, and McCree stood there with a tray of food. “Thought you might be hungry after sleepin’ for a week,” he joked. You honestly hadn’t even thought about food until he mentioned it and your stomach growled. The two men smiled at you. “I figured,” McCree said, walking over to you.

“I am needed elsewhere,” John said walking to the door, “It’s great having you back with us.”

“Thanks John. Take care.” He left and now you and McCree were alone. “Well, what do you have for me?”

“I made you some soup – the kind my ma used to make for me when I was sick.” You tried to sit up and McCree nearly dropped the tray trying to help you. He placed it on the nightstand and moved over to you, “Careful now. Hold on to me.” You do as you’re told, and he lifted you gently, moving the pillows to make you as comfortable as possible. “You ain’t in any pain, are ya?”

“A little but I think the soup will have me feelin’ better. Smells great.” You noticed just how close McCree had leaned in to help you and were quick to look away, but not before you were wrapped up in his scent. He smelled of leather and tobacco with a hint of something else that you just couldn’t place. Mint, maybe?

“You feelin’ all right?” he asked when you looked away from him so quickly.

“Y-yes, I’m fine.”

“What’re you thinkin’ about?”

You shook your head, “Nothin’.”

McCree sighed and reached over to the tray to pick up the bowl. He took the spoon out the soup, blew on it and held it up to your mouth, “Open up.”

You looked at him sheepishly and let him feed you. “Mmm that is delicious,” you said, and he smiled proudly.

“Much obliged.” He fed you a few more spoonfuls then looked at you. “Is it John?”

“What?”

“That you were thinkin’ about. You ain’t gotta lie to spare my feelings.”

“Spare your – What in the hell are you talkin’ about McCree?”

He stiffened and looked at you, shocked by your tone. “I –”

“If you really must know, I was thinkin’ about when I’ll be able to get outta this damn bed.” You were frustrated now. It didn’t help that you were also starting to feel more pain. You winced as you move yourself. “Why is it so damn cold?” you asked angrily.

“Aw hell!” McCree exclaimed, and you followed his gaze to your stomach which had begun to bleed again.

“Oh no…”

McCree stood quickly, almost in a panic. “John!” he shouted. “JOHN!” he yelled louder this time since he didn’t get a response the first time.

“I ain’t feelin’ too good,” you said weakly as John burst into the room.

“She’s bleedin’ out again, goddamn it! I thought you said you fixed this! You said she would be okay!” McCree was in a panic now.

“Would you stop yellin’ and help me. I’m dyin’ over here,” you said and tried to laugh but winced instead.

“No, you ain’t,” McCree said, and John nodded in agreement.

“I need you to help me again,” he said to McCree.

“I ain’t no good when I’m all nervous.”

“She might die!” John shouted. It was the loudest you had ever heard him get. McCree paced a bit, running his fingers through his hair then finally kneeling by the bed next to John. “Brother…I need you to keep pressure on he wound when I remove the dressings.”

“But…”

“You must. Stay here and keep her calm while I run to get what we need.” He put his hand on McCree’s shoulder reassuringly before standing up and leaving the room. You felt like falling asleep, but McCree grabbed your hand and brought you back.

“You stay with me, all right darlin’? John’s comin’ right back. I ain’t gonna let you die.” You heard him mumbling something to himself then he laid his forehead on your thigh. “You gotta pull through. You gotta.”

You had just enough strength to lift your hand place it on his head gently. “I…ain’t goin’…nowhere,” you whispered weakly before closing your eyes and succumbing to your fatigue.