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adventures-of-the-creeping-bam · 2 years ago

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NEVER SPLIT THE PARTY: THE ADVENTURES OF THE CREEPING BAM, BOOK THREE: WARMER - CHAPTER 3

If you’re new to the story, please go check out Book 1 first …

Book 3 Chapter 1 is here …

MPORTANT: Please note this story includes content that may be considered mature, such as moderate battle violence, some strong language and occasional mild sexual scenes.

If you want to support my writing, feel free to swing by my Patreon or Ko-fi.

CHAPTER THREE: GAEL

When I wake up I find the sunlight streaking through the small, slender windows set high up into the walls of this little room is bright, warm and clean, and spilling through at a particularly high angle, telling me I’ve managed to sleep in. I roll over slowly, stretching as much as space will allow, bringing my arms up over my head so I can lace my fingers together and let my shoulders flex a bit. While I’m doing this I straighten out my legs and point my toes like those ballet dancers we saw that time my father took me to the Opera House in Bavat. All the time I’m arching my back, and I can’t help letting a contented little purr escape as I smile. At least for a few moments I can forget the awful things that happened a few days ago, and the unpleasant aftermath I’ve been dealing with since. But now I remember and I slump down slack on the mattress again, and as I bring my arms back under the blankets, comforter and throw I pull it all right up to just over my chin and start to bury myself underneath all this warm, cosy fabric again. Trying to claw back a little of that ignorant contentedness I manage to wake up with.

Then I hear a vague, slightly whiney snuffle from the other side of the bed and the body I’ve been sharing the bed with for the last three days stirs. I carefully shift myself so I can roll over onto my other side without disturbing her, and let go a little sigh as I wait for Shay to fully emerge from her lengthy slumber.

One last little shift and she finally slumps over onto her side facing me, and for a long moment she just lies there, looking surprisingly serene. I don’t do anything, I don’t want to disturb her, when she finally wakes up I want it to be on her own terms, in her own time, and I can sense that’s now pretty imminent. So I just wait, and while I do it, I try to enjoy what’s left of this comfortable lazy morning.

That first night back … Minerva, that was … it was … horrible. When I ran to check on Kesla and found her laid out, face down in the mud with barely enough clear for her not to just drown right away, that was bad, but while she was really badly beaten up she was stable. I was fully prepared to help her until she mentioned Shay, telling me how badly she was hurt, and … I owe her. She saved my life, up there in the mountains in the Norther Reaches, after Ashsong ran his fancy enchanted sword through me and I died, Shay sacrificed a substantial amount of her own lifeforce to help Krakka bring me back from the unknowable darkness of … whatever comes next. I didn’t even think about what I was doing, I just ran straight to her.

It was … gods, there was a lot of blood. The wound was in her abdomen, Shay was clutching tight but with shaking hands and there was blood coming through her fingers all the same, half of her shirt was completely saturated with it despite the torrential rain. She was so pale, she might have been sweating too but there was no way to tell with the weather, and her jaw was clenched tighter than I’d ever seen it before, her breath coming fast and hard through her nose as her eyes were narrowed against the pain. She was still lucid, but … she was hurt, clearly, she was in a spectacular amount of pain, but worse, she knew this was bad. I don’t know a whole lot about the human body, but I’ve learned enough in my time to know that a stomach wound like this one … even with quick care, she was likely to die.

So I dropped on my knees right in the mud, gripped my staff tight in one hand while I put my other arm under Shay’s back to shift her up into a shallow sitting position, pressing her close to me even as she spat and cursed and squirmed at the fresh pain from the movement … and I spoke the incantation to port us both back to the Temple of Minerva in the Gods’ Round. Suddenly we went from the constant soaking pelt of torrential rain to the sudden emptiness of still air, the subtle warmth and cleanliness and calm, collected quiet of the clean white and silver expanse of the main entrance vestibule, and I just started screaming. Over and over, howling for help at the top of my lungs while I cradled my sodden, bloody, shaking friend close to me, my staff long forgotten on the suddenly rain-and-blood splashed floor beside me.

Help came quickly, the temple staff are nothing if not efficient, even in the growing evening, and I guess I wasn’t really surprised to see Shul Mivzida, the half-hob wizard, at the head of the group that rushed to our aid. No matter where she was in the temple, I imagine she just ported straight to wherever she homed in on my cries for help, I suspect it’s just the way she’s made. She has to help, she can’t stop herself. When she stepped into view and saw us her ubiquitous little frown tightened a touch and she set her jaw while she clenched her little fists at her sides and stalked over. One quick, cursory look at Shay, not even needing to examine the wound, clearly told her everything she needed to know, because she immediately started barking orders to the gathering attendants and clerics. Hustling like my friend’s life depended on it, which of course it did.

Ultimately the most expedient course of action was deduced and Shul just dispatched most of those attending to us off before bringing two of the clerics along with her to Shay’s side before making them both lay hands on my back while she gripped Shay’s shoulder. Then she ported us all straight into the infirmary and immediately made the three of us manhandle Shay, once again screaming and squirming from the disturbance, onto the nearest care bed. Then she finally set about her examination.

I refused to leave her side the whole time. It took them five hours to sufficiently repair the damage inflicted by what was clearly a nasty, brutish weapon, not only to the flesh in her belly but, far more worrying, her intestines beneath, which had indeed been ripped open, just as Shul feared. To her educated and magically enhanced eye, the infection was already setting into her blood, the slow, horribly painful death I knew my friend dreaded, and that was the reason for the intensity of their subsequent healing work. Shul tried to usher me away from her side, but I flat refused, I think I even screamed at her, I can’t believe how angry I got all of a sudden at the very suggestion.

No, I just stayed where I was, gripping her hand tight enough a small part of me feared I might break it but I couldn’t let go. Just willing my help to her as two of Minerva’s clerics poured all of their goddess’ blessings they could into my friend, while a third cleric worked her own healing magic upon the extensive wound itself. All while Shul concentrated on using her own magic to draw out the infection before it could take root too deep and make everything they were doing tragically pointless …

When Tulen arrived with Art shortly after I’ll admit I barely even noticed. I didn’t even learn he’d been so badly hurt until the next morning, and when I heard I instantly hated myself for being so bullheadedly focused on Shay. I didn’t really acknowledge anything outside this tightly focused operation until Kesla finally came hobbling in an hour after the mending of the wound was finally done, dropping into a chair nearby with such pained exhaustion that I actually took notice. We just looked at one another for a long time, I couldn’t begin to work out how long we watched each other before she finally managed to find the words and the energy to speak.

“How … how bad is it?” Her voice was so painfully quiet, it hurt my heart a little to hear it.

“It’s bad. Really, really bad. We still don’t even know for sure that this will work.”

“Well it better. After what we just went through it fucking better.” There was no venom in her words, not even really any anger at all, she said it with an almost entirely flat tone that spoke volumes about just how tired and fundamentally broken she was in that moment. And that was all she said on the matter. For the rest of the night she just sat in that chair, watching them tend to Art as she gripped her own wounded ribs, keeping up the vigil just like I did.

Sometime in the small hours of the following day the healing spells were finally completed and Shul assured us the worst of the infection had been beaten back, but it was going to be a while before she was right again. Over the next day, after we’d moved Shay into this room in the temple’s dormitories to recover, Shul repeatedly worked her spell to fight off the rest of the infection. At first she was just preventing it from springing back up and taking root again, then finally she burned it out of her entirely, and then it was done. After that it was just a matter of letting her sleep and waiting for her to finish recovering all on her own.

They made a room up for me, just as they did for the rest of the party, but I haven’t been to it once since we came back. I’ve slept here the whole time, only going out to use the facilities and fetch my food before bringing it right back to eat it here while I watched my friend. I’ve spent my time reading my spellbooks, practicing newer spells to make sure I can finally master them, or just lying beside Shay as she continued to sleep. Every once in a while she’d shift, making the odd noise that suggested she might finally be waking up, but so far she hasn’t. I’ve kept up my own vigil all the same, though.

Art first came to visit yesterday, once he was finally able to start moving around again, and it was a very awkward half hour for me, given how completely absent I’d been during his own recovery. It might have gone on if he hadn’t made it thoroughly clear throughout the visit that he didn’t care at all about any of that, he understood. “Shay got it way worse’n me. You done right, luv. Keep it up, I say.” He kept on reassuring me during the whole visit that he didn’t harbour any ill feelings about me seeming to ignore his own injuries, so by the time he left I was almost feeling all right about that myself too.

So when he came back again later in the afternoon I was actually happy to see him. I put my book aside and we just started talking, and it was really nice. We just hung out, as he would put it, talking about the same kind of seemingly inconsequential nonsense we always seem to get to talking about when we have downtime together, but he also started asking deeper questions too. Asking me about parts of my past he’d so far neglected to address. I indulged him in everything, not least because he was very sweet and respectful about it, never pried into anything I wasn’t comfortable talking about.

Then where it came time for dinner he just waved me down and went to get it himself, and when he brought the food back we ate it together in the room while Shay slept on nearby. And we kept on talking, into the early hours, before I finally fell asleep. I woke up a little later to find he’d gone at last, and so I just got into bed again with Shay like I had the night before and went to sleep proper. In the end it was a really nice day, I decided – Art and I learned more about each other in one afternoon and evening than we have in the seven months we’ve known each other before now …

Shay stirs one final time, rolling her shoulders a bit as she shifts, and for a moment I think she might roll over again. Then she purses her lips for a moment before letting out a blustery little sigh, groaning subtly as she starts to stretch a little, her brow furrowing now as her eyes screw a little tighter shut. Now her eyelids are starting to flutter … then they finally open.

It’s only a little, her eyes remain heavily lidded as they move around for a moment, taking time to actually focus before they finally fix on my own. For a long, drawn out moment we just look at each other, lying here face to face, and I have no idea what’s going through her head right now. Then her lips part, and she lets out a little sigh as she closes her eyes again. But only for a moment. She purrs a little, not so much contentment than just a non-committal inward vocalisation, then looks up at me again. “Oh.”

Wow … I can’t help it, that just makes me giggle. There’s no way I can control it, I just start giggling and I can’t stop it, I must lie here for a good minute before I can finally get a handle on it and force myself back under control again. The whole time Shay just lies there watching me, a gentle smile slowly forming across her pretty lips. Finally I manage to suck in a good breath and let it out in a relatively easy sigh. “You idiot.”

“Yeah, I’d say that’s about right. That didn’t go at all the way I’d hoped it would.”

“You’re lucky to be alive, Shay. Whatever … whatever that was, what happened to you … if it hadn’t been for Minerva you’d be dead.”

“I’ll have to go thank her as soon as I’m up and about, then. It’s a good thing we’re in the temple.” She starts to frown as she turns her head enough to start taking in the room. “We are in the temple, I imagine. It certainly has that look.”

“There’s a lot to it, yes. We are still in the temple.”

“Okay.” She nods, and her eyelids start to droop again, not enough that she’s definitely going to fall asleep, but she’s definitely relaxing. Then she stiffens, eyes widening very quickly. “Oh, gods, yes … of course. Did we … is everybody … we didn’t lose anyone, did we?” She suddenly looks so desperate, her eyes searching mine with real urgency now.

“No, we didn’t, everyone else is good. Kesla got a bit battered, and Dumoli took some nasty wounds too, not so bad as yours but it wasn’t good for him either.”

“How about Art? I saw him, he was all broken up, is he all right?”

“Pretty much, yes. Krakka and a few of the other clerics took a while working on him but he’s just about his old self again, at last. Which means he’s damned near insufferable.” I can’t help smiling a little as I say it, and Shay returns a gentle chuckle.

“Gods … I’m glad.” she finally breathes “That already had me rattled before I even got into that fight with Vandryss. Tulen as well, I noticed. I practically had to shove her into your crazy magic battle with that wizard.”

I remember that, Tulen did somewhat seem to come out of nowhere, but it was at just the right time. That woman was … whoever she is, she’s very powerful. It was all I could do to put myself on an equal footing with her, and the longer we fought the worse it was getting for everyone around us. Even when I had Tulen backing me up, she still damn near fought us to a standstill.

“Thank you for that. I did need her.”

“You know you never have to thank me. I was just looking out for you.”

For a moment or two I’m lost for words, I genuinely am. The way she looks at me so softly, it’s so sweet, there isn’t the slightest implication she did any of it out of any sense of obligation she might feel. She just cared. And she still does … I reach up carefully and very gently stroke the backs of my fingers across her face. Shay closes her eyes as I do it, before reaching up and taking my hand. When she opens her eyes again she just watches me, and we just lie there for a little while, just holding hands and enjoying each other’s company.

“This is very nice.” Shay finally says “The bed, I mean. It’s surprisingly roomy considering we’re both in it. Soft too, but not too much. I would’ve expected a temple’s dorms to be a bit more spare than this.”

“Well there are two different dormitories, one’s for staff while the other one’s set aside for guests. That’s where we are.” I shrug. “But from what I can tell, the staff aren’t much worse off than this. The Order looks after their own, so since at least half the staff in your typical temple of Minerva are Silver Order they have very high standards.”

Shay’s smile grows. “Yeah, well suppose I can’t really see that Saxiros fellow staying in a poky little cell with roommates, so that makes sense.”

I have to nod along with that. “Very true.”

Shay grows quiet again for a little while, but she seems to be just relaxing now. Finally shifts a little, letting go of my hand, and moves around so she can roll onto her back, looking up at the ceiling now. “So … I saw some of what happened there, after I got stabbed. Kesla was … well, she fought hard, but Vandryss is a bloody demon. I swear. I saw her run that bastard sword of hers clean through her and she just shrugged it off.”

A chill runs right through me hearing that. I shift a little too, finally propping myself up on my elbow so I can look down at her. “Minerva … that didn’t kill her? Was it … did she miss the heart?”

“Sure didn’t look like it.” Shay looks up at me, and while she’s mostly just thoughtful, there’s maybe a hint of … I wouldn’t say fear, but definitely a clear edge of healthy caution now. “To be honest, I don’t know what to think about it. Everything about her was just off. She moves wrong, she’s too fast, too agile. I mean sure, perhaps that means she has some elf blood in her like us, but even then it’s more than just … something. Shrugging off getting stabbed through the heart, though?” She looks at the ceiling again. “Meanwhile I had to be an idiot and forget to guard myself with one blade while I forgot she had two. You’re right, I should be dead.”

“Well I’m bloody glad you’re not, you complete idiot.” I don’t bother trying to keep the edge out of my admonishment now, I want her to hear how upset I might be about even having to think about it. “If you’re going to start giving me a hard time about not being more careful when I’m fighting, I’m definitely going to return the favour in times like this.”

Looking up at me now, Shay genuinely looks a little surprised, probably to hear me talking about it so honestly. Finally she shifts herself again and starts trying to sit up. I start to lean forward to help her but she just shakes her head, and as she starts to groan and fumble forcing herself up after three whole days of lying down I just sit up myself, drawing my legs up under me as I let the covers drop around my waist. She finally makes it up but it clearly takes some work, and when she finally does she spends a long moment a little doubled over as she probes where the wound was, breathing a little heavy.

When she looks up, though, she actually mostly seems a little surprised. “Damn … those healers really know they’re stuff. Feels like I never even got hurt.”

“Yes, well you’ll still have quite the scar, but then you mercenary types seem to like it.” I find myself looking down at my fingers now, and when I look up again I notice Shay doing the same. “Personally, I’d rather not have these.”

Shay looks into my eyes for a good, long moment, thoughtful now, maybe a touch wistful. “Sometimes a good reminder can be a huge benefit. Do you know what they say about mistakes? The number one rule, if you will.”

Frowning, I consider for a moment. “I don’t do so well with philosophy. My marks were never that high in that particular class. I was always glad it never had a major bearing on the finals.”

She laughs at that, leaning in to give me a little nudge with her shoulder. “You pillock. No, look … my da always taught me that mistakes were important, because even though they could have really bad results sometimes, there was still good in them because they help you learn. He said that those who don’t learn from their mistakes are doomed to repeat them.”

I watch her for a long moment as that sinks in. That’s some damn smart thinking, actually. Every time Shay tells me anything about her father, the mysterious elven warrior Errelim Ivystone, I grow more fascinated by what I learn. “That’s very profound, actually.”

“Damn straight.” Shay reaches out and takes my hand, gently raising it so she can show the scars from Ashsong’s sword on my fingers to me. “These are a reminder for you, every time you see them they tell you what you did wrong, but also what you did right that helped us win. I messed up the other night, and it cost me, like when you fought Ashsong. And now I have something to remind me of what I did wrong, so I don’t let it happen again.”

I look down at the scars for a few more moments, feeling conflicted. Then Shay reaches out and wraps me up in her arms, and I slowly return her hug, closing my eyes as I let my head rest on her shoulder. I feel her breath, warm on my crown, and just hold on, contented to stay like this for a while yet. It’s almost disappointing when she finally lets go and I let her pull away from me again.

“Thank you.” she says at last, head down now but still looking up at me through her lashes. So very coy now.

“You’re my friend. I know you’d do the same for me.” I have to chuckle a little at the thought, actually, now I realise. “Fuck, Shay … you did do that for me already.”

She looks up all the way again now, cocking her head a little as she thinks about it. “You’re right.” She nods, smiling a little too. “But I’d still do it again. Anytime. I love you very much, Gael Foxtail. You’re the best friend I’ve had in a very long time.”

Gods … I honestly don’t quite know what to say to that. Shay chews on her bottom lip now, just a little, clearly now very self-conscious about what she’s just revealed. But … I have to admit, I feel exactly the same about her. I guess I love her too. So I reach out, taking her face between my hands, and lean forward so I can kiss her on the cheek before laying my forehead against hers. “Yeah, well … same here, you great daft pillock.”

That has her grinning, and she hugs me again, more casually but it still feels nice returning it. Then her stomach chooses that exact moment to make a particularly long, mournful gurgle, and we both spring apart, a little surprised. She looks down at her belly, then back up at me, a little sheepish now. “Wow … how long have I been down?”

“Three days.”

Her eyes go wide. “Three … bloody hell. No wonder I’m so fucking hungry.”

“Yes, well food would definitely be the way to go.” I frown a little. “And a wash, perhaps. They have some really nice baths here.”

“They do?” Shay’s brows shoot right up now. “How big is this place?”

Grinning again, I lean back onto my hands, stretching my back a little. “Mmmm … bigger than you’d think. Remember the library? It’s magic. We can do interesting things with architecture.”

Shay considers it for a moment, then shrugs, smiling a little again. Then she looks down at herself, realising how dressed down she is now. Like me she’s stripped down to the very basic layers, just a nightshirt and a pair of drawers to protect her modesty now. As her frown returns she takes a tentative sniff under the collar, then another at her armpit, and makes a face. “Oof … yeah, you’re right. A wash would be good. But first I need food. I’m starving.” Then her frown deepens. “But first … maybe a piss. Looks like you’re right, I really must have been out of it for days …”

“Good point.” I’m starting to feel a little full myself now … throwing the covers off on my side, I swing my legs out and settle my feet into the thick carpet before finally pushing myself upright. “You should come with me.”

As I collect one of the warm flannel robes from the rack on the back wall, Shay swings her own legs out, then pauses on the edge of the bed, sitting forward for a long moment. For a moment or two she’s probing her side again, then she reaches to her shoulder, where the new tattoo is. “Huh … well that’s just …” I can’t see her face from this angle, but I see her stiffen all the same. “Wait … no, please …”

For a moment I think she might be undergoing some kind of crisis I can’t begin to fathom as she starts to claw about under her collar, but then I realise she’s simply trying to check under the nightshirt. The tattoo … she’s worried about the tattoo, because of course it’s not sore or itchy anymore. I can’t help my sigh of relief as I almost gasp the words: “Shay, it’s all right. Your tattoo should be fine. It’s just healed.”

“But … but how the hell did it …” She pauses, taking a deep breath before shifting her shoulder a little while she tries moving the collar aside with a little more care. Finally she’s able to get a proper peak at the edge of it at least, and so do I … yes, much as I expected, it’s all there, and the subtle redness and slightly swollen raised lines are now gone, while it looks like she’s bypassed the scabbing process entirely. What she has there now is just the finished tattoo in its pristine artistic glory.

Turning to look at me now, she looks thoroughly nonplussed. “What the hell? I though you said it was just three days.”

“It’s magic, Shay.” I pull the robe on, but leave it open for now. “They poured a lot of healing magic into you, they had to, as much for the infection as to repair the damage. So of course it bled over to your tattoo.” I shrug. “Look at it this way, no more discomfort. I remember you really weren’t enjoying the pain after we left the shop.”

“Yes, well that I can do without, the itching too, I suppose I’m glad I missed that …” She keeps frowning. “It’s just a little … I don’t know if I like that the magic just … did something with my body that wasn’t even intended.”

“Yes, well that’s the thing about magic.” I check through the other robes, finally selecting one I imagine should fit her nicely. She’s taller than me, but not that much broader across the shoulders, so it’s not too hard. “It does what it wants, even when we try to pin it down with limits and mechanisms. But it still has rules, at least in a very broad sense, and what they used on you was entirely benevolent magic, so there was no danger of it doing any harm to you while it was fixing you. In the end that’s just …” I shrug as I make my way around the bed to reach her. “An interesting side effect.”

Pondering on it for a moment longer, Shay finally shrugs again. “Fair enough. Just so long as I’m not a bloody virgin again I can live with it.”

I have to laugh again at that. “I highly doubt it.”

“Good.” She pushes herself up off the bed and gets her legs under her, but it clearly takes some effort. She grunts as she tries to straighten up, and her legs are very wobbly, bad enough that her knees give a little before she’s all the way up and I have to spring forward in time to catch her before she goes down again. She grabs hold of me too, genuinely a little spooked, and for a moment she’s left breathing fast and hard as I prop her up. Then she finally takes a deeper breath and pushes herself away from me, trying to stand on her own again, and this time it seems to work out better. “Oh … this isn’t fun, Gael. I haven’t felt this shitty since …” She sighs. “Ah shit … since I helped bring you back.”

“You’ll be all right.” I take a very cautious step back from her, still ready in case her legs decide to betray her again, but I think she’s safe enough now. “I was all right enough after a few days, and I died. I’m sure you can bounce back quicker than that.” I pass her the robe.

“Wow, this is …” Shay holds it out in front of her, opening it out so she can give it a proper look over. “This is nice. I don’t know if I can wear this, it’s too fancy.”

“Well it’s yours regardless, so you might as well.” I start to cinch the sash about my waist now, giving it the tradition two turns around before I finally start to tie it off. I do it slowly, exaggerating my motions somewhat so Shay can see what I’m doing.

“What?” Her eyes go wide again. “Are you serious? How … surely that’s not right …”

“Compliments of the Order. Everything in this room technically belongs to you, so …”

“Except you, of course.” A smile starts to touch her lips as she relaxes again, and it’s quite sly. She starts to pull the robe on now.

I start blushing immediately. “I don’t … no, we’re just friends, aren’t we?”

Shay’s smile broadens into a gleeful grin and she gives a bubbly little chuckle. “It was a joke, you dope. I mean, you are very pretty, I would definitely be interested, but …” She keeps grinning when she sees the face I must be making, and gives my shoulder a gentle thump. “Dummy. I’m just messing with you. Besides, I know you’re already spoken for.”

Now that one really has me stumped, I try to work out if she’s still joking or actually serious now as she finally closes the robe and starts looping the sash around her waist like I did before. I’m left floundering for a few moments as she starts trying to work out the particulars of the knot. “No … wait, no. I don’t have … there’s nobody that I’m … what the hell are you talking about?”

Finally she just gives up and ties a simple bow. Throwing her hands up vaguely, she gives me a long, hard stare, all her humour gone now, seemingly in an instant, which takes me somewhat by surprise. I can’t say I’m particularly comfortable being regarded with that look. “Gael, come on. How are you still this clueless?”

“I don’t get it. It’s not a funny joke, Shay. You’re supposed to be able to understand the punchline.”

Shay looks at me for another loaded moment, then throws her hands up in the air again. “Freya, please, how are you still not getting it?”

I’m about to try answering back, even though I don’t know what I’m actually going to say, when there’s a knock at the door. Shay cocks a brow, but I just give her a harsh look as I push past her, stepping across the inexplicably warm carpet that gently tickles my bare feet. Stopping short of the door, I take a breath. “Who is it?”

“It’s a handsome prince on a big white charger.” Art’s cocky voice comes through the door with surprising clarity given that everything here is specifically designed and enchanted to deaden as much outside ambient sound as possible to facilitate a comfortable slumber. Then again, I want to hear the answer, so I can. Magic can be a bit of a brainteaser sometimes, I’m still finding. “Who d’you think it is, genius?”

When I look back at Shay her sly smile’s returned, and she starts moving towards me with a surprising amount of her old, silken dancer’s grace again. “How is it the old saying goes?”

Frowning, I find myself floundering again. “I … what?”

“Oh yes. Speak a demon’s name and it’s apt to appear.” Her grin widens.

The stare I give her must remain pretty blank since I still don’t know what she’s getting at. “Whatever it is, I really don’t care anymore.”

“Hey, I’m still here, y’know.” Art nags from the other side of the door “You coming out anytime today or not? I figured maybe you wanted to actually eat a meal outside this room for once.”

“He has a point, you know.” Shay sighs, clearly letting it go now as she steps up beside me. “I’m hungry, and I’m dying for a piss. Can we just get out of here already?”

TO BE CONTINUED ...

#never split the party #The Creeping Bam #the adventures of the creeping bam #book 3 chapter 3 #fantasy fiction #original fiction #original fantasy fiction #to be continued

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bump1nthen1ght · 3 years ago

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Late Night Favor (Shadow Monster x Reader)

Genre: Fluff, Urban Fantasy

Warnings: Explicit content up ahead (18+ ONLY), Oral, Fingering

Word Count: 4000 Words

Summary: A couple of small good deeds leaves you with a late night visitor, looking to repay a debt.

Request: "You unknowingly rescue a shadow monster and bring it home with you, after a couple days of lurking in the shadows of your home and recuperating it shows you just how thankful it is." I had this idea forever ago but was never able to execute it. My opening idea was that a few kids are shining flashlights at something, tormenting it, and you swoop in to save it and chase the kids away. You thought they were hurting a cat or something, but find nothing and head home.

What do you think? Would you like to take it on? I'd be honored if you would 😊

A/N: *Throws this into the street to appease for the fact I haven’t updated Out of the Woods in THREE MONTHS IM SORRY*

It was the perfect weather for a lazy day inside. The pitter patter of the rain on your window had almost lulled you back to sleep during breakfast, and the thunder had provided great ambiance for reading. You hadn’t bothered changing out of your pajamas and we’re enjoying a soap opera binge on the coach when the peace was disturbed.

At first it was just the sound of clattering trash cans, not uncommon from the alley outside your window. But then it was followed by the raucous laughter of teenagers, rocks being thrown against the concrete, and a sharp hissing.

You hoist yourself up and off the couch, meandering toward the balcony, expecting to see a bunch of kids fucking around; Maybe using the cover of the fire escape to hide from the rain and smoke some weed.

Ah, memories.

But instead, you see a huddled group of boys pointing a flashlight into the pile of garbage right by the dumpster. One of them picks up a pebble and throws it into the light beam, causing another hiss and a jerk of movement. The boys laugh even louder, the one on the right nudging the one with the flashlight.

“Dude, do it again!”

Flashlight agrees, quickly moving the light into another corner as the one on the left throws a rock in the opposite direction. A shape of pitch black hisses again, deterred by the rock and scared by the brightness. Your brow furrows.

“Hey!”

The boys jump, looking in all directions.

“What are you three doing down there?” They finally look up at you, messy-haired and bleary-eyed. They shrug and ignore you, one even throwing another rock, bigger than before. There’s a sad yelp as it collides with the blackness.

You grit your teeth, grabbing your jacket off a nearby shelf and yell again.

“Fuck off! Leave the poor thing alone!”

They all laugh insufferably, the way most stuck up teenagers do.

“Or what?”

You shrug on your raincoat, picking up the baseball bat you keep strategically placed by your couch.

“Or I’ll come down and make you, jackass!”

You kick open your fire escape, slippers already damp, and start marching down the staircases. The boys get the message and run away, still jeering and laughing. Seems you weren’t as intimidating as you’d like.

You shuffle down the fire escape, slowing down as you approach the poor creature. You lower your back and peak under the dumpster.

“It's okay, little guy, I won’t hurt ya.” You set down your bat and crouch, kissing your lips as you hold out your free hand. All you see is a hint of glowing eyes, nervously peering out, before the dark shape disappears completely, hidden by the shadow of the dumpster. You’re tempted to sit down and wait for it, hoping to check if the poor stray was injured, but the wet concrete looks unappealing. The bottom of your sweats are already drenched.

You stand up, sigh, and go back up the fire escape. You unlatch the dusty pet door on your sliding glass balcony and make sure to leave a hot thing of milk and some water just outside. You ponder going out to get cat food, but the well-timed weather report tells you to stay off the streets. Slumping back down on the couch, you keep on eye on your fire escape, hoping that whatever it was, it’s okay.

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

The next day is sunny, the rain clearing away any air pollution and leaving blue skies to shine down through your window, waking you up extra early. As you sit down with a cup of coffee, switching on the news before starting work, you notice the empty bowls on your balcony.

You set down the mug, walking over to the door and checking the bowls. Seems that little stray had needed the refreshment, as both were licked clean.

You refill them, making sure to add cat food to your grocery list.

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

After a long day of work, you’re feeling particularly domestic and decide to bake some cookies. Your brain is sore after staring at a screen for eight hours straight, a simple task like this is the perfect thing to keep it from melting completely.

You open up your window, letting the cool night air into your kitchen as you check on your baking cookies. Wiping flour off your pants, you turn on the radio and throw a glance to your living room.

You had set up a tiny blanket pallet right next to your pet door, the weatherman’s warning of another thunderstorm tonight having you worried for your stray. Hopefully a full belly of milk will convince them that your house is safe enough to find shelter in.

But the afternoon is beautiful, not too cold and not too hot, only the slight tang of metal in the air hinting to rain. With a ding from the oven, you take out the cookies and set them on a cooling tray on your window. The smell of cinnamon and sugar wafts over you as you take a sip of your tea, staring out into the city streets. Small puddles still speckle the pavement, catching the headlights of nearby cars and flashy billboards.

A quick sound, something hitting your balcony door, that jerks you out of your reverie. You set down your mug and slowly peek out from your kitchen, wondering if you should’ve grabbed a kitchen knife. But it’s just your pet door, flapping back and forth in front of two, now empty, bowls. Aww, seems your stray took a step inside. Too bad you missed it.

The gurgle of your stomach convinces you to take a crack at the cookies. If they were too hot, you could just wash them down with a nice glass of milk anyway. Maybe even put on a sitcom while you snack.

You lightly tap the top cookie; Warm, but not unbearable. Steam rises as you break it open, blowing in the middle and taking a tiny bite.

Fuck, good job _____.

They’re perfectly done, just soft enough to melt in your mouth. You grab two more, holding them in between your fingers as you hold the other half in your mouth. Maybe you could bring the batch into work tomorrow, give your coworkers a nice surprise. That is if you didn't have 10 tonight. But 20 should be just enough-

Huh, that’s weird. There's only 19, including the one still dangling out of your mouth.

You could’ve sworn you baked 20.

Well whatever. Your coworkers can handle not coming back for seconds tomorrow.

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

“Ow! Fuck!”

You bite your lip, trying not to yell out more curse words as you rub your stubbed toe. You limp to your kitchen, fumbling for the light switch to avoid another incident. All you had wanted was a midnight sweet snack, was that so difficult? You’d thought you could navigate your apartment pretty easily in the dark, but the pain in your foot says otherwise.

The light flickers as you finally find the switch, reminding you that you’re going to need to change the bulb sometime soon. But that's a problem for another day; Right now, it’s cookie time.

You don’t bother pouring yourself a glass or getting a plate, devouring the treat in three bites and throwing back a quick swig of milk. It’s almost midnight, not like anyone’s watching-

Oh, wait.

You slowly close the fridge door, trying to make as little noise as possible so as not to wake the little stray curled up, asleep. The little ball of black was snuggled into the pallet, tossing and turning. A flash of lightning cracks outside your apartment, washing your living room with light. The ball jerks in shock, the thunder afterwards only frightening it more, forcing it to curl up even tighter.

You take small and light steps towards the tiny bed, not wanting to approach the scared beast too quickly. The room is lit up again by another lightning strike and the little stray forces it’s body backwards and away from the window. You crouch down real low, the small bits of light helping your eyes adjust to the layout.

“How are you doing, little guy?” You whisper, mostly to yourself, tapping your fingers against your carpet. Part of you wants to pet it, but think it might be better not to. No need to startle it. “Is the lightning scary? You can come to my room if you want, I’ll protect ya.”

Midst the black, you see two little eyes, little blips of light that open with another flash of lightning. But they aren’t yellow, nor are they slitted, nor are they anything remotely animal.

They're like the headlights of a car, blinding white with no definition at all. Not even pupils. You're startled, eye’s widening as the creature lifts it’s head. A long smile runs across their face, full of razor sharp teeth.

“Oh my, that sounds delightful.” They purr, and you find yourself losing your footing and falling back on your ass. Your fingers dig into the carpet as their body slowly begins to unfurl out of a ball and stretch into a massive form, as if their whole size had been hidden away somewhere else; Like it had been literally in the shadows.

You scramble backwards, breath picking up as the creature stretches it’s long limbs, colorless eyes still locked onto you as it stands up and up. It rolls back its shoulders as it sits on its haunches, its form still towering over you even when crouched. You notice the shades of huge antlers sticking out from the side of their head, only adding to their intimidating height.

The creature still has that terrifying smile, all canines and no molars, it’s unblinking eyes still staring deep into your soul.

You’ve heard people do weird things in times of high stress, of strong emotions, good and bad. Like the wires in your brains get crossed when trying to find the right response.

“Uh, do you want a cookie?”

You think you get that now.

The creature chuckles, a soft timbre that echoes unnaturally.

“No, dearie, I have already indulged in your confections. You see,” They creature leans forward, falling to its knees to crawl towards you. If it weren’t for the overwhelming fear constricting your heart, you’d almost think it was seductive, “You’ve done so much for me these past days, I think it’d be only fair if I helped you indulge in a far-” The creature’s face looms over yours, their arms caging your sides as they lick their lips, “-sweeter treat, yes?”

Your eyes search their face, trying to find signs of trickery or malice, maybe even some demonic sense of humor.

As if I’d even know what that looks like.

“Are you-” You catch a breath, now noticing the fine musculature of their shoulders, and the definition of their arms, “Are you propositioning me, like, for sex?”

The creature laughs again, their eyes crinkling up as they throw their head back. But when they look back down at you, you can almost feel the lust radiating off their gaze, details be damned.

“Yes, lovely, I am.”

You take your eyes off their face, a little too overwhelmed to stare directly into their blistering expression. Not to mention the blinding light which has begun to put red spots into your vision.

Instead, your eyes fall upon their thick thighs, the small tail waving behind them, and how unnervingly sexy you find the way their claws are digging up your rug.

You slowly move your head, catching the creature’s eyes.

“I-uh-I guess? Yeah, yeah I guess that sounds good. Um, what was your name?”

The creature smirks, a single claw tipped finger tilting up your chin, as they whisper,

“Nocter.”

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

Well, this is definitely the weirdest way I’ve gotten someone into bed.

Nocter’s antlers brush against your stucco-ceiling as it pushes you down on the bed, their shining white eyes staring deep into yours. Their lack of pupils is almost unsettling, but when they run their claws down your chest and pinch your nipples, you find it hard to care. You bite your lip, fighting back an embarrassing whimper as they trace one finger around the bud, pebbling the skin.

“Aww, has it been a while, sweetling?” You roll your eyes, but let out another squeak as they flick their thumb across your other nipple, the palm of their hand pressing against your ribcage.

“M-maybe.” You mutter, digging your finger into your bed sheets as their hands dance across your skin. One pulls up the bottom of your pajama shirt as it nudges one of their legs in between your thighs, pushing their knee up against your crotch.

“Don’t worry,” They push the fabric up to your neck, laying a kiss on the center of your stomach, then your chest, and then your jugular. When they plant one on your jaw, they lean in real close, “I’ll make sure to treat you right.”

Nocter’s long tongue splays against your jaw, licking a stripe up your cheek as one of their hands moves from your chest to the waistband of your shorts. They slip a couple fingers underneath, lightly petting the area right above your crotch. They’re such a tease, and you love it.

Nocter pecks the side of your face, over and over, while their hand moves further and further down your body at an agonizing pace. Their hot breath sends goosebumps down your neck, washing over your face as they exhale with every kiss. You catch them off guard when you turn your head toward them, catching their lips-mid peck and eagerly sticking your tongue outward. They purr with delight, their thin almost-lips quickly devouring you.

A long string of saliva connects the two of you as you detach, taking the time to shimmy out of your shirt. You pull them closer, your hands digging into their shoulder muscles and fingers just brushing over the long ridges on their back. They chuckle once again, pulling their fingers out your shorts and merely digging their palm into the fabric of your crotch.

“Eager, huh?”

“Shut up,” You mumble in between kisses, “This is for me, isn’t it?”

“Ohoho,” kiss, “Someone’s showing their feisty side a little early.” kiss, “What happened to my benevolent, saintly saviour?” kiss.

You pull away from their lips, quickly latching onto the crux of their neck and taking a nip. “S’not fair.” You say, taking a deep whiff of their skin as you suck and bite. They smell like brimstone and a bonfire, not quite what you 're expecting, but not unpleasant. “You can’t tease me like that and not-” Your cut off as the pad of one Nocters fingers presses up against your entrance, the fabric only amplifying the sensation as they begin to tease it.

“Deliver?” Nocter finishes, sinfully smug. You throw them a glare. “I’m a good guest, scout’s honor.”

You roll your eyes right before they lock you into another kiss, rubbing the pads of their fingers up and down your crotch. They use their hand to push you backwards, sinking deeper into the mattress as they situate their knees under your thighs. One they pull back from the kiss, your face and lips thoroughly debauched, your legs are splayed up on their pelvis and they easily slip off your bottoms. Nocter takes a whiff of your underwear, the crotch now slightly damp, giving you a wink before they throw it over their shoulder.

You jerk your hips slightly upward, and Nocter tuts.

“Patience, sweetling.” They roll a hand down your abdomen, fingers splaying onto your stomach, nails just teasing the skin. With a kiss to your inside calf, Nocters hand ghosts across your entrance. You can’t help biting your lip, the heat and their touch sending your mind into a frenzy.

They continue a path of kisses down your leg, now pressing their finger right up against your hole. They only pause to suck on their index and middle fingers, coating them with a heavy and blue-tinted saliva. Once they’ve reached the middle of your thigh, nipping at the apex, they sink into you.

Nocter’s fingers are long, articulated and move with sure movements. They start off slow, scissoring you open, simpering as you dig your nails into your bed sheets. The pads of their fingers push against your walls, just grazing sensitive spots as they make a slow ‘come hither’ motion. Your hips jerk forward, humping into their palm. They smirk against your skin, nipping another love bite as they retract their fingers until only the tip remains. You catch your breath, holding it until they sink back into you, shoving their fingers forward with far more force.

You whimper as their fingers pull back, only to follow with quicker thrusts. Nocter’s aim is pin-point in finding the most pleasurable spots inside you, the feeling only amplified by the pinpricks of their teeth into the fat of your thigh. The tip of their tongue licks hot trails of spit tantalizingly close to your hole, which clenches around their bony fingers. The slick sound of your juices, the skin of their palm slapping against yours, is downright pornographic.

Your legs try to clamp around their shoulders, the overwhelming stimuli triggering an instant reaction, but Nocter pins your right leg down to your bed easily, never losing focus on fingering you. The tips of their claws trace the inside of your leg, the hard edge of their wrist digging into fat. Your fingers reach to grip around something, anything to keep you grounded as the knot in your stomach grows tighter and tighter. They find their way around Nocter’s left wrist; You’re almost afraid you’ll leave bruises, before remembering how sturdy every part of their body seems to be.

You let out a whimper as the crests of an orgasm seem to overwhelm you, nearly gasping as Nocter quickly removes their fingers. In any other state of mind you might have made a comment, look down and wonder why they’ve stopped. But the heat in your belly compels you to grip their wrist tight and to throw your hips upwards. With a desperate breath, you plead,

“P-please! Please, don’t stop.”

Nocter doesn’t chuckle, doesn’t make a sly remark about your neediness or your lewd movements. They lean forward, giving another kiss right below your navel, and pet your wrist.

“Of course, dearie.”

With a wink, they lean down a lick a long stripe up your hole, giving one last kiss to your leg before plunging their tongue inside.

You didn’t think it was possible for them to reach even deeper inside you with their tongue than their fingers, but the sparks which fly in your core say otherwise. The ridges of Nocters tongue brush against your walls as they flick the appendage back and forth, the tip pressing forward with controlled motions. It doesn’t thrash back and forward haphazardly, but reaches for those sensitive spots and plays with them.

“Oh, f-fuck!” You yelp, feeling an icy-cold liquid run down your ass. From the sound of smacking lips and muffled moans, it must be Nocter’s saliva. They let out a groan, pushing their jaw forward as their eyes clenched shut. The hand on your leg pinches skin as it tightens up, the other pressing your hips down, but the pressure they apply is phantom at best. Nocter seems to revel in your pleading humps for more, meeting each movement with a thrust of their jaw, the base of their tongue stretching you open.

The two of you keep that rhythm for what feels like an eternity, but is probably only a couple of minutes. Sweat drips down your chest and off of your belly, your legs muscles on fire as you continue to push upward and into Nocter’s face. You start feeling that impending wave begin to crest again, with your limbs shaking and your throat hoarse.

“Nocter, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna-I’m so close!”

This time, Nocter doesn’t let up on their pace, reaching one hand down to deliver a hard slap on your ass and forcing a yelp out of you. Your speech devolves into slurred curses and your hands move to touch them, to find some grasp in reality. Nocter continues to suck and tongue-fuck your hole as your thighs clench around their head. Your humps are tiny and weak, your lower half barely holding itself up.

The knot gets tighter, a firecracker fuse about to blow in your abdomen. In the heat of the moment, your hands find their way to Nocter’s scalp and grab onto the base of their antlers. Their moan rumbles through you, right before you yank their head forward, their tongue hitting the deepest part of you as you shutter and-

“I’m cumming!”

Another moan vibrates against your hole as your body shudders and jolts, your hips still pressed firmly against Nocter’s face. But in the next moment, a heavy weight falls over your body, slumping you down onto the bed. Your chest heaves, eye’s fuzzy as Nocter’s tongue ‘pop’s out of you.

Your gaze wanders over your stucco ceiling, droplets of sweat rolling down your neck as you try and catch your breath. You can feel Nocter’s large hands rolling a massage into your thighs, their own heavy breathing brushing over your crotch.

A fuzzy shape of pure black comes into your vision as Nocter hovers over you, their body hovering just an inch above yours. They give you a small peck on the cheek.

“Feel good?” They whisper.

All you can do is nod, your shaky hands wandering over their back. There’s no sign of sweat on their skin, but you can feel the heat running off of it as they nuzzle into your neck.

As your fingers dance over the ride of their back, you can hear the rumble of a low purr coming from their chest, but they stay hovering over your body. You press your hands into their back, applying weak pressure to encourage them to relax.

“It seems I’ve repaid my debt.” Nocter murmurs into your ear, pushing themselves up onto their hands, pulling even farther from you as their eye’s look around your room. You keep your hands wrapped around their waist, stopping them from fully getting up. They look back to you, white eyes slightly widening.

“Would you-” You take another deep breath, “Want to stay? For the night?”

Nocter stares at you, the black void of their face almost unreadable. But when they run a claw down the side of your face, it burns with affection and longing.

“Would you want that?”

Your room is nearly pitch black, only the lights of the street peeking in between your curtains. Nocter’s body seems to absorb all light near it, their hot body like a heating pad. But their eyes are so bright, so full, so mesmerizing; Like a full moon on the dark city sky.

“Yes, I would.”

Nocter’s nods, their expression barely changing, but you think you can see a hint of a smile amidst all the black. They let their body relax, pressing their chest against yours as they sink into the sheets and nuzzle back into your neck.

You can smell the sweat coating your body and feel the way you stick to the sheets. Frankly, the both of you kind of smell.

But it doesn’t stop you from snuggling into Nocter’s body, eye’s heavy as you peacefully fall into sleep.

#my writing #gender neutral reader #shadow monster #monster/human #monster x reader

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duffslut · 3 years ago

Text

Roses for whiskey

Axl Rose x Reader

My Masterlist.

Word Count: 907

Requested by anon: could you do some angst to fluff with axl where he does something stupid and they fight and it ends up with them forgiving each other and its really cute

Warnings: Angst!

- I mean she's fine, you guys know that right? but she's not all that.

You heard Axl say, and then the sound of laughter. You were standing behind the door, the drink you had just bought to celebrate your two month relationship with him in your hand.

- C'mon Axl she's a nice girl don't be a dick! - you heard one of the guys in his band say, probably Duff, you were too nervous to pay attention to who was saying what.

- She's cool, but you know it's just casual sex.

The whiskey bottle fell from your hand with a crash as it hit the floor and shards of glass flew everywhere, the band on the other side of the door was silent, looking for where the noise had come from.

You turned your back before Axl opened the door, followed by whispers and murmurs behind him. "You're fucked man" was the last thing you allowed yourself to hear before you left the studio, your head hurting so much you could barely walk straight, hot tears of anger rolling down your red cheeks.

You slammed your car door and stomped on the gas, driving home as the wind from the window dried the tears that kept falling from your eyes.

As soon as you got home you blocked Axl on your phone, the anger in your mind not allowing you to think straight. You went to your room and found the clothes Axl had left on your bed this morning. Fucking lazy son of a bitch! You scooped his clothes right into your arms, completely ignoring the ringtones coming through your cell phone. You went to the window and opened your arms, letting all his clothes fall to the floor in the backyard and praying that it would rain, or else you would have to make them disappear somehow. That lessened your anger a little, you sat on the bed, your head still dizzy and took your cell phone. An unknown number. You just didn't have time for it, all that was going through your head was Axl's words about you, how could he change his way of thinking so fast? Had he been lying to you all this time?

You fell into bed and woke up just hours later, the sun that warmed your face when you went to sleep has now been replaced by moonlight brightening your room.

You sat up and freaked out when you looked at yourself in the bedroom mirror, but then you remembered why.

You walked wistfully to your window, staring at the pile of Axl's clothes lying on the floor. Fuck.

You tied your hair up, washed your face with ice water and promised yourself you wouldn't cry anymore tonight.

You hear a knock on the door as you go down to the room, whoever it was on the other side of the door seemed to have been calling for a long time. You cleared your throat and tried to straighten your voice.

- Who is it?

A sigh.

- Y/n.

It wasn't the answer you wanted, let alone the voice you wanted to hear. Your eyes filled with tears again, just thinking that today you and Axl would be completing two months of dating but he had to fuck it up!

You were silent longer than you realized.

- I know you are there darling... I just want to clear things up, I've been waiting for you all afternoon.

Axl's voice made your chest hurt, you leaned back against the closed door and let your body fall to the floor. Crying, but with the most controlled voice you could use.

- Why? - you asked. - Why are you even here?

You sighed, hearing Axl also sit leaning against the door outside.

- Let me in. - Axl groaned, and you almost believed he was crying too. - Please Y/n, I don't want to lose you.

His thick voice was shaky.

- So why did you say that? I fucking heard you Axl! Casual sex? Why the fuck did you lie to them? Or rather, Why the fuck did you lie to ME?

You squeezed your fingers tightly.

- I never lied to you, I fucking love you, I'm an dick I know! But I also know that you are the woman of my life, I can't live without you Y/n! - the room was silent again. - Please, baby, let me in.

You were forced to move when you heard the doorknob turn. His spare key. You got to your feet and just shook your head in denial as Axl carefully entered your room. His red hair wet, and only then did you realize it was raining. He had a bouquet of roses in his hands.

Axl knelt down, his clear eyes gleaming as he stared into yours.

- Please, darling, you're all I have. I was a real asshole to you but now I know you don't deserve this and nothing I said this morning was true.

You bent down in front of him, kissing his rain-icy lips and lifting him up, closing the door behind you.

- I love you. - you said, taking him in your arms in a tight hug, and taking the bouquet from his hand.

Axl kissed you, in a way he had never done before, his hand held your waist and he pulled your body closer and closer to his.

- Roses for a bottle of whiskey? - you whispered.

- You will still have your gift.

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cuinaminute229 · 3 years ago

Text

Like no other pt 3

Part 1 Part 2

Am I sorry? No

...

The sound of soft pattering against the window next to the bed brings you from the land of dreams, the room is splayed in the aura of lazy days full of rain. The blankets are a warm cocoon from the chill in the air.

You feel safe and content.

Soft rustling to your left makes the hazy fog of just waking up lessen but you don't want to start the day just yet.

"It's morning." You murmur out into the room before a hand grazes your bare shoulder underneath the blankets.

"Stay." A whisper that's more of a sigh rather than a word makes you smile.

You immediately want to give in to the plea, you want to stay and ignore the world for just another day.

"You know I can't." You whisper back and the hand that's on your shoulder travels further south, touch light as a feather, teasing.

"Stay," The plea is stronger now, more word than breath, "Please."

Fingers graze soft skin that protects your ribs and you fight the chill that runs up your spine. "Stay."

You let out a soft sigh before opening your eyes to see her.

Her eyes are so very blue, like the sky on a sunny afternoon, so blue and so bright and you feel like you're peering into her soul.

There is nothing hidden in the depths of her gaze, all the yearning and hoping and wanting, you see it, you see all of it.

“Maria,” Her name a plea of your own. You don't want to hurt her, you don't want to tear this moment away from her, you don't want to do that. She’s so special and so beautiful, and she’s been your friend since forever. You don't want to cause her more pain than you already have.

You close your eyes when you feel her move closer, you can't look because there is so much in her eyes and you want to cry. “Please, please.”

Thunder sounds in the distance, the sky a darker grey. The rain has picked up in speed and force, thrumming against the window. “I want you to stay,”

You can feel her breath fan over your face, you can feel her against you. You feel her warmth and the softness of her skin, and you want to stay, you want to stay so bad.

She’s slow, cautious when she leans closer, sharing the air you breathe. Giving you plenty of time to deny her, but you don't, you can't.

You let her steal your breath, you let her pull you in, you let her make your choice.

…

The sky is blue when you look up, the few clouds are scattered to win a race that declares no winner.

The sun is bright and daring, and looking down on you as the minutes tick by as you wait. Birds chirp and prance around the sidewalks as they look for anything edible, children laugh and scream in glee as they explore the park as parents watch like guardian angels.

It’s peaceful.

“Hey there stranger, long time no see.”

You’re brought from your thoughts when you hear her voice and you give the blonde a smile when you catch sight of her, walking towards you with purpose and a smile.

“It’s good to see you too Carol.” You barely have time to stand from the bench before she’s pulling you into a hug that steals the breath from you. You’ve forgotten how strong she is, how amazing her hugs are as you relax in her embrace. “You can't leave for that long again. I won't let you.”

You chuckle at her declaration. “I don't doubt it.”

Light brown eyes search your face when she pulls back, hands still on your shoulders. “How are you doing?” She asks and you give her a soft smile. “I’m doing good.”

She nods with a smile that you know all too well. “I’m glad you’re back, now come on.”

You follow her, slightly behind but close enough.

“Where exactly are we going again?” You wonder aloud as Carol slows to walk beside you. She glances up as she thinks and you wonder if she misses the stars, the need for nothing to hold her down. “Where do you want to go?” She asks after a few steps, turning to look at you and the sun makes her hair shine enough that you remember the first time you saw her glow, she was glorious and proud and showing no fear.

Carol Danvers is a sight to behold.

“Lost in the stars?” She nudges your shoulder when it takes too long to respond.

“Not the only one,” You tease her and she shakes her head with a grin. “Always.”

“How was the mission?” She rolls her shoulders back and pushes her hands in her front pockets as the two of you stop at a crosswalk.

“You know I can’t tell you.” You say as you press the arrow button three times just for good measure. Turning to her when it repeats that you have to wait.

“Well,” She shrugs her shoulders and you raise an eyebrow at her as cars breeze past, people hurrying to work or doctors appointments or to meet family, everyone seems in a hurry to get to where they need to be.

“You know the rules, captain.” You remind her as you reach out and press the arrow again because you can. “Yeah,” Carol lets out a sigh before she takes a step closer, her eyes glued on the traffic light.

“You’re okay though, right?” She sounds concerned and you choose not to look at her as the light turns green and the two of you start walking.

The seconds count down as you walk across the street, big and red as it gets closer to zero. It reminds you of a timer and you find yourself biting your tongue to stay in the moment, away from the memories that have shaped you as you are.

“I’m back,” You tell her as if she doesn't know. “I came back when I didn't want to.”

“I know.” Voice low and soft, a realization to what's already known.

…

The whispers of the morning linger as the day draws on and you’re not quite able to forget what happened.

You don’t think you’ll ever forget what happened.

The echoes that were drowned by the pouring rain, the feather light touches that seem to linger still, the view you see when you close your eyes makes you wish this morning never ended.

She was so beautiful, so willing to give you everything. So very-

“How’s Natasha?” Maybe you're trying to distract yourself from your thoughts, maybe you really do want to know how she’s doing. Maybe you still aren't running if you ask about her.

You glance over at Carol who’s picking apart her sandwich, pulling the bacon off and placing it on the side of the plate, she looks deep in thought and you don't want to repeat the question again, not if she’s lost to the stars at the moment.

“She was worried.” Her words are well thought out, slow and calculated and you know she’s trying to say the right things. “When you left, everyone was.”

She wipes her hands off with a napkin and you wonder if she will continue. “Why didn’t you tell anyone you were leaving?” She finally looks up from the food to look at you, she looks hurt and you swallow the guilt that you feel.

“I did tell someone.” You respond after a second where you wish you didn't have to face what you did. Carol nods and you choose to grab a fry and eat half of it so you don't have to say anything more.

“Yeah, you told one person.” You see her nibble at her bottom lip and yes you do feel guilty.

You clear your throat before explaining more. “I told who I needed to, that was it.”

“But you didn’t tell her.” No, you suppose you didn’t.

She picks up her sandwich, elbows on the table as she goes to take a bite and you want her to let this conversation go, let it drift past like the wind that rustles the leaves that still cling to the tree.

But she stops short, looks you in the eyes when she says her next words, and you swear for just a split second she wasn't your friend anymore.

“You hurt her.”

You look away from eyes that have seen past the universe, eyes that blaze like burning suns. You look away and pick up the napkin that’s resting next to your drink, bring it into your lap and wad the tissue up in a ball.

A part of you knows she doesn't mean to hurt you with her words, hopes that she doesn't intend to rip open old wounds and let them bleed free, prays that she doesn't mean to blame the pain you feel on you.

“She hurt me.” Your words are a weak whisper, a declaration on your behalf. She knows this, the entire team knows this.

It’s not a secret well kept.

You let out a sigh when you accidentally drop the wadded up napkin on the ground, watch it roll away like it doesn't want to share your burden.

“You hurt everyone when you chose to run away.” The judgment in her voice makes you clench your jaw. “Do you know what happened after you left?”

“Do you really think I’m oblivious to the pain I’ve caused?” You look at her and you make sure not to let her see how much it hurts. “Do you really think I did this on purpose? I left because if I didnt I don't know what I would have done if I stayed.”

Maybe you ignore the knot in your stomach that makes you want to vomit, maybe you ignore the look in her eyes when she realizes that she might have pushed you too far, but you dont ignore the people who turn your way, the ones who eavesdrop and gossip.

The two of you have brought more attention to you than you're comfortable with. “I’m leaving.”

Your half eaten sandwich and few fries that are left stay on the table as you get to your feet and walk away.

…

The smell of salt and the view of the sea does nothing to help the nausea you feel. It should be relaxing and calming and able to push your worries away but it doesn't help.

You see the waves crash and chase each other, never still for more than a moment. The gulls that ride the breeze as it drags the smell of the ocean through the air, the pelicans that are not bothered by the crashing of dominance as they only look for fish close enough to steal.

It reminds you of home, of days full of sun and sand. Treasure hunts to find the biggest and prettiest shell you could, races to see who could build the tallest sandcastles.

You wish it wasn't accompanied with the guilt in your stomach and the weight on your shoulders.

You want to run back to before you left your bed, you want to feel what you felt then. Safe, content, loved.

You want to hide under the covers and bask in the warmth of the person next to you, you want to memorize the depths of the sky.

But here you are standing alone on a pier looking out at the sea feeling sick to your stomach and terrified of what you have to face.

You feel like such a terrible person.

For running, for feeling so many things you think you might break, for wanting to hang the towel up and say that you’re done, for begging for an excuse to not look her in the eyes.

You wish that you never bought that ring, you wish you never even considered the idea. To want to marry her, to want to share her name, to want for things you knew were out of reach.

With a breath that brings you almost to tears, you try to ignore the way your feelings seem to bleed out for all to see.

You love her, you still love her. You don't think you'll ever stop loving her. But Natasha chose what happened, she decided that you weren't enough, that she wasn't enough.

“I’m sorry.” You watch as a boat moves through the sea at a crawl, slowly growing smaller as it bravely sets out for some adventure you hope is fulfilling.

“I don't want your pity, I don't want your regret.” You say the words you hope she will listen to as you lean back and gaze at the sky, hands still holding the wooden railing.

You let out a breath that is stolen by the breeze as you force yourself to leave a fraction of your pain where you stand.

The view above you is still so blue and bright, not a cloud in sight and you remember this morning with a sad smile.

You've always loved how Maria's eyes share the color of the sky.

“I just want you to be my friend.” You turn to the blonde when you speak those words.

“Okay.” She nods and you give her a smile before letting go of the railing and walking back to the beach. She doesn't say anything more as she comes to walk beside you and even though you know there is something on her mind you choose to take what she’s given you.

…

Steve greets you with a cautious smile when you finally give in and follow Carol to the compound and even though you still haven't completely forgiven him you smile back.

“How are you?” He asks after Carol excuses herself and you shrug off his comment with a shrug.

“How are you? You look good.” You notice his hair is a little longer and he hasn’t shaved in a few days but he looks well rested and not so brought down by the weight of so many responsibilities that come with being such a hero. “Yeah, yeah. I’m good.” He nods and you watch as hair falls in his face.

“You need a haircut buddy.” You tease him and Steve glares at you playfully before he runs his hand through his hair and that does absolutely nothing to fix it.

“I kind of like it.” He admits with a shrug and you nod, it does look good on him.

“You just get back?” He asks and you smile through the lie. “Yeah, just got back.”

You follow him into the kitchen where you hear the familiar sound of the coffee maker, taking a seat on one of the empty stools that stand at the kitchen island as he goes to grab a cup from one of the cabinets.

“Why are you having coffee now?” You ask in curiosity and Steve does a terrible job at hiding his amusement as he places his cup next to the coffee maker and waits.

“It’s not for me,” He gives no more explanation than that and you only wonder who it’s for, the coffee mug he chose doesn't look familiar.

“Cool, cool.” You nod before silence pushes its way between the two of you, and you can't help the selfishness you feel for blaming him for what happened back then, for not hearing him through when he tried to explain before you left.

You felt so many things back then, so much and so deeply and you don't even know how you didn’t end up do something stupid or reckless.

A part of you had wanted to follow her when she walked out, wanted to understand why she thought you weren't enough for her.

Maybe it was your pride, maybe it was your bleeding heart that rooted you down making it impossible to move, or maybe it was the fear of everything blowing up even more than it already had but you let her walk away.

“I don’t want what you want.”

The words ring in your mind like church bells, loud and all consuming, echoing but never leaving you in silence.

“I’m sorry.” The soft spoken apology brings you back from thoughts of the past and you blink away the tears that carry your pain.

“It's…” You trail off.

Not okay.

You wish you could forgive him, you wish you didn't blame him even just a little but you do and you don't know when you can fully forgive him for something that wasn’t solely his fault. “You were only doing what I asked you to, it’s not… your fault.” He nods at your words before turning and busying his hands with pouring the coffee into the mug.

He told you once, before you got the courage to ask Natasha out, that he thought the two of you would be good for each other. That you should face the uncertainty of her feelings toward you with confidence, you would never know if you didn't ask, right?

“You’re still my friend Steve. That hasn’t changed.”

You call out as he’s about to turn the corner to leave the kitchen, you need him to know that. That no matter what, he’s still your friend.

He gives you a nod that lets you know you haven't lost him and you breathe a little easier.

...

“Hey,” You don't turn around to see her, you don't look up from the glass of brandy in your hands, you don't think you can.

“It’s… good to see you.”

“Yep.” You mutter as you finish your drink and place it down on the counter. “So good,” The sarcasm is clear in your voice and you ignore the urge to look up when you feel that she’s moving closer.

You don't want to look up, you don’t want to see her a year older than before. You don't want to feel your chest cave in when you see her, when the breath is stolen from you and held hostage.

You missed her, god you missed her so much and now she’s right here and you can’t even look at her.

“I’m sorry.” Maybe it’s the drinks you’ve had or maybe it's the emotions that keep piling up that pull the words from you, but all you know is that they ring true.

You’re apologizing to her and a part of you wants to snatch it back before it takes flight, before there is no way you can get it back.

But you are sorry, for being weak, for falling head over heels for her, for loving her so much that she had to turn away to breathe.

“I’m sorry.”

...

#natasha romanoff x reader #the avengers #maria hill x reader #wlw marvel #black widow #carol danvers #natasha romanoff #steve rogers #agent hill #maria hill

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bakacentipede · 3 years ago

Text

KAEDEHARA KAZUHA X READER (AU)

part 1

Just A KAZUHA FLUFF CAUSE I LOVE HIM TOO MUCH.

Kaedehara Kazuha, the way his presence feels, it's contradicting because although it feels like a soft spring breeze that makes me smile to myself but at the same time it's almost as terrifying, no wait- it's as intimidating as the grey sky preparing to rain and ruining the plans I make once in a thousand years.

His platinum blonde hair with a crimson strand is always tied up in a messy ponytail, framing His face perfectly, making his features look even softer.

His eyes look so beautiful everytime he tries to focus, its cute.

I hate literature ngl even though I love reading poetries and writing and stuff but literature class has no RIGHT TO BE THIS BORING, well I can always admire Kazuha, I promise I'm not a creep, i just really like him.

For some reason everytime I'm in Literature, i always feel like someone's staring at me but when I look around ITS LITERALLY NO ONE. I can't be just dreaming. Don't tell me someone thinks of me as I think of Kazuha-

nevermind, I need to stay humble.

It's Friday today, and I'm heading towards my literature class right now THANKFULLY it's our last class for the day and I can't wait to see Kazuha!! I just hope the professor doesn't ruin it all by giving us assignments-

I walk into the empty class not checking if someone's there rambling about how much I hate this class and that's when I hear someone say, "Why do you dislike this class,y/n?"

-oh hell nah, he knows my name????????

"...oh kazuha- i just find it boring that's all" I kindly smiled at the blonde haired boy.

He furrowed his eyebrows confused as to ask me why I'd find something so interesting, so boring. Putting my bag on my desk, I turn to him, "Don't get me wrong, I love literature as a subject, that's why i chose to study it" I paused to think what to say next "well maybe it's just the professor."

He giggled as shook his head in agreement, "I won't deny that, he does make it sound boring"

-I've never seen him laugh, he's beautiful.

"Mr. Bradley needs some caffeine in his system" I continued as we both laughed at my VERY lame joke, oh God why did you not give me the ability to hold a conversation without being lame???

Class was filling up slowly as other students came in along with our professor, as much as i hated it, we bid our goodbyes and went back to our assigned seats.

"Students, i have something special for you today" Mr Bradley,our professor stated.

please no assignments, please pleassssseeee

Mr. Bradley continued in a lazy tone, "I'm giving out this assignment which you have to complete this weekend and present it on Monday, no excuses"

oh hell no

The class was filled with the sounds of unsatisfied students not wanting to work on the project.

"there's a good news though" Professor tried really hard to sound enthusiastic but failed miserably, "you'll be working in a group of two!!! isn't it lovely students?"

"please no its not" I muttered under my breath.

uh oh someone's staring again

ignore the feeling y/n and focus in the class you dimwit.

Everyone started to look at eachother's bestfriend to partner up but Mr. Bradley had something else in mind.

"Silence class, you cannot pair with anyone of your choice, i have made the groups myself and I will not be hearing any complaints, understood?" Mr. Bradley made himself clear as he distributed the list that had the assigned groups in it.

I patiently went through the list trying to find my name, too lazy to even care.

Group S

Y/F/N (Your full name) x Kaedehara Kazuha

wait what-

I looked twice just to check I wasn't seeing things, I turned around with wide eyes to look at where he was sitting and much to my surprise he was looking at me too.

okay-

He gave me a toothy grin and mouthed, "see you after class" and all I could do was nod.

I KNOW IM OVERREACTING but I've liked him for two years now and today for the first time I actually had a conversation with him AND NOW IM EVEN PARTNERED UP WITH HIM!???

I don't even know how to react but as much as working on a project sucks, atleast I'll get to spend time with Kazuha.

The sound of the bell ringing filled the corridors signaling its time to go home, and I'm gonna shit myself, because KAEDEHARA KAZUHA IS COMING TOWARDS ME????

I hate to say it but I'm a simp, this man has me swooped. Need to act tough-

"Hey y/n, so we're gonna be working together this weekend." He smiled, a hint of hesitation in his eyes. I looked at him "You don't have to worry, I can even do it myself... if partnering up with me makes you any uncomfortable.

I smiled, I'm trying really hard to not make it awkward but I guess I'm making things worse????

"oh no its not like that" he said, nervously "I'm used to doing things by myself and it's the first time I've ever been in a group project. But I'm glad i got to partner up with you and no one else-"

oh?

his eyes widened as he panicked, " Oh dear me, what I meant was that-"

I cut him off, "I get what you mean, please don't worry." I assured him with a smile.

he sighed, a gentle laugh leaving his mouth, "shall we walk to the gates together? we can't just stay inside the classroom."

We continued walking together, not really saying anything. it wasn't uncomfortable but it was slightly nerve-racking for me cause you know-

"oh by the way, where can we work on the project?" he questioned as he broke down the silence.

oh no I totally forgot about that-

"we could work at my place" I suggested "since there wouldn't be anyone to bother us because my family left the town yesterday to visit our relatives and will be staying there over the weekend."

what am i doing I sound so idk horny?

He seemed to think about it for a minute, "You know what that's actually wonderful, my house is a bit loud and going to a Cafe might not make us feel comfortable enough" he said, shyly.

I smiled at the thoughts of him and me being alone, OFCOURSE FOR THE ASSIGNMENT.

"Oh can I get your number? so you could send me your address." Kazuha said politely and oh my god-

IM GONNA HAVE HIS NUMBER?????

"sure" i smiled as I typed away my number on his phone and saved his number on mine too and texted him my address.

"it's better to start today, I think? The assignment seems like it might take alot of time." i stated genuinely, feeling extremely shy with the thought of him being in my room nak-

nvm.

"yes that's better, I'll come by your place at 4:00 pm with the materials, is that okay?" he asked turning his head away to hide his embarrassment.

SIR MARRY MY RIGHT NOW.

I smiled and nodded and replied with a soft yes.

We reached our University's gates, and turned to look at eachother.

"See you soon" we said at the same.

"JINX" I screamed and he just looked at me wide eyed for a second and then laughed as he threw his head back, "well well y/n, goodbye, see you later." He waved as he started walking the other way.

"BYE BYE" I said back

Turning around to walk his opposite direction, with thousands of thoughts in my head and the sound of his giggles and laughter filled my head OH LORD HAVE MERCY I CAN'T IT'S TOO MUCH TO PROCESS!!!!

anywayyyyyyyyy

sigh

it's definitely going to be a long day today.

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED PART ONE, THE STORY WASN'T SUPPOSED TO BE SO LONG BUT I JUST KEPT ON WRITING!!

THE NEXT CHAPTER MIGHT HAVE SMUT IN IT- (ง'̀-'́)ง

I REALLY ENJOYED WRITING THIS PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU LIKED IT OR NOT! Please send in requests too!!!

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!

（‐＾▽＾‐）

-centipede samaᕙ(`▽´)ᕗ

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #kazuha #kaedehara kazuha #kazuha fluff #kazuha x reader #kaedehara kazuha x reader #inazuma #genshin fluff

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q-gorgeous · 4 years ago

Text

Lightning

fanfiction

hi im still on this also im too lazy to put this on ao3 since the rest of dannymay2020 is only on ffn knjbhgv

Lightning flashed above the trees as Danny ran through the forest. His feet slapped through the mud and the rain plastered his hair to his face.

His powers were shorted out and the hunters pursuing him were gaining on him. He couldn’t last much longer just running through the dark, slippery forest. He’d have to find somewhere to hide eventually.

As he passed another tree, the woods opened up into a small clearing. He could see a small pavilion-picnic structure before the path led to a parking lot further away. This was going to be his best shot for now. He slowed as he walked closer to it, looking for a way in when he suddenly walked into someone’s chest.

Panic shooting through his chest, Danny punched the person in the stomach and tried to dart away before they grabbed onto his arms.

“What the fuck… Fenton?”

Danny looked up with wide eyes into Dash Baxter’s face. He could cry from both relief and dismay right now.

“Why do you look like you’re being chased by ghosts?” Dash paused. “Are you being chased by ghosts?”

Danny shook his head. “Not ghosts.” He panted. “Hunters.”

Dash’s eyes widened. “Hunters? Why are hunters chasing you? Are they serial killers?”

“They’re ghost hunters. They’ve been chasing me for 30 minutes-”

“Why are ghost hunters chasing you?” Dash asked, his brows furrowed.

“That’s not important.” Danny said as he began to look around again. “I need to find somewhere to hide before-”

The rustling of bushes could be heard coming from the direction Danny had run from. Whispers made their way through the rain towards them.

“Shit!” Danny whispered.

Then Danny was being pushed towards the room in the pavilion. “Dash, there’s no time. It’ll take too long for us to open-” Danny stopped as Dash opened the door and shoved him inside. “-it.” Dash started pulling off his letterman jacket and the hoodie he was wearing underneath it. He handed both to Danny. “Put these on.”

“What?”

“Put them on! You don’t want them to recognize you, right?”

Danny looked at Dash for a moment before shoving both the oversized hoodie and letterman jacket over his small frame. Once he had the letterman jacket situated, he felt Dash pull the hood up over his head.

“Okay, so here’s what we’re gonna do if they come in here. We’re-”

Both Danny and Dash looked over Dash’s shoulder as they heard the doorknob rattle.

Dash turned back to Danny and got real close, pushing him against the wall.

“We have to pretend to makeout.”

“What?” Danny looked up at him.

“What else are two teenagers gonna be doing here in the middle of the night? They won’t ask us any questions if they think we’ve been macking on each other the whole time.” “Like a fakeout makeout?”

“Yeah?” Dash looked down at him. “Why do you have a name for that-”

The door opened behind Dash and he pushed himself even closer to Danny, his face inches from his own. Dash’s hand came to rest against his cheek and the two men who entered the room started talking.

“I don’t think he’ll be here. The ectoplasm readings aren’t high enough and-” The man who was speaking paused and Danny felt himself tense up. “See I told you. It’s just some teenagers who are probably from Amity Park. All those people there have small ecto signatures, it was too low to be that ghost.”

Dash jumped and turned around to face them, faking embarrassment.

The other man scoffed. “He couldn’t have gotten far, he couldn’t fly.” The man looked at the two of them. “Have either of you kids seen a ghost around here? White hair? Weird jumpsuit outfit?”

Danny felt Dash tense up at the mention of his ghost half’s description. “No, we haven’t seen any ghosts since we left Amity Park. Is there a dangerous one roaming around out here?”

The first man nodded. “We’ve been following a level eight ghost for about a mile and a half now. We’re worried about it getting back to town.”

“Huh. Well we haven’t seen anything. But, I think we,” Dash grabbed Danny by the waist and pulled him to his side, “are going to head back into town. We wouldn’t want to get mauled out here where no one can find us.”

“What about your friend there? Has he seen anything? He’s been awfully quiet.” The second man said, leveling a look at Danny.

“Oh him?” Dash laughed nervously. “He’s mute. He doesn’t talk, but he’s been with me the whole time so he wouldn’t have seen anything either.”

The man pursed his lips. “Okay, well, have a nice night you two. Stay safe in that weather out there.”

“Thanks!” Dash said as he waved at them. “You too!”

He pulled away from Danny and grabbed him by the hand, quickly pulling him out of the building and towards his car. He didn’t pull away until he had shoved Danny into the passenger seat of his car and was heading around to the driver’s seat.

Danny watched the men walk out of the building as they drove away. The further away they got, the more Danny relaxed into the seat.

He let out a breath and looked over at Dash. “Thanks, I would’ve been toast without you there. You should drive around town a bit just in case they decide to follow us.”

Dash glanced at Danny before turning his eyes back to the road. “Why were they looking for Phantom?”

Danny paused. “What?”

“Phantom. Ghost with white hair, weird jumpsuit outfit.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, Fenton!” Dash shouted. “Don’t lie to me! Were you just hanging out with him? Why didn’t he stay with you? Why didn’t he try to keep them off of your trail? Were you protecting him?”

“I don’t know why they thought I looked like Phantom. They were chasing me, not him.”

“That doesn’t even make sense. How would they confuse you for Phantom? You don’t even-” Dash paused as Wes’s words crawled through his brain, insisting to the whole student body that Danny was Phantom. Dash’s mouth dropped open and he slammed on the breaks, coming to a sudden stop in the middle of the road.

Danny braced himself against his seat and the door. “Dash! What the hell!”

“You really are Phantom, aren’t you?” Dash said, facing Danny.

“No, I’m not.” Danny said, glaring at Dash.

“Oh, shove it. Why else would they describe Phantom when they were chasing you through the forest? You realize that doesn’t make sense, right?” “So, what, I tell you I’m Phantom so you can call me a freak and tell the school?” Danny scoffed. “Yeah, right. No thanks.”

Dash stared at Danny, his expression dropping. “You really think I’d tell the whole school?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t you?” Danny mumbled back.

Dash continued to stare at Danny. “Because they would hurt you.”

Danny let out a dry laugh.

“What? Why do you think I stopped wondering where you hung out when you weren’t fighting ghosts? I’m not stupid enough to ignore all the ghosts and ghost hunters that have it out for your neck!” Dash sighed. “The longer the GIW were in Amity Park the more I realized the kind of danger you were in.”

Danny’s gaze flicked over to Dash.

“It wasn’t even just the GIW. Your parents-” Dash’s mouth dropped open again. “What the fuck! Your parents! They hunt you!”

“They don’t know.”

“Well no shit!” Dash ran a hand through his hair. “Holy shit.”

“Listen, Dash, while I would love to keep exposing my deepest secrets to you, I’d really like to get out of this forest.”

“Right, right.” Dash sat forward in his seat again, driving forward.

Silence settled over them, Danny staring out his window and Dash flicking his gaze to the other boy frequently.

They finally made it back into town and Dash drove up and down and around the different streets a couple times before finally pulling up in front of Fentonworks.

Danny sighed and unbuckled his seatbelt. “Finally. Thanks, for, you know.” He was about to get out of the car when he paused, looking down at the jacket and hoodie he was still wearing. “Here, I almost forgot-” Danny started shrugging out of the letterman jacket when Dash stopped him.

“It’s still raining. You can borrow them and give them back to me on Monday.”

Danny’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure? Don’t you want something to wear in the rain?”

Dash shrugged. “I’ll be fine. I think I have another hoodie buried in here somewhere.”

“Okay, well.” Danny grabbed the door handle. “Bye.” He quickly climbed out of the car and darted up the stairs to the front door. Before he closed it, he turned back to Dash and waved goodbye and shut the door.

Dash waited a few seconds before taking a deep breath and he started to drive away.

He had a feeling he wouldn’t be getting the sight of Danny in his jacket out of his head anytime soon.

#gorgi writes #danny phantom #dannymay2020 #danny fenton #dash baxter #swagger bishie #fanfic #fic #fanfiction #phic #hi guys im still chugging away at this #my goal is to be done before this years dannymay starts njkhbg #i pulled this fic straight out of my butt i had no notes or plans #except for a spur of the moment line #which was the first one in the fic kjnbhg

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dancingamongstdust · 3 years ago

Text

MHA Scenarios - First Meeting (Part 1)

Cellophane

Despite the U.A.’s insistence that the hero course wasn’t a spectacle for the rest of the world to watch, often when there was some free time, many students flocked to areas where the classes were training. They would lean against trees or pretend to be doing homework while watching the show of fire, explosions, and acid.

You were one of those observers. With a textbook in your lap, you sat beneath a tree with your friends, and watched 1A train their quirks.

The grass tickled at your legs and the sun warmed your skin. It was such a beautiful day despite the sounds of fighting. Occasionally a wash of warmth would flood over you as a large attack went off but you mostly ignored it.

“I think the green-haired one is the cutest,” one of the girls with you said. “He’s super sweet and clearly he’s really strong.”

“Have you seen the Todoroki boy though?” another responded. “Cute and brooding.”

You laughed, making a comment to more agree with the latter though you wouldn’t be interested in anybody as cold as that. Rumours floated around that he never spoke, not even to his own classmates. Many also believed his temper was as bad as his father’s given his massive attacks during the sports festival.

But you didn’t listen all too much to gossip about the hero course. Instead, you just enjoyed watching them in action and running away when their teacher spotted you all.

Luckily, today Eraserhead seemed preoccupied at the end of their class so most of the other students could hang around longer. While he was busy lecturing two of his students, the rest began making their way to the change rooms.

Almost instantly, everybody took advantage of being spared his glare and watched the heroes-in-training.

Some seemed uncomfortable with the rest of the school’s presence while others relished in it. You watched as the shortest of the group winked at every girl, he made eye contact with, including yourself and laughed as a girl from general studies attempted to confess to the most explosive hero of the class.

But it was a specific member who caught your eye and she waved excitedly when she saw you, hurrying over. “Hey!” she greeted. “Were you guys watching us train?”

You stood, brushing grass off your clothing, and smiling. “Yeah, we were. Couldn’t see much of you though, you were almost completely hidden.”

Mina sighed. “It’s so sad how these things happen. My acid doesn’t stand out too much amongst this group.”

You hadn’t known Mina for very long but your friendship was pretty strong. She had attached herself to you due to your talent with making her photos perfect (something of a challenge thanks to her skin tone often contrasting with everything).

Your other friends slipped away, clearly wanting better looks at whomever was being lectured. That kind of gossip went for a high price.

Somebody called for Mina and she gestured them over. “These are the best people in the hero course aside from yours truly,” she said. “Kirishima, Kaminari, and Sero.” She gave them your name as well and you politely greeted them each.

“Your electricity is really impressive,” you told Kaminari. “Everybody talks about it when we’re watching the training.”

He smiled widely at that but Mina just groaned. “Of course, everybody notices the flashy quirk. Do you know how many people still think that my quirk is being pink?”

“It’s because they get distracted with bright lights and don’t notice the actual talent,” Sero told her playfully. “Don’t worry about it.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s not true.”

He chuckled. “It so is.”

“I mean, I notice your quirk all the time,” you said. “And it doesn’t have any lights. You’re just extremely smooth while fighting so you draw the eye.”

He seemed doubtful about that, acting as though you were complimenting him just for the sake of it. “Sure, sure. But when Bakugou unleashes a couple explosions, I bet your attention moves directly to him.”

“It doesn’t. I can prove it also.”

“How so?”

You gestured to the tree. “I’m always sitting right here. Keep an eye out for me next time – you’ll see whose fighting I favour watching.”

Chargebolt

It was a good day for there to be a pipe burst just outside of school.

The sun was shining, there was almost no wind, and there weren’t any large assignments due for almost a week. Overall, everything surrounding the day made it perfect for some rest and relaxation.

Your friend group finally made it up to the crest of the hill and stared around at the beautiful landscape. The view was magnificent. Almost as awe-inspiring as the school that you now stood across from. Every person knew about the hero school U.A. and now you had seen it in person.

“Imagine what it must be like to train to be a hero,” you mused. “I’m sure I would absolutely despise every second of it.”

Everybody laughed, jokes spreading about how they would be too lazy for constant workouts or how their hero names would just be too embarrassing. One girl whose quirk allowed her to pop her eyeballs out made a joke about how her entire career would surround traumatizing children.

“Why hello,” a very high-pitched voice greeted.

You startled, looking down at the small boy. He had bright purple hair and a cocky smirk on his face that just screamed trouble.

Luckily for you, his attention was more focused on others.

“I’m guessing you ladies are here to admire the toughest heroes in the country, right?” he said. “Well, luckily for you, you’re looking at one of the best in the entire school.”

You snorted. “Are you even old enough to be walking around without your parent?”

“Nobody was asking you,” he retorted. “I was speaking to the absolute beauties before me.”

Yourself and two girls that he was ignoring took steps away. They seemed interested in fighting however while you just enjoyed the show. It wasn’t the first time that your group had been annoyed by pervs and you each had different ways of dealing with it.

While he was busy screaming in shock as two eyeballs fell from a girl’s skull, somebody approached you, looking rather embarrassed.

“I’m sorry about him,” the blond said. He kept a confident smile on but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “He’s not well-versed in speaking to beautiful woman.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, willing to play along with somebody who made eye contact before staring at your boobs. Unlike his friend. “And I’m guessing that you’re much better at that?”

“Oh definitely,” he said, stretching. He wore his U.A. uniform still but carried little of the arrogance you had come to expect from the school.

“Well, show me your best line then,” you said, turning to face him properly.

He startled at that. For a second, he eyed you cautiously as though your response was some kind of prank. Then he cleared his throat and said, “You owe me a drink.”

You smiled at the cheesiness. “And why is that?”

“Because you spilled it – wait, no, because you’re so beautiful that you made me spill it.”

You brought your hand to your mouth, laughing at the world’s most common pickup line that still managed to fail somehow. “Points for trying,” you said. “Though, I’ll give you a hint. When you go and hit on your next target, you can start with your name. Makes you seem a little less forward.”

He blushed at that but pointed to himself regardless. “I’m Denki Kaminari,” he introduced himself.

You offered your name. “And you’re a U.A. student?”

“Yeah, I’m in the hero course.”

“Oh that’s why you look so familiar,” you said. “I’ve seen you in the news before. You’re the electricity guy, right?”

He clicked his fingers and a spark jumped between them. Unfortunately, you were standing close enough that it then moved to you. It wasn’t powerful enough to hurt but you still jumped at the unexpected jolt.

“Shit, sorry,” he said.

“No problem,” you replied with a smile. “It was nice meeting you Kaminari. I’m going to go and save your friend from being beaten up though. See you around!”

Creati

The rain was pouring down outside, whipping the trees around. It seemed to be desperate to reach where you stood beneath a roof outcropping. A few splashes landed on your shoes and you shuffled back further still.

Just one short run.

Holding your bag against your chest, you lowered your head and ran for it. The ground was slippery beneath your feet but you managed to keep your balance pretty well. At least, you did until somebody collided with you. Given how everybody was holding their heads down, it was inevitable.

You went down with a squelch into the mud, a sharp pain shooting through both knees and one arm. There was a yelp as the other person fell also.

Rain pounded on your heads. You glanced up to find another student sitting on her ass. She had been carrying her bag on her chest also which had saved it from the mud.

Your own was less lucky.

Cursing under your breath, you dragged yourself to your feet and held out a hand to her. You had to use your weaker one because it was the only part of you that wasn’t covered in mud.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologised.

“No, I am,” she said. “That was entirely my fault! I wasn’t looking where I was going and –“

A flash of lightning illuminated the sky and you both froze. Thinking at the same time, you put your apologies on hold to rush to the closest shelter, thankfully the entrance of the school that you were both heading into either way.

You looked down at your ruined uniform and groaned. It was going to be really difficult to clean and certainly wouldn’t be alright before class.

The girl was mud-splattered also. Flecks covered her face and the back of her high pony was dripping with the stuff.

“We’re making an awful mess…” you said, looking down at the floor.

Other students rushed past you guys, a few giving you curious looks.

“We can get slightly cleaned up in the bathroom,” she urged. “Come on.”

You followed her into the nearest bathroom and quickly went to work dropping your ruined bag in the corner and cleaning off your arms and legs. “I really am sorry,” you said when she let her hair down. “I didn’t mean to bump into you.”

She shook her head. “No, that really was my fault. I’m so sorry.”

“We’re both going to get into trouble with uniforms now though,” you said. “That’s not great. I was really hoping to fly under the radar today… what are you doing?”

She had lifted up the bottom of her shirt and her skin seemed to be glowing brightly. After a second, a perfectly folded skirt emerged. She took it and placed it in front of her before turning to you, “What size do you wear?”

“What?”

“I’ll make you some replacements quickly if you let me know what size you are.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You can do that?”

She nodded. “I’m going to make you another bag also so you can start taking all your stuff out.”

You rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly. “I really appreciate this but you don’t have to –“

“It doesn’t cost me anything,” she said with a smile.

Soon, you left the bathroom with a new uniform and bag. The only signs that you had even slipped was the occasional bit of mud that you had missed. She followed you out and the two of you soon came to a split in the corridors.

You reached out and rubbed some mud from her arm. “I should have known you were hero course,” you joked. “Thanks for everything and I really am sorry for running into you. Perhaps you can tell me your name? That way I can brag when you’re a famous hero one day.”

She blushed but held out her hand. “I’m Momo Yaoyorozu. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Deku

It all began in the early hours of the morning when the sun had just made its way over the horizon. Having arrived sooner than anticipated, you were standing outside with your friends and talking about various aspects of life. A topic that, inevitably, brought up quirks.

Everybody began messing around with their own. Some levitated their bags while others changed their hair colour – simple things that weren’t all too impressive but remained entertaining.

You played around with your own a little, relishing in the freedom that came with using it.

Something that always irritated you was the inability to use your quirk in public settings. Especially when it was something benign. For this reason, you adored your school more than most other locations. U.A. inspired a sense of relief due to its casual acceptance of pretty much anybody. No matter their size, quirk, or appearance.

By the time you had finished your conversation, you all had begun heading into the main building. You reached into your pocket to quickly realise that your phone was missing.

“See you guys in class,” you said to your friends, darting out to grab it again.

You exited the main door, scanning the area when somebody tapped your arm.

“Sorry, you left this outside.”

“Oh!” you said, taking your phone. “Thank you! I was just coming to look for this.”

The person who had helped you offered a cheery smile. He was recognisable in the way that all hero-course students were. They carried their personalities in their walks. Yet, his name completely escaped you.

“No problem,” he said. “I was really hoping I could find you instead of turning it in.”

The two of you walked back into the building alongside one another. “At least at a hero school, I don’t have to worry about it going missing,” you joked. “I feel like I should know your name but it’s just slipping from my mind, sorry.”

“Izuku Midoriya,” he said. “Why should you know my name?”

“Oh, come on. Like you don’t know that 1A are basically local celebrities.”

He blushed at that, coughing as he scrambled to regain his composure. “I don’t… well, I don’t know about being famous or anything. We’re just regular students, really.”

“Except you’re attacked by villains constantly.”

“Except for that, yes.”

You laughed, drawing unneeded attention from other students in the hall. They were all staring and trying to figure out if they could spread any kind of gossip about this interaction. The local soap opera that was class 1A had many students involved in the happenings of others’ lives.

“So, I noticed you were using your quirk earlier,” Midoriya said, bringing your attention back to him. His hair helped him to stand out with its fluffy, green nature but his voice remained soft. “Do you have any pro-heroes in your family?”

“One of my aunts,” you said. “She inspired me to come to U.A. in the first place.”

He surprised you by immediately saying her hero name. When you didn’t initially respond, he gave you a quizzical look.

“Yes, how did you know?”

“Your quirks are similar but not enough for immediate family,” he said. “Do you have the same limitations with your own? I know she has a weakness with it that many villains like to exploit which could be the reason why she’s never risen higher in the rankings… not that she isn’t a great hero, of course, but it’s a well-known flaw in her quirk.”

You chuckled at that. “I mean, well-known for a very small level hero,” you said. “The types of villains that she deals with hardly have the brain cells to remember their own names.”

“It doesn’t make her work any less important.”

You smiled at that, appreciative of the notion. “I don’t actually know much about her quirk,” you admitted. “My own is pretty lack-luster. I can experiment with it and let you know what I find out, if you really want to know.”

“Yeah! That would be great! I could – oh, wait, no that’s probably an odd thing to say…” he trailed off, looking lost in thought. “Well, just let me know?”

“Of course,” you said. “Bye! Have a great day.”

Your own classroom felt surprisingly uninteresting without him there. You looked around at all the familiar faces and smiled. It wasn’t like you wouldn’t see him again.

Dynamight

“What are you, a coward?”

You glanced up from your phone, the challenge lighting a spark in your eyes. “No,” you said. “I just don’t take bets that I know I’m going to lose.”

Sighing dramatically, your friend slumped back in her chair and toyed with the food in front of her. She huffed a stray strand of hair from her face. “You used to be fun,” she groaned. “What happened to the person who would take any dare, no matter how high the odds?”

“I just don’t see the point in wagering my daifuku, one of my favourite snacks by the way, on something pointless.”

“It’s not like you have to land a date, just talk to him for like a minimum of a minute.”

You glanced down at your dessert and contemplated her offer. The cafeteria was busy, as always, and you could hear almost four conversations going on at once. Most were unrelated to schoolwork but quite a few mentioned the infamous class 1A who were sitting on the opposite side of the room.

From where you were, you could make out a few of the more recognisable members, including the reason that everybody was discussing the class right now.

“I feel like you’re setting me up for failure,” you said. “He’s clearly in a bad mood already.”

“When is he not?”

Groaning, you stood up from the table and stretched a little. “If I come back uninjured, you have to double the payment, alright?”

Perhaps you had too much of a reputation already – or maybe people were just shameless eavesdroppers – but several perked up as you made your way toward the hero course’s regular tables. They were all prepared for some kind of show, be it from you or from the subject of your attention.

Class 1A’s personal explosive, Katsuki Bakugo had made a scene not too long ago, prompting the very dare that had you making you way over there.

His table hosted five people and you chose the pink girl’s seat to lean over once you arrived.

“Sorry to interrupt,” you greeted with a smile though your eyes held Bakugo’s.

He was agitated, that much was obvious, but you weren’t sure if it was the normal level or not. Your appearance definitely wasn’t a positive though.

“Who are you?” he snapped.

“An admirer,” you responded, allowing your attention to now rove over the other confused students. “Not just of you but of the entire hero course. I always wanted to apply but never quite got the marks so I was curious what its like. And you seem to be, by far, the most approachable of the lot.”

The girl you were standing beside snorted with laughter. “Good one,” she said, holding out her hand. “I’m Mina.”

You introduced yourself with a smile, keeping the majority of your attention on Bakugo. “I do know most of your names,” you said. “Though that’s not saying too much. You’re all over the school and the news most weeks.”

“Ugh, tell me about it,” she complained. “Do you want to sit with us?”

“I would love to,” you said, gladly taking a seat beside her and flashing Bakugo a bright smile. “Has anybody told you that your hair is adorable? Like it suits your whole aesthetic so well.”

“Fuck off.”

One of the other boys chuckled a little awkwardly but still responded with a shark-toothed grin. “Sorry, Bakugo doesn’t like compliments too much.”

“I don’t like them when they’re so clearly fake,” he scoffed, eyeing you up. “I know you morons struggle to understand but people don’t just come over to make friends. This is a dare of some kind, isn’t it?”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t make friends while winning some extra dessert,” you said.

“People dare each other to come say hi to us?” the blond electricity guy asked. He had a charger hanging from his mouth.

“Not all of you.”

Bakugo scoffed, standing up from his chair sharply. “Hope you lose,” he said, storming away from the table and disappearing into the crowd.

Earphone Jack

The words ‘joint class’ had seemed fun when it was first mentioned. It wasn’t often that you interacted with students outside of your course and many had presumed that it would be a simple way to split Present Mic’s focus between more people.

Unfortunately, you should have all seen the group project part coming.

“Working in the pro-hero industry will often have you alongside complete strangers,” it had been explained. “Whether on the battlefield or behind the scenes, you’re going to have some great times meeting new people and learning about your own limitations. I’ve chosen who I think you’ll get along with but I could be very wrong. We’ll have to see.”

You all groaned, already anticipating the lengthy assignment that would be coming up. It probably wouldn’t be as bad for the hero course students.

For the pairs, it was pretty expected. Nobody from the same course was working together and the majority of the pairs stuck to the same gender.

You understood why when you heard the small purple one start complaining about it being discriminatory or something.

Present Mic stood in front of your desk before you even knew it, a grin on his face.

Often, you thought that you were one of his favourites. You focused on his class and always actively engaged. Sometimes you would even see him outside of class and he would give you a great wave.

You really hoped that those kind sentiments carried over.

“You’re going to be working with Kyoka Jiro,” he announced. Then, leaning forward, he added, “The one with the purple hair and the audio jacks on her ears.”

Thankful that he hadn’t left you floundering, you stood up and took a deep breath. Going over and speaking to a new person shouldn’t be that hard but you really didn’t want to… still, it wasn’t optional.

“Hi,” you said when she looked up at your approach. “I believe we’re in a team. You’re Jiro, right?”

She rubbed the back of her head awkwardly but still smiled. “Yeah, that’s me. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

You sat down in the chair in front of her desk – vacant thanks to its occupant speaking to their own group member. “Present Mic said that he paired us up with people he thinks we’d get along with. Aside from my adoration of your hair, what else do we have in common?”

She reached up and touched her hair, laughing a little awkwardly. “Thank you. Maybe we both listen to the same music?”

“That could be it, what kind of things do you listen to?”

Jiro opened up at that question, immediately launching into a detailed conversation about her favourite and least favourite genres. You had heard of some of the bands that she mentioned but most were a little too obscure.

Then, you made a connection.

“Wait, your dad isn’t Kyotoku Jiro, is he?” you asked. “I used to listen to some of his old songs all the time.”

Jiro’s eyes lit up. “Really? He’s not extremely well-known so most people don’t know he even has songs but I’m super proud of my dad’s music. How did you find out about him?”

You were going to answer when Present Mic cleared his throat and you all turned your attention back to him.

“I’ll tell you about it later,” you whispered to Jiro.

The group project was actually far simpler than you had anticipated and probably could be done in the dedicated time you were provided with. Unfortunately, it seemed that Jiro and you were abysmally slow workers when together and so, you just had to spend more time together outside of class.

Even after it was handed in.

Froppy

Generally, you found that if you visited the pools just before lunch, there would be absolutely nobody there. It would be the perfect time to get some swimming done without worrying about interrupting anybody or feeling bad because you weren’t as fast as some of the hero course students.

You didn’t go every day but, when you had some spare time, you happily made your way to the pool.

About twenty minutes into your swimming though, you popped your head up to head up to hear somebody in the changing rooms. You knew that you shouldn’t get nervous. The pool was for everybody in the school and it was more than large enough that you could avoid social situations.

But still, your stomach churned.

You continued swimming, though now you were keeping your head up to watch for whoever came through the door. After what felt like forever, a small girl emerged with dark green hair.

She smiled when she saw you had noticed her and gave a friendly wave. “Hello.”

“Hi,” was your eloquent response.

She got in on the other side of the pool and you continued swimming your laps. For a while, you waited for her to start so that you could see how fast she swam but she just sat in the water with her eyes closed and her face turned to the sun.

You pulled yourself out of the pool to sit on the side, taking a brief break in your exercise. There was no need to be in pain tomorrow.

She opened her eyes and smiled at you. “You swim really well.”

“Oh,” you said, a blush igniting behind your cheeks. “Thank you. I’ve been doing it for a long time.”

Her voice was croaky but not in an awkward way. You actually really enjoyed the sound of it – enough that you willingly engaged in the conversation in order to hear her speak.

“Are you sunbathing?” you asked.

“Soaking,” she responded. “My skin is more amphibian-like so I really need to keep it hydrated. I’m Tsu, by the way.”

You smiled and told her your name. She repeated it and you quickly found out that you really liked the way she said it. “Which course are you in?” you asked, wanting to keep the conversation going.

“I’m in the hero course,” she said. “It’s fun but it gets quite dangerous from time to time.”

“I would guess so… hopefully nothing too bad though.”

She shrugged. “I’ve nearly died once because a villain with a disintegration quirk tried to grab my face. That was terrifying.”

Your eyes went wide. “What?”

“Thankfully our teacher can take quirks away if he looks at you,” she said. “And then All Might arrived so everything ended well. I’m lucky that my quirk doesn’t hurt me or anything because lots of my other classmates have those kinds of issues. It’s just a little inconvenient to have to lounge in the pool every now and then.”

“I would pay good money to have that kind of quirk,” you said with a sigh. “I would use it to get here during super boring classes.”

“That’s what I’m doing right now.”

You both laughed.

“I only managed to get here early due to being given some time to do an assignment. Because I got it done last night, I’m just relaxing a little before lunch,” you explained. You checked the time on the large clock. “Actually, it looks like I may need to go and get changed.”

Time had slipped by faster than you realised and you quickly changed back into your school uniform after giving Tsu a wave. You were actually a little disappointed to think that you had to go back to class instead of swimming.

But you weren’t expecting to see Tsu standing outside when you exited, already changed into her uniform.

“I thought you may want to sit with me and my friends today,” she offered. “They’ve got pretty cool quirks and experiences in the hero course.”

“Are you sure?”

“Why not? I can already tell that we’re going to be good friends so we may as well start now.”

You chuckled, covering your mouth to hide your slight blush. “Alright then. I’d love to.”

Ingenium

U.A. was a massive building with many corridors and even more classrooms. You had waited outside for half an hour before giving up and heading in by yourself. It hadn’t seemed like too bad of an idea at the time.

Perhaps you should have waited for your guide a little longer.

You walked the first and second floors twice, constantly looking for anybody who you recognised. The day before, you had been introduced to your class and the elected class president who promised to show you around. Except now you were wondering the corridors alone and hoping that you got to your main room on time.

When it didn’t look like that was going to happen though, you had to bite the bullet and ask somebody for help. Something you had been hoping to avoid.

Many students surrounding you looked extremely intimidating. They were all in their own groups and it would be extremely uncomfortable to approach anybody. So you chose the sweetest-looking girl that you could and made your way to her.

“Hi,” you greeted. “I’m so sorry to bother you but could you possibly tell me how to get to my class. I just transferred over and I’m completely lost.”

She was adorable with bright eyes and rosy cheeks. A massive smile appeared on her face. “Of course!” she said. “Where do you need to go?”

The other members of her small group were looking at you but none seemed too unfriendly so you relaxed a little. “I’m in 1G, the support department? My class president was meant to help me around but she just never showed up.”

At that, the tallest of the group – a guy with glasses and an extremely fancy look to his face – said, “That is unacceptable. They just left you waiting?”

You startled at the question and stared up at him. “Uh… yeah? It isn’t too bad –“

“It’s ridiculous for your class president to leave you standing alone! Their very job is to ensure that every member of the class is comfortable and knowledgeable about various aspects of the school. As class 1A’s president, I shall take you to your homeroom and discuss this with whoever is failing in their duties.”

You blinked, trying desperately to keep up with him. “If it’s not interrupting anything, then I’d definitely appreciate a guide.”

“Of course,” he said. “Follow me, I’ll take you directly there.”

You bid goodbye to the adorable girl and hurried to catch up with the guy who was practically marching his way down the hall. From behind, you could see that large pipes came from his calves. You wondered how his quirk worked.

“Thank you for this,” you said, speed walking to keep up. You gave him your name and asked for his own.

“I’m Tenya Iida,” he introduced himself. “And I’m sorry that you have been let down by your class.”

“I’m sure they were just busy.”

“Did they say that they would help show you around?”

“Well, yes.”

“Then they should have kept that in mind while planning the rest of their engagements,” he said. “There’s no excuse to cancel plans without even notifying the other person. You could have gotten in trouble for arriving to class late or not being able to show up at all.”

That was something you had been worried about. It was never a great way to start at a new school and you would have undoubtedly broken some record for getting a detention.

“Thank you for helping,” you said. “I really appreciate it. Are you in the hero course or something?”

He pushed his glasses up and nodded proudly. “I am indeed. Though I would have given you assistance without my hero training because it’s simply the right thing to do.”

Once around the next corner, he stopped so suddenly that you nearly walked into his back. “This is your classroom.”

A large ‘G’ covered a massive door. Relief washed over you and you opened your mouth to thank him but he was marching into the classroom, heading directly for your class president.

Lemillion

In all honesty, your stress was climbing to new heights. With a test looming and work taking a great deal out of you, it was like walking through tar to try and get things done. Plus there was the ever-present threat of forgetting something and causing trouble for everybody around you.

So you made your way to the library most days and found a comfortable chair to sit in. Once there, you would page through whatever book was needed and work to get as much done as possible.

It was a boring routine but it needed to be done.

Most of the people around you were ignorable, though you didn’t mean it in a cruel way. It was just that you didn’t have enough brain power to focus on them at the moment.

But eventually, you had to take a break when your mind was swimming from studies. You closed the book and took a deep breath.

“Alright, so I’m going to pop in just after she starts class, right? I’ll come through the whiteboard so she doesn’t see me at first, then I’ll hold up the egg and say ‘Wow, this class is really egg-sausting’.”

“Won’t Miss Midnight take offense to that?”

“It’s about her quirk though, not her class.”

“But what if she takes it the wrong way?”

You laughed as softly as you dared, a small snort escaping before you caught it. The group that were speaking sat at the table next to your own. They were a group of three although the one guy wasn’t really involved in the conversation – rather, a blue haired girl discussed the blond guy’s planned jokes.

“I think Midnight has a good sense of humour,” the guy was reasoning. “She’ll laugh at it. Most of the teachers understand my jokes.”

“Don’t you remember when you told Ectoplasm that he was a freak in the sheets?”

That one got a proper chuckle out of you but you managed to keep it quiet enough that they didn’t notice your eavesdropping. Their discussion was certainly lightening the mood.

The guy blushed bright red. “I didn’t think of the other ways that could have been taken,” he admitted. “I was just speaking about those ghost costumes that everybody wears during Halloween, you know… Probably should have just made the boo-berry pie joke and left it there.”

You decided against taking a sip of water, focusing on trying not to laugh at the awful puns you were hearing. Maybe the guy’s quirk was related to telling bad jokes or something.

Or maybe he just had the best worse sense of humour.

They continued speaking for some time and you found yourself giggling at almost every joke that was made. It was hard to concentrate on your work anymore but you surprisingly still got some done and enjoyed every second of it.

You were actually rather disappointed when the group stood up to leave. Two of them headed out of the main door but the blond didn’t follow. You considered glancing around to find him but decided you didn’t want to seem creepy.

And then his face appeared in the middle of your homework.

You yelped in fright and stumbled backwards, nearly falling out of your chair. The guy was half-melded with the table but he laughed and you couldn’t help but smile. His excitement was contagious.

“Hello,” he greeted, standing up and no longer phasing through any solid items. “I’m Mirio. I just wanted to say hi before we left.”

“Oh,” you said. “Um… hi.” You gave him your name and blushed, realising that your eavesdropping hadn’t gone completely unnoticed. Still, he didn’t seem to mind it so you didn’t worry too much.

“I’ll see you around,” he said as he left, waving enthusiastically the entire time.

Phantom Thief

Most days, you relished in the opportunities to speak to new heroes about support items and what they needed to better their quirks. You enjoyed discussing with them and learning about their abilities, and you knew that many in your class had similar sentiments.

After all, that was the very reason that you were studying.

These reason were why you remained confused when your classmates were busy drawing straws when you walked in. None of them bothered to even tell you what was happening, just gesturing for you to take your straw.

You grabbed the closest one in confusion and pulled it out, revealing that luck wasn’t on your side that day.

“Congratulations,” one of the girls said. “You get to talk to Monoma. All the rest of us will be able to choose whoever we want within class 1B once they arrive.”

That was when you realised.

You hadn’t ever had the opportunity to work with the loudest member of the class before and you didn’t envy many that had. The stories they shared about hinted at a mild insanity or, at the very least, obnoxiousness that went unmatched. You definitely weren’t looking forward to that for a good part of your day.

But alas, when 1B entered the room to discuss their options for support items, you made your way over to the blond and gave him your best smile. “Would you mind if I asked you about some support items that you may need?”

His grin was massive as he turned to you. “Ah, I see you’re extremely excited for the opportunity to work with such an amazing quirk, right?”

You smiled. “Of course.”

That clearly wasn’t the answer he anticipated and he faltered a little at it. “I’m sorry to burst your bubble but I don’t think there’s anything here that would suit me. My quirk works brilliantly on its own.”

“I wouldn’t say its your quirk that does it all,” you said. “Obviously it requires a talented wielder in order to use it properly.”

His eyes narrowed at the compliment and he began looking over your shoulders, clearly thinking that this was a setup of some kind. After making sure nobody was watching, he very carefully said, “I suppose you’re right. Anyway, as I was saying, I don’t need any support items right now.”

“I get that but, if you ever need something in the future, just let me know,” you said. “In the meantime, I can brainstorm some general stuff based off your quirk. You can copy things, right?”

“Obviously,” he chuckled.

You nodded and began walking away, happy that your unorthodox plan had worked in mellowing him out. It was a guess that he wouldn’t be used to praise but it worked like an absolute charm.

“Wait!” he said, suddenly appearing next to you. “How am I meant to tell you my ideas if I don’t even know your name?”

You chuckled nervously, not having expected him to care about that part of your conversation. Before you had even thought about it though, you told him your name and he smiled even wider at that, if it was even possible.

“I’ve been looking for somebody who understands how good of a quirk I have,” he said, throwing an arm over your shoulders unexpectedly. “And you seem to like it quite a bit.”

“Well, yes,” you said. “It’s nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

He stepped in front of you then and you watched as your own quirk manifested itself. “I like yours also,” he said. “It suits you.” For a split second, he smiled warmly.

You smiled at that, unable to help it as his expression became considerably more normal while he was using it. “Thank you. It’s not entirely impressive when you look at all the hero course’s quirks but I like it well enough.”

The quirk disappeared and his over-the-top smile reappeared. “Obviously it isn’t as good as mine,” he scoffed. “But don’t beat yourself up about that. Almost nobody can top me.”

For a second, the change confused you but then the class 1B president made her presence behind you known. She apologised and lectured Monoma on showing off instead of focusing but you didn’t entirely hear her. Your curiosity surrounding the blond had been piqued. How much of that arrogance was just a show for his class?

#my hero academia #bnha #sero hanta x reader #kaminari x reader #momo yaoyozoru #bakugou x reader #deku x reader #froppy #tsu x reader #monoma x reader #mirio x reader #iida x y/n #bnha scenarios

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lucyintheskywithxanax · 3 years ago

Text

Baby Broke Down In My Bed Again

Pairing: Wilhemina Venable x Fem Reader

A/N: this came to be because 1. I wanted to try and write a more sanguine, less patient reader 2. @minaslittleone do you remember a long time ago when we agreed that someone with as much self-hatred as Wilhemina probably had moments when sex wasn’t bearable, or something like that? Well, I decided to write a fic about it. Reader x W’s relationship has been going on for quite a while in this one, because I wanted a less guarded, more trusting and forgiving Wilhemina.

Word count: ≈ 8 700

You collapsed on the bed with a groan and let your body sink into the mattress. It had been such a long, boring and yet incredibly busy day, that had made you feel way older than your years. All you wanted now was to forget about it entirely and let warmth and content take over.

Wilhemina was tucked in on her side of the bed, reading a book. She had been particularly quiet this evening, seemingly lost in her head, had played with her food and answered your questions with short, annoyed sentences. You had let her be, given her space, regularly glancing at her for any sign of pain, but her back didn’t seem to be the trouble. She had helped you clear the table, and the soft brush of her hand against your arm had felt like a silent apology.

Now you snuggled up to her side, curling your body to fill all the gaps between you and her, and planting soft kisses on the bare skin between her collarbones.

“What are you reading?” you whispered, draping one arm over her stomach to pull her closer.

“Still the same book,” she answered, rather curtly.

You peered up at her, planted more kisses along her collarbone, then buried your face in her neck. Your eyes fluttered closed. She was so warm, so incredibly soft and safe, your safe place; you felt the tension slowly leave your body, and be replaced with sweet, happy content that nestled cozily in your stomach.

Home. In the past year you and her had built your home together. You had painted your walls in her colors and she had filled her rooms with your laughter. By now you knew by heart which parts of her floor creaked when you put your foot on it, which parts of her body to press your fingers on to make her moan.

“Will you read to me?” you whispered against her skin.

It came out too muffled for her to understand. She made a questioning noise, but it bore so much annoyance you decided against repeating your question. Instead, you slipped your fingers under her night shirt and started stroking slow circles on her stomach, the softness of her skin sparking a low fire where there had been only warmth.

You snuggled closer to her still, nudging her neck with your nose and breathing her in. She was intoxicating, you thought, as you planted soft, lazy kisses that lingered longer on her skin as your brain slowly awoke to a growing need, so ridiculously intoxicating; you pushed yourself up on one elbow for better access as you trailed kisses up her neck, your other hand sliding up to caress the swell of her right breast.

Wilhemina set her book aside, which made you smirk victoriously. You sucked on the skin over her pulse point just as she lay one hand on your shoulder, and was about to flick your thumb over her nipple when she gently pushed you away.

There was surprise in your eyes when you met hers. Wilhemina was so incredibly hungry for affection she rarely rejected it when you so eagerly offered it to her.

You scanned her face, your breathing quick and expectant.

Wilhemina held your gaze and shook her head. “Not tonight, Y/N.”

She didn’t look annoyed anymore, just sad. It was this sadness that silenced the protestations tingling on your tongue.

You swallowed down disappointment and planted one last kiss on her collarbone before lying down again, with your face mere inches from her shoulder. You closed your eyes, forced yourself to take a few deep breaths till the heat in your head and in-between your legs was back under control.

“Are you okay?” you whispered.

“Of course I am,” she retorted, but the tone of her voice betrayed her.

Her voice was always softer in the evening. There was a warm fondness to it that let giggles and chuckles and secrets go through almost unimpeded. Four months or so into your relationship, she had allowed herself to take off parts of her armor and hang them next to her coat after she had closed the front door to her place or yours. Weapons were set on the floor, and the weight of them replaced with the weight of your body on top of hers.

But tonight, she was using the voice which to your ears sounded like the low, threatening growl of faraway thunder. Meant to warn, to intimidate, to make you duck your head and run away.

For a few minutes you lay in silence, watching her.

“Do you want to keep on reading?” you asked eventually.

“No.”

“Should we turn off the light, then?”

“Don’t you need to get off first?”

The spite and harshness of her voice had you reeling for a second. You pretended it didn’t hurt.

“Excuse me?”

Wilhemina’s eyes met yours, dark and glazed. “Don’t you need to get off first?”

This time, her voice wasn’t spiteful but mocking, condescending. That made it even worse.

“No,” you answered, gaze boring into hers, “I don’t need to get off first.” You paused. “Did something happen today?”

“Nothing happened today,” Wilhemina snapped.

You swallowed back anger, forced your voice to stay calm. “Then what is it?”

“What is what?”

“Why are you being like this?”

“Like what?”

With a groan you closed your eyes and rolled away from her, reaching out to turn off the bedside lamp.

The darkness only increased your anger. You lay fuming with your back to her, curled in on yourself and cursing that brain of hers that was so ridiculously stubborn and scared and hurt. There was no talking to her when she was behaving like this and yet it was killing you, not knowing how to help her even after a whole year of loving her.

And what troubled you was, she had opened up to you before. Not enough times that you couldn’t count them on the fingers of one hand, but still. And you couldn’t begin to understand why tonight she had decided to shut you out.

You heard her shift behind you. Before you knew what you were doing, you were turning on the light again and sitting up.

“Talk to me,” you said – maybe a bit too harshly, but you couldn’t do better.

Wilhemina slowly opened her eyes to meet your gaze.

“I have nothing to tell you,” she said slowly and quietly, “except that if you need to get off, the bathroom –”

“What happened today?” you cut her off.

Wilhemina’s face hardened. “I told you before,” - voice slower still, and mocking, mocking so cruelly as if she were talking to a moron -, “nothing happened today.”

“I’m not turning off the light until you’ve talked to me.”

She smirked. “Suit yourself. I can sleep just fine with the light on.” And with that, she closed her eyes.

You huffed, staring down at her disbelievingly. For a minute you waited, refusing to believe she was going to end the conversation like this. But she didn’t move, didn’t make a noise. You watched the slow, regular rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, almost mesmerized, then groaned.

Hot-tempered, your parents had always called you. You knew they were right, and you had been successfully working on it. But tonight, something in you snapped.

You had been so patient with Wilhemina. Taken one step forward, two backwards. Braved the storm, kneeled down and extended one hand toward the terrified and the abandoned shivering in the rain. But tonight, you let the anger win.

So, with your heart pumping fire instead of blood and its smoke filling your head, you lay down on your back, spread your legs open and touched yourself.

And you started to moan. Loud, exaggerated moans, and you made a show of moving your hips so hard the bed creaked.

“Fuck,” you cried, moving your wrist in fast circles that brought you no pleasure at all, “hmm,” biting your lower lip and closing your eyes; you slipped your hand lower down, and forced a finger inside. “Fuck,” you screamed, “I haven’t been fucked so good in months!”

Stop it, a voice pleaded somewhere deep inside your head. You ignored it. You bucked your hips against your hand, slid your other hand up your body to tease your nipple. As you forced another exaggerated moan out of your mouth, you increased the pace between your legs, anger making you desperate for release and increasing with every second you were denied it.

You pushed another finger inside, wincing at the pain, and rubbed harder at your clit, demanding pleasure. You tensed your muscles to help your body reach its climax; and then, finally, finally, felt pleasure build and build and sweep over you. As your body gave a few weak shakes you remembered to arch your back and to cry out, “Yes! God! I haven’t felt so good in so long!”

With a dramatic sigh you let your body fall back on the mattress and brought one hand up to your forehead. There was a drumming in your ears, and something unpleasant that nudged in your chest. You closed your eyes, feigning exhaustion, forcing your chest to heave, and waited a few seconds before you stole a glance at Wilhemina.

She hadn’t made a single noise, nor moved an inch, during your little show. She was still lying on her back, barely breathing, eyes wide open and unblinking. The only thing that proved she was still alive was the tension in her shoulders and the tightness in her jaw.

In the following silence, the smoke in your head cleared. The drumming in your ears slowed down, the tingling between your legs disappeared; but the thing in your chest grew. It grew and crushed your heart till it became hard to breathe.

You were about to say Wilhemina’s name when she slowly sat up in bed. She paused, her back to you, and reached out for her cane. Her hand was shaking.

You closed your eyes and listened to her footsteps as she fumbled about the room for a while, dropped something, picked it up; walked out. Her footsteps receded down the corridor; heels; and then, you heard the front door close.

Your flat was empty and silent when you got up at dawn the next morning. For a long moment you stood still in the middle of the room, not looking at anything in particular, dread gnawing at your insides.

You weren’t sure you could remember what had happened the night before. The pictures were too blurry. There were memories, but could they be real? You didn’t want them to be. Everything you could remember had anger and cruelty woven into it, things that had ugly faces and smiled ugly, selfish smiles.

The side of your bed where Wilhemina usually slept was unmade. You picked up her pillow, pressed it to your nose and breathed in her scent. Then you walked into your bathroom and saw with relief that her things were still there, the toothbrush and makeup products she always left at your place and whose sight you cherished every morning more than you cherished that of the rising sun.

You turned, walked into your living room. Her coat was gone, so were her shoes. There was no note on the table. In the sink still lay the two mugs you had been too lazy to wash the evening before.

On the verge of panic you picked up your phone and dialed Mutt’s number. He was a friend of a friend, and it had been thanks to him that you had first met Wilhemina all those years ago. Mutt’s idiocy and complete lack of maturity had, strangely, grown on you. You two sometimes spent drunken evenings together, watching movies and screaming at the screen every time something happened that was scientifically impossible. In the company of Mutt it was easy to be stupid, and gross, and mean. So, you thought, as you listened to the ringing tone, Mutt was the kind of person you needed right now: someone to confess your sin to without fear of being judged, for without a doubt he had, at one point in his life, done worse; someone that would give you such ridiculously bad advice you could, if you were lucky, withdraw a few crumbs of wisdom from the madness.

“The fuck, asshole,” Mutt barked into the phone, “have you seen the time?”

You closed your eyes, wincing. You could almost smell the alcohol in his voice. “Sorry, Mutt. I really need to talk to you.”

Mutt yawned, groaned, fell silent. All you could hear was the quick beating of your heart. The clamminess of your hand made the phone slippery, and your eyes were starting to sting.

“I, um,” you started. Took a breath, released it shakily. “So, possibly, I fucked up.”

There was a noise like another distorted yawn. “Babe, why am I not surprised.”

“Did something happen at work yesterday?” you asked.

“Yeah, Lily spilled her Starbucks on Jeff’s laptop and it made all the arms go ballistic –”

“I mean,” you cut him off, sniffling, “I mean with Wilhemina.”

Silence. A noise, as if Mutt was moving.

“Mutt?”

“Gimme a sec, I’m thinking. No, nothing that I can remember. Hey, did you know that –”

“Are you sure, Mutt?” you insisted. You felt the hot, wet lick of a tear as it trailed down your cheek. “Nothing that someone said that made her snap? Are you sure nothing –”

“She snaps at everyone 24/7, how am I supposed to know,” Mutt grumbled.

“I fucked up,” you sobbed into the receiver. Your body bent forward with the force of the guilt that finally washed over you. “Mutt,” you whined, “when she comes to work, could you tell her to call me?”

“You’re scaring me, Y/N,” Mutt said.

“Tell her to call me. Lock her up in her office or something until she agrees, Mutt, please. I can’t lose her.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Y/N, and it’s too early for this shit. But yes, yes, ok, I will. Not the lock her up thing. I don’t want to be caned.” There was a pause, as you sniffed and sobbed, not even caring to wipe your cheeks and nose, then Mutt added tentatively: “There’s a football game tonight if you want to come over and watch it with me. Don’t call, just barge in. Goodnight.” And with that he hung up.

You called in sick at work. You spent the day pacing up and down in your flat, occasionally throwing yourself on your bed or couch to sob.

Your phone never rang. Not that y ou really expected it to. But still – you had hope.

When the hands on your clock announced 3pm, you decided you couldn’t wait anymore, and drove to Kineros. You parked your car on the sidewalk. Somehow you managed to reach Mutt and Jeff’s office before security caught up with you. They narrowed their eyes at you, but sent the security guard off.

“When I said barge in,” Mutt started, “I meant my place.”

“I’m here to see Wilhemina,” you panted. “Is she in her office?”

“Yeah, but she warned her assistant not to let anyone bother her and I think –”

“I won’t be long,” you cut him off, rushing out of the room. One second later you were back. “Show me the way?”

Wilhemina didn’t look up as Mutt and you walked down the long corridor that led to her office. You scanned her figure worriedly, noting the vacant look in her eyes, the tension in her shoulders and the tight line that was her mouth as she typed quickly on her laptop.

“Babe,” Mutt started, “there’s –”

Wilhemina cut him off, slowly raising her head. “Do not let yourself think for a second that just because you –”

Her eyes fell on you.

Slowly, her mouth closed. You almost stopped in your tracks at the rage that ignited in her eyes.

“I’ll let you two lovebirds deal with your things, then,” Mutt said with a nervous laugh, before turning on his heels. You barely registered his departure.

For a few, long, painful seconds, you stood frozen in front of Wilhemina’s desk, your hands clutching the hem of your shirt, holding Wilhemina’s burning gaze and your whole body vibrating with love and fear and regret; and then, something in your chest burst, and you lurched forward.

“Mina I –”

“I told Lily to wait for you in the room next door,” she cut you off, voice low and so terribly slow.

You blinked. “Who’s Lily?”

“Mutt and Jeff’s favorite pleasure giver. Just the kind of human scum you need, as you made very clear last night.”

“You pushed me to it,” you mumbled half-heartedly.

Unfortunately, Wilhemina heard you.

Slowly, performing the precise balance exercise she had rehearsed thousands of times before, she stood up.

“Because you refused to speak to me,” you were quick to add. “You’re a human being, Mina, not an oyster –”

“You’re so fucking eloquent,” Wilhemina taunted. “If only you could control your emotions as well as you can express yourself.”

You took yet another step forward, your stomach pressing against the edge of her desk, as you felt the familiar hot tingle which meant anger had fought its way through the crowd of all the other emotions battling inside you, and had now reached the stage.

“If only you could actually express yourself,” you spat back, refusing to lower or avert your eyes no matter how painful it was becoming to hold her gaze. It was too intense, too furious and too dark. “Why are you doing this? Why are you shutting me out all of a sudden? I feel like we’re back on day one.” You leaned towards her in exasperation – and in hope, that maybe you could still reach her. Your eyes widened in a plea, your hands closed around the edge of her desk. “What’s going on? I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

Wilhemina’s face closed up even more at your words. The anger in her eyes disappeared under a thick veil.

“I don’t need your help,” she said, still as terribly, terribly slowly.

“I’ll go find Lily, then,” you fumed.

“You do that.”

Wilhemina’s eyes still expressed nothing at all, and it broke your heart, for that nothing wasn’t here to hide her anger. She had no problem letting anger show. That nothing was here to hide how badly she was hurting.

It made you want to break something. Anything, but mostly the walls around her heart. To hit your fists against them and to tear them down brick by brick and to crash your way into her.

And above all the rest rose a sense of helplessness, for you had no idea how to fix this. You had shot a perfect shot, hit the center of the target, the arrow’s head tearing through the heart. And as the hunter bends over their kill, you held Wilhemina’s blank, glazed eyes, and caught a glimpse of the damage you had done.

And then, a wave of revolt. For she had hurt you, too. Had refused to let you in and spat bitter words at you.

There were just too many things happening inside of you, too big a crowd of emotions. You were boiling and you didn’t know how to cool down.

You turned on your heel and were about to storm off when the crowd suddenly held its breath. Anger had bent down and helped frustration up onto the stage.

You turned around, fists clenched and eyes stinging. “I’m sure Lily will tell me more about herself in five minutes than you ever will in five years!” you burst out.

“Then why are you still here?” Wilhemina growled lowly. “Or are you too stupid to understand how one walks? One foot aft-”

“Because I love you!” you burst out. “This past year with you has been the best in my whole goddamn life and it kills me, that you won’t let me in.” You shook your head, briefly closing your eyes against the emotion that you could feel bubbling out of you. “I want to love you but you won’t let me,” you whined.

Wilhemina didn’t reply. She turned a shade pinker, but her lips stayed tightly shut and her eyes stayed veiled as she processed your words. When finally she spoke, her voice was laced with bitterness.

“You seem to think of yourself as the victim,” she said slowly, and a flicker of anger made its way out and shone in her eyes. ”I don’t know much about being loved,” spitting out the words as if they could kill her, “but I’m pretty sure it’s not supposed to hurt like this.”

At first you thought the words had slipped unbidden from her lips. It still surprised you when she would confess to being in pain, physically or mentally. Of course there were signs you had learnt to recognise, a clenched jaw, glazed eyes, wanton snapping, but Wilhemina rarely gave her pain a voice. Pain was shameful. It had to be ignored and never, never to be processed.

But then, as you watched her, stunned, and her body hunched up as if she wished she could disappear, and her eyes turned vulnerable, the certainty settled inside you, painful but incredibly warm. It hadn’t been an accidental push, but a voluntary jump.

There was no uprising. Anger, frustration, the stage, suddenly vanished.

Without thinking you stepped around her desk, but stopped when Wilhemina took several steps backward.

Her name left your mouth in a broken plea, but she shook her head and then all of a sudden her façade shattered.

The quiver in her voice when she spoke next made your heart ache.

“I know I cannot ask for much but I thought – I thought in a relationship at least the most basic respect –”

She trailed off, jaw and mouth still working to form words her voice refused to carry.

You shook your head, blinking back tears. All the fight in you had disappeared; all that was left was a terrible sense of dread and guilt.

“No no no, Mina I… sweetheart of course you can ask for everything, I…”

Tentatively you took a step forward. This time, Wilhemina didn’t move. She was peering at you, chin uncharacteristically tilted downward, eyes getting shinier by the second.

You held up both hands in front of you.

“I didn’t mean it,” you heard yourself say. “You’re not inadequate, I – I didn’t mean any of it, Mina. Look at me,” you added forcefully, as her eyes moved to some random thing over your shoulder and threatened to glaze over again. “I swear I didn’t mean it. I got mad, and I fucked up, and I’m so, so sorry.”

Certainly your last few words were what Wilhemina had been dying to hear, for her shoulders suddenly slumped. Tears pooled in her eyes that she harshly wiped away before they had time to stain, and she let out a long, trembling sigh that seemed to take her strength away with it.

A strangled, mirthless laugh burst from your lips. Your arms fell limply to your sides.

You were too scared to even dare breathe properly. Scared that Wilhemina would order you away and refuse to ever see you again, or, more likely, that she would shut you out and retreat behind her walls, pretend she was alright, that nothing had happened and that she hadn’t even felt the prickle of the needle. But her face stayed open, her eyes vulnerable as she wiped at them repeatedly in an attempt to maintain her composure.

“Will you, uh.” You shifted your weight on your feet, unable to stay still for the sight of her so unguarded made you desperate to reach out and hug her. Gather up the pieces and glue them back together. “Will you let me pick you up from work tonight? I can drive you back to your place, and we can, if you want, talk.” Your chest hurt. You leaned towards her, your voice breaking on a sob. “I can make it right, Mina, I know I can. Please let me in – I’m so sorry.”

Wilhemina bit down on her lower lip to stop it from quivering. She nodded, and when her hand came up again to wipe her eyes, tears rolled between her fingers and down her cheeks.

Without thinking you extended your hand towards her, and briefly brushed her wrist with your fingertips.

“Okay,” she breathed, nodding, fingers still swiping at her face.

You peered up at her hopefully. “Okay?”

She nodded.

“Okay,” you laughed, so incredibly relieved you felt like bursting into tears.

A laugh left Wilhemina’s lips, too, sad and half-strangled. She moved her arm until it met your hand. Your fingers automatically wrapped around her wrist, thumb gently stroking her skin as she swiped at her eyes.

She looked smaller, and so much younger, a little girl who felt too much and had been unwillingly shoved into an adult’s body. You wondered if this was her with her soul stripped completely naked.

You had expected high walls built higher and stronger, defensive armies gone mad with wrath at the blow you had dealt - not an open gate. What had you done to deserve it? This was so unhoped for, so dearly cherished, whatever had triggered it, be it trust or love or both.

You weren’t sure how to express your gratitude. Weren’t sure you were worthy of such a precious thing as her trust. Your hands had never held a baby bird that fragile before.

You gave her wrist a squeeze. “I’ll leave you alone now,” you whispered, “and –”

“Actually would you mind –” She cut herself short. Her gaze searched yours for a second, pleadingly, begging you to understand without her having to resort to words.

“Yes?” you breathed, body leaning closer to hers so there was no more than one inch between her and you.

Her eyes met yours again, dark and sad and something in your chest like a string attached to your heart pulled towards her, desperate to hold with healing hands and soothing warmth.

“Could you –”

Again, she bit her lip against the words she wouldn’t allow herself to utter. You searched her eyes to try and understand as frustration flicked across her face, nails digging into flesh, lips twisting; until finally she released a breath and with it burst out, terrified and angry and shaking, “Would you mind just holding me for a second?”

She winced at her own words, her nails digging deeper into her skin in disgust as fresh tears pooled in her eyes. With your heart in your throat you wrapped your arms around her shoulders and pulled her close.

How easy it would have been to burst into tears and wail pitifully in her arms. God knew how badly you wanted to. But Wilhemina was being so brave, and you had to make it up to her for the way you had behaved, so you swallowed back your tears and forced yourself to take a deep breath to ease the ache in your chest.

You buried your face in Wilhemina’s hair, squeezing her so tight in your arms part of you was terrified you were hurting her - the other part didn’t care. Your fingers dug into her shoulders, and hers clutched the back of your shirt, her lips grazing the skin of your neck but not daring to press a kiss.

Her eyes were red and puffy when you met her gaze again. Gently you cupped her face, and dropped a kiss on each of her burning cheeks – then, tentatively, brushed your lips against hers.

A noise that was half a sob, half laughter pushed out of Wilhemina’s mouth and then her lips pressed against yours, hot and wet and needy but with a shyness to them, so hesitant, as if this was your first kiss and she was expecting rejection. You pressed your chest against hers to show her you were not going anywhere, slid your hand up her back and pushed your palm against her spine, a silent I want you, all of you. So Wilhemina nipped your lower lip, and only let herself relax when you hummed appreciatively.

You held her hand as she fought to regain her composure; straightened her shoulders, veiled her eyes, and shielded her heart. You accompanied her to the nearest bathroom, and gave her hand one last squeeze before you let go of it.

Mutt and Jeff peered up at you as you stomped into their office, collapsed into Mutt’s arms and finally let yourself burst into tears.

Mutt gave your back several awkward pats as you sobbed, clinging to him and wiping your eyes and nose on his shirt. Jeff’s awkwardness was almost palpable, and when you pulled away from Mutt, still sobbing, all he could think of was to offer you some coke, and then a drink when you refused.

“No,” you whined, “no, I need to stay sober. I need to make it right.”

“Jeez, did you kill someone?” Mutt asked, with a glance in Jeff’s direction and a guffaw to hide his nervousness.

“I thought about what you asked me,” Mutt went on after a few seconds. “Sorry, babe, but I can’t think of anything out of the ordinary that happened yesterday.”

To kill time you went on a walk, and ended up buying a huge bouquet of roses and dahlias for Wilhemina, as well as two boxes of fancy dark chocolates, a very fluffy lilac blanket, and two bottles of Wilhemina’s favorite wine. You stacked all those gifts in the backseat of your car, and walked back into Kineros at 6:30pm sharp.

Wilhemina was waiting for you in the lobby, sitting very straight on a chair, both hands tightly wrapped around the head of her cane.

“Oh shit,” you whined, “was it 6 today?”

She nodded. You poured out apologies, which she didn’t seem to hear as she slowly pushed herself up from her chair. You fell silent when you realised she had waited half an hour for you, despite it all. Something nice fluttered in your chest.

In the car Wilhemina’s eyes fell on her gifts, then shifted to you, questioningly, and her cheeks reddened when you explained it was all for her.

The drive was awkward. You turned the radio on to fill in the silence, opened your window because the air felt too hot, fidgeted on your seat and drummed on the wheel every time you had to stop at a red light. Several times you opened your mouth to speak, only to close it again.

Wilhemina’s hand was shaking when she opened her front door. You dumped all the gifts you had bought her on the sofa and hurried to help her out of her coat, and did she want you to make her some tea? Was she hungry? Would she rather you ran her a bath? You could make her dinner, her favorite dish, and if an ingredient was lacking you would run to the store so if she needed anything else you could buy it too, and -

“I don’t need anything, Y/N,” she cut you off, not meanly, but with a firmness to her voice and an absence of warmth that effectively made you shut up.

You stood still in the middle of her living room, not knowing what to do and mind running a mile a minute. While Wilhemina tended to the flowers, you decided to fluff and rearrange the pillows on her couch, and when you were done and couldn’t find anything else to do, you hurried to her and planted yourself at a safe distance behind her as you blurted out, “Mina, I’m so sorry.”

Wilhemina’s fingers stilled for a second over the flowers. She didn’t speak, didn’t nod, didn’t acknowledge your apology.

“What I did yesterday was terrible and I don’t know how to make it up to you,” you pushed on, voice quivering but still loud, for you were determined to mend whatever you could still mend. “I - I don’t know how to apologize properly to you, and I’m terrified I’m going to lose you.”

Silence. Your body felt hot suddenly, as if someone had sparked a fire within you. You ran one hand over your forehead nervously, heart drumming in your ears, peering at Wilhemina’s shoulders. Her ponytail fell neatly down her back, red frizz grazing the pale skin of her neck just below her hairline.

Silence lingered. Your eyes fell hopelessly to the floor.

“The gifts were a nice touch,” Wilhemina said.

You looked up at her, automatically took a step forward.

“Were they really? I’m so glad. I didn’t know if -”

“Nothing happened yesterday.”

You cut yourself short, mouth still open as you stared at her in surprise. From where you were standing behind her, you could only see the sharp lines of her left jaw, cheekbone and brow. She was staring fixedly at a rose, hands resting on the table on either side of the vase and supporting most of her weight.

“I passed a couple on the sidewalk and they laughed, and I couldn’t help but –” Her voice faltered, eyes closing in frustration. “I thought they were laughing at me.”

Quickly you closed the distance between her and you and leaned forward to take a better look at her face.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you breathed.

“Because it’s so stupid,” she spat, eyes still closed, anger making her voice tremble. “It’s so fucking stupid, Y/N. I know they could have been laughing at anything, but my stupid, stupid…”A hiss, one hand coming up to press her palm against her forehead.

“It’s not stupid,” you heard yourself say. Your fingers brushed her arm, a silent question, hopeful, tentative, your skin drawn to her warmth always. And just as she had done a few hours ago, she leaned into your touch, and your fingers wrapped around her wrist.

“It made me so incredibly…There was so much…” Her palm hit her forehead as a sob pushed out of her mouth. “It shouldn’t have affected me like that. I shouldn’t have let it. But there was so much… I couldn’t even bear you touching me like that,” she breathed.

“So much what?” you whispered, grazing your lips over her shoulder.

A long, shaky breath. You could almost hear the words screaming in Wilhemina’s head, pushing against the dam in her throat but not strong enough to break through it. Instead, she removed her hand from your grip, reached into her pocket, and slipped a small piece of paper into your hand.

“What’s this?” you asked.

You unfolded the piece of paper to find a phone number in Wilhemina’s handwriting.

Wilhemina sniffed, took a breath to speak. “It’s Lily’s.”

You looked up at her confusedly.

“For the days like yesterday,” Wilhemina explained. Her gaze fled yours, sad and ashamed, before meeting it again. The hand that had been touching yours mere seconds ago now wrapped around the head of her cane and dug into it. “For the nights I can’t satisfy you.”

For a moment you stared at her, unable or unwilling to process her words, while she shrank back further away from you. For a moment there was only white noise in your head.

And then something hot rose inside you, familiar and hated and too strong.

So, hold on – hold on.

“Is that what you want?” you said – too angry. You were losing control again, brain filled with smoke and it felt like you were listening to yourself speak instead of thinking the words. “You want me to fuck somebody else?”

The words boomed through the room. Louder and scarier than thunder. Wilhemina and you were left staring at each other, too small and too helpless to face something that big and that powerful.

You watched as Wilhemina’s face hardened by the second, drawbridge being raised against the assault. “Of course not,” she said.

“Then why the hell would you give this to me?” you spat, waving the piece of paper in her face.

Wilhemina fought for a second more, before her face crumpled and her gaze dropped to the floor. “I told you,” she whispered, arm coming up to hug herself.

The gesture made something break in you. Some of the smoke in your brain cleared out through the crack.

“You’re a blithering idiot,” you heard yourself hiss. It sounded half-convinced, but it made Wilhemina wince anyway. “If you think I’d want that,” you added.

“And you’re as stupid as you look,” Wilhemina hissed back weakly, “if you get mad at me for trying to help you.”

“I’m mad because you seem to have such a low opinion of me,” you grumbled, crossing your arms against your chest.

“I know there are human needs, which one who is in a relationship is expected to-”

“My ‘human needs’ do not control me.”

A faint, mirthless laugh. “Of course they don’t.”

“They don’t.”

“Right.”

“Yes, right.”

Silence.

The last of your anger was fizzling out. You could still feel it crackling faintly in your upper body, but the last embers were being stifled by something colder and heavier.

The silence buzzed in your ears.

Stubbornly you held Wilhemina’s gaze, trying to look mad, but your fists were unclenching, and it was sadness – it was sadness, taking over. And with it came a sudden sense of exhaustion.

You didn’t want to fight anymore. You wanted to pretend everything was alright, close your eyes and go to sleep. And in the morning the sunshine would have driven out past mistakes, selfishness and hurt, and you would get up with a happy heart and music in your head.

Your gaze wavered. You pretended to examine the piece of paper in your hand, but your vision was swimming, and the clamminess of your palm had smudged the ink. There was a shape that must have been a zero but now looked like a battered eight, and the last two numbers you couldn’t venture to guess what they had been.

You ran your thumb over those broken remnants of Wilhemina’s neat handwriting. Wondered what she had been feeling, when she had pressed the nib of her pen on paper, and had her hand shaken at all? Some people talked with their hands, Wilhemina’s had a language of their own. They would fidget and brush and grab and claw, and they would shake – and you would hold.

Always, dear Lord, always – you had promised.

You glanced up at Wilhemina again, to find her looking back at you, tears flickering their way down her cheeks.

“Should we, er.” You paused, looking down at the floor again. “Should we have dinner?”

You weren’t sure Wilhemina would play along. But when you gathered enough courage to glance up at her, she was wiping her cheeks, and she nodded.

Wilhemina disappeared into the bathroom while you cooked pasta. Your hands moved on auto-pilot, your brain too numb and too tired to think. You were dumping bits of butter into the pasta when Wilhemina emerged, hair down and body wrapped in a long-sleeved, loose-fitting, thin periwinkle nightdress you had bought her a few months ago.

The fact that she had chosen this nightdress in particular made fresh tears pool in your eyes. It felt like a peace offering, an extended hand you were only too eager to hold. You placed a plate on the table in front of her, and whispered something about her looking very nice. Wilhemina acknowledged the compliment with a nod.

She played with her food until you coaxed her into actually eating some of it, and then you took your turn in the bathroom while she did the dishes.

In front of the bed you hesitated. You didn’t know whether Wilhemina wanted you in there with her, or if she’d rather you slept on the couch, or worse, if she wanted you to drive back to your place. Would she play by the rules? You eyed her as she walked around the room rearranging things and closing the shutters, and planted herself across the bed from you.

Your gazes met. You were trying your best not to chew on your lower lip. Wilhemina’s fingers were fidgeting with the hem of her nightdress. For a few, painfully long seconds it went on like this, until Wilhemina lifted the sheet and lay down underneath it.

You waited for her to settle and then, deciding her silence was an invitation, slipped under the sheet yourself.

Wilhemina reached out and turned off the bedside light.

Hoping you could fall asleep was stupid. Every inch of you was thrumming with nervousness. You wondered if Wilhemina could feel the quick beating of your heart, so loud it seemed to make the whole bed shake.

What time was it? You had no idea. You forced yourself to lie as still as possible, with your hands folded on your chest and your eyes fixed on the ceiling. When you couldn’t stop yourself anymore, you turned on your side, facing Wilhemina.

Blue light seeped through the shutters behind her. So the sun had barely set. What had Wilhemina been thinking, when she had closed the shutters and seen the light still clinging to the sky? Had she ignored it, resigned on playing pretend, that this was a happy night with bright twinkling stars in the sky and on her left the pale halo heralding the rising of the moon? That she wasn’t bleeding inside but warm, and that sleep would find her and press a kiss to her eyelids like a gentle lover.

Wilhemina’s eyes were wide open, shining in the dark. You raised a hand, hesitated.

“Can I touch you?” you breathed.

Something growled. You were not playing by the rules. In this ideal world you and Wilhemina had silently agreed to live in, there was no need for asking. Permission was always granted. Your fingers were to press against her skin freely and there was no need for checking because everything was always fine. This was how you were supposed to play. Cheaters would be kicked out of the room.

Wilhemina shifted, settled on her side, facing you. The distance between you two was small, less than the length of your hand.

She nodded.

Your fingers grazed her shoulder first, a safe place, before moving until they reached the edge of her nightdress. They jumped over her neck to land on her chin, and then spread out, cupping her cheek.

Wilhemina leaned into your touch and let out a sigh at the familiar softness and warmth of you. She made a movement as if to shift closer to you, stopped herself. For a moment you simply stroked her cheek, and then you continued your exploration of her, hand slipping down her chin to brush past her collarbone and down between her breasts.

There had been nothing sexual about your caress, but Wilhemina reached for your hand anyway and kept it still over her heart. Her eyes met yours, sad and ashamed.

“I know, baby,” you breathed. You offered her a smile you weren’t sure she could see in the dark. Laced your fingers with hers, gave her hand a squeeze. “I won’t, I promise.”

Wilhemina bit her lower lip to stop it from quivering. You pressed a gentle kiss on her cheek. “You’re okay, baby, you’re okay,” you breathed against her skin, before pressing another kiss on it.

The thing growled again. In the ideal world you had agreed to live in, it scolded, your hand should have slipped lower and moans should already be filling the room. But in this ideal world, one more piece of Wilhemina would be breaking, and one piece of you would start to rot.

Wilhemina draped one arm over your waist, and when you felt her tentatively nudge your collarbone with her nose, before nestling her face in the crook of your neck, when you felt her shift so that her thigh pressed against yours, nightdress riding up and her skin warm and soft, you closed your eyes to block out anything that wasn’t her and you, and the space your bodies occupied.

And how it made your heart swell, the trust her actions told of. Pressing herself against you like that, and trusting that you would be true to your words, and not seek to take it further. Or was her need for affection so strong she was willing to take the risk? You decided to believe in the former.

Your hand that had been on her heart slid up her chest and underneath her nightdress to feel more of her. You buried your face in her hair.

“I don’t mind whether we make love or not,” you whispered. You cleared your throat and said it louder, in case she hadn’t heard the first time, or had refused to hear. “I really don’t. What matters to me is that you’re happy – or at least, that you feel safe.”

Your hand started tracing lazy circles on her skin. Wilhemina’s lips pushed against the skin of your neck, nose blowing hot air on it.

“If I reacted the way I did yesterday,” you pushed on, “it was only because I got mad at what you said, and because I knew you were holding something back from me.” You swallowed, drew a nervous shape across her shoulder. “Sometimes… sometimes it gets so hard for me to control my anger. It’s not an excuse, I’m just telling you so you understand what happened. I know I never should have reacted the way I did.”

You pulled away then, determined to have her look at you before you uttered the next words. You had forgotten it was very likely she wouldn’t be able to see your expression in the dark. It seemed to you honesty shone of its own light.

Slowly, her eyes opened to meet yours. You cupped her cheek and offered her a smile. It was quivering, burdened by guilt and remorse, but it was there still.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, loudly, because you felt a whisper wouldn’t be enough. You wanted to scream the words out.

Wilhemina nodded, made to hide, to bury her face in your chest but you gently held her head up so she could look at the honesty in your eyes. Her teeth sank into her lower lip in a vain attempt to stop herself from breaking down, but her chin was trembling in your palm, and soon enough you felt tears slip down between your fingers.

Angrily you pushed your forehead against hers. “You’re not inadequate,” you breathed. “You’re not inadequate. Do you hear me?” She nodded, a sob pushing out of her just as her lips caught yours so it petered out in your mouth. You kissed her back, spoke the next words between her teeth. “I don’t think I’d ever been made love to before you. It felt nice, but you… every time you as much as touch me I feel a thousand raptures. Do you hear me?”

Her tongue pushed inside your mouth, despair making her too brutal, and she was still choking on tears and sobbing into your mouth as her hands grabbed at every part of you that she could reach. You kissed her back, hands holding her waist, until she had bit and nipped your lips swollen and stolen all the air from you and you had stolen all the air from her, and you both pulled away at the same time, breathless.

You both stayed silent as you caught your breath, blowing air into each other’s mouth. One of your hands let go of her hip to swipe at her cheeks and stroke across her brow. Wilhemina sniffed, pressed her forehead against yours again, and let go of a long, hot, moist breath.

And then, because you had agreed to tell her your failing, she agreed to share her secret with you.

She held your face in her hands and tilted it so her mouth was brushing your ear, and you reached for the sheet and pulled it over your heads to hide from the game masters and because it had always been easier for Wilhemina to communicate in complete darkness. When no one could see her and her failure, and she could stop performing for there was no one to intimidate.

She described harmless things first, the color of the dress the woman had been wearing, how the man’s arm had been wrapped around her waist. He’d been wearing glasses and her hair had been tied up.

Then she said how, when she had looked up at them, they had been laughing, their heads almost touching, and how the woman’s eyes had scanned her face first, and then the man’s. And how the woman had nodded at something the man had whispered in her ear, her lips twitching with amusement.

They had passed her and they had walked on and out of her life. And she had walked on and out, too, but her steps had faltered.

And she shouldn’t have let it, she whispered in your ear, as the air beneath the sheet grew warmer, she really shouldn’t have let it, but the laughter had sunk into her and crawled all the way up and down her, hurting everywhere – except her heart. Her heart had gone numb to protect itself.

She’d carried the weight of the laughter crawling and hurting inside her and she’d carried on her day, completing all the tasks she had had to do, and then she’d driven home, taken off her coat and accepted the cup of tea you had slipped into her hands. The laughter had still been weighing her down when you’d told her about your day and she’d tried but failed to listen, and later when she’d helped you cook dinner, forced her food to stay down, let you neglect the dishes and fled to the bathroom where she’d locked the door behind her.

She had locked the door behind her, she confessed in a small voice. Because she had been craving for solitude, because your fond smiles and worried looks and tender touches had hurt her as much as the laughter had.

And then in bed you had pressed yourself against her with a renewed promise of love and tenderness and her heart had roared back to life, crying out that this was too much, that it couldn’t handle any more. It revolted against love and desired to burn itself out. It shall step through fire and burn down to ashes and it would not allow anyone to save it.

You let her speak. Your throat was too tight to let out words anyway. Until Wilhemina sniffed and said she knew there would be more nights and days like this, and that was why she had given you Lily’s phone number – at that, your voice forced its way out to growl that you would never, it would kill you and even if you could bear it, it would kill her too and that you would never allow.

Wilhemina lowered her head and sobbed.

After you two had emerged from under the sheet, you got up to get her and you some water, and opened the window to air the room. Outside it was finally night. You looked at the dark, silent street and wondered if tonight could still be saved, after all; if it could still be made into something Wilhemina and you wouldn’t be afraid or ashamed to remember.

But then, as you lingered at the window and Wilhemina called out your name, sleepy and soft, and you turned to see her lying on her side with her arms opened, you realized tonight had already been saved. So you quickly closed the window and crossed the room to her, and breathed a “Thank you” into her hair as her arms closed around you and pulled you close.

Tag list: @mssallymckenna @supremeinlilac @pluied-ete @rainbow-hedgehog @pearplate @angelxsarahp @paulawand @asktammyr @peggycarter-steverogers @coconutlipss @saucy-sapphic @thesupremewife @paulsonpills @vintagepaulson @billiedeansbottom @lilypadscoven @winslctrg @simpforpaulson @venablesgirl @mckennamayfairgoode @ka-s

#sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #wilhemina venable x reader #wilhemina venable #ahs #ahs imagines #fics

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jeongvision · 4 years ago

Text

pairing. boyfriend! dong sicheng ✗ fem! reader

genre. fluff, humor, airport au, non idol au, established relationship au

warnings. slight cursing, mentions of alcohol, not proofread so expect grammatical mistakes lmao my bad

author’s note. this timestamp has been inspired by a fic called maison des fleurs (jeong jaehyun x oc) written by loviet from asianfanfics!

[ 5:14 AM ] You’re tired, so dead tired. If you weren’t tired before, then you are most definitely exhausted now.

For weeks, you and your boyfriend have been planning on taking a short trip to Greece as a mini getaway way to celebrate the end of your spring semester. You both thought it would be nice to destress after months of restless nights with your eyes glued on both your textbook pages or laptop screen. The moment you both finished your last final, you two booked the next flight out and packed your belongings.

What perfect way to celebrate the end of your hellish semester by spending time with your loved one traveling to a different country?

Unfortunately, life seems to love throwing curve balls at you, because here are you at the airport, sitting on one of those uncomfortable chairs at the terminal gate, three hours past your initial departure time. Weather reports called for harsh winds and rain, making it extremely dangerous for any aircraft to fly in this state due to turbulence. Meteorologists predicted that it will subside within another three hours but even then, it’s not a guarantee that it will stop storming by then.

Just your fucking luck, huh?

You and Sicheng are currently sitting in the terminal gate amongst all other passengers, impatiently groaning as the minutes pass by. You rested your head against your boyfriend’s shoulder, the soft padding of his jacket cushioning your cheek. You inhaled in his scent, putting your mind at ease as you wallowed up the lost time you could’ve used to explore other regions of Greece. You two already walked to nearby shops and food stands to kill time but it still gave you ample amount of time to spare. The both of you thought maybe social media or mobile games could assist in your boredoms but their attempts were futile.

You let out a deep sigh. “This sucks.”

“I agree,” Sicheng nodded. He repositions himself in his seat to ease the tension from your neck craning on him, arms draped behind your shoulders as he pulls you in more. “Have anything in mind?”

You scoffed. “Yeah. Get the hell out of here and go to Greece already.”

He chuckled. “Patience, little one.”

“If I had one, then I’d be a doctor.”

“Gotta wait for another eight years to become one, y/n. You still haven’t finished your undergrad yet.” You rolled your eyes and let out a chortle, playfully slapping his arm in response. He laughs again while his arm still remained around your figure. And just like that, you’re both enveloped in silence, eyes constantly checking the clock and the windows for any possible signs of hopping onto the plane as you two scheduled.

Minutes rolled by and you’ve lost count on how many sighs you heard from nearby passengers. Then, you felt your boyfriend clear his throat a little.

“Let’s play a game, hm?”

Confused, you took your head off his shoulder and narrowed your eyes at him. “Huh? A game?” He nods, his hand gently tightening on your arm. “What game are you thinking about?”

A grin appears on his lips. “Two truths and a lie.”

Suddenly, you burst into a fit of giggles. It was one of your favorite games to play with him, given how it was the main reason why you two are together in the first place. You two were sat in a circle with other mutual friends at one college party, also playing two truths and a lie with an addition of alcohol. It was Winwin’s turn when he inadvertently confessed to you tipsy, eyes glazed over at you as you were dressed so beautifully that night.

You nodded towards the latter, “Shoot.”

He pondered in his thoughts, weighing out his possible choices. He hums a little under is breath. “One, I accidentally stepped on Bella’s poop earlier before we left to the airport. Two, I got a 36 on my practical for anatomy. Three, I managed to get Ten to eat a grape last week.”

It doesn’t take you a second for a smile to slowly creep up on your face. “I highly doubt that you could make Ten eat a fruit.”

“What makes you say that?” he challenged.

“He’d rather get a tattoo of Johnny’s face on his asscheeks than eat a slice of apple.”

“Are you saying that I’m too dumb to pass my practical?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time you failed it. And same goes for Bella’s poop situation.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “Fair enough. Your turn.”

You giggled before pondering in your own thoughts for a moment. “Hm... One, all I ate during finals week were instant noodles and Jollibee. Two, I can tell which eggs have a double yolk inside without cracking it open. Three, if you never confessed to me drunk that night, I would be dating Lucas right now.”

He gawks at you, “What?! So you would’ve never dated me if I never said anything that time?”

Teasingly, you raised an eyebrow. “Are you calling me a liar?”

“I ain’t calling you a truther.”

You grinned in response. “Nope. Unlike you, he was actually courting me.” You give him a glance over. “Meanwhile, your lazy ass thought that by just staring at me from afar, I would somehow get telekinesis and catch the hint that you liked me.”

He ignores your comment. “I think you give yourself too much credit for calling yourself some kind of egg analyst.”

You slap his shoulder again, earning a chuckle from him. “Do not!”

“Just because you coincidentally cracked an egg with a double yolk inside does not make you an egg expert.”

“You mean, eggs-pert?”

“I hate you.”

“Love you too, babe.” He rolled his eyes and you laughed. “Okay, this is getting fun. Let’s keep going! Your turn.”

He takes another moment and relays his choices, a subtle pout on his lips before he grins. “Okay, I think I got one,” he begins. “One, I’ve always had a crush on you since freshman orientation. Two, Yuta actually pushed me to play two truths and a lie that night because you were also playing. Three, I want us to move in together after we graduate.”

You stayed immobile in your seat, eyebrows lifted in shock. Your eyes are wide open, mind completely wiped blank from his words. You nervously laugh, breaking the silence. “Winwin, I don’t think that’s how you play the game.”

He chuckles. “It’s not about the lies you tell, but the truths you tell.”

Your fingers twiddled with one another as you looked away from his gaze, eyes down on your lap. “But still. You’re supposed to say two truths and one lie, not three truths.”

He grins. “Bold of you to assume I didn’t say any lie.”

“Well, then I say the third one is the lie.”

“Where I want us to move in together?”

You look back up. “Yeah.”

“You’re right. In fact...” His face inches closer to yours, his forehead making contact with your own. “... I don’t want us to move in together when we graduate.” He pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I want us to get married instead.”

Your eyes widened. “W-What?” He only grins at you. “Si-Sicheng, what—”

“Attention, passengers!” the ground attendant shouted. “Gate 486 is now open for boarding. Please form a line and have your ticket ready for admission.”

Your lover backs away from your presence, grabbing his bag before standing up from his seat. He nods to the terminal gate. “You heard her. Let’s go. Don’t want to miss our flight.”

Oh, but darling, how could you miss your flight when you’re already floating on cloud nine from his words?

#winwin #winwin fluff #nct winwin #wayv winwin #winwin scenarios #dong sicheng #sicheng #winwin imagines #nct #nct 127 #wayv #nct scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #wayv scenarios #nct imagines #nct 127 imagines #wayv imagines #winwin smut #winwin angst

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shootybangbang · 3 years ago

Text

In which peaches are eaten in more ways than one

[Pairing]: Arthur Morgan/Reader

[Rating]: Explicit

[Prompt]: Arthur watches you seductively eat a juicy peach (from @outtricking)

[Ao3 Link]

———

The abandoned manor’s peach orchard is overgrown with tall grass and small white clusters of wild carrot blossoms. Most of its trees stand bare, choked with ivy, the vastness of their skeletons the only testament of their former grandeur. But here and there are straggled survivors, the majority of which have long since been picked clean by other travelers and passing wildlife. The only fruit left is strung up high in the topmost branches, hanging down golden-edged and plump. Ripe enough to make your mouth water.

“I don’t think climbing’s an option,” you say, pressing down on a tree’s lower branches to check its give. “We could get a big stick and try to knock ‘em off, or maybe you could just… uh… y’know… ”

You mime picking up an object and placing it on your shoulders.

Arthur sighs. “You want me to carry you.”

“It’s quicker and easier than anything else.”

“You ain’t paid me to be your horse.”

“That’s true,” you admit. At this point, the number of things you’ve had him do out-of-contract would probably fill a book. A decent person would concede his point and apologize. Instead, you try out a more oblique method. “And I’m probably too heavy for you, anyway.”

He gives you an irritated glance and shakes his head. “You tryin’ to bait me into provin’ you wrong?”

“Figured it was at least worth a shot,” you say, shrugging.

Arthur looks up at the top branches of the fruit tree, then at you, and works out a rough height comparison in his head. He sighs again and kneels down. “Alright then. Get on.”

“What — really?’

“Don’t wanna hear you complainin’ about this later is all.” He looks back in your direction expectantly. “C’mon. You want them peaches or not?”

You place a tentative hand on his right shoulder, leaning against him for support as you swing one leg over his left. “Then do I just… um… like this?”

“Yeah. Just like that. And now the other — yeah, there we go.”

Arthur steadies you by holding down your knees. He grips you firm but gentle, like a man trying to keep something frail and flighty from slipping between his fingers, and stands up.

The sudden shift in balance is startling. Your hands frantically search for something to hold onto for support, and you end up grabbing at his wrists as you reorient yourself. He stiffens at the contact, but says nothing.

When you’ve straightened your back enough to survey your surroundings from your new vantage point, you take a moment to appreciate the new perspective. “So this is what it’s like to be tall. Bet you run into a lot of spiderwebs.”

Arthur ignores this. “Can you reach ‘em?”

“Yeah, I think so.” You twist off a particularly large peach from a nearby branch and take off your hat to use as a makeshift basket, then swivel your hip to reach towards another that’s just barely within your grasp. “Too bad we’re not close to town”, you say, thinking already of possible desserts. “Sophia told me that over in Georgia they eat peaches with cream and sugar, and…”

For a while, you ruminate dreamily about peach cobblers and preserves, about the luxury of vanilla ice cream melting on latticed peach pie. And all the while Arthur clenches his jaw and tries as hard as he can to concentrate on what you’re saying in an attempt to divert his focus from the weight and warmth of your thighs atop his shoulders.

It’s something that he’ll carry with him for some time, he recognizes with a heavy pang of guilt. Something he’ll almost certainly keep carefully tucked away for later, when he’s alone in his own bedroll.

———

Late afternoon, you help him set up camp along the Kamassa River. After the horses have been watered and the kindling gathered, you both sit sprawled and weary against the ruined hull of an old boat half-sunk in the sand.

Resting his head against the sun bleached boards, Arthur briefly closes his eyes.

Through the woods comes the sound of cicadas, deafening in their multitude, ringing like an omnipresent hum, insistent and rhythmic in its cadence. Like a chant, a soft murmur of chitinous voices. Alongside it, the quick, clear notes of riverwater running through the rocks and the rustle of leaves overhead, the sway of branches arching from the wind in slow, lazy waves that merge overhead like a green sea.

And the distinctive scratch of graphite across paper. He drowsily cracks an eyelid open and angles his gaze downwards.

The battered notebook in your lap looks like it’s seen its fair share of miles. It’s tattered and dog-eared, with smeared ink at its edges. The leather cover is scuffed and stained, and the pages don’t quite sit flat, due to the occasional pressed flowers trapped between them.

He watches you scrawl out what looks like a brief itinerary of the day’s route, listing off landmarks passed along the road and detailing what flora and fauna you’re able to remember. Then little snippets of description that you cross out and rewrite with increasing frustration, disjointed but pretty little phrases littering the margins…

Your pencil stills. “You’re reading over my shoulder.”

“Trying to.” Arthur points to the corner of the page, where you’ve drawn a wobbly line with little stick trees atop it. Under it is a crude half-circle labelled boat. “This supposed to be where we’re at now?”

You bristle. “Yes.”

He gropes for something inoffensive to say, then opts for silence.

“Well, you’re the artist,” you say, offering him your pencil. “You draw it.”

“Sure,” he says, taking both notebook and pencil in hand. He flips to a clean page. “Not like I can do worse.”

Brushing sand off the seat of your pants, you stand up and stretch, raising your arms high and fitting your fingers together like interlocking gears. “I’m gonna go check on the peaches.”

———

The Kamassa runs cold, even in the dog days of summer. Earlier, you’d wrapped the peaches in sackcloth and submerged them in its waters, then ringed them tight with rocks to hold them in place. Now, you cut an inelegant figure as you crouch at the river’s edge and fish one out, cupping it thoughtfully against your palm to check whether it still holds the fading glow of afternoon heat.

You pick out the two biggest peaches in the pile before resecuring the rest, then seat yourself back beside him and proffer one to him.

Arthur shakes his head. He’s in the middle of sketching the sandbar in the middle of the river, drawing the shapes of shrubs and other assorted vegetation out from the blank paper expanse. “Don’t wanna get the page dirty.”

“Make sure you eat one later then,” you tell him. “So you don’t die in a ditch before I can hire you out again.”

He snorts. “Didn’t realize peaches could make a man bulletproof.”

“Ah, well… it’s more of a superstitious thing, really. Like knocking on wood or throwing salt over your shoulder.” A hint of embarrassment creeps into your voice. For a moment you seem almost shy — but then you toss a peach up in the air and catch it again, like a performance of the world’s worst juggling act, and it passes. “You give people peaches for good health and a long life. Considering your line of work, I figure you need all the help you can get.”

“Figure a decent gun’ll do me more good than any peach ever will,” he says wryly. “You eat ‘em both. God knows you need the luck just as much as I do.”

———

The rippled light reflected in the water is only just beginning to tint gold. The horizon edges pale, shifting slow to the soft, warm shades of early evening. But only the faint suggestion of it, a subtle gradation filtering in imperceptibly at the present, but that he knows will flood in all at once with the inevitable trajectory of the sun.

Golden hour, Mason had called it. Goes quick, but it’s worth it. I’ve known some photographers to set up camp and wait all day for just that little window of time.

The landscape itself feels soft and heavy, almost drunk from its own perfect interplay of light and dark. The clarity of day dims to a suggestion of itself, and everything is briefly gilded, momentarily transfigured into something striking and achingly pretty, and you no exception.

A sliver of sunset settles over your skin. A veil of amber, a veil of rose, both colors folding in on themselves like silk. The glint of light that reflects across your irises makes visible the ridged corona circling your pupils, the tiny crenellations and impurities of color. Bright and sharp as cut glass.

He watches you bite into a peach, and its dusk-pink skin breaks beneath your teeth with a wet, crisp noise as you tear through to the soft and yielding flesh beneath. Then you bite down again, and your lips are shiny with nectar now, dripping with it.

A clear rivulet of peach juice runs down your wrist like blood. You raise your arm to your mouth to catch it, then trace it back to its source with your tongue, and he can’t help but wonder at the taste — the sweetness of fruit mixed with the salt of your skin.

“Oh, these are really good,” you say with pleasant surprise. “Sure you don’t want one?”

Arthur tries to suppress the sudden twinge of arousal running through his body by staring very hard at a tree. “I’m sure.”

When he’s finally able to settle himself to a manageable level of sexual frustration, he forces his attention back to sketching. He lays out the wash of sand and silt that lies liminal between woods and water, then the ridge of grass that marks the river’s reach when swollen with rain and spring melt. The twinned, twisted alders on each shore whose roots hold fast to the ground as their boughs reach over the water and towards each other, like doomed lovers. The gaptoothed boat hull half-buried and long abandoned.

By the time he’s finished, both peaches have been reduced to their pits, and the light has begun its transition to a deepening red. A last brief cry of sunlight before it’s stifled by the cold blue of evening.

“It’s beautiful,” you tell him, when he hands the notebook back over. “If you finally get tired of robbing stagecoaches, you should do this for a living instead.”

He makes a dismissive noise, but there’s a clear look of satisfaction on his face. “You flatterin’ me because you want another favor?”

“No, I’m serious. This is pretty enough to belong in a book.” You touch your fingers to the page with the kind of care he’s only seen you lavish on the things he’s known you to hold very dear: the faded red hair ribbon, the well-thumbed guide to wildflowers, the thin jade pendant you sometimes wear tucked under your shirt… and now this — just an offhand scribble of his of no particular effort.

“I, uh… it’s a real rough sketch.” A flush of embarrassment colors his cheeks, and it’s obvious to anyone with eyes in their head that for him, compliments are a gift as rare as they are precious. “Next time you hire me out, I’ll sit down and draw you something proper.”

“I’d like that,” you say, and nod. “I’ll hold you to it.”

———

A few hours later, Arthur sits by the fire and tries to measure the exact depth of the idiocy he’s plunged himself into.

You’d gone to bed first, citing exhaustion. And he’d taken the time spent alone to jot down a few thoughts in his journal, attempt a handful of sketches, then inadvertently kindle in himself a desperate, hopeless need for intimacy so intense that, were he truly on his own, he’d not have hesitated to take himself in hand for relief.

It’s a foolish thing to do, encouraging his own infatuation like this. But the images are fresh in his head still and his hand itches to put them to paper, wanting to keep them somewhere beyond the whim of memory.

And so he traces with his pencil the soft, indulgent cast of your eyes as you’d cupped the peach in your hand, bringing it to your mouth with the simple decadence of Eve and her apple: the innocent gesture embodying something intensely sinful. Each bite near tangible in his blood, as though it were his heart in your teeth, its every painful beat an ache of barely suppressed impulse.

Then the drip of nectar down your wrist, the pink flick of your tongue lapping it up with a quick, smooth glide across your skin. Peach juice glistening on your lips like honey. And his own base reinterpretations of it all, distorting reality to innuendo and bringing to the surface things he’s only let himself imagine in the confines of his cot, with the tent flaps drawn tightly shut.

The weight of your thighs on his shoulders comes to mind again, and if he shuts his eyes he can nearly place himself into that oft-used fantasy of his — you, sat on the edge of a hotel bed with him knelt before you, whispering hoarse and breathless praise as he licks into you. Your fingers running through his dark blond hair as you speak to him like a favored pet.

The flat of his tongue running against your clit with slow, careful strokes. Your desperate whimpers as he draws the nub between his lips and sucks, the tremble of your body, the taste of your slick. The sound of his name on your lips, the syllables of it faint and shivery with pleasure.

And afterwards, the sight of you sprawled across the sheets, eyes dreamy and soft as you beckon him towards you. Take out your cock, you’d say. Show me just how much you liked doing that to me.

Arthur closes the notebook and walks down to the river. He dips his hands through its surface, the reflected moonlight there rippling into a bright mosaic of broken glass in his wake, then cups the cold water between his fingers and splashes it over his face.

“Dirty old man,” he mutters to himself. “Oughta be ashamed of yourself.”

When he reaches down to repeat the action, he brushes against sackcloth and automatically pulls the bundle of submerged peaches from the water.

Long life and good health, you’d said. He scoffs at the very notion of it. It’s a foreign concept for someone who’s taken so many lives that he’s all but guaranteed his own to be nasty, brutish and short.

And truth be told, it’s been a long time since he’s even bothered to think about any future for himself outside of the immediate. Not much to look forward to save the small, petty pleasures afforded to him, most of which have been bought with the blood of other men. Not much to work for, save the next big score. The promise of stability — it’s not a luxury afforded to the likes of him. Nor should it be, if a man’s fate really is weighed by his deeds.

He’s made his peace with it by now. Kept his expectations low and steered clear of personal commitments. So it’s really very stupid then, that he’s spent so much time nursing the seeds of his own wretched affection that they’ve already begun to sprout.

More and more these days, he’s caught himself marking down points of interest whenever he’s out wandering. Setting up the skeletons of future excursions in his head. And with each new meeting, the possibility of the next looms in him eager and expectant.

Arthur unwraps a peach from the sackcloth and brings it to his mouth. It’s sweet — sweeter than it has any right to be, growing as it has unattended and abandoned in that red Lemoyne dirt.

The cicada song has quieted to a whisper. Fireflies spiral in arcane patterns over the grass, blinking their silent messages through the dark. Night birds are calling, their sounds strange and strident over the rush of river water.

In the midst of all this, Dutch Van der Linde and all his talk of savage utopia seem further away than ever. More past than present.

He bites into the peach again and closes his eyes, savoring the taste. Long life and good health. Probably no more unfeasible than any other thing he’s had preached to him for the last twenty years. And not an unpleasant prospect, if the days spent are anything like this one.

No, he thinks to himself, pulling another peach from the bundle. Not a bad prospect at all.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan/reader #arthur morgan/oc #red dead redemption #rdr2 #fic #smut #my work

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little-diable · 3 years ago

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Bonnie and Clyde 2.0 - Biker! Bucky Barnes (smut)

Witten for @firefly-in-darkness movie challenge (I chose pulp fiction) and my own 9k challenge. @band--psycho created the moodboard. You’ll find some parallels to the movie and a few quotes. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Two fugitives on the run, two lovers that live out of a suitcase, leaving their hometown behind to strengthen their connection.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex, robbery, guns (nobody gets hurt tho), some good ole’ angst, but a happy end (kind of)

Pairing: Biker!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader (2.4k+)

“Are you ready?” His voice dropped with each syllable that spilled from his chapped lips, metallic arm shining in the bright Los Angeles sunlight. Her pupils slightly got wider behind the dark pair of sunglasses, gaze flickering between her lover and the waitress that tried to calm a pair of unsatisfied customers.

(Y/n) reached for her suitcase with one hand, while the other one tightened its grip on her gun. A slight nod of her head signaled him to rise from his seat, clearing his voice before he raised his own gun, metal just as shiny, just as mysterious as his arm.

“I love you, doll.” Bucky turned towards his girl, smirking as she blew him a kiss.

“I love you too, you crazy motherfucker,” she settled behind him, cocking her gun as Bucky’s voice echoed through the diner, speaking to the confused and scared customers.

“Everybody be cool, this is a robbery.”

The wind was blowing through her hair, arms tightly wrapped around his middle, squeezing him with each turn his machine took. Alpine was roaring through the night, rattling as the moon was standing high, guiding the two through the rough land, protecting them from the darkness that lingered behind thick clouds of rain.

Both trusted the road to take them where they would be safe, hidden from the cops that looked for the two that got called “Bonnie and Clyde 2.0” - a cheap nickname the newspapers came up with. Two fugitives on the run, two lovers that live out of a suitcase, leaving their hometown behind to strengthen their connection.

By now it almost felt too natural, too easy to rob one diner after another. It was always the same routine, he’d tell her how much he loves her before drowning his cup of coffee, rising from his seat with a gun in his hand, not planning to kill anyone but the register full of cash.

Not once would they doubt their motives, two lovers that needed money to survive, to make their way through the land, highs, and lows that kept them on their toes. At the end of the day, they’d just be themselves, a suitcase and a bike that swore to take them wherever they planned on driving to next.

Late at night, as they’d crash in a motel on the side of the road, he’d make love to her in the most intimate way. Caring, soft and sweet, kissing promises into her skin, silently apologising for the unstable and dangerous lifestyle he had pulled her into.

Bucky would fuck her on the bed, against the wall, or in the shower, sometimes - just sometimes - he’d pull Alpine over, would stop the engine to fuck her on his bike in the middle of nowhere. His cock would twitch deep inside of her, holding onto her as the burning heat would engulf them, sweaty bodies would meet, kisses would get pressed against their swollen lips.

He was addicted to her, urged on by the adrenaline that would rush through him while he’d speed through the streets, hiding from the cops that kept on looking for the two. They were careful enough, ready to lay low for days on end, parting ways for a day and a night, just to meet again at the end of the road.

They’d dance to Johnny Cash as the sun was setting, whispering tunes only the dead knew by heart. Where the gun is cocked as the bullet’s cold, where the miles are marked in the blood and gold - they’d always meet up further on up the road.

“I’ll see if they have a phone,” (y/n)’s feet tingled, legs quivering from sitting on Alpine for way too long. His metal hand clamped down on her hand, pulling her against his front, not giving her a chance to leave the dark and dusty hotel room. Bucky’s cold breath met her neck, hairs rising, hyper-alert to her surroundings.

“We talked about this, you can’t.” Her heart ached, desperate to hear her mother’s voice again, to talk about the ones she had left behind, sick and poor, healthy and rich, caring or not about her sudden disappearance. She turned around in his embrace, ran her hand through his hair, scratching his burning scalp.

“I just miss her, you know?” A kiss got shared between the two, lips meeting hers to stop her from talking, not used to seeing her this fragile and confused, with waves of sadness crashing through her system. Impatient hands tugged on the zipper of her leather jacket, watching the heavy piece of fabric tumbling to the floor.

“Maybe we just need to distract you for a while,” Bucky’s rough voice sidetracked her from the loud thoughts that screamed at her to run, to rip herself out of his claws. His metallic fingers danced up and down her throat, softly squeezing the skin, a simple reminder of their arrangement, she was his, till handcuffs would tighten their grip on his wrists, ready to convict him for his wrongdoings.

Swiftly he had her pressed against the wall, forcing his hand into her trousers, rubbing her clit through her panties. She panted his name, (y/n) was fighting a war inside her head, holding onto the last strings of sanity that kept her focused, trying to ignore the silent whispers of the darkness, pulling her further into his trap, chaining her to the criminal.

Heavy breaths spilled from their lips, the temperature kept rising, begging them to finally undress themselves, to give into their cravings. Bucky watched her step out of her trousers, working on the dark belt of his, freeing his hardening cock from the confines of his clothes. He slipped into her before she could say another word, roughly fucking her as the pictures on the wall began to shake, about to crash to the floor.

“You feel this?” His metallic hand disappeared beneath her shirt, pressed against her lower belly, feeling his cock deep inside of her. Bucky fucked her like it was their last night of freedom, facing the cops that were betting on the two lovers, watching them fall apart as the world was closing in on them. “I’ll always be right here with you, we belong together.”

Her teeth nibbled on his lower lip, hands tugging on the hairs at the nape of his neck, keeping him close. Their orgasms were creeping closer, ready to rock through them, to distract them from the life they were living, allowing them to take deep breaths without worrying about curious eyes.

“I love you,” were the last words she spoke before her walls began to clamp down on his cock, squeezing him, begging him to fuck her through her orgasm. Bucky seemed to understand the signals her body was sending out to him, he kept on snapping his hips against hers, cock covered in her arousal, the sweet drops of her release.

The moment his warmth began to spread through her (y/n)’s legs gave out, body tumbling against his, almost knocking him off his own feet.

Late at night when she was asleep he’d lay next to her with a racing heart. Bucky couldn’t help but feel guilty, hating himself for tainting a pure girl like her, she could live a life filled with love and success, no longer having to sleep on dirty mattresses, to eat cheap meals. She could live the life she deserves. A life without a criminal by her side, though with a man that would cherish and love her just like he should.

---

“You never can tell” played from the jukebox. A few people danced through the diner, moving to the song, singing the lyrics. (Y/n) watched them with a tight smile playing on her lips, sipping on the cocktail she had ordered an hour ago. Bucky was absorbed into the newspaper he had stolen from a gas station earlier that day.

(Y/n) studied him, he was biting down on his lip, eyebrows furrowed, trying to figure out if they were in danger if the cops were truly as close to them as the newspapers kept on telling. Words were burning on her tongue, she couldn’t help but feel somewhat disappointed and jealous, of the ones that got twirled around by their lovers.

“Don’t you hate that?” A sigh left her, eyes still focused on Bucky, waiting for him to finally lift his gaze off the white paper.

“What?” Just for a second, he placed the newspaper down, waiting for her to speak, to explain her random choice of words. He couldn’t waste any time, had to figure out if they still had enough time to eat before having to cock their guns.

“Uncomfortable silences. Why do we feel it's necessary to yak about bullshit in order to be comfortable?”

“I don't know. That's a good question.” Bucky tried to stop his eyes from rolling, slightly shaking his head, averting his gaze once again.

“That's when you know you've found somebody special. When you can just shut the fuck up for a minute and comfortably enjoy the silence.” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm, (y/n) was spitting each word, placing her glass down, finishing the way too expensive drink.

Her hands tugged on his, pulling him out of their booth, straight towards the dance floor. She felt her gun moving with each step she took, burning into her skin, preparing for their old routine, the one she could talk about as she was barely awake. In this very moment, it was just the two of them, dancing with one another, sharing kisses, not worrying about the road they’d have to take in a few minutes.

“You need to promise me something, doll.” Bucky’s hand found its way to her jaw, holding onto her as she danced to the beat. “Do you see the door back there?” He twirled her into the right direction, eyes focused on the barely alight door, the one where a lazy waitress had scribbled “exit” onto the wood.

She only nodded her head, didn’t reply to his question, wondering where he was going with this.

“The second I tell you to run, you’ll take off through that door, understood?” Her mouth opened and closed, thoughts racing, trying to figure out if he was coming up with a new routine, anything to set the cops onto the wrong track. But the dark eyes of his told a different story, the almost painful expression he wore explained everything she needed to know.

“I won’t leave you.” Tears welled up in her eyes, hands trembling, reaching for the collar of his leather jacket. Her lips found his, he could taste her tears on her skin, the drops that were as salty as the ocean, rocking his boat back and forth as the sun was setting, painting the dark water in a red shade.

His heart burned, trying to understand that this was the last time he’d see her, the last time he’d get to hold her. She had been like a dream, too good to be true, too colorful for his dark world, a splash of color he was about to wipe off his soul.

“Call your mom for me, tell her I said sorry.” Bucky dried her tears with his lips, kissing along her cheeks, anything to remember the feeling of her skin, the scent of hers he’d hold onto as life has lost its meaning.

Bile pooled in her mouth, insides churning, finally understanding that he was saying goodbye. He was waking her from the dream that had clouded her mind for months, pulling her back into the harsh reality of her life. She couldn’t live without him, couldn’t survive if she wouldn’t breathe the same air as Bucky.

“Take the suitcase and run.” A soft push ripped her off his chest, hands no longer holding onto him. (Y/n)’s vision was blurred, tears kept on streaming down her cheeks, dripping onto the dirty diner floor. Bucky disappeared in the crowd of dancing people, he didn’t spare her another glance, didn’t stick around for long enough to see if she’d make it to safety.

---

Rain was falling from the sky, pitter-pattering against her window. Different polaroid pictures were placed on her blanket, memories she had kept in her suitcase, hidden away for months. The reminders of him had been too painful for (y/n), she barely looked at the pictures she had taken of his handsome face, but she couldn’t make it through the day without touching the necklace he had gifted her, hoping that his scent was still sticking to the metal.

“What’s that?” Her chuckles rumbled through her, naked body placed in front of him, waiting for Bucky to finally give in. He had been teasing her for the past hours, keeping her at arm's length, barely touching her.

“A promise,” his voice dropped, hands finally reaching for hers, “a promise that no matter what, you’ll always have my heart.”

The silvery necklace he pulled out of his jacket got placed around her neck, twinkling in the faint light. (Y/n)’s fingers traced the pendant, smiling at the man her heart had chosen to love. The kiss she pressed against his lips grew raw and hungry, pulling him closer to her naked frame.

Bucky’s fingers ran through her folds, collecting drops of arousal that dripped from her heat, begging him to finally fuck her. She reached for his length, pumped him a few times, silently asking him if he was ready to make love to her all through the night.

Both moaned in unison, holding onto one another, settling for a calm rhythm, trying to get adjusted to one another’s body. Her walls fluttered, feeling the thin, velvety skin of his, exploring every inch of his glorious self, ready to burn her touch into his soul.

“Here, this came for you.” Her mother entered the room with a smile on her lips, placing a card down on (y/n)’s desk. She had left before her daughter could ask any questions, leaving her behind with her loud thoughts. Cautiously she neared her desk, fingers running along the slightly worn-out paper of the card.

“Greetings from Rome” had been printed onto the paper, next to a few pictures. Her hands trembled as she turned the card, a single chuckle left her lips, glassy eyes reading through the words that had been scribbled onto the paper.

No matter what, he’d always have her heart, even oceans apart.

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#Bucky Barnes smut #fireflymovieinspo #Bucky Barnes imagine

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harveywritings92 · 4 years ago

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BNHA Dad scenario: You get your quirk! 2

Izuku: [You inherited your grandmother's quirk, you can telepathically pull objects towards you, but your is a tad bit stronger then hers.]

He was worried when you didn't show any signs of having a Quirk, and was mentally panicking that you'll wind up singled out like he was growing up! Of course today that was all going to change Izuku was taking a nap, when he heard something topple over, his green eyes opened as he looked over and saw you weren't sitting in front of the TV watching cartoons, he sat up now fully awake. "Y/n?" called out looking around the living room for his four year old.

then heard something fall in the kitchen. "Y/N!" Izuku jumped from the couch and ran into the kitchen to find you sitting on floor, mouth and hands covered chocolate with snack cake & cookie wrappers surrounding you; whimpering and holding your stomach, obviously not feeling well... Izuku was about to scold you for sneaking into the snack cupboard! But paused when he realized the snack cupboard was on top of the fridge... Way too high for you to reach. "Y/n, how did you get those cupcakes?"

You looked at him like a deer in the headlights... before turning green in the face and throwing up all the snacks you had stolen, causing your broccoli haired dad to briefly forget about what he was inquiring, pick you up and rush you to the bathroom!

He made sure you were on empty and got you in the bath and than cleaned the kitchen, he then went checked on you... just in time to see you telepathically pulled a bottle of bubble-bath off the shelf towards the tub, ready to pour it all out! only for him to grab it at the last second. "Nice try..." He huffed giving you a stern look, yes he's happy you weren't Quirkless, but that didn't mean you were off the hook for raiding the snack cupboard!

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

Shoto: [Your mom's Quirk is called Cyclone breath, she can breath in air and blow out powerful winds, His ice half combined with her wind quirk, Creating yours: Frost-breath, which is pretty powerful on it's own, the only downside is that just like your mom if you over use it, you get asthma like symptoms, so you gotta carry around an inhaler.]

Your family had sat down to dinner, you were having mac and cheese, but it was little to hot so naturally you did the logical thing and blew on it! both your parents flinched at the sudden drop in temperature they looked at each other, then at you to see you gawking down at your now frozen dinner shock, giving them both this help me look.

It took a lot of training with your mom to figure out how breathe with without turning everything in front of you into a skating rink! It sucks you got to carry around an inhaler around now, but ever since your quirk manifested it been harder to breathe without it, That Your older cousin [Dabi kid.] and her creepy friend {Shigaraki kid} seemed love using you as their personal Air conditioner and popsicle maker in the summer despite your uncle Dabi telling them to stop!

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

Warning here: Hawks scenario is fricking long! Cos my lazy but decided to combined two ideas into one, it might as well be it's own one shot!

________

Hawks: [Technically You inherited your mom's quirk Cheshire, it's a teleportation quirk it kinda works like.... um, If anyone played God of War 4, It's like how the dwarves can slip between realms, like people can see it, but their minds can't properly comprehend it, so it just look like your walking behind a tree, only to be seen coming out from behind a flagpole a few feet opposite the way you were just walking, however you also have little red wings on top of your head.

that are pretty much useless, but they're the only thing (aside from his eyebrows) that you got from your dad, Which Hawks finds adorable especially when they flap up and down when your happy or puff up when your angry.]

You ran away from home some bullies at school and your mean babysitter had convinced you that you weren't Hawk's real daughter and your Quirk seem to solidify that theory, so while your sixth babysitter? (You lost count) was distracted, you packed up some clothes and a sandwich and left, the whole time watching this delusional woman, (She thinks she's dating Hawks) rummage and steal from your mom's memory box, not even concerned that you've been quiet this entire time.

That was fine you'll be long gone by the time she notices... you thought as you put your hat on to cover the tiny wings on your head, ignoring the itchy feeling you got from your fuzzy down feathers brushing against their nylon prison, You looked at your room one last time as you remember all the fun times had here before slipping away into oblivion... and stepping out of the haze from behind a light-post across the road from your apartment building, and started walking you didn't know where, but anywhere was better then here, maybe if your lucky you'll find your real parents... You paused and glanced back at the apartments one last time then kept walking... sniffling all the while.

Meanwhile...

Hawk took a break off patrol he had weird feeling in the pit of his stomach that something was wrong, as soon as he step through the balcony door his heart dropped, he couldn't sense you anywhere in the nest! his instincts were on fire! as his feathers surveyed the penthouse for you, then stilled when they sensed someone moving around in his room. Keigo's eyes narrowed as he silently walked to his room to find your babysitter going through his late wife's belongings wearing her jewelry…

"What do you think you're doing?!" he said through gritted teeth causing your baby to jump and whip her head around to see Hawks glowering at her rage in his eyes. "Honey...I mean Hawks! y-your home early...um um." she stammered something whizzed by her embedding itself in the wall behind her, she hastily started taking off the earrings and necklace and his wife's engagement ring, telling him it's not what it looks like!

He noticed her phone on the floor before she could stop him, his feather's snatched it he saw all the dating crap she'd lying and posting about, but really set him off was text she had sent talking about you... calling you an orphan and plans to send you away once Her Darling "opens his eyes" Keigo's rage reached it's boiling point, people can say whatever they want about him, But don't ever involve his little girl... it won't end well. Your babysitter watched in horror as Hawks destroyed her phone, then took a step back turned his death gaze on her.

"Get out, you're fired."

"But but… Hawks baby I lo-"

"Did I fucking stutter? I said get out!"

"*runs out of the penthouse crying*"

He knows that delusional woman was in the hall outside of his penthouse waiting for him come after her, she's not the first woman he hired who thought they're were the heroine to whatever fantasy they've concocted in their head, She'll find out pretty quickly that Hawks didn't give two craps about her as the apartment's security had been called to escort her out, what he cared about at the moment was; where. in. the. fuck. was. his. daughter? After the rage had subsided panic had soon set in as Hawks barged into your room the drawers were opened , your backpack and sleeping bag and [fav plush] were missing! Your dad started hyperventilating.

That woman... Had she done somethin to you?! He was going to call security and put her in holding ….Then Keigo felt it, that chill in his wings the familiar feeling of being physically pulled out of reality... he followed the feeling and he looked in your closet and found one of his feathers stuck...no, fused the wall, *You have her Quirk, Why didn't you tell me...* he thought then remembered what your mom had told him told him to do when his feather gets stuck in something... "Just clear your mind and think of me, your feather will find me …" Taking a deep breath Hawks closed his eyes thought about you, seeing you...finding you... like that the feather was free.

Meanwhile.

It had started to rain as you walked down through a park not sure how far you walked, but your feet and knees were hurting from the fall you had earlier, you saw some kids from your school got scared and ran you ended up tripping and rolling down a hill, scratching up your legs and covering your clothes in mud and grass stains...

While you were looking down at the ground moping a pair of shoes walked into your field of vision as a shadow sudden casted over you, your [y/ec] eyes looked up and saw a man wearing a dark hoodie that covered most of his face, his cerulean eyes regarded with mild concern. "You okay there kid?" he asked eyeing your legs and puffy eyes, That broke the dam all the stress and torment you endured the passed couple months all came out in loud wail..

The guy standing over you to panicked and tried shushing you, before picking you up and carrying you off, luckily bystanders mistook it for a parent dealing with their child's tantrum, and that's how you found yourself sitting on a bench under a bus shelter. while the man who introduced himself as Dabi put band-aids on your legs...which was strange, cos someone who looked like Dabi didn't look the type to carry glow-in the dark neon-rainbow band-aids! "They ain't mine...I got a kid about your age back home." the stapled faced man stated as if reading your mind, he sighed taking a seat next to you and examined your miserable expression, you looked very familiar but he couldn't quite place it... Something about those eye brows... he shook his head.

"Speaking of home, you gotta a number on ya? I bet yer parents are probably looking for yo-" You cut him off. "I don't have parents and no ones looking for me!" You huffed stubbornly Dabi cocked a brow very skeptical at that claim, and was about voice that thought when something red caught his attention... His cerulean eyes squinted at the pole the bus schedule was nailed to and was surprised to see a familiar red feather just kind of shot itself out from behind it...

He watched it kind of sway around before pointing directly at you. "You're sure no one's looking for you?" he said watching feather bristle then harden when he spoke up, his eye twitched knowing that was a mistake, if that was here then that meant... *Ew, someone actually reproduced with that Kentucky Fried Dumbass?!* Dabi snorted.

"I know he's not looking for me, he wasn't my daddy he just felt sorry for me...Just like everyone else."

"Well everyone else is an idiot... and your old man obviously cares for ya!"

"No he doesn't... he didn't even go to my school on parents day..."

"look, kid I don't know what's going on with you and Chicken-Tenders, but he obliviously loves you."

"How would you know?" You wept keeping your puffy eyes on the ground and tears fell from you eyes, Dabi's voice had nervous edge as he spoke up again. "Because he's here..." You looked up at the scarred man in disbelief, only to see him starring dead ahead with a serious expression on his face, the little wings on your head twitched under your hat as you followed his gaze just in time to see your dad land, But something was off...

His wings were darker than usual and his eyes were feral and scary looking, like he was going murder someone... "Dabi.." he growled fist clenched as he slowly walked towards the two of you, when said cremator slowly stood up causing your dad's feather's to go haywire. "Easy Hawks... You know I'm not in that business anymore." Dabi said calmly holding his hands up, this only made Hawks more agitated a low growl escaped his throat.

"Leave..." the blond hissed obviously giving Dabi one chance, the scarred just put his hands in his hoodie pockets and walked, but as he was passing your dad. "Might want to set that kid's head straight, cos you're on the verge of losing her for forever." Hawks shot him a glare as he went over to you who was curled up on the bench looking at your dad scared.

Dabi watched from a good distance as his old enemy resolved things with his daughter there was a lot of yelling at mainly him screaming "Why did you run, what were you thinking Y/n?! I already lost your mom I don't want to lose you too! …" a bus drove pass blocking out whatever else he was saying, as the bus passed Hawk now crouched at your level, he's guessing you were telling him what's going on...

Hawks looked devastated with every word you were saying. He said something to you before taking you hat off, giving Dabi a view of the little red wings on your head he looked at Hawks managing to read his lips "You may not have my power, but those are definitely my wings!" the two of you hugged before Hawks picked you up and flew away.

Dabi waited a few seconds before taking out his phone looking through his contact and picking [My Fairy] and waited a few moments. "Hey babe... how goes the homestead?" his wife told how things were going at the dive and him it was al none of the rowdy guys bothered her. "Good to hear... is the kid still up?" Dabi waited a few second hearing his wife call his daughter over. "Hey, Firefly, how you doing?" he smiled as his daughter told him how her day went. "That's good, I'll be home tomorrow, give yer mom a kiss for me alright?...I love you too, Firefly" He hummed and hung up started walking down the street.

Back to Hawks

You both took a few days off to cool down they went out of the city for a while and visited your mom's grave, Hawks hardly let you out of his sight if he wasn't in the room one of his feathers was always there. He let you sleep in his bed for the first couple nights, when it was time to go back to school.

You sighed expecting another babysitter or sidekick to take you, instead you were surprised to find you dad waiting for you, which was bewildering he's usually gone or sleeping when you leave. "Why are you here?" you asked bemused you dad smiled and patted your head. "I'm taking you school obviously." He said taking you over the balcony and picking you up.

"Hang on tight Chickadee." he said before lift off the wind felt nice blowing through your down feathers the little wings on your head started subconsciously started flapping, which caused your dad chuckle at cute display, when he finally made to your school all the kids were in awe to see the #2 pro-hero landing in there playground, but what really got the kids was the fact that he was carrying you!

Your teacher nervously came out the greet him where Hawks loudly exclaimed. "Oh, yes sorry for the late introduction and thank you for looking after my daughter." His sharp eyes carefully caught every face in playground and noticed a certain group of kids looking like a deer in the head lights. It didn't take him long to figure out who putting all that orphan crap in your head, he made note to have a word with they're parents...

Keigo was brought out of his thoughts by you tugging on him. "Daddy let me down." he looked at you bemused before remembering right school!... Damn it, he didn't want to let you go! your first day was months ago! He reluctantly set you on the ground but didn't let go of your hand. Why the hell was the separation anxiety kicking in now? *because you weren't there the first time...* he mentally berated himself for missing out on that mile stone several in fact.

The blond was confused why the school hadn't been calling him about you, he found out that one of his PR directors had been intercepting anything school related meant for Keigo and sending random representatives or sidekicks to attend them... Because apparently being a widowed father didn't look cool or edgy enough for the #2 hero's public image, Needles to say that guy wasn't part of Hawk's PR teams by the end of the day.

Keigo walked you the front door then crouched down at your level. "I'll be waiting right here when it's time go home, alright?" You nodded the and hugged your dad, (who may or not of slipped a feather on you, just in case.) "Have a good day, I love you." You nodded as walked inside leaving your dad outside, he stared at the school by before taking a deep breath and flying off...

=================================

{Wing horns photo source from a Manga called: Demon mother!}

#bnha scenarios #bnha imagines #boku no hero academia #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya #shoto todoroki x reader #shoto torodoki #hawks x reader #keigo takami #bnha dabi #long post

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gryffindors-weasley · 4 years ago

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Mended Pieces

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: When undesirable memories of the war resurface, Draco has you to seek comfort in.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: mentions of the war, guilt, depression, angst, bad days, comfort, fluff

The soft sigh that was heaved across from you was one to join many others that evening, one to join many others that day, actually. When you peer over the top of your book Draco’s gaze is fixed out of the window, focusing on the steady streams of raindrops trickling down the leaves of the trees nearby. His hair flopped over his forehead in haphazard chunks of platinum, dangerously close to obstructing his distracted stare. It wasn’t hard to presume that today had not been his best day, or week, not even a good one—could tell by the very look on his face when he returned home from his shift at St. Mungo’s. That, paired with his need to be close to you despite the lack of any conversation was a clear indicator of such things.

“Draco,” you say softly, cutting through the ongoing silence filling the room. He finally manages to pull his attention to you, a tired smile tugging at his lips upon hearing your voice. “What’s the matter, Love?”

He sits up a little straighter at that, clearing his throat and pushing the hair out of his face. “Nothing, darling.”

It had been your turn to sigh now, because the words leaving his lips were far from truthful and he knew you wouldn’t believe him even for a second. He could tell by the way you folded your page immediately and closed your book, abandoning it entirely as you set it on the nightstand to give him your full attention. Not to mention the way you had pursed your lips ever so slightly, looking over his own expression. His eyes were tired and he slouched, his hair a ruffled mess from undoubtedly running his fingers through it in a nervous habit throughout the day. He sat before you, picking relentlessly at a loose string on his pajama pants.

You waited a few moments before you spoke again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask kindly, patiently, his gaze bouncing around every inch of your face as he mulled over his response. He simply shook his head. Draco Malfoy was not one to talk about things as openly as another may be, he never had been in all of his life so his answer had not come as a surprise.

You nod, understanding in your eyes as you give him a small smile. You do, however, offer him your hand and he takes it without hesitation, allowing you to pull him to your side of the bench as he settles against your chest. A different kind of sigh left his lips this time, one of relaxed contentment as he rested his head over your heart. It was something he’d been waiting to do all day, a feeling he craved so desperately. You knew exactly what had been souring his day, what had been on his mind. The same thing that had always done it; it was the war.

His involvement in the now four year old event was something that continued to weigh heavy on his mind from time to time. Some days were far worse than others. Sometimes he spoke on it, sometimes he didn’t, but it had been the same reasoning every single time. Guilt.

Your fingers run through his hair, gingerly brushing through the minor tangles he’d created before repeating the action over and over. The rain was steady pouring on the other side of the window, its heavy droplets pattering against the window consistently and trickling down the cold panes. The bedroom grew darker by the minute as evening rolled around without pause, the stormy clouds only adding to the shadows filling the room. You couldn’t imagine the inclement weather to be of any help for his mood. A soft kiss is pressed to his forehead, a gesture he wordlessly appreciates more than he could describe in that moment as he squeezes around your waist.

He knew you were privy to what had been plaguing him that day, and he knew you had all the right things to say because you were wonderfully compassionate; so much so that he hadn’t known just what he’d done to deserve it. Not with the person he once was. The guilt weighing him down was far too much for him to articulate properly, of the things he had done, the hurtful things he had said as a child and as a young adult. All of it had danced ungracefully through his mind in this bout of remembrance of his past, taunting him whenever it so pleased. The guilt of the hurt you had gone through at the start of your relationship when your love was once forbidden. Before he could readily and openly defy his fathers wishes to rid himself of you; but he couldn’t let you go, even if that meant not being able to love you as he’d have liked to then. You meant more to him than to do such a thing.

The culmination of the years of mistakes and numerous regrets had proved to be far too much to carry for just one day, and he was grateful of your understanding. He was grateful for your unwavering patience with him.

He gripped your wrist tenderly, pulling your hand from his hair before enveloping it securely in his own. His fingers pushed between yours, hands melding in the perfect fit as he exhaled another breath.

“A new shipment of books arrived at the shop today,” you mentioned after a while, anything to pull his focus elsewhere.

A soft laugh left his lips at that, his thumb brushing over your skin. “And let me guess, they were nearly all romance novels?”

You joined in with his laughter, reaching up with your other hand to ruffle his hair before pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Your guessing skills are starting to become impeccable, do you know that?”

“Or perhaps I just know you like the back of my hand, darling,” he says with a lazy smile, one that widens with your delighted laughter. Your laughter doesn’t cease upon the feeling of his lips on your neck, chaste kisses pressed to your skin. Kisses of gratitude for simply being there, but you weren’t privy to their meaning.

“Perhaps,” you murmur.

Your hand drops down to his back, finger tips tracing lightly across the bare skin in unknown shapes and lines. He ignored the chill that ran through him at the action in favor of relishing in your touch, his calloused hand squeezing yours a little tighter. It was moments like these that always meant the most to him. Moments where he didn’t feel like he needed to speak his dark truths in order for you to understand them, moments where you just let him feel what he’s feeling with the promise of being there with him. It made all the difference to him.

Eventually after a few moments when the laughter dies down, he sits himself up, tugging on your hand to pull you to his chest instead. He leans his back against the opposite wall of the window seat, his legs tangling with yours in a silence that could only be described as comfortable.

His fingers splayed across your back, cheek rested on your head as his stare remains focused on the gloomy Thursday night weather. It was ironic really, to have such miserable weather in a day he felt his absolute worst. As if Mother Nature had known his very outlook amongst everyone else and decided to match his countenance, his feelings. But despite that, he feels he’s got the sun in his arms, he knows he does. No one in the world could bring him out of a bad moment the way you could.

The simple act of you laying tucked away in his arms, knowing he could vent to you if and when he chose to, it worked wonders to soothe his racing mind. To know he could feel without judgement, process without pressure. It helped.

He focused on the way your chest would rise and fall against his own steadily, and the feeling of your kiss on his jaw. He focused on the way your thumb brushed gingerly over his knuckles and traveled to the back of his hand. Or the way your lashes tickled his skin with every fatigued blink, your cheek pressed to his chest. His lips ghosted over the crown of your head, kissing once, twice, three times there, his nose nudging affectionately against your temple.

You were a wonder to him indeed, a blessing, if you will. For you loved him for his ins and outs, his ups and downs, through everything. He needed that, all his life he needed that. And now he’s finally got it.

“Will you play me a song?” You ask after who knows how long, eyes curious and tired as you gaze up at him through your lashes. He looks down at you quizzically, brow raised.

“A song?”

“Yes, a song,” you laugh softly, sitting up and leaving the warmth of his arms much to his dismay. “On the piano, Dray.”

A knowing smile graces his lips then, his gaze traveling down to the hand you’ve outstretched towards him. The piano. You had gotten it from the Manor when you’d first moved into your own little cottage; it was a housewarming gift as much as it was a gift of long-standing comfort. You had known of the joy that was bestowed upon him whenever he allowed himself a moment to play it, you had known the distraction it gave. It had done so all his life. You knew it all, you always did, and he couldn’t help the way his heart swells in his chest at the thought behind your suggestion.

With a lighthearted huff he takes your hand, allowing you to pull him through the hall and down the wooden staircase eagerly, your laughter filling the space as he shook his head fondly at your antics. It wasn’t until he’d gotten up that he realized just how drained he had really been.

Moments later, the sleek grand piano had come into view, tucked in the shadowed corner of your living room just waiting to be played. He raised his brow at you once more, hand having not left yours quite yet. You pulled him to sit on the bench with you and he did so with a sigh of faux annoyance, but you didn’t miss the small smile on his lips. He settled down next to you, sitting closely by your side as you switched on a nearby lamp with a simple twitch of your fingers. It took him a moment to decide on a song, but soon he figured it out.

The pattering rain was quick to dissolve into mere background noise as his fingers slowly dance across the ivory keys with a comfortable familiarity, and you could see him beginning to relax. Could tell by the way his gaze focused on his hands, could tell by the way his shoulders began to slump and lose their stressed tension. There was something about creating a melody, one so beautifully delicate, that set him at ease. He created it, he had made something beautiful.

You move to rest your head upon his shoulder, and the smile on his face was immediate yet unseen by you as you let your eyes flutter closed. It was then that he deemed himself to be lucky, the luckiest man in the very strange world he knew. The sorrows of his day hadn’t washed away completely, no, they were still very much there. But they lessened; with the unwavering love you gave him and your wordless comfort, they lessened.

He played. He played a song ever so familiar to him, so much so that he could do it without a second though as if his hands had a mind of their own. A song that was your favorite just as much as it was his, one his mother had taught him as a boy.

In a matter of minutes the song began to taper and lose its tune as he’d become far too distracted by you, his lips pressing to your temple. It was when he’d stopped playing completely that you lifted your head in curiosity, a confused smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“What is it?”

He simply looked at you for a few fleeting moments, his eyes bouncing between yours as a soft grin remained to mirror yours. Then he leaned in, his forehead pressed to yours, noses brushing. “You made me a better person. Thank you.”

His words were hushed and they were true, spoken in the utmost appreciation as he spoke them in the close proximity. You let out a quiet laugh as your eyes fall closed for a moment.

“I love you,” you say and his hand settles on your cheek, his kiss as tender and meaningful as his statement. And if it weren’t for the sudden pressing of piano keys as he clumsily tried to move closer to you, it just might have lasted longer.

“I love you,” he murmurs, his laughter puffing warm against your lips. “I love you.”

In that moment, you made him feel whole; you mended his broken pieces.

—

Tags: @dracosathenaeum @awritingtree @amourtentiaa @harrysweasleys @snitches-at-dawn @hahee154hq @lunalovecroft

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco x you #draco malfoy imagine #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy fanfiction

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drmmyrs · 4 years ago

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Remember Me (Becca x MC)

So, weird story. I was randomly browsing tumblr one time when this ask pops out at the top of the screen (req about amnesia au Becca’s POV). It wasn’t even related to anything I was reading but checked my inbox and it wasn’t there. Most probably the ask isn’t for me but still wrote it just in case 😅

PS if someone DID send me this ask, kindly drop me a message just so I know I’m not seeing things 😭

PPS I’m trying out a new writing style and I’m not sure if it’s any good so I’d really appreciate any feedback 🥺 (this will be a mini series too, I think, since the angst potential is definitely there 😂)

PPPS title is inspired from the song in Coco just cause I’ve been playing it a lot on piano recently

tag list: @whackawriting @samanthadalton @crazzyplays @uselesslesbianfr @baexpoppy @alexroyard @alexlabhont @veenast @noixngn @sillyandcutewizardstuffs (If you wanna be added or removed or just prefer a certain ship just let me know ❤️)

Pairing: Becca x MC (Emily)

Word Count: 2090

I don't remember what happened, nor know where I am, but I hear shouting, lots of it. I try to move, but my body feels completely numb; the only thing I can feel is the trickle of liquid that splatters across my face. Rain? I open my eyes strenuously, but all I can see past my blurry vision are brown eyes glistening with tears. I can't quite make out her face, but for some reason, seeing her cry sends a flurry of emotions that hurt more than my throbbing head. I try to open my mouth, hoping to provide comfort somehow, but no words come out. She is saying something over and over again, something about leaving? But my head hurts too much to be able to comprehend. A siren then blares from a distance, growing louder by the second as flashes of red cloud my vision. And that is when everything turns black.

I slowly open my eyes–still reeling from the nightmare that somehow felt too real–and harsh, blinding lights immediately greet me. I hastily shut my eyes back and suddenly become well aware of the ache engulfing my entire body. It isn't before long that I realize that someone is holding my hand, tracing lazy circles against my skin ever so often. I try to move it but only manage to lift a finger, and at once, the grip tightens and becomes still for a moment before I hear a voice– How can a voice sound so familiar... yet so strange? It's saying my name, urgent and gentle at the same time as though I might break at any second. I try to open my eyes, but exhaustion grips me powerless. And soon, I succumb to its fiery grasp as I slip back into slumber.

When I wake up again, I already feel much stronger than before. The ache in my body has turned into a dull hum as if sharp nails are gently caressing my skin, enough to be felt but not to hurt. I look around the room, panic swelling in my chest as I take in the sight of different medical equipment looming around my bed and needles sticking out of my arm. I fight the urge to squirm as I take big, calming breaths, ignoring how the four white walls seem to close in on me. Thankfully, the door opens, and a nurse walks in, temporarily distracting me from my distress. She smiles upon seeing me awake and walks towards me.

"Welcome back, Ms. Davenport. How are you feeling?"

"W–where am I?" I ask weakly.

"In the hospital. A month ago, you were involved in a car crash, and your head was hurt pretty badly," the nurse says sympathetically. She is now taking my vitals, scribbling something on her chart from time to time.

Car crash?

I scrunch my eyes, trying to remember, but the harder I try, the more my head hurts.

"Wait. A month? Are you saying that I've been here... for a month?"

The nurse nods. "You've been unconscious the entire time. But your vitals now are looking good. The doctor will just run a few tests to make sure we don't miss anything."

I stay quiet for a while, my mind still processing everything the nurse just said, which has only raised new questions.

"Your friends and family were really worried about you, you know. There wasn't a day when you didn't have any visitors. Especially that special friend of yours you were in the car with." The nurse turns towards me, holding a pen against her chin. "What was her name? Em–Emma, I think? She barely left your side. She actually just went to grab some food before you woke up."

...I don't know any Emma, but I don't tell her that.

"What about my parents?"

"Your mom and sister usually visit during the evening."

"And my father?"

The nurse shakes her head. "I don't think I've ever seen your father."

The nurse leaves after a while, and the doctor comes inside the room shortly. I answer a few questions before I'm escorted outside to take some tests. Afterward, the nurse leads me back to my room and gently guides me to bed.

"Would you like me to call in your visitors?" the nurse asks.

I nod.

The nurse goes out, and soon my mom walks in followed by–

"Emily." I frown. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Both of them stop in their tracks. My mom looks at me in concern and confusion, while Emily looks like I just punched her in the gut.

Anger bubbles up inside me as a realization comes to mind. "Y–you. You're the one who did this, aren't you? You're the reason I'm here."

A guilty look flickers across her face, confirming my suspicions. And before I can stop myself, I shout at her to leave, but she stands there motionless, tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

"Go get the doctor," my mom tells her, which snaps her out of her shock. She scurries out of the room at the same time my mom starts walking towards me.

"Why is she here, Mom?"

My mom stops at the side of the bed and reaches out to stroke my hair. "Honey, the accident was not her fault."

"But she was there with me..."

"Yes."

"Why?"

My mom's hand goes still, resting on top of my head. "Becca, what was the last thing you remember?"

"I..." I close my eyes and think hard for a moment. "I–I remember hosting the Kappa party. But that doesn't make any sense. Why would I leave with Emily?"

A brief look of panic flashes across her eyes.

"Mom? What's wrong?"

My mom smiles at me, but it looks forced. "It's nothing, sweetie. The doctor will be here soon."

But I can see that she's trying her best to keep calm–the look on her face similar to when she would talk to my little sister and me right after we would hear her and dad fight.

The doctor comes in a little while later, asking a bunch of questions similar to my mom's. They then do more tests on me, and I grow scared by the minute, not understanding what the hell is going on. Eventually, I'm back in my room alone, my mom and the doctor staying outside to talk. After some time, they enter the room, and my mom sits beside me, taking my hand as the doctor walks towards the other side of the bed.

I look at my mom, drained from all the medical tests I went through the entire day. "What's happening, Mom? I'm scared."

My mom squeezes my hand and gives me a reassuring smile. "The doctor will explain it to you, sweetie. But I'll be right here the whole time." She then gives a single nod to the doctor.

The doctor smiles at me politely. "How are you feeling, Becca?"

I stare at him, suddenly annoyed at being asked the same question over and over again.

"Right then." The doctor clears his throat. "During the accident, your brain was affected more than we initially thought." He pauses, and I meet his gaze, willing him to go straight to the point. "It seems like you have retrograde amnesia, meaning that you have no memory of the past three years of your life."

The doctor goes on and on about the technicalities, but I'm not listening anymore. His voice is reduced to background noise as I repeat his words inside my head, trying to grasp the implications of what he just said. I prop myself up, looking wildly around the room, tugging at my shirt as if it would help me breathe. But it doesn't. My body feels numb, which is why I almost don't notice my mom pulling me into a tight hug, stroking my back comfortingly as she whispers reassurances. I focus on her voice, forcing myself to take deep breaths as I slowly begin to calm down. I pull away after some time, recomposing myself as I find my voice.

"Three years," I whisper.

"We'll help you recover your memories, honey. But for now, you can ask me anything you like."

"I–I think I just need some rest."

My mom nods, helping me settle back in bed before she leaves, promising to be back tomorrow.

Sleep comes easy to me, and I wake up the next day with Madison sitting at the chair next to my bed, browsing her phone.

"Hey, Maddie."

She looks up from her phone, a smile lighting up her face before she practically jumps out of her chair to hug me. "Becca!"

"Ow, that... kinda hurts."

When she pulls away from me, her eyes are teary.

"Sorry, I just missed you so much. You were gone for so long! I thought–"

"Hey, hey, none of that," I say, smiling at her.

She pulls the chair closer to my bed and sits down. "How are you, Becca? Your mom told me about your... condition."

I stare at the ceiling. "Yeah, it sucks." I snap my head back to her. "Tell me something. Do we still hang out a lot?"

"We still meet up from time to time. Not as much as we used to, though," Madison says, smiling sadly.

I nod. "Who do I usually hang out with now?"

"Emily."

I furrow my eyebrows. "Did we become close friends or something?"

"Oh, right. You've only been together for like two years," Madison murmurs contemplatively. "She's your girlfriend, Becca."

I let the information sink in. "You have got to be kidding me." I stare at her wide-eyed. "How–What–Why?"

Madison recounts our 'love story,' each detail more absurd than the last. I don't want to believe any of it, but Emily as my girlfriend... it actually explains everything. I rub my temples. How the hell did that happen? I remember like it was yesterday when she tried to steal Chris away from me. And now... and now...

"Maddie? Can you do me a favor and grab me something to eat? I'm starving."

Madison smiles. "Of course."

Madison goes out in a while, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

***

After a few more days of recovery, I am finally allowed to leave the hospital. Despite my protests, my mom explains that I will have to stay with Emily and her friends at what I assume has been my home for the past two years. She explains that she prefers for someone to look after me constantly, and she will not be able to do that with her job and all.

Outside the hospital, I find Emily waiting near a car; her eyes are bloodshot, as if she hasn't slept a wink in days. When she sees me approaching, her face immediately brightens up. Our gazes lock briefly before I turn back to my mom.

"Are you sure I can't stay with you?"

My mom smiles sadly. "I'm sorry, honey. I wish you could, but..."

"It's okay, I understand."

"Look, I know you don't remember, but these people you've been living with... they care about you very much.”

I nod.

My mom pulls me into a hug before guiding me inside the car, shutting the door afterward. She and Emily talk for a brief moment outside, and I watch as she hugs Emily before walking away. Emily steps into the passenger seat.

Zack, who is sitting in the driver's seat, turns around and smiles at me warmly. "I'm glad you're back."

I shift uncomfortably, ignoring his gaze. "Thanks."

We drive home silently, awkwardness saturating the car space. Upon arriving, I observe the details of the house, seeing if it sparks any memories... but nothing. I see Emily looking at me intently, probably thinking the same thing. They then lead me inside the house, and I step in hesitantly, taking in the surroundings, which vary immensely from the sorority house, the last place I lived based on my memories. Emily guides me to my room, lingering near me as I open the door.

"Becca–"

I turn towards her. "Please don't. I know you think I'm your girlfriend. A–and I guess I was. But as far as I remember, I don't like you at all. So I would appreciate it if you just leave me alone." I turn around and go inside my room, shutting the door behind me. I then lie on the bed, trying to forget how the light dimmed out of Emily's eyes as I broke her heart.

#becca #becca davenport #rebecca davenport #becca x mc #the freshman series #the freshman #the sophomore #the junior #the senior #playchoices #play choices #my work #my fanfics #my writing #request??

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