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iiraven · 4 years ago

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Odyssey

Pairing: Poseidon!Armin x Reader

Genre: romance, smut

Warnings: slow-burn, minor character death, manipulation, stalking, possessiveness, Yandere behaviour, puppy play, piss play, body worship, throne sex, implied age-gap, oral(male receiving), hair pulling, collaring (without consent)

Word count: 9.8K

Synopsis: Armin’s quest for revenge leads him to you, daughter of a merchant and object of his infatuation.

Author’s note: thank you @bubbleteaimagines for hosting this collab and allowing me to join <3 Also, thank you @onyxoverride for teaching me how to write about pee!

Attack on Titan Masterlist

Present day:

If the river could speak, you wonder what it would say.

In the silence that surrounds the rushing of the water, you’re sure you would hear it. Sometimes, you’re sure you can hear it, but then you remember the dangers of trusting unfamiliar voices. Especially unfamiliar voices in a place like this.

No one goes near the river Shiganshina. And you forget the reasons why much too often.

It’s rocky, slippery, there’s no path to walk on, and the nymphs grow sharp teeth when men approach them, hissing and eyes glowing red. But that’s what makes it perfect for you.

Sasha first mentioned the river months ago, recalling the places on the island that her and her father avoided whenever they went hunting. You hadn’t paid much attention to it until days later, when Connie recounted with round eyes how Floch’s body was found beside the river Shiganshina, mouth full of water and eyes gouged out. You knew you needed to go there yourself.

A pearl necklace is what you stole. And under the guise of going to wash clothes at the well, you made your way south of your small island with only Sasha’s vague instructions and your intuition guiding you.

You could hear the ocean as you walked through the untouched woods, your heart hammering in your chest every time the waves crashed against the island’s cliffs. You weren’t allowed to see the ocean- you weren’t allowed to be around any large body of water, for that matter- but you still knew your island well enough to know that a step in the wrong place could lead you tumbling down the cliff.

You would die before you got to feel the water on your skin and that, you thought, would be the most tragic part.

As your feet began to sink into the muddy ground, you could smell the salty water, and a slight metallic scent behind it that only drew you in closer until you reached a clearing. It was small, crowded with foliage with only a few dead plants on the ground where you could only assume people had attempted to step foot.

And there was the river. It was small, its water emerging from underground before the tide pushed it to the edge of the island- to a waterfall. So loud that it could drown out any noise, any screams. You shivered. For a moment, you just stood back and watched. The water was was green, but so clear that you could still see the fish swimming beside the floating objects. Coins, silver, small statues, and whatever else hopefuls had tried to offer. You pulled out your own offering and whispered a short prayer before throwing the necklace in.

It could have been your imagination, but the water calmed. It was quieter. And, like that, you felt as if the river had opened up its arms to you. Strong arms that you have to be cautious not to spend too long within lest you get trapped.

Thankfully, you’ve learned to read the signs. You know when the river wants you to leave, when it wants you to keep your distance, when it wants to keep you close, and even when it wants you to bathe. Those are the special moments. It’s rare the river is calm enough for you to dip your naked body into, but surrounded by the cool water, you feel like you could stay their forever.

If the river could speak now, however, you’re sure it would tell you to fuck off.

Either that or it would tell you to come back when you have something more to offer its god than a single golden bead from your grandmother’s necklace. Only three are left on the thin string, though you think you might keep the last one to honour her death. After that, you’ll have to go back to offering coins and whatever other trinkets that will keep the god of this river sedated long enough for you to dip your feet into the cool water, maybe take a sip, and then return home before your father realises where you’ve been, much less where you’ve been unchaperoned.

The latter is hardly your fault. Sasha and Connie are too scared to step foot in the Shiganshina forest, let alone the river itself. And you can’t trust anyone else to accompany you, especially the servants whose tongue could slip at the drop of a golden coin. Your father would never forgive you for spending time in the territory of the God of the Ocean or- as he liked to call Armin- the destroyer of seas. And thus, being left alone seems to be the only way.

Well, that’s unless Mr Arlert decides to join you.

The owner of the stable who appeared on the island out of nowhere is the last person anyone would expect to be brave enough to spend time at the river Shiganshina. He mostly keeps to himself, only ever seen tending to his horses or immersed in scrolls of literature and poetry. And yet, he’s here almost as often as you are, almost as vulnerable as you are.

Despite his solitary nature, Mr Arlert has been quick to make himself adored. Mothers swoon over his charm, scholars constantly indulge in his curiosity, and sailors are fascinated by his knowledge of the world and its oceans. He’s no warrior, and already in his late twenties, but he’s still without a doubt one of the most eligible bachelors on Paradis. And, yet, to any marriage proposal sent his way, he declines with a polite “A husband is not what I am fated to become”. Even Annie Leonhardt- whose father Mr Arlert would constantly visit- had her heart broken. But no one blames Mr Arlert, of course, who was there to comfort Annie, to make her realise that she just needs to be a better person, that’s all. It’s not his fault her heart broke, Mr Arlert reassured.

Thinking about it now, you’re amongst the handful of women who haven’t been offered to the tall blond. And with that comes a sigh of relief as you drag your fingers through the water.

It’s not like you dislike him- the opposite, actually- but being with Mr Arlert is like taking the hand of an invisible man in the dark and letting him guide you.

His words constantly have your thoughts spiralling in directions that they shouldn’t be. Thoughts about leaving the island, thoughts about going to the ocean, thoughts about becoming a priestess. Thoughts you aren’t allowed to have.

You fate is bound to the home you were born in, a thick rope tied to your ankle, only letting you go as far as this very river. And Mr Arlert sits beside that rope, a knife in his hand, blue eyes staring into your soul, waiting. You’re not sure what he’s waiting for. But what you’re sure of is that to be taken away from the life you know of is an inconceivable fantasy. The unknown is a dangerous thing, after all.

The small island of Paradis may lie far away from the rest of the world, but their core values remain the same. A woman must grow up to either serve her father or her husband. Your fate has already been decided for you. And, frankly, if it means not having to share a bed with an old man who marries you for your dowry, you’re very happy with taking care of your father until the day that he’ll be put into the ground.

But then there’s always the third option. A woman who serves neither her father nor her husband will serve her god.

You had never been given that option by your god-hating kin. Simply suggesting a future as priestess would earn you at least five lashes, so why… why can’t you stop thinking about it? Your instincts have you blame Mr Arlert, but you know that your fixation began before he arrived on the island; all he’s done is vocalise your thoughts.

As a gust of wind blows the leaves and the salt from the sea gently caresses your cheek, you wonder who your god would be. Do you resonate with Pieck’s beauty, or Zeke’s creativity? Maybe. But as you look into your reflection, you know that your god is no other than Armin, the god of the ocean. The fates must think this is hilarious, but you just want to scream.

“It’s getting late. I wouldn’t want your father worrying about you.”

You jump at the sudden voice, turning around at the familiar face, leaning against a tree with a gentle smile.

“Thank you, Mr Arlert.”

His footsteps are so gentle, as are his apologies.

“You don’t need to thank me. I’ve come to invade your space, after all.”

“It’s not my space, it’s Armin’s. The god is only letting me stay here.”

He smiles a knowing smile, one that you would usually find patronising on any other man. But Armin is charming, too charming for you ever to think that of him. “I suppose you’re right.”

He comes to sit down beside you, taking his usual place at your right- the voice of reason. It’s quiet for a moment, before you remember.

“Lemnos,” you say.

The blond smiles. “I’m not named after a place.”

And you roll your eyes, as you’ve done every time he’s given you a useless hint. “That hardly narrows it down.”

“Well, I can’t make it too easy of a game.”

“You can’t make it impossible either!”

“It seems like I already have.” And you’re not sure if you want to wipe the smirk off his face or just stare at it.

“What about Tree?”

Arlert laughs. “No, but you have one guess left.”

“What?!” You sit up straight, eyes wide. Now you really want to wipe the smirk off his face.

“You have seven guesses, and in the eleven months we’ve known each other, you’ve used up six.” His explanation is calm and rational enough for you to almost convince yourself that the rule has been there from the start.

“Wait- wait. I never knew about this!”

“I thought everyone did. It’s traditional wager rules.” Mr Arlert’s tone is sorry, but you know he’s everything but. So, you cross your arms and pout, hoping that staring him down might at least give you the smallest chance of winning your wager.

He leans forward, mirthful and you feel a shiver go down your spine. “What is it, little puppy, sulking because you’re afraid you can’t win?”

You flush at the implication of your loss- “No- no not at all- no”- before registering his actual words are and only then can you feel the heat rise and you’re sure it’s doing you no service. “I know I can win!”

“I know you can too,” he assures you.

You frown. “Are you being sarcastic?”

It’s his turn to flush. “No, not at all! You can win- the water god favours you, after all.”

And although you shrug, his words stick. They always do.

Before you go home, you pass by Armin’s temple and place at the foot of his statue the remainder of your grandmother’s necklace.

A year ago:

Amrin knew how fickle the gods were and he thought that this knowledge made him impervious to those feelings. He watched how Eren jumped from woman to woman daily, how Reiner picked and chose his battles without a care, how every single fixation a deity would have never lasted more than a year. He thought of how stupid it was to spend a life of immortality indulging in such temporary pleasures. And he looked down on his kin for that very reason.

It was only after one argument too many that Armin finally let it slip. The god of the sea was usually quiet, offering soft smiles, casual conversation, and minimal conflict. That was his only rule: keeps quiet before the gods of the pantheon as he takes his anger out on the humans below. But that day, he forgot about his rule.

Maybe it was the years of silence that caused the Eathshaker’s outburst, or maybe it was just Eren’s bored expression as he talked about his mistresses in front of Mikasa. Armin couldn’t take it. Gathered at a marble table beside all the Olympians, he scowled and told them how stupid they all were.

“Don’t you realise? You’re all wasting your immortality by being so idiotic, so fickle! Everything you touch becomes a temporary pleasure, ruined by your inability to act like real gods.”

He should have stopped; he really should have stopped. But the crack in the glass bridge had been there for years, and now the shards of glass were dropping down into the sea. “You might as well be human!”

The room went silent. Eyes went wide, and mouths gaped, but the gods opted for silence. Every deity wanted to speak up, maybe even draw their swords, but they were more intelligent than Armin was in that moment, which was more unusual than one might think. He had never snapped so violently before. Armin may have been aggressive, but he knew his place. Knew when to be docile. Now, he felt like he could crumble Olympus itself with his rage and bury the Olympians with their dead parents.

The king of the gods, however, leaned forward. His emerald eyes were unmoving, devoid of emotion though his lips tilted into a monstrous grin.

“You’re just as fickle as the rest of us, brother,” was all Eren said.

When Armin lunged at him, knocking the fine glass off the table, it was Mikasa who pinned him down. Arms locked behind his back, all Armin could do was watch as mirth flooded Eren’s face, and the god of the sky laughed. The bastard laughed and laughed and licked the small wound on his hand from a shard of glass. It healed immediately. Even their pain was temporary.

And like he had been doing for the past millennia, Armin found solice in his only rule: if he couldn’t take out his rage on his brother, Armin would take out his frustration elsewhere.

His first instinct was to find a woman, but the thought of seeking out temporary pleasure, from a mistress no less, reminded him too much of Eren. So, he descended to earth, trident in one hand as the other gripped the reigns of his horse and they rode for three days and three nights. That’s all it took for the god of the sea to find what he was looking for- someone deserving of his hatred.

There are many humans like the merchant. But most of their hatred is silent. And when it’s not, blasphemy often falls upon deaf ears. The merchant just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time when his drunk rambles led him up on the deck screaming out Armin’s name like it was venom in his throat, until he could scream no more. He was drunk, but the merchant’s hatred for the god of the sea did not cease when he was sober.

And when Armin heard his name, the god wasted no time calling forth a storm to sink the merchant’s ship. He took care to ensure that the arrogant man watched each and every one of his men be swallowed whole, their bodies only resurfacing lifeless, before the storm calmed.

It took five days for the merchant to swim back to his island.

He never returned to the sea.

As the weeks passed, he relocated his home to help him stay away from any body of water and made sure that his family followed suit.

But Armin followed, and the merchant’s father died weeks later with saltwater water found in his lungs.

Unfortunately, that was not enough to sedate the god of the sea’s need for vengeance. Fortunately, it was not enough to sedate the merchant’s hatred either. The hubris didn’t leave him. Instead, it just grew and grew and grew until the merchant considered himself more of a god than Armin would ever be.

“Oh, oh.” Armin couldn’t help but smile as he watched the man urinate before his temple. “This is perfect, so perfect.”

Armin was going to show his uncaring brother how different he was from the rest of the miserable Olympians. As he stood above the island of Paradis, golden hair blowing in the ocean wind, the god vowed to begin his Odyssey. An eternal Odyssey. A journey that would last longer than the ten fleeting years he had with the Greek hero- a journey that would last longer than the universe itself.

And he knew exactly where to begin. A man’s most valuable possession: his child.

It was only after your grandfather’s death that Armin noticed you. When he first began watching the merchant’s household, under the guise of either a guest or a bird, he had been surprised to learn that the blasphemous man had no wife, nor children. Armin only realised his mistake one night, when you came to lay a blanket on the drunk man’s barely conscious body. The merchant had pulled you towards him, muttering apologies and you had wrinkled your nose before offering him a soft smile. “It’s okay, papa”.

A daughter sheltered from the world, it seemed.

The god had initially thought you were one of the servants. There were only two in the house, and your tasks were all similar. But as Armin began to watch you closer, he saw how you did have a life outside your home with friends, interests, men- a life your father was blissfully unaware of.

The merchant hardly left home- playing the part of the sick man- and you took care of him- playing the part of your dead mother- in a happy sort of agreement.

You didn’t speak about it to your friends, but you detested your doting role. Armin could tell. The way you wrinkled your nose every time your father walked through the door, the eye-roll when you were given a load of laundry. The god couldn’t help by laugh at how pathetic the merchant was that not even his only daughter- his lifeline- cared for him. The merchant didn’t know, of course. Your fake smiles and gentle hands were enough to deceive him, keep him sane. But Armin was going to break that pattern.

The merchant didn’t deserve the care of a woman. He didn’t deserve anything. So, Armin was going to take you away from him.

His initial plan was to kill you. Simple, efficient, quick. And then he thought of dumping your body somewhere far so that the search for you would break your father’s spirit even more. He hesitated, though, he wasn’t sure why, but he did. And then, you changed your routine.

After meeting up with the two individuals you called your friends at the Sunday market- instead of going back home- you carried on walking. Through the houses on the outskirts and into the dense trees, you almost stung your sandal-clad feet twice before reaching a river. The river had no god of itself, but you still threw in an offering and muttered. Stupid human. And then you sat beside the river and- nothing. Your routine was boring, obviously a ritual to let you escape from reality. Yet, he couldn’t tear away from you. The woman at the river Shiganshina was a different one than the woman who served her father. The one here relaxed her shoulders, cursed at the world around her, smiled- albeit randomly but it was real. He decided there that he would kill you tomorrow.

But when, the next day, you led him back to the river, Armin was lost in you again. Lost in your honestly, lost in your need to escape. He wanted to see more, he needed to see more. Metaphorically, of course. But when you began undressing, the pleated robes dropping to reveal soft skin and tender curves, the god of the sea realised that he wouldn’t mind literally seeing more of you. Armin had been with goddesses and nymphs and, hell, even Aphrodite herself, but never had he been this awestruck. He had to hold himself back. Even though the way you were bathing made it seem like you were worshipping him, water dripping from your body, wet hair hiding the swell of your breasts. Armin’s breath stuttered. He couldn’t reveal himself. He couldn’t.

So, he watched, and watched. Trying desperately to take in everything you were from a distance. Armin didn’t count the number of times he visited you before finally decided that killing you was no longer an option. He told himself that his change of mind was progressive. A practical choice to draw out his revenge into the most painful and convoluted Odyssey. To do that, he couldn’t kill you. No. He was going to take you for himself. Armin was going to turn the daughter of the merchant into a servant of the one God he detested.

Putting the thought into your mind was pathetically easy. As you walked past his temple on your way home, an echo of laughter emerged from the marble building. You paused for only a moment, but it was enough for Armin to catch the look in your eyes. It was one of longing, mixed with a curiosity that threatened to pull you in. But you seemed to catch yourself in the act and hastened yourself home.

And so, Armin’s true Odyssey began.

For his journey to progress, he had to meet you. Not as a bird or a horse or through glances as a guest. He had to meet you properly. This was the only way to draw you in, he told himself. The only way for you to submit completely and willingly.

Armin could have forced you too your knees, but he had to ensure that your father watched has his daughter chose Armin over him. And chose Armin you would. Every piece was in perfect place. The fates seemed to have woven a beautiful cloth of gold for the god of the sea.

What he failed to realise was that the cloth was in fact a snare- a trap which he will never be able to escape from.

Eleven months ago:

A short gust of wind had the pears in your thin basket tumbling down onto the rocky ground. You rushed after the fruit, crouching down to pick it up when a shadow appeared, and a hand reached out to pick it up for you. The sandal-clad feet were pale- paler than anyone living on this warm island and the robes a fine, ironed white. He somehow seemed to glow brighter than his clothes, and you purposefully let your fingers graze his as you picked up the fruit.

“Thank you,” you said, standing up.

You were hoping that he wouldn’t catch your staring. But even if he did, you couldn’t tear your eyes off him. He was lean, taller than you but not intimidatingly so and his eyes were like oceans that you found yourself staring into as he introduced himself as Mr Arlert. Just Mr Arlert. The new owner of the stables with a voice so soft, it took a moment before you remembered to introduce yourself.

“Y/N. And thank you, again.” It isn’t appropriate for an unmarried woman to be talking to a man on her own, but you couldn’t help but ask. “Do you have a first name Mr Arlert?”

His smile was contagious. “I do. But names are a powerful thing. I’m afraid I can’t give mine up freely.”

“Oh.” You scrunched your nose. “Can I pay for it then?”

You were dead serious, but the blond man laughed. How can someone look so pretty when they laugh? You wondered.

“I’m serious! I can pay you; name your price.”

Mr Arlert looked down at you, blue eyes twinkling. “I’ll think about it.”

“So, is that a no?”

“It’s a no, for now. One day I’ll tell you my name.”

He was sweet, so sweet, but you still gave him a sceptical frown, nose scrunching and eyebrows furrowing. Mr Arlert in turn gave you a sorry look before his eyes lit up and he pulled out from his brown satchel a small book of yellowed pages and a dusty blue cover, the gold embossing hardly visible. You nose only scrunched further.

“My name is in this story. It’s mentioned few times, but it’s an important one,” he said to you.

You took the book and flipped through the worn pages, immediately recognising the tale of Aphrodite and Ares. The lovers.

Why the challenge? You wanted to ask Mr Arlert but you knew the answer you your get would be too cryptic. Besides, you think, I like a challenge.

“How long do I have?” You asked instead.

“A year and a day.”

“And what will I get if I figure it out?”

At this, he pondered. But it seemed feigned, and you wondered, just for a split second, if the man had planned this from the beginning. But why? This was another one of your questions that went unanswered that day. Because before you could say anything more, Mr Arlert leaned forward and said, “Your reward will be divine”. And he walked away.

Nine months ago:

Life was well after Armin arrived. There was no other way to put it. Your father was confining himself to his room more often than before, and you were finding more opportunities to visit the river, leave the house and, eventually, you met the handsome baker’s son. Jean was kind, a gentleman, but not the arrogant type like most the men your age. You didn’t even feel too much guilt when you thought that spending a future with Jean- taking care of him and his home- wouldn’t be too bad. It’s quite pathetic that your life had been reduced to not being “too bad”, but the idea of marrying Jean sat on the comfortable line between reality and fantasy. Safety.

And then you were visited at the river.

Mr Arlert wasn’t even surprised to find you there, he had just smiled and sat beside you as you clenched your fists and forced yourself to smile back at him. You had always enjoyed him, his company, his challenges, but now it was like he was provoking you. The river Shiganshina was your river, your special place away from the hellscape that was the town. And now Mr Arlert had brought himself and his ordinary life into it.

You pulled your sandals back on, the crease in your brow evident. He clearly couldn’t get the hint. But before you could stand up, he spoke, and you paused.

“I wish I could jump in and swim away,” he said.

Curiosity got the best of you, as it often did with the man.

“The waterfall would kill you.”

The awkward laugh again. It had an effect on you so that your jaw couldn’t help but unclench. “If it means that I get to touch a waterfall, I wouldn’t mind, you know?”

You knew. You knew exactly what he meant. But you didn’t tell him.

“Didn’t take you as the suicidal type,” you said.

“I might get saved, who knows.”

“If you’re counting on me to jump after you, I’m letting you know I won’t.”

“I know,” he laughed. “I was thinking of more of a divine rescue.”

You finally looked at him, and- unsurprisingly- his blue eyes were glued to yours. What was surprising was his unwavering tone, his straight face. Mr Arlert was being serious. Why was he opening up to you this suddenly? So far, your interactions had consisted of him staring, you trying to guess his name, and him continuing to stare. In that order. You knew there was more to him, but it’s only now that you found yourself wanting to seek that out.

“You think Armin would save you?” You didn’t miss Arlert’s smile.

“I’m hoping I’ve gained his favour- done enough for him to allow me freedom via waterfall.”

It was your turn to smile. “You probably have, You’re at the temple often.”

“Thank you.” He blushed and you quickly pushed down the thought of how cute he looked. Sitting beside you, trousers rolled up and feet in the water, Mr Arlert looked more than cute. He looked like he belonged. You weren’t sure how that made you feel but, in that moment, you didn’t mind him entering your world.

“I think you would also be saved if you jumped into the waterfall,” Mr Arlert said.

You laughed. “Is that your way of saying I’m a nice person?”

“Something like that.” He paused. “I think Armin would appreciate your- uh- honesty. You’re like a priestess.” He laughs nervously at your expression. “You know, they have this personal affinity with the water and such.”

You knew exactly what he meant. How a stranger could read you so perfectly, you weren’t sure. But as you hid your smile between your hands, you wondered whether you were prepared to face the fear of the unknown. Maybe, with Mr Arlert, it would be a bit less unknown.

A few days later, Jean was announced missing. A search party was sent out and even Mr Arlert, on his recently acquired brown horse, couldn’t find him.

Present day:

Armin isn’t sure if he likes playing the part of the nice boy or not. Humans are simple creatures who praise him continuously and, without divine responsibilities, there is no need to take his rage out anywhere. But a god is who he is, and every day, he yearns to be seen as one. To be seen as one by you. He watches as you worship him, but you never look at him- not like you do the statues, or even the small river which you think is your only true connection to the god of the ocean.

You both want more, and you both know that, but you only ever admit it to each other when you sit beside that very river. There, in those moments, Armin feels a bit more like a god. Whenever he’s around you, he feels a bit more like a god.

He’s told you before, but your perfect honesty has made it easy for him to unravel around you. He wants to unravel around you in other ways, too, and he wants you to unravel around him. Armin can’t count the number of times he’s sat beside you at the riverside and wanted to do nothing more than to kiss those lips of yours, to press the hard cock that he hides inside of you and watch as your eyes roll back, and you call out his name.

But the God of the Sea is not Eren. Armin will earn you. And he’s very close to doing so. Not Mr Arlert. You have no interest in human men, that much is clear. You yearn for something more powerful. And you’re right. Only a god is worthy enough to stand beside you, lay between your legs, be in your arms. Mr Arlert is simply a means to push you to realising that the god in question is Armin.

In the meantime, he’s been nothing but patient.

It’s only when you come to his door one night, eyes puffy and red, that he lays his hands on you for the first time. He rubs your back as you cry and cry, fat tears refusing stop falling. You tell him about bout your father. About how, since he got better, he’s been refusing to let you out of the house, snapping at every moment and accusing you of being a filthy god-worshipper.

“He s-sai-d- he said we’re ‘gonna move away- said we’re gonna get as far away from the s-sea as possible.” You can hardly speak, though the tears have stopped, your voice still shakes violently. But Armin listens, he holds you close to him and repeats that everything is going to be fine.

You can’t stop thanking him as you leave, and he promises that his door is always open for you. “Whenever you call for me, I’m here,” Armin tells you. “Right beside you, always,” he adds as he watches you walk away.

He’s reached a new chapter of this Odyssey.

Present day:

You suppose your father’s death should have been expected. He was an old man, obviously depressed, and his only lifeline was his daughter who hated him.

You also suppose you should feel guilty. You don’t.

Familiar faces give their condolences and whisper questions of what is to happen to you now. You only pay heed to Sasha and Connie, though, who give you a soft hug before Sasha tells you that her family would be happy to take you in. You reassure her and everyone else that you have a plan, though your best friends are the only ones who seem to believe you.

“I heard Marie has a son who’s single, maybe they can-“

“You’re not actually talking about marriage here are you?”

“Well, the girl is all alone in the world, now! She needs a man to lead her on the right path.”

The old women are wrong, so very wrong. You don’t need a man. You’re fucking sick of men- sick of them all- everything they’ve created and everything they stand for.

What you need is a god.

The head priestess of Armin’s temple in unsurprised when you knock on her door with nothing but a bag and the clothes on your body. Those clothes are burned soon after, along with many of your other things, leaving your old life behind.

She tells you that you’re lucky there’s a place for you. The last priestess left running off with a man, “Which is a cardinal sin”, she makes sure to repeat every-so-often. The head priestess seems to hate men more than you do, sneering whenever Connie comes by.

Sasha and Connie are unsurprisingly shocked at your choice of work and even if they visit almost every day, they always tell you that they miss you. They think you’ve come the temple out of desperation- everyone does- and you let them believe. Because despite cleaning the marble floors or whatever other arduous duty you’ve been given, a smile is never far as you realise that you’re free from man. Indeed, explaining the truth to anyone would be far too difficult.

Well, except one person.

You’ve never missed anyone before. Not with your father keeping you so sheltered for most of your life. But as you push through the Head Priestess’ relentless schedule, you can’t help but miss Mr Arlert. He disappears after your father’s funeral, so you leave him a note at the empty stable with your final guess. You like to think he decided to follow his own path, you also like to think that he too wishes you were beside him, a guide in the unknown.

Present day:

The room is a box of marble, with a throne sat upon a dais at the centre and one fountain at every corner, each one sculped into a horse. The object of your interests, however, is the large bowl of water on the floor in front of the throne.

This is your initiation. You will emerge from this room not as an apprentice, but a Priestess.

You kneel down and lift the pot of clay to your lips. The head priestess kept on repeating how important it is to not put it down until you’re finished. So, you gulp the water down until you can see the image of Armin. You’re the one who selected the pot, with its faded paint depicting Armin and Hange’s fight for patronage of Sina. It’s a powerful image, but when you put the pot down, you come face to face with something very different. Armin is standing in a room-this room, you realise- and crouched down before him is a young woman, looking up in awe. It takes bit longer of a moment for you to realise that the woman is you.

Looking up slowly from the pot, the first thing you see is sandal-clad feet. Golden sandals, just as fine as the robes he wears, draped in perfect waves. The first word you think of to describe him is divine and it’s indeed accurate because-

“Mr Arlert.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

But you know that’s not correct. The man- no, not a man- before you is taller than Mr Arlert, by a foot and a half at least. His muscles are more prominent that the stable boy’s ever were, strong legs visible through the large slit between the layers of fabric draped over the god’s figure. Half of his shoulder-length hair is tied back using a golden pin whilst the rest frames his perfect, perfect face. You can’t help but think that Armin looks nothing like his statues- no medium of art could capture the ocean within his eyes, glowing in the dull light of the room. Then again, the stories didn’t capture the way the god acts either.

“Armin,” you say, this time your voice louder.

Now, you know.

His sad smile is familiar, but there’s something there that never was. “Oh dear,” he says. “I’m afraid you’ve lost out wager.”

Armin can’t help but compare you to a puppy, with large eyes staring up at him from your crouched position and an expression a perfect mix of excitement, curiosity, and shock.

You reach out a hand tentatively, but it hovers in the air between the two of you once you notice Armin’s raised brow. But he doesn’t rebuke you for it. After all, it’s only your first encounter with the god. He can’t expect you to behave perfectly, to adopt the right etiquette- no, he’ll have to train you first. Like he would a baby mutt. The thought makes him smile.

“I’ll accept any consequences, my god,” you say. Your voice sounds so sure of itself, so unlike your usual ramblings, those that Armin could and would listen to for hours. Right now, though, the certainty, it’s laced with desire that sends blood rushing south. You don’t notice. You’re too lost in his eyes to notice anything.

When he places his hand on your chin to hold it up, he can feel you shiver. “Such a perfect little worshipper,” he says. “I couldn’t possibly punish you.”

Armin can swear he sees disappointment in your eyes before he turns around and walks up the dais. The marble of the throne is cold beneath him, but the sight of you looking up at him with such longing is enough to warm him up. Now, Armin is sure you’ve noticed his growing erection because you crawl towards the dais, not yet climbing it, but close enough to see and lick your lips.

“Let me thank you at least, Armin.” He almost groans at the sound of his name. God, he wants to hear you say it over and over.

“Come here.”

And you climb up the dais only to pause before Armin leans forward and grabs your hips. Two lips, as if led by an invisible string, meet. You kiss like you’ve been waiting years for Armin and, in a way, you have. His tongue is inside your mouth quickly and he’s kissing, sucking, letting his teeth gently graze your lips as he revels in the feeling of you. As your bodies lean against each other, you can feel his heart hammering against your own. His chest is stone, but his lips are so soft and your hands find his golden hair. It’s also softer than it looks, and Armin can’t help but let out a moan as you gently tug.

When you pull back, his pupils are blown. “Thank me, then,” Armin says, breathless.

Sitting between his legs, your hand is tiny compared to his cock, and you can’t stop staring at it. Long and somewhat slender, but veiny with a flushed red top- he can see you gulp before you take an experimental lick at him. Armin’s hold on your hair only tightens and you look up at him, doe eyed and seemingly innocent.

“Put it in your mouth, pretty girl,” he says, guiding your head gently. “So obedient- Yes, exactly, just like-ah- just like that.”

But he doesn’t need to push down- no- he lets you set your own pace only because you do it so perfectly, almost as perfect as the wet noises you make. Armin doesn’t have time to be surprised, he’s just able to react fast enough to suppress his own moans so he can hear your wet tongue caress the base of his cock, as your lips create the perfect o-shape to accommodate him. Your drool is everywhere in a matter of seconds- his balls are coated with it, and so is your lap, where the spit seeps through the thin white fabric you call a robe.

“Like a puppy,” he murmurs. And you look up quizzically. “You’re drooling over me like a desperate puppy- a puppy in heat,” he grunts. “You just want to please me, don’t you? ‘S alright, puppy, I’ll let you do that.”

If you could nod your head, you would. Instead, your cheeks burn, and Armin is so lost in the way that you look- not even able to take his entire cock in his mouth- that his hips begin to buck unconsciously. He hits the back of your throat, and you gag at the sudden impact, but he hisses and murmurs “What a good, wet hole. So good, good-”

The earthshaker is afraid that if he speaks any louder, his voice will slur into incomprehensible sultry sounds. But as you struggle to take his cock even deeper into his mouth, he lets out groans that go straight between your own legs. You moan around him, and the reverberations make his head roll back. God, you could stare at him forever. And he would let you.

“Look at me,” he says whenever your eyes go astray. “Look at your god.”

As his hips buck more violently, Armin can feel the pressure in his lower stomach, the impending orgasm and he wants to stop- wants to hold out the way he always has. But he can’t, it’s too much and he just cannot pull out of you. He simply pushes further and further into your tight throat, repeating your name like it’s a blessing. “fuck, puppy, ‘m going to- I’m going to cum down your throat. You want that, do you you’re your god’s cum- ah, fuck, ahhh”-

Pushing your head down to the base, both of his hands at the back of your head, Armin cries out you name and you can feel the warm liquid go down your throat, thick ropes filling up your mouth, some of it dribbling out. Armin reflexively pushes it back in your mouth, ordering you to swallow it all, to show how grateful you are. Of course, you oblige. But before you can even regain your breath, Armin suddenly pulls you off his cock. His pupils are dilated, and he wears an expression- anger? Shock?

“You’re not a virgin,” he hisses, teeth gritting against each other. His breath is frantic, uneven. It’s not a question and you begin to recognise his expression. Rage. “You’ve done this before.”

Fuck.

The God of the sea has his fair share of consorts and mistresses. Some of them virgins- though he never chases them the way Eren does- some of them not, but none have made him cum so fast. He would like to blame it on the year of pining, of restraint, but he knows better. It’s you. You do this him. You make him so wild, so willing, so pliant even.

In that moment, as he looks your worried face, so desperate to please, he thinks that he’ll never be able to let it go. You’ve consumed Armin and he wants to do nothing more than burn eternally. You must understand that- that you exist as his beacon, that’s where you’ll be your happiest, but those thoughts are too complex for a human. You, in your fragile state, can’t understand. It’s alright, he’ll just have to show you bit by bit that you’re his. But to do so, he must first take on the role he’s familiar with. That of the punisher.

“Who is he?” Armin snaps.

“It was only-“

“Who is he?”

You pause. Memories of nights spent together, huddled close and trying to keep quiet already fading. “Berthrolt Hoover.”

Armin’s shoulders relax, “I see.”

His breathing slowly goes back to normal, and, at the back of your mind, you know you’ve signed the young warrior’s death. But your worry is fleeting as Armin grabs you by the neck and hoists you over his knees, laying you down on your stomach effortlessly. “A priestess who isn’t a virgin?”

You look up as see Armin’s familiar sweet smile, but it’s laced with mirth that makes you forget the Mr Arlert he was before. You cry out at the first slap of his hand on your ass, more out of surprise than pain.

“I don’t think the people of Paradis will be very happy to hear that,” he says. “An unmarried woman giving herself away to a pathetic boy.”

Slap!

“I’m sorry!” you cry out. “It was a mis-”

He slaps you thrice.

“No excuses, dumb little puppy. I’m afraid you’ll have to endure this punishment.” His voice is deceptively soft, as if he is actually sorry. And when you look back up at Armin, his face betrays no malice. But it doesn’t show any cruelty either. Instead, there’s a fascination.

Armin has you sprawled across his lap, at his mercy and he is discovering you bit by bit. As a god. His cock twitches and then suddenly he tugs off the fabric of your robes and they disappear.

The way you squirm is half- hearted, and Armin has to laugh. “Embarrassed? Now of all times? I didn’t know you were such a prude. Or is this all just to compensate for the fact that you’re a whore in my temple?”

You shake your head, “I swear, I’ve never belonged to any man!”

Fingers trace the expanse of your naked body, soft enough to send shivers down your spine. “Oh? Really?”

“Yes yes, I swear, ah!” His fingers find your naked ass and they grab onto the flesh, massaging, groping, feeling you. Armin’s other hand rests on top of your head, stroking it gently and you’re so lost in his touch that you almost forget to speak.

“I belong to no man, I never have. Only you. It’s always been you, Armin.”

The god’s eyes widen, and he gently pulls you up from his lap only to seat you on it, upright and, this time, there’s so much more to admire. “You’re right,” he says. Armin captures your lips and this time, it’s longer, rougher. He doesn’t want to pull back, doesn’t want to lose the feeling of your soft lips against his, but his hands have already found your breasts and soon, his tongue joins them. You moan as he begins to lap at your breasts, leaving hickeys and spit in his wake as his finally finds your nipples and begins sucking them like a child as you whine and lean into him.

“You do belong to me,” he finally says, his voice partially muffled as he loses himself in the worship your breasts. “You’ve always belonged to me.”

And you can do nothing more than nod your head as your fingers tangle in Armin’s hair and you’re pulled into another kiss. His hand goes down your body, squeezing every single mound of flesh as if it needs to be touched so that when he finds your cunt, Armin can’t help but smile at how wet you are.

“Already, but I’ve hardly done anything to you?”

What a liar, but you don’t have a chance to tell him before he plunges a finger inside of you. “Oh, puppy, my puppy,” he groans at the contact the same time you moan, pushing your hips against his digits. “You like my fingers like that inside of you?”

“Yes, yes, I do, I really love them- it feels, oh my god, it feels too good!” you grip his shoulders, unable to do anything but desperately buck your hips at the smiling Armin. He knows what he’s doing, he knows that his fingers are giving you just that satisfaction, but it’s still not enough to bring you over the edge.

“Please Armin, please.” You squeeze his shoulders.

“Tell me what you want, tell me, I’ll give it to you- I swear.”

“I want to feel you, all- ah- all of you. I need to feel you inside of me!”

You’re not sure at which moment Armin removes his robes, but as he moves both of your legs so that you’re straddling him, your hands are on his bare, lean chest. The god’s nipples are flushed pink and pert, practically calling to you and you respond by brushing your fingers over them and watching him twitch ever-so-slightly in response. You withhold the urge to take them into your mouth, even as Armin rubs his cock against your cunt, releasing the sweetest of sounds.

He’s already leaking precum and it mixes with your juices so perfectly, his cock being dragged back and forth, only making you gush even more. “So messy,” he mumbles as he uses his tip to spreads your juices across your thighs. At this point, you can practically feel it throbbing, ready to be sheathed inside of you and the whimpers of your desperation echo against the temple walls.

When Armin slips inside of you, simultaneous gasps escape your lips. The god pulls your body closer to his as you throw your head back, stars in your eyes.

“Look,” he whispers. “Look how easily I slip in- it’s- it’s like your cunt is made for me.”

“Armin,” you whisper back. “Armin, Armin- ah- Armin.”

He sinks you down slowly, the stretch hitting every single spot that leaves your legs practically limp. The god is holding you up, whispering his own mantra that you can’t hear over your bliss. Once inside, your eyes look lock with Armin’s and he’s staring at you in a way he’s never done before. You’ve never seen pupils so dilated and the two of you stay like that as if making up for the moments when you should have been connected in this way. An eternity, it seems, the two of you have needed each other.

“I’m your god,” Armin finally says. “I’m your god and- hng ah-” He begins moving you up and down his shaft. “And I’m going to make you cum all over this cock- okay? All over your god’s cock.”

You nod your head pathetically as he lifts your hips and slams them down against his own. He is strong, ruthless in the way he bucks his hips up every time he lifts you from his cock, as if he can’t bare the empty feeling of not having your tight pussy clamped around him. At this relentless pace, you’re sure that the sound of your connecting bodies could penetrate even these marble walls. And yet, you don’t hold back. Thanks and praises spill from your swollen lips and Armin can’t help but lean forward and push his tongue between your mouth, as if he can absorb all of your word. “So good, so good, it’s- uah- I just want more, more of your cock, you fill me up so good!”

Armin can’t deny you. He pushes your thighs to your chest and picks up your entire body to fuck himself. He manoeuvres your body like a toy and as your tongue rolls out and your eyes become glassy, you begin to look like one too. The only sounds coming out of your mouth are incomprehensible, even as Armin attaches his mouth to one of your bouncing tits, you can only squeal.

“Such a good puppy,” he says between kisses. “Letting me use her holes like this. A god using a puppy’s holes- you should be- you should be grateful! Tell me, tell me you’re grateful!”

“I am!” you cry out. “I am grateful!”

“Good girl, good puppygirl.”

When Armin flips you over, you’re sat on his throne and he fucks into you harder, harder than he was doing before, and you swear his moans are louder too. He’s looking down at the movement of your stomach as if hypnotized by the way his cock disappears into you. And, in a way, he is. The fascination of being inside of you- just the idea even- is enough to make him want to cum.

The sudden position has him hitting new spots and the build-up is so fast, you hardly have the time to warn him. “Armin, Armin I’m cum-“

He grabs your face as you release around his cock, body spasming but unable to look away as Armin’s gaze burns through you. “Good girl,” he says. “Show me, show me how you cum. Just like that, just like that.”

He continues to plough his hips into yours and the spasms of your pussy leave him unable to hold back. “Inside of you,” he practically growls. “I’m going to cum inside of you- yes, yes, yes I am puppy. I’m going to cum inside of you and you’re going to show me how you take it yeah?”

You’re too far gone to even register the implications of what he’s saying, but he buries his cock in your warm walls and releases his cum inside of you with a heavy groan. “Just like that, just like that- I’m going to fill you up with my seed, puppy, my puppy.”

Armin feels like he’s emptied his balls- two powerful orgasms which leave his legs shaking violently. And yet, he pulls out of you slowly and stands back up to his full height, cock in front of your face. Almost instinctively, you rub your cheek against it, giving Armin soft kitten licks and he coos at you, stroking your hair. But he doesn’t push, he just holds his cock there and pumps softly as he stares at your fucked out face. Messy, covered in his spit, his hickeys, his bites, his cum- you look perfect, divine. Only one thing is missing. “I’m going to give you everything I have, puppy. And you’re going to take it, okay?” You nod and open your mouth for him and, immediately, a strong stream of pee emerges.

At the bitter taste on your tongue, your eyes roll back, and you spread your legs even wider, a welcome to the mess he is about to make. Armin accepts and angles his cock to release his pee over your chest, then your stomach, and then your already-throbbing cunt. He lifts a foot to rest on the throne and Armin doesn’t think he’s even seen such a beautiful sight in his life.

As if guided by an implicit will, Armin’s foot hovers on top of you and suddenly, he presses against your lower stomach. Your eyes snap back into focus as you whine out for him to wait, wait just a moment “I just had water,” you cry out. “It’s gonna- It’s gonna come out!”

But Armin simply grins. “Let it come out,” he says and presses his foot down harder. “Pee yourself dumb little mutt, be a good puppy for your owner.” The trickle that emerges is involuntary, but Armin’s grin is wider. “Yes, good girl, just like that. Let me see more, let me see more of you.”

The pressure that was holding the bowl of water back broke and you felt the warm liquid against your thighs before you realise what’s happening. Armin practically moans as he watches you whimper and struggle to hold your pee back as it spreads over the throne, the dais, and even Armin himself. He doesn’t stop until you’ve given it all to him.

You expect Armin to disappear.

You’ve given him everything. His goal is complete, you think, he has nothing more to do with you. But, as he has done many times before, the god surprises you. Armin’s body is heavy against yours when he collapses on top of you, but the weight is comforting. Despite the malaise of urine and cum rubbing against both of your bodies, you wrap your arms around the god of the ocean and hold him close.

Even as you close your eyes and lean your head back on the marble throne, Armin doesn’t leave you. Even as you open your eyes back up and see blue ones staring back at you, the look he gives you is so familiar and long hair in such unfamiliar disarray that you can’t help but smile.

He doesn’t ask why. Instead, Armin calls forth a stream of warm water from the adjacent fountain to clean the both of you. It feels like a fever dream the way floating droplets caress your bodies, and when Armin stands you up, his hands not leaving you, the perfume that suddenly envelops you is heavenly.

“Can I give you a last kiss, please?” you ask when your robe appears once again. And Armin leans forward to capture your lips, dragging his tongue on your bottom lip as if to taste you.

It doesn’t feel like a final kiss. You’ve had many of them- Jean, Sasha, Berthrold, your father, and even your mother, though you can’t remember it. This kiss is different. It feels less like a kiss and more like a promise, a vow. a shiver runs down your spine.

“I am your god,” he says and lifts his both of his hands slowly to wrap around your neck. “And you’re my worshipper.” You gasp as a cold sensation spreads around your neck, just below Armin’s fingers. It’s sudden, and heavy and when he removes his hands, yours fly to your neck and there’s a metal band there where there was none before.

“It’s sculpted from Hephaestus’ gold,” Armin says as he strokes his fingers along the metal. But he’s not looking at his gift, instead he looks at you.

“Armin- I- this is. But why?”

For the first time, he can’t read your expression. But it doesn’t matter. You belong to him. You always have, but now you know. And if it takes time for you to understand, Armin can wait. He’ll wait right beside you, always, always there to guide you.

“This is not the end of my Odyssey. My Odyssey is eternal,” he says before giving you another short kiss and disappearing, the warmth of his lips still present.

The gods might not all be fickle, you think, so you just smile sadly. But the gods are all selfish, so you touch the collar around your neck.

A/N: This is my first ever collab and I was- as still am- a bit insecure about how this story turned out so I appreciate all of your support ❤️. I would also like to apologise to my fellow history nerds for the historical inaccuracies.

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dizzydancingdreamer · 4 years ago

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Yellow | Draco Malfoy

Hey lovelies, here’s another Draco. I don’t know why but right now he’s all I have the motivation to write for. I hope you don’t mind!

Description: Y/n and Draco falling in love with the color yellow and each other

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Reader

Warnings: It’s a little angsty, a little smutty, very fluffy, and way too long

Word count: 6k

Tags: FLUFF, angst at times, the ending hints at smut

Tag list: @fashionably-crying , @draconisxcaput

Yes, I’m using this gif again, sue me

Yellow. Sunshine, flowers, freshly pressed gold. Everything that’s eternally happy and pure and good.

Yellow. Sickness, potions gone bad, poison. Bile when there’s nothing left to throw up.

Yellow. Kissing, and fighting, and doing. The color of life itself.

The color of the pumpkins growing in Professor Sprout’s greenhouse and of her nails as she writes notes on information long ingrained in her memory.

“Can anyone tell me the name for what is in front of you all right now?” Professor Sprout’s jolly voice rings through the greenhouse and you can’t help but smile as you raise your hand.

Sprout nods at you, a smile on her face too, knowing quite well that you’ll tell her what she wanted to hear and more.

“It’s a cucurbita pepo, also known as a pumpkin. They’re grown during the summer months and then harvested in autumn, just in time for the muggle celebration of Halloween. They are used in cooking quite often however they are rich in tryptophan, which is converted to serotonin upon consumption, which in turn causes fatigue. Thus cucurbita pepo seeds are used in certain forms of the sleeping draught potion. It’s also why we get sleepy after eating pumpkin pie.”

You giggle at the end of your spiel and the sound trickles through the greenhouse and wraps around a certain blonde at the back of the class who is furiously writing down everything you just said. You don’t notice, though, you’re too busy revelling in Sprout’s approving nod. She begins speaking in depth about the facts you shared and you hurry to write them in your journal, the one that you keep specifically for herbology. It’s filled with plants of all kinds, each with detailed notes and sketches that you drew yourself.

When you flip to your page on pumpkins you begin adding notes you don’t have, just a few details here and there. You aren’t gifted in every subject, not like Hermione, but you are proud to admit that you excel in herbology and know that you will keep the notes you have been working on for many years to come. You brush your sunshine nails across the page as Sprout rattles on about the antioxidants and other nutrients found in Pumpkins. Vitamin A, magnesium, potassium. You already have it all written down.

“Those are well done,” you’re startled by a voice emanating from over your shoulder, “no wonder you’re so good at this class. Your notes are amazing.”

You’re shocked to find none other than Draco Malfoy standing behind you, towering over you and peering curiously at the sketches that you made of some pumpkins a few days earlier. You know the Hufflepuffs share this class with the Slytherins but usually your groups don’t mix. As in they never do. It’s well known throughout the school that Slytherins hate Hufflepuffs. A lot. So it’s only natural that you, one of the softest Hufflepuffs in the school, cower slightly in the presence of the prince of the Slytherins.

“Oh, um,” you shuffle closer to the table, putting some space between you and him, “thank you, Draco.”

His eyes widen when you say his name and the entire class goes silent. Even professor Sprout ducks her head, stopping her rambling and busying herself with watering a patch of sunflowers behind her. Regret immediately floods your system and you feel slightly sick. Every eye in the class is on you and him, waiting with bated breath to see what happens next. You almost expect him to slap you by the way everyone is acting. You curl into yourself, pulling your hands into your sleeves. You’re undeniably terrified.

What happens next though astounds everyone, most of all you. Draco doesn’t quite smile but his eyes crinkle at the corners and he reaches his hand out, curling his fingers around your shoulder gently. Your head springs up at the contact, fuzzy and spinning. What is he doing?

“You’re welcome, y/n.”

Your cheeks immediately heat at the sound of your name coming from his lips. Since when does he know who you are?

He lets go of your shoulder and looks around the greenhouse, as if noticing the eyes on the two of you for the first time, “what are you all staring at? Mind your own bloody business.”

And just like that the sound and bustle of the greenhouse returns to normal, if not a little more forced and with a few more whispers than before. He nods at you, your entire face burning this time, and walks back to his spot, falling into conversation with his housemates like nothing had happened.

You run a hand through your hair before returning to your notes, trying to fend off the peppermint scent still clinging to your jumper.

The color of the potion that earns his house ten extra points.

You have never been good at potions class. You can try to blame it on Professor Snape, claim that he has it out for you and is the reason all your potions bubble a puke green and smell of death, but that would just be avoiding the truth. The horrible, disheartening, and cruel truth that is, quite simply, that you are absolute garbage at brewing potions.

Draco, on the other hand, is the best chemist Hogwarts has seen in years it seems. Even better than local witch prodigy Hermione Granger. Again, you could blame it on your professor. You could argue that since Snape was also a Slytherin that he gives special favor to Draco. But that wouldn’t be fair to him.

You pout from your seat in potions class, watching the clock tick too slowly and too quickly at the same time. It’s much too slow given that this is your last class of the day and dinner is calling your name. It is, however, much too quick as you only have forty minutes left to complete the dreaded invisibility potion. In front of you lay the ingredients, taunting you relentlessly. The invisibility potion is among one of the more difficult potions you have to master before the end of year exam and, so far, you’ve had no luck.

“Well done, Mr. Malfoy. This is the fifth time you’ve completed your potion first and without error. ten points,” at the sound of Snape’s voice, and the cheering from Draco’s housemates, your head slumps, “perhaps now in your spare time you could help Miss. y/l/n. She seems to be having,” he clicks his tongue sharply, “difficulty.”

Your head snaps up, turning to face the blonde boy across the room, your cheeks fiery. His blue eyes, in turn, are wide, much like your own. You’re a deer caught in the headlights of the freight train that is Draco Malfoy. You’re frozen at the thought of having to speak to him and of having him answer you. As he starts to get up, textbooks in tow, you finally thaw. You think back to the greenhouse, and his hand on your shoulder, and feel the color draining from your face.

“Professor that isn’t necessary, I can-”

Snape silences you with a flick of his wrist, “you can fail on your own instead of take help when it’s offered?”

You just lower your head, mumbling a “no, sir” and pretending to search your textbook. Your heartbeat skyrockets as the blonde boy joins you. He places his own textbook next to yours, his long fingers skimming the pages. Your eyes are drawn to the rings on his fingers and you want to ask him about them but the two of you aren’t close like that and you don’t want to make it more awkward than it already is. The same peppermint scent floats around you, stronger this time. You swallow tensely, feeling once more the eyes of your peers.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble more into your cauldron than to him, “I know you don’t want to help me. You can just pretend if you want and I’ll figure out this mess myself.”

You stare at the bubbling, black potion and hold back the nausea. It is very much not the sunshine yellow that it’s supposed to be. You sigh and tuck your hair behind your ears. You begin crushing chameleon scales in silence. You can feel his stare on the side of your face, searing into your cheekbone. You do your best to stay focussed but you can barely concentrate under the weight of his gaze. Being this close to the Slytherin boy still makes you nervous. What kind of nervousness, that is though, you aren’t so sure.

You’re startled when he takes the ingredients from your hands, his fingers brushing yours lightly, “I never said I didn’t want to help you.”

You look up at him, meeting his eyes and giving him a soft smile, one that makes his eyes widen and his fingers clench. That’s all it takes for the two of you to begin fixing your botched potion. You work side by side, silently except for when he asks you to hand him some ingredients. It’s hypnotic, watching him take what you ruined and make it all better. You feel almost special for a moment before you shake your head slightly, clearing the silly thought. You don’t notice him watching you from the corner of his eye, his lips slightly turned as he notes how flustered you are.

By the end of the class your potion is it’s proper sunshine yellow again and you feel entirely relieved. Although you can’t help but worry about tomorrow's class and how you’ll have to do it all over again.

As if reading your mind Draco turns to you, his hand on your book preventing you from darting away, “do you want to be partners?”

Oh boy.

The color of the scarf she wraps around him when she finds him asleep in the courtyard.

It’s mid October and the days have already begun getting shorter. The air is crisp and stings your ears as you walk through the courtyard, admiring the changing leaves during your spare period. You’re the only person there, the chill in the air having deterred the other students from crowding the benches and tree stumps. You don’t mind. You needed a little bit of quiet today.

You’ve been a little out of it all week. Some Slytherins had been making your life a little hard, goading you in the hallways and talking loudly about you whenever you were in ear shot. You have no doubt that it’s about Draco helping you in potions. You don’t talk to him outside of class. Merlin, you barely speak to him in class. You just copy his notes and let him guide you through the potions. You definitely don’t deserve the torment but you can’t do anything about it so you’ve just been trying your best to ignore it.

You take a corner, rounding a rather large oak tree before you suddenly halt. You come inches away from a boy slumped against the base of the tree. His eyes are shut and soft snores fall from his gaped mouth. Upon further inspection, that is noting his green and silver jumper and white blonde hair, you realize that it’s Draco. Your pulse picks up as soon as you see him, your eyes taking in the school books scattered around him. He must have been studying, or trying to at least.

Your heart aches for him. You wonder what on earth could have possibly made him exhausted enough to fall asleep in the freezing courtyard. As if on cue, the wind picks up and you ring your hands together to create some heat. You move around him quickly, closing his textbooks and piling them next to his bag. You put the cap on his ink bottle and tuck his quill next to it and the books.

You step away from him. You don’t want him to wake up and have him find you hovering over him. For just a second, though, you admire how peaceful he looks while he’s sleeping. Usually his forehead is creased and his lips pursed. Right now, however, he’s relaxed. He looks his age for once: seventeen and alive. Alive, just asleep. You sigh as you look at the boy, wishing you could wrap your arms around him.

As you go to walk away, you take one last look at his face. Your heart pangs again at his rosy nose and cheeks. His ears are also a bright red, bitten from the cold and definitely painful. You don’t think before you act, you just take the grey and yellow scarf from around your neck and carefully wrap it around his. You make sure it covers his ears and nose, sofly pulling the ends to wrap around his hands as well.

You take one last look at him. You don’t know what comes over you but you lean down and press a soft kiss to his hair. He smells like green apples today and your heart aches more than ever.

The color of the first snitch he caught as captain and the color of her sweater from the front row.

It’s the first quidditch match of the year, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, and you’re more excited than you can say. There have been rumours spreading that Slytherin has a new captain and everyone has been dying to know who. They’ve kept it under wraps, no doubt wanting to stun Gryffindor during the match. The stands around you howl in anticipation, practically vibrating from all the voices speaking at once.

The wind whips around your ears, loud and bone chilling, and you think for a moment to the scarf you left with Draco. You blow in your hands, warming them before wrapping them around your ears. Hogwarts really needs to work on bettering the stands or at least accommodate them for the colder months.

You’re with a few of your friends, each one of you more high on adrenaline than the last. You stand in your bright yellow jumper at the front of the stands, gripping the railing and watching the field for any signs of movement. You’re more excited to see the Slytherin team than anyone else. Perhaps that’s because Draco has been on the team since second year and you now get to stare at him for an entire game, uninterrupted. You shake your head quickly. Where did that come from?

“Y/n, where’s your scarf? It’s freezing out here!” you turn to your best friend, Luna, and give her a small smile, your cheeks red but not from the cold.

Luna has a lion hat on her head and you can’t help but giggle. It’s definitely protecting her from the cold.

“Someone needed it more than I did,” you rub your hands together again.

She smiles at you like she knows you gave it to Draco but that would be impossible. She pulls you into her side, letting you share her body heat again. You speak a little about the upcoming match but ultimately end up doing more teeth chattering than talking. Soon there are trumpets blaring and you can’t stop yourself from leaning against the railing of the bleachers once more, your heart pounding in your chest.

Everyone holds their breath, the only sound throughout the stadium is the howling wind. Your head pounds, not from a headache but from the blood rushing through your body, electrified. You grip the railing right, the cold of the metal stinging your fingertips. The hairs on the back of your neck raise instinctively. They’re so close, you can feel it in your bones.

You blink and the next thing you know the sky is streaked with green, smoke billowing around the players who fly in a tight ‘V’ formation. You squint your eyes, just like every other student and professor around you, trying to make out who is leading the pack. When you catch a glimpse of his white blonde hair your mouth drops. Before you can register what’s happening, you’re cheering like mad. The wind picks up your hair, whipping it around your face as you throw your hands up and scream like you don’t have a care in the world for what anybody else thinks of you. And you don’t, not right now while the boy you think you’re falling for has just been announced as the new Slytherin captain.

Before you know it Luna has joined in, screaming with you, not for the sake of Draco but because you look like you’re having fun for the first time in weeks. She grabs your hand, waving your arms in the air and shouting into the wind. With the two of you screaming together it’s just enough for Draco to hear over the wind. He turns his head, his eyes easily pulling your yellow jumper from the sea of blue around you. He smirks and your heart stops. Before you can even begin to process the glint in his eyes he’s in front of you, hovering over the railing on a broom that looks like it costs more than your life. He’s biting back a cheeky smile.

You let go of Luna’s hand, stepping towards him, “Draco, you made captain!”

You don’t know where you gained the sudden courage to talk to him like you’re friends but right now you don’t care. All you can see is the boy on the broom, smiling at you like you’ve never seen him smile before. The stands around you roar but you can’t hear them. They don’t exist, not right now at least.

“You know it, pumpkin,” your heart stops, you mouth gaping at his casual use of a nickname, and he laughs, a real and absolutely mind melting laugh, “I can’t stay but I got something for you. I noticed you look a little chilly.”

He pulls the green and silver scarf from around his neck, wrapping it around yours but keeping hold of the two ends. The stands fall silent but it doesn’t matter, you still can’t see or hear anything but Draco. He tugs on the ends of the scarf, bringing your face inches away from his own. You almost think he’s going to kiss you for a moment. Oh, what you wouldn’t give for him to kiss you right now. Anything, you would give absolutely anything. Instead, though, he leans down and rubs his nose against yours and you giggle easily.

He lets go of the scarf, flying off to start the game but not before turning around and shouting, “wish me luck, pumpkin!”

You giggle again, your face flushing, “you don’t need luck, Draco!”

He winks and flies to meet his teammates. The game is fast paced and intense. Your eyes stay glued to him the entire time. His nickname wraps around every part of you, his voice echoing in your ears, warming you better than any scarf. You aren’t at all surprised when he catches the golden snitch. No one in the stands cheers louder than you do.

The color of the bruises on his cheekbone and his knuckles and on Zabini’s fucking stomach.

Your back is pressed against the stoney wall of the castle, his chest almost touching yours. You’re backed into the corner, not daring to even breathe. His breath is hot on your face and you cringe backwards, your head cracking against the hard surface behind you.

Blaise Zabini pushes you closer to the wall, if that’s even possible, and you feel like an animal, trapped and frantic, “who do you think you are, puff?”

“I-,” you glance around his head, looking anywhere but his murderous eyes, “what are you talking about?”

That is clearly not the answer he is looking for, practically growling in your face, “what did you do to Malfoy?”

“Nothing!” you cower away from him, your blood turning cold at his accusatory tone.

You squeeze your eyes shut. If he’s going to hit you, you don’t want to see his fists before they land on you. Tears drip down your face relentlessly and you don’t care. They aren’t going to change anything. Blaise Zabini hates you and there is nothing you can do about it. Your mind goes immediately to Draco, something that doesn’t shock you anymore. All you think about these days is him.

Blaise’s breath smells like liquorice and death as he gets up in your face, “stay away from him, y/l/n, or you’ll regret it. I promise you that.”

Just like that, Blaise isn’t touching you anymore. The cold air of the castle wraps around you and you snap your eyes open, watching his retreating form stalk out of the hidden hallway he dragged you into. You sag against the brick behind you, finally letting the full on sobs that you had been holding in rise to the surface. You collapse, sliding down the stone, not caring as it scrapes and rips your shirt as you do so. You curl into a ball, letting all the pain from the last few weeks consume you.

You get lost in the memories. You see Pansy pushing you down the steps outside of the great hall and Crabbe lacing your soup with a puking potion. You hear all the insults and slurs that have been thrown at you ever since Draco complimented you in the greenhouse and it stings. Your chest and throat and wrists burn and you grip your hair in your fists, hoping that if you just tug hard enough then you can make every bad word said to you and every bruise disappear. Of course you can’t, but if you don’t try then you might lose yourself right here, right now. Well, more than you already are that is.

No matter how hard you tug, you can’t stop the cries from spilling out of your mouth. They mask the footsteps pounding towards you. You slam your fists into the marble floor repeatedly, your palms bruising. Your blood rushes through your ears, muffling the sounds of the castle and everyone in them. You hear your name being called but it sounds like whoever is shouting is underwater. Are they shouting, though, or are you just losing your mind? You hear your name again and you scream. You just want the voices to stop. Please, someone make them stop.

Gentle hands grab your fists before you can do any more damage to yourself, pulling you into a chest and wrapping two strong arms around your shoulders, “y/n, what’s going on? What happened?”

Draco’s voice is panicked. That’s the only word for it. He sounds absolutely terrified. His voice soothes you for a moment but soon you’re pushing against his chest, Blaise’s words in your ears again. Your palms collide with his chest as you shove him with all strength you have. It isn’t enough. Of course you aren’t strong enough to knock away a quidditch captain. His green apple scent clings to you, wrapped in his arms, and you cry harder. You clutch his shirt in your hands now, clinging to him for dear life. You cry out his name and his heart shatters.

“Y/n please, pumpkin, tell me what happened,” he kisses your hair hard, like he’s hoping it’ll magically calm you down.

And it does, sort of, but only when he trails kisses down the sides of your face and along your cheekbones as well. His lips are like a gift from the heavens, working quickly and easily to draw your attention from your showdown with Blaise and place it on him, and him alone. Soon your sobs have stopped completely. You’re still crying but you can breathe and that’s more than you would have been able to do on your own. When you finally wrap your arms around his neck he stops, pulling his head back to look into your eyes.

You swallow hard when you see his face, more importantly the tears slowly trailing down his creamy skin, “I’m sorry, Draco, you shouldn’t have to see me this way.”

“Stop,” he shushes and runs his hand up and down your back, trying not to grimace when his fingers slide over the rips in your shirt, “I’m just glad I found you. Now tell me what happened so I can’t beat up whoever made you so upset.”

You want to chuckle, because you know he’s trying to make you feel better, but you can’t, because you also know that when you tell him he’ll probably push you away too. You tug your lip between your teeth, looking over his shoulder and then back at him. You squeeze your eyes shut, you can’t look at him while you say it. You can’t see his face when he drops you.

“I don’t think you want to beat up Blaise, Draco.”

He lets go of you. Of course he lets go of you. Your veins sting as the cold air rushes around you again. You clench your fingers into tight fists, your nails digging into your palms. Your throat aches, like you’ve been poisoned and the antidote is walking away. You open your eyes to Draco at the end of the hall, just about to turn the corner. You do your best to choke back the sobs again but you can’t and even if you could what would be the point? He clearly already thinks you’re pathetic so honestly why bother anymore? You need to just let it all out.

When you do though, cry that is, he stops, his shoulders and back going rigid as he listens. He turns quickly and his eyes widen when he sees you. You take a step back, gripping your shirt, or what’s left of it, and smoothing the material beneath your fingers, doing your best to keep it together. This was the final straw, the last kick to a foundation that has already been crumbling, and you’re just waiting for everything to come caving in now so it can take you with it.

You don’t realise that your eyes are closed until there are hands on your body and you’re forced to open them again, “Draco, what are you doing-”

He smashes his lips against yours, fast and hard and unrelenting. He tastes like peppermint and desperation and, by god, does it breathe a new life into you that you cling to. He pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down exactly where you had. His hands tangle through your hair, tilting your head slightly and tugging. You can feel his rings against your scalp and it’s the epitome of bliss. You have to to grab his cloak to keep from falling over, your entire body clay in his hands. He pulls back, barely so but in any way it’s still too far.

His lips brush yours as he speaks, his fingers massaging your scalp slightly, “I’ll be back, pumpkin, I promise,” he kisses you hard one more time, “but I really need to go beat Zabini into next month now.”

The color of the fireplace they fall asleep beside on Christmas Eve.

Your dorm is dreadfully empty and you feel a little bit alone, even if it’s only for a week or so. Your parents are renovating the house and decided it was best if you spend the holidays in a place that isn’t covered in dust and smells like paint. You know it’s for the best, and that you more than likely would have been miserable, but the Hufflepuff common room just isn’t the same without it’s usual life.

You pull a sweater over your head, grabbing your notebook before heading out to breakfast. The corridors are empty and it’s eerie, the only other faces being the ones held in frames. They smile at you as you pass and you wave politely, hurrying to the great hall.

When you step through the grand doors you finally see some real people, but not many. You see Harry Potter and Ron Weasley at the Gryffindor table and a few familiar faces in the Ravenclaw section, but none you know enough to join. You sigh, tucking your hair behind your ears. This is going to be a long week. As you turn to the Hufflepuff table, however, your eyes skim over a familiar blonde head buried in today’s paper. Your heart races as you switch courses, heading straight to the Slytherin table and trying not to lose your nerve.

You round the table, walking up behind Draco and stopping quietly. Whatever he’s reading has his full attention because he has yet to notice you. You take the moment to play with him a little.

You lean down, resting your head on his shoulder and whispering, “broomstick stocks are up three percent. That’s good I hear.”

Draco drops the paper and you giggle as he turns his face to look at you, the shock mixing with something gentler in his blue eyes. He jumps out of his seat immediately, pulling you into his arms and burying his face in your shoulder. You wrap your arms around his neck, lacing your fingers through his hair and melting into his warmth. The worry you felt walking into the great hall disappears at his touch. You press your face to his neck like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“Y/n, what are you doing here? I thought you went home,” he mumbles into your shoulder, his lips brushing your sensitive skin.

You hold back the shiver. It takes all your willpower to not tilt your head and give him better access to your sweetest spot. You tighten your hands instinctively, forgetting they’re wrapped in his hair. You don’t mean to tug on the strands, and you almost feel bad about it, but at the noise that leaves his lips you almost do it again. It’s low and primal and, Merlin, you want to hear it again. His arms tighten around you and all the nerves in your body are painfully aware of every place his body meets yours.

And every place you wish it is but it isn’t.

You clear your throat lightly before you speak, clearing the lump but doing nothing to make your words any less breathy, “I could ask you the same thing, don’t your parents usually hold large parties during the holidays?”

His hands find your hips as you talk and the end of your sentence comes out as a mere whisper. You squeeze your eyes tighter, his touch driving you crazy in the middle of the damn dining hall. It’s not even ten yet!

“That’s exactly the reason I stayed,” his voice is strained, his hands squeeze your hips and you barely bite back the moan between your teeth, “however, pumpkin, now I see that it’s a fucking gift from Salazar himself that I did.”

You lift your head from his shoulder and meet his eyes, gasping at the sight. His pupils are blown wide and his lip is between his teeth. His hair is mused from your fingers running through it, pulling it, and it makes you want to do it again and again until he does something other than look at you like that. Like he's a starved lion and you’re his next meal. Or maybe you just want to tug until he does something about it.

He squeezes your hips again, harder than the last time, and this time you can’t hold back your moan. It’s quiet, thank Merlin, but he hears it. It wraps around him, like your scarf, and something in him snaps. Soon he’s dragging you into the hallway and you’re tripping on your feet trying to keep up with him. The few people in the great hall openly stare but, as has become your new norm, you don’t care. All you can think about is Draco and all the possibilities of where he could be taking you.

He drags you to an area of the castle you’ve never been to before: the dungeons. Your blood pumps quickly through your veins and you’re filled with adrenaline, each step feeling more like walking on a cloud than the last. His hand in yours is warm and strong, sure of himself and of you and, most importantly, that you want him. He looks at you over his shoulder, smirking at you in a way that makes you almost push him quicker down the halls. You glance around, noting the empty corridor. What is it people always say?

Fuck it.

You stop abruptly and he looks back at you again, only this time concerned. His expression doesn’t last though, probably because you push him against the wall and pull his lips to yours. You have to stand on your tiptoes to reach his face, your palms splayed against his flushed cheeks as you take your turn in pulling his lip between your teeth. You bite down gently and he moans into your mouth, a deep and masculine sound that makes you want to rip his clothes off right here in the middle of the hall. You press your body against his, needing to feel as much of him as you can get. Of course it isn’t enough. It never is.

He pushes back against you, clearly having enough of his passive position. He flips the two of you, pressing you deliciously into the stone behind you. His hands glide along your hips but, unlike in the great hall, they don’t stop there. No, Draco’s hands find your bare thighs and his fingers wrap around them, the cold metal of the rings biting into your soft flesh. You say a silent prayer to whoever up there was looking out for you enough to sway you to put a skirt on this morning.

His lips are still on yours and, when he all of a sudden lifts you and presses you harder against the wall with his hips, he swallows the moan that rips from your chest, matching it with an equally fierce groan. For the first time all morning he’s exactly where you need him and it’s absolutely breathtaking. You squeeze your legs around him, pulling him as close to you as you can get him. He doesn’t protest, rolling his hips against you and edging your vision with stars.

“Draco, common room. Now,” even as you say it your hands are on his shirt, already working at undoing it.

He wastes no time, rushing down the stairs with you still in his arms, still working on the buttons. He breathlessly murmurs the password before pushing through the door. You grab his face again, hungrily pulling his mouth to yours again as he sets you on a table. His hands find the hem of your jumper, ripping it over your head before tossing it aside. You finish opening the last button quickly, pulling his shirt from his shoulders and dropping it as well. You don’t think twice about letting it hit the ground.

You look back to him and feel breathless, the wild look in his eyes mixing with something so heart wrenchingly soft. His hands smooth up your exposed back, igniting your skin with a fire you’ve never felt before. He leans his face into your neck again, his lips finding where your shoulder and neck meet and pulling your skin between his teeth. The only thing you can think to push past your lips is his name, crying out into the room lit only by some embers in the grand fireplace.

“What do you want, pumpkin. Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”

You push him back slightly so you can look into his mesmerising eyes, “I want you to make love to me on every surface in this room.”

And he does just that.

Yellow. The color they fell madly in love to.

#draco malfoy #Draco #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco x hufflepuff!reader #draco malfoy x hufflepuff!reader #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x y/n #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #hufflepuff #slytherin #slytherpuff

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edie-baby · 4 years ago

Text

to have and to hold | juri vips

summary: Juri Vips was a bastard of a teammate. Mostly just because you were insanely in love with him and his flirtatious ways. Juri senses a change in your behaviour and when things begin going back to normal, Juri just fucks it up again. (Similar premise to the Mr & Mrs imagine with Liam, but different[?])

word count: 2894

warnings: swearing, still. i don't think i should have to put warnings about swearing anymore, it's basically a given.

Working with Juri Vips was a fucking trainwreck. There was no light way to put it, it was messy, it was painful, and yet you could never stop fucking staring at him. Being his teammate in F2 for the past year and a half, the two of you had gotten quite close, to the point where his family invited you on vacation with them when they were going, and you had joined them once, but realised about two hours in, that it was a thinly veiled attempt from literally his entire family to get the two of you together.

And while you were all for it, being forced to spend so much time with Juri, while he was shirtless nonetheless, was a literal dream come true, it was also incredibly painful for you to stop from pouncing on him at any given moment. Because as much as his family thought there was something between you, it was purely Juri’s charisma and character to be almost constantly flirting with you.

You remember the first time the two of you, a few other F2 drivers had come along as well, had gone to the beach and he had seen you bust out the bikini you knew made you look like a hot piece, he hadn’t shut up about it, or you, for weeks afterwards.

“Well look at you, little miss supermodel. I would have thought you’d be walking catwalks with legs like that, not pushing pedals like the rest of us. God, you look like you just stepped out of my dreams and onto this beach. If you keep looking like that, I think I might have a problem to deal with later in the shower.” He had hollered, and many of the guys around you either joined in or had nothing to say but gawk. Juri’s comments had cemented themselves in your brain however, calling back upon them whenever you felt less than top dollar, which you had to admit was becoming more often in recent months.

Juri had noticed your slowly waning confidence, of course he had. His gorgeous view of you in crop tops, little skirts, and tight shorts had turned into oversized shorts, hoodies, and ill-fitting jeans. All of which still made you the most beautiful girl in the world, but there was something missing from your aura, a general happiness that had been lacking since the new season started a few months ago. In the entire time Juri had known you, you were never one to listen to other’s opinions of you, whether they be good or bad, the only people you had ever listened to and taken words to heart from were himself, your parents, and your boyfriend.

Somehow in the span of about three minutes, Juri had tracked the four most likely culprits of your diminished ego. He knew he hadn’t said anything harmful or damaging to you since the season began, as many of your conversations had revolved around racing, other drivers in the paddock, or your family. Your parents, he was confident in, he had met them many times before, and they were always genuinely warm and welcoming, he supposed there might have been another side to them, though he believed he would have picked up on it by now. Which leaves only your boyfriend, whom Juri had zero confidence in.

Tye was nice, almost disgustingly so, but he was also much too proud of being nice for it to be genuine. He would open car doors for you, give you flowers every few months, and once bought you a necklace with a pendant of his name. But you would never forget that he did those things for you, because as soon as you would mention something relatively negative, those few acts of kindness were shoved down your throat.

Juri, of course, was not privy to that information. All he knew was that Tye’s possessive behaviour and complete lack of care for your wishes meant that there was something beneath the surface Juri was sure was the reason for your confidence, or lack thereof.

So when you came into work one day, to continue shooting some videos for the YouTube channel, wearing a gorgeously fitted pair of jeans, and a halter-neck singlet, Juri knew something was afoot. Also notable was your lack of gold necklace and your beaming smile toward the Estonian.

“You gonna keep staring like that, or do you want to take a photo?” You asked, your voice holding the teasing lilt Juri had missed in the past weeks. Without breaking his gaze from your body, Juri reached into the pocket of his shorts, his hand retrieving his phone and taking a photo of you standing there, tight clothes and bright smile in all its glory. He smirked when he saw your barely concealed smile.

“You’re in a much better mood than usual. What happened?” Juri couldn’t help but ask, the drastic shift in your mood was more than intriguing to him. Your smile widened, taking the last few steps toward his position in a chair behind the large conference table.

“I lost 80 kilos last night.” You whispered, leaning in closer to Juri, the glint in your eyes, the proximity and the tone were all so familiar to him that he couldn’t help but meet you halfway, barely three inches between your faces as the words processed in his mind.

Juri glanced down at your body confusedly, trying to figure out where exactly the 80kg had disappeared from. Then, the pieces began clicking into place. The lack of gold necklace, the tighter clothes, the glowing smile, none of which would have been staring Juri in the face if Tye had a say.

“You dumped Tye?” Juri questioned, his eyes lighting up, his raise in volume betraying just how excited he was for you, and himself. You nodded, eyes softening as you watched the pure joy cross Juri’s face. Him being happy was something that always warmed your heart, but Juri being happy about you finally being happy? You were sure your knees were about to buckle.

“I’m glad. I can have you all to myself now.” Juri grumbled, reaching for your hands that were braced against the arms of his chair. With a sharp tug, your balance was offset, and your body was tumbling toward Juri’s. You landed with a giggle in Juri’s lap, his own laughter joining yours and the two of you simply enjoyed each other’s presence after having an intangible wall built between you during your relationship with Tye.

Juri couldn’t hold a taken woman like he loved her, not when that taken woman wasn’t his to hold. And you, how could you revel in the feel of man’s touch that was anyone’s but the man you supposedly loved. You couldn’t break out in goosebumps, or have a shiver roll down your spine when you felt the familiar pressure of his calloused fingertips pressing into the skin of your back, desperate to keep you close. You weren’t allowed to sigh in content when you felt the warmth of his body seep into your skin, or whimper when his hot breath rolled over the skin of your neck.

But now you could. Now, without the moral implications of enjoying another man, you could sink into this all-consuming feeling you have when Juri is near.

“Morning you two. We’ve got a video to film in the garage if you want to follow me?” The social media manager, Georgina, a lovely woman in her 40s whom you always went to for advice and style tips, poked her head into the room you and Juri were tangled in, a cheeky smile on her face when she spotted the somewhat compromising position. A blush fell heavy on your cheeks, and you were quick to try and scramble away from Juri.

He had other ideas though. When Juri began moving, you clutched onto him for dear life, terrified of falling to the ground even though it was only about two feet. Your arms circled around his neck, your legs fully wrapping around his hips from where you were straddling him on the chair. His large hands came to rest on the underside of your thighs, hoisting you up higher on his body. Your legs clenched around his middle, the feel of his fingers pushing into the soft skin of your legs was electrifying, and you were sure if you didn’t have a video to film, you would have been telling the Estonian to find an unoccupied office to take what he needed from you.

But alas, you had a job to do. So, still wrapped around Juri like a vice, he carried you through the Hitech office, nodding to other staff you passed, and occasionally nuzzling his nose into your neck to get a good whiff of your perfume. Juri had said multiple times the scent was intoxicating and could bring any man to his knees. You may have gone out and bought an extra bottle to ensure you never ran out after that.

After a few minutes, you stepped into the garage with Juri, well, he stepped in you just kind of floated in. The scent of grease, rubber and a slight hint of fuel invaded your nostrils, and you sighed in content. Juri chuckled at your actions, he always loved watching you step into a garage, or out onto the pit lane to take in the smells of burnt rubber. You told him every time he laughed at you that it evoked a calm feeling within you, it was nostalgic, filled with happy memories from your childhood and the memories of races you shared with Juri on track.

“Alright lovebirds, can we get you in these chairs and we’ll start explaining while we finish getting set up.” Georgina stated, smiling fondly at the love between her two youngsters. Juri sat you down in one of the chairs sitting before the cameras, not leaving your side for long as he planted himself in his own chair and dragged you as close as possible.

Georgina explained the rules of the game, and the way you would be playing it, choosing you to sit in the background listening to music whilst Juri answered questions about you. First, they gave you a list of questions about yourself, asking to circle the correct answers and they would be compared to Juri’s during the game.

“Ok Juri, the first question. How old was Y/N when she started karting?” Georgina questioned. She watched you in the background closely to ensure you couldn’t hear anything, but you were blissfully unaware of everything around you, headphones in your ears, legs tucked up on the chair, scrolling through your phone with the occasional giggle escaping your lips. Each time Juri heard the angelic sound, he would turn to look at you with a look so soft it made the entire team’s heart swell.

“Uh, I think she was 10, I know she started late because she had to argue with her parents to let her do it with her brothers, and I think 10 is about the right age.” Juri answered, looking as though he was thinking quite hard about it. It had been a long time since the two of you discussed your start in karting, it was one of the first conversations you had together, and since then you hadn’t had to talk about generic teammate topics. Juri was proud that he remembered something seemingly insignificant from a year and a half ago, but supposed when it came to you he could never forget a thing.

“Alright, next question. What is Y/N’s biggest fear? Is it A, the ocean, B, goblins, or C, heights?” Juri’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head when he heard the second answer, trying to figure out why it was even an option in the first place. His eyes focused on one spot on the floor, his brain moving a mile a minute to analyse conversations he had with you.

“Well, we’ve been to the beach together a few times, and thinking back I don’t think she’s ever gotten into the water. So maybe the ocean, but she also said once when we were looking at a castle that she doesn’t like gargoyles, so goblins could be a thing. But she’s definitely not scared of heights. She’s gone skydiving, bungee jumping and climbed bridges and things like that. So I’m going to say the ocean. I feel like I would definitely know if she was scared of something like goblins.” Juri laughed, his eyes still glued to the spot on the floor, his thoughts flowing through his mouth with little consideration of how they could be interpreted.

“What is something Y/N never leaves the house with?” Georgina was hopeful for this question, she was sure it could be the catalyst for the two drivers to finally own up to their feelings after reading your answer. Juri listened to the multiple choice answers, but none of them sounded just right.

“So, the rings sound the closest, but sometimes she will wear lots, and other times only a few, and when she can’t wear them on her hands, she’ll thread it onto a necklace to wear under her race suit, or something so yeah, I’d say the rings.” Juri answered, turning to look at you behind him, wearing the exact ring he was talking about on the ring finger of your right hand.

“And what ring is the one she wears on her necklace?” Georgina probed, knowing the answer and just wanting to see the way Juri heated up when he talked about it.

“Uh, it’s a diamond ring that has a J engraved on the inside.” Juri answered, his cheeks turning an adorable shade of pink. A smile broke out on your face as you watched Juri, his flustered state always made you giggle as he was such a confident and put-together person usually. As a habit, you began spinning the ring on your right hand around, feeling the shape of the diamonds and knowing the initial carved into the inside was a claim over you.

“Do you know where she got it?” Georgina asked. She was getting frustrated, Juri was much more calm about revealing the intimacy of the ring than she had hoped.

“I gave it to her. About a year ago, and then she gave me a necklace with an (your initial) on it. I wear it every day, and it’s the only piece of jewellery I wear while I drive.” Juri answered, his fingers reaching up to toy with the thin gold chain hidden beneath his shirt. He looked over his shoulder at you, spotting the spinning ring immediately and smiling at you.

You looked up at him, a dazed look as you stared at the gorgeous man in front of you. He could see the stars in your eyes, staring at him as though he hung the moon, and if he was honest with himself, if you asked, he would. There was nothing you could ask of him that would be too much, even if you didn’t ask, he would do everything for you. No one had ever held this power over him, he wasn’t even sure it would feel this good if it were anyone else, but you just did something to him. You unlocked a part of him he didn’t know existed.

You were just, everything. To him. You were everything he ever wanted, ever needed, even everything he didn’t know he needed. You opened him up, poured sunshine into his life in the form of your smile, happiness penetrated his bones because of your laugh. He didn’t want to lose that again, didn’t want to lose you to another man. He needed you, and he needed you now.

It was like slow motion, the way Juri surged out of his chair toward you, his hands cupping your jaw roughly as he guided you to your feet. The laptop on the ground pulled the earphones from your ears, your phone clattering to the floor in your surprise. Your hands reached up to fist in his shirts, not wanting to lose this proximity. You had him in your grasp and you’d be damned if you ever let him go again.

Juri pressed his lips to yours, as soft and warm as you’d imagined them so many times before. You kissed him back with ferocity, the eighteen months worth of emotion poured into a kiss to communicate your feelings in a way that didn’t need words. He kissed back just as fiercely, his hands holding your face still to allow him to do exactly what he needed. You were pliable to his every demand, putty in his hands. Juri had always had this effect on you, every fleeting touch or brush of a hand on your waist made your knees weak and your stomach flutter with the force of a thousand butterflies.

Juri pulled away, barely a breath between your lips as he panted slightly. Your eyes were trained on his lips, the fullness of his bottom lip, the redness from your assault on them making them look all the more kissable.

“So, how about we switch that ring to the other hand and really make this a Mr & Mrs video?”

#juri vips #juri vips imagine #juri vips fanfic #juri vips x reader #f2 2021 #formula 2 #f2 fanfic #hitech gp

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constancelaufeydottir · 4 years ago

Text

𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝

Pairing: Neighbour!Bucky x reader

Warnings: Mentions of knife, blood, cursing, murder, mention of cannibalism, dark!Bucky(?), major character death, slight smut, fluff.

Summary: Bucky set his eyes on his sweet and cute neighbour who had suffered from a loss recently, determined to make her his.

Word count: 4.3k

a/n: This is my entry for @ambrosiase hotel indigo writing challenge. It’s my first ever writing challenge, and I had a lot of fun writing this! Honestly, I'm really grateful for this challenge because it motivates me to finish this wip that has been sitting in the draft for too long. Thank you for this lovely challenge mae ♡♡

Not beta’d, all mistakes are my own. If you see any mistakes, do let me know!

Room ⥤ Modern muse

Room service ⥤ neighbour + criminal

“Oh that poor thing.”

Bucky whipped his head in the direction of the voice. It was Mrs. Lockwood, his neighbour on the right.

“Huh?” He didn’t mean to voice out his confusion, but his brain was somewhat short-circuited, barely able to function when his sight was filled with you, and you only.

“That sweet girl over there,” Mrs. Lockwood was referring to you, his sweet neighbour to the left he was staring at, before the old lady came interrupting.

He had been staring for 5, 10 minutes maybe? He swore he wasn’t a pervert, you were just a sight for sore eyes, the healer of the wounds in his soul.

“What about y/n?” He asked, curious to listen to what his neighbour would say about the other neighbour. Also, he was fairly new to the neighbourhood, having just moved in last month, he ought to catch up with the gossip.

“Her boyfriend went missing a few months back, poor girl was devastated. Police suspected it was murder, even suspected y/n!” The old lady shook her head, casting pitying glances at the oblivious girl in the sundress, bathing under the sun with a book in her hand. “She’s such a sweet girl, how could they have suspected her?”

Bucky glanced at you, heart racing when you caught him looking. You shyly waved at him, a small smile plastered on your face hiding the underlying sadness of the loss of your loved one. His hand felt clammy when he raised one of them to wave back, his usual flirty self vanished whenever you were involved in the equation.

“Boy, you are in love aren’t ya,” Mrs. Lockwood teased, “I say go for it. Our lovely y/n definitely needs some lovin’ after what she’d been through and young man, I think you are the right person.” Her eyes crinkled as she patted Bucky encouragingly on the shoulder, like a loving mother cheering up her son.

Bucky, who was usually composed, blushed furiously. That big brain of his still hadn’t regained its functions thus he found himself unable to stop Mrs. Lockwood when she hollered at you.

Clearly immersed in your book, you jumped a little when you heard your name being called.

“Y/n, this young man would love to take you out on a date, what d’ya say?” His eyes widened at the accusation, though it was true that he wanted to date you, he just needed time to gather the guts to ask you out.

He saw you put down your book, walking towards him and Mrs. Lockwood. You were a front yard away from him, shielding the harsh sunlight from your eyes with your hands while leaning onto the fence.

“I’d love to,” you had to speak louder, and Bucky loved your voice as he only heard it only a handful of times now, often you were shy and quiet when you saw him.

“U-uhm, how about Saturday then,” He stuttered like a teenage boy who first received a love letter, suddenly forgetting how to speak, speech lost in the sea of disbelief and excitement, and affection.

You said nothing, only nodding and smiling at him, flashing those pearly whites.

“Great. 6pm. I’ll pick you up,”

“See you soon, James.” He watched as you walked away, a teasing smile on your face before you disappeared into the door. Gosh how he loved the way his name sounded on your lips, and he’d give anything to hear it again, and again.

Saturday came too soon, Bucky was not prepared at all. Well, he had done the reservations for the restaurant he’d planned to bring you to tonight, ironed out the creases and wiped off the non-existent dust on the dress shirt he would be wearing, so why was he nervous?

5:50 pm.

Call him old-fashioned or whatever, he’d prefer early to late and would love to escort you to his car. He stood in front of your porch, palm sweating and if his metal arm could secrete sweats, he was pretty sure it would end up like its counterpart.

You opened the door as soon as he rapped his knuckles on the wooden door, seeming eagerly waiting for him as he was for you.

He took in your outfit, the moderately revealing dress he liked, the one he saw you undress from, through his window countless times.

If it was possible to fall into a deeper love, he would.

The date couldn’t possibly be better than he imagined, it was perfect. Everything was great; the atmosphere of the restaurant, the quality of the food, and most importantly, you.

You were shy at first but opened up fairly quickly, telling him stories about you, and vice versa. You sympathized with him when he told you how he got the metal arm, your fingers grazing the delicate and intricate loops and lines on the metal surface.

His fingers were woven into yours halfway into the dinner, the cool metal fingers of his absently caressing your knuckles as you shared the story about your family, who disappeared mysteriously, then your ex-boyfriend, who went missing 5 months ago, like your family.

It was hard, talking about missing loved ones. Bucky could tell, by the way your hand unconsciously tightened, the lingering sadness in your eyes as you mentioned how happy you were before him. The way your tears were brimming in your eyes, threatening to glide down your face, it wrenched his heart, seeing how broken you were. He would try to pick up every broken piece of you in a heartbeat, mending them back together, fixing you until you were happy again if you would let him in.

He was kind of glad your ex-boyfriend was out of the picture, though it was a selfish thing to say. He desperately wanted to claim you, wanted to be your last and only boyfriend.

He’d been going on dates with you for a few months now. You were perfect, almost too perfect if he would say. You were practically his dream girl, so kind and generous. So sweet and loving. Pretty much everybody in this neighbourhood would agree with him and he sometimes wondered if he really deserved you. A beauty mingling with a beast. No one would ever want to see that, after all, even the beast turned into a handsome prince at the end of the fairytale.

Bucky wondered, if you found out what he did every night after you were asleep or what he took from your closet when you were away, would you still want him? If you found out the beast within him, would you still love him the same?

His thoughts were occupied and it wasn’t until the sharp pain in his fingers that he snapped out of his trance.

“Fuck!” You heard him cursing and went to him, gasping when you saw the streams of blood flowing from the deep cut from two of his fingers.

Hastily reaching out for the clean cloth from one of the drawers, you placed it over the wound, applying pressure on them.

The red quickly seeped through the pristine white cloth, two colours clashing as the red engulfed the white.

Bucky noticed you wincing at the red, gulping at the sight, head slightly turned away. It was obvious you were uncomfortable at the sight of blood, so he took the cloth himself and nudged you to wash the faint hint of blood on your palms.

“Sorry, now you might have to do this alone,” Bucky gestured at the ingredients on the counter, “and sorry for the cloth, blood stains are quite hard to get rid off.”

“Don’t you worry, a little hydrogen peroxide and the cloth will be as good as new,” Bucky let you tend to his wounds and pushed him towards the living room where he would sit at the couch for the next hour while you were busy at the kitchen preparing dinner.

While he was in the living room, he took in the interior of your house. He never got to take a close look, as he always had to sneak in when it was dark. The beige colour walls, cream coloured furnitures, books arranged perfectly on the floating shelves. The pictures and art hung on the clean walls, not one of them is crooked. The square coffee table with only the remote and a display plant on it, and when he shifted himself to sit at the center of the couch, did he realize the coffee table was lined up perfectly in the middle of the TV and the couch.

Bucky’s eyebrows raised, he didn’t depict you as a meticulous person. No wait, whenever he went out with you, you’d arrange the plates to sit between the utensils perfectly. When you get boba, the straws must precisely be in the center of the cup, and if you missed it, your eyebrows would furrow in annoyance subconsciously.

His eyes wandered over to your figure in the kitchen and was not surprised to find you wiping and hanging the cutting board on the ceramic wall, adjusting it with your fingers so it wouldn’t be crooked while waiting for the stew to simmer.

You caught him looking at you and threw a smile at him in which he reciprocated, then continued to let his eyes wander through your living room. This could easily be an IKEA showroom, he thought.

Another week went by, Bucky found himself more and more in love with you, if that was possible in the first place as if he didn’t already dedicate all the space in his heart for you.

You were both in the kitchen again. This time however, he was busy mixing the sugar, flour, and cocoa powder mixture, with you snuggling behind him, arms circling his waist as you watched him do the magic.

He felt sorry for not helping last time so he was making up to you by baking some brownies.

As you both were cleaning up, brownies baking in the oven, Bucky turned to you.

“Hey, I never asked, but what do you do for a living?” He questioned nonchalantly while wiping the huge plastic bowl.

The wet spatula fell from your grip, dropping into the sink of water, droplets of soapy liquid flecked on your shirt.

“O-oh, i’m an artist!” You let out a laugh to conceal your flustered state, “Aspiring artist to be exact.”

“An artist,” he hummed, as if chewing onto the meaning of the word, “could you show me your works?”

Your head whipped towards his direction, mouth parted in surprise. Nobody has ever appreciated your dream. Your family, your friends, your ex-boyfriends, all of them claimed that being an artist would lead you to being unsuccessful, and you deemed to prove them wrong.

“Yes, yes, of course,” you were overjoyed. Abandoning the half-washed utensils, you clasped your hand around his wrist and dragged him to follow you towards the second floor, into a room hidden behind another beige coloured door, where you kept all your works.

Rows of headless mannequins clothed in white dresses painted with red blossoms appeared before him as you pushed open the door.

He was utterly mesmerized. He trailed his gaze across the display, a smile painted his lips as he deduced that every piece of them was unique. No two dresses had the same pattern.

Some had plain red blossoms splattered on it, some had dark red waves littering on the bottom hem; some with brush strokes of red. There was also a different tone of red, bright and dark or somewhat in between.

“Wow, this is just … amazing!” He found himself at a loss for words, “are those blood?”

“Yes, they are.”

“I thought you don’t like blood?” Bucky teased.

“These are animal blood. I’m fine with it as long as it’s not coming out from a human,” you retorted.

He chuckled. Once again admiring the intricate patterns of your works, marvelling at how talented and perfect you were. His heart sank at the thought of the question he frequently found himself asking, how can someone so perfect like you end up with someone less than perfect like him.

You apparently noticed his changed demeanor as you inched yourself closer to pull him into an embrace, placing your chin on his chest, eyes searching for his sad blue ones.

“Are you okay?” He hugged you tighter, sighing.

“I’m fine. I just … I think you’re perfect and you’re everything I've ever wanted. But I'm not sure if I'm perfect enough for you.”

“Oh James, you’re more than enough. I assure you, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted too.”

Bucky felt like his heart was filled to the brim with adoration, butterflies erupted from his stomach. Your assurance was everything to him, keeping his wandering soul anchored and he was grateful for it, grateful for your existence. The more the reason to cage you by his side so you couldn’t ever leave him.

His lips were on yours the next second, his grip on your waist tightened as you deepened the kiss, tongue finding his; busy hands sliding from his stomach to his shoulder.

Both of you were drowning in this ecstasy, unwilling to part away from each other’s touch.

The loud ding of the oven startled the both of you. Momentarily parting from each other, you stared at him with a heated glance. His eyes were hooded, filled with lust, desire.

“Fuck the brownies,” you whispered, molding your soft lips on him once again, the hunger for each other far greater than the stupid brownies, “need you now.”

Bucky didn’t need to be told twice, large hands cupping your bottom as you hopped and hooked your legs behind him, arms instinctively went to his shoulders for support.

He brought the both of you to your room, the one he was all too familiar with, the one with the same cream coloured theme which could definitely pass as another IKEA showroom judging by how perfect the layout was.

The only odd thing that stood out in this far too perfect room was the trail of scratch marks extending from the door frame to the wall outside of the room.

The deep scratch marks were somehow etched deep in his brain, he couldn’t let it go. It felt as if there was a dot of blank ink on a piece of white paper, and even though there was more white than black, you’d only be fixated on the dot of black.

He would ask you about the haunting marks on the wall and your fingers that were tracing patterns on his skin would falter, you’d give him the warm smile he loved while brushing it off saying it was the huge Dobermann your aunt owned which did that.

Even when he was balls deep in you, the vivid image of the scratch marks were there in his head, though you were quick to draw back his attention with a grind on his hips, both of your bodies covered with sheen of perspiration. Strands of your hair sticking to your body, but you pay no care to them as you rocked your hips, chanting his name over and over again like a mantra, like a prayer.

His eyes were on your fucked out state, his grip on you like steel. The cool surface of his metal arm contrasted with your hot flushed body as you chase your high like a traveller chasing the oasis in a desert, desperate for a quench of thirst.

Even when he was chasing the same high, vision blinding with bliss, the marks were still there and this time they were accompanied by the white dresses painted with red, and red only.

Bucky was always a doubtful person. Doubting every single decision he’d ever made. Doubting himself, doubting others. But there was one thing he was certain of, there was something less than innocent lurking underneath your skin. Of course, he was still head over heels for you but he was pretty adamant to find out the sinister in you, hoping it would answer his questions, mainly the recurring image of a certain mark.

Bucky was a lot of things, dumbass , dork, clumsy(per sam), but he was not stupid. Hell, he was far from stupid. Those scratch marks, definitely not the Dobermann.

You were a perfectionist, you couldn’t possibly leave the mark there and acted like nothing happened in the first place. He’d imagine if it was the dog, you’d probably have someone fix the dent the same day, unwilling to allow even a speck of blemish in your flawless house.

Bucky was a lot of things, and being a dumbass was definitely one of them as he was showing up on your porch in the evening unannounced.

He’d considered sneaking in like he used to do but he knew, he saw that you were still in the house. He couldn’t and wouldn’t jeopardize your relationship with him knowing he’d get caught.

He knocked on your door, hearing footsteps paddling, rushing to him.

As you opened the door, your eyes widened at the sight of an awkward Bucky. Although you were quick to throw him an unalarming smile, he still caught the nervousness in you.

There was something off with you. The disheveled hair, thin layer of sweat adorning the crown of your head, unknown wet liquid staining your shirt.

He caught a whiff of the strong smell of chemicals wafting through the door, it smelled a lot like bleach.

“I’m sorry,” he scratched at the back of his neck, “is this not a good time?”

“It’s fine, come on in.”

The smell of bleach invaded his nose the moment he stepped into your house, flooding and overwhelming his senses causing him to wince.

“Were you deep cleaning?”

“Yeah, I accidentally spilled some of the animal blood this morning. Had to use hell lots of hydrogen peroxide to get rid of them. Sorry for the smell.”

“No no, it’s okay. Let me just open the windows and door, okay?” He was getting a little light-headed now, desperately needing some fresh air. “Doll, you need to ventilate every time you use bleach, it’s harmful for your health to inhale all these fumes.”

You blushed at the term of endearment, yet wanting to blame him for not calling you that earlier.

He went over to open the windows, sighing contentedly at the waves of fresh air hitting his face as the wind blew in.

He felt your arms snaking around him, head leaning against his broad back.

“I love you, James. Wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

“I love you too.” He turned around and hugged you, his chin propped on your head, not knowing you had a solemn expression on your face.

He’d spent the evening with you, watching TV on the couch with you in his lap. It was so mundane yet he’d never got bored of this, wanting to do this with you for the rest of his life.

Outside the window, the orange and yellow sky faded into darkness.

“Let’s order take out, how about Thai food?”

“I’ll cook,” you kissed him on the lips and got up from his lap before he could reply anything.

“Ok, you need help?” He heard a faint ‘no, it’s fine’ coming out of the kitchen followed by the clanking of pots and utensils.

His neck stretched to peek at your figure in the kitchen, too busy chopping up ingredients to notice he was no longer at the living room.

He made his way down the basement, where the pungent smell of the bleach was still lingering.

The wood creaked as he stepped on the stairs, announcing his arrival to the darkness surrounding the basement. The soft glow of light illuminated the large space, a wall of tins stacking on each other revealed to him. A few easels of different sizes were propped on the wall with several grey aprons hanging beside them.

He walked closer to examine the insane amount of tins. A small label that said Pig blood was stickered on the body of the white tin.

His eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. Do people really sell animal blood in metal tins, wouldn’t they go bad?

There were loads of questions in Bucky’s head, questions with answers only you could provide.

He noticed a chest freezer sitting in the corner of the basement and his legs brought him to it before he came to realize. The whole basement was so quiet he could hear the soft ringing in his ears, the racing of his heartbeat amplified as his hand inched towards the lid.

There was nothing in the freezer, to his surprise.

The empty freezer stared back at him, as if mocking his fruitless attempt. He was relieved, or disappointed, he couldn’t tell the difference and there was no point in distinguishing them now since you had nothing to hide. He wasn’t even sure what he was expecting to find in the freezer.

“Babe?” You stood behind him with an apron on, a knife in your hand, a second after he closed the door to the basement.

He leaned against the door frame, hand went to his head, eyes squeezed shut as he pretended he was having a headache.

“Felt dizzy all of a sudden, I was just making my way to the bathroom.”

“Oh, okay. I was just about to tell you dinner's almost ready,” a tooth-rotting smile was plastered on your face.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” he watched as you walked away, letting out the breath he’d been holding. His palm was clammy, heart beating rapidly.

“I love you,” You placed your hand on his arm, eyes meeting his.

“I know, doll. I love you too.”

This was seconds before dinner.

“James, I love you.” You whispered, watching him giving you a grin before he stuffed the meatball into his mouth.

“Wow, I'm so loved today. It’s the secon- no, third time you’ve said ‘I love you’ to me today.” He grinned, heart bursting with love. “You know I love you too.”

This was mid-dinner.

“I love you so much, James.”

Bucky was getting suspicious of you. Were you hiding something, perhaps cheating on him? For there were no reasons for you to keep telling him you loved him even though he knew how much you loved him and vice versa.

“I love you,” you kissed his knuckles, “this might be the last time I get to say I love you, James.”

His eyebrows furrowed at your statement, mouth parting to question what you meant. Before he could voice out something, the world faded into nothingness.

A thin film of blurriness clouded his eyes when he opened them, Bucky had this feeling like he was drowning in a swamp and his whole body was bound.

Blinking furiously, he regained his vision. You were sitting on a chair leaning forwards while looking at him endearingly, your elbows propped on your knees, palms supporting your chin.

“Hello, my love,” you were smiling oh so sweetly. The same smile that got him mesmerized and head over heels, except this time he didn’t feel the warm fuzzy feeling exploding in his chest, this time it was the goosebumps crawling on his arms and the chill creeping up his spine.

Now everything made sense, every single of his questions was answered.

You looked down at his body, the one that was once full of life, full of love. You watched as his glassy blue eyes etched with fear quickly reduced into this grey lifeless orbs, still pretty but lacking the element of a beautiful soul.

You weep for him, mourn for him. Mourning the short duration of love shared between the both of you. Mourning for yourself, for falling too hard. Mourning for him who kept you always in his heart.

To be honest, you were a little hesitant to end his life, he was better than the last one. He was perfect, warm, kind, loving, gentle, but not perfect enough. He simply did not reach your expectations, and you, could not bear imperfections, even the slightest. The answer to his downfall was pretty easy, he was too close to the ugly truth. And despite you knowing his love for you outweighs his doubt and fear in you, you simply couldn’t risk it.

Your love for perfection exceeds your love for him.

The melodious music of your ringtone echoed in the ample space of the basement, you brought up your phone to your ears as you answered the call.

“Mrs. Lockwood? Yes. Of course. I did. No no no, I’ll do it for you this time. He would definitely taste delicious I assure you.”

Time to get to work, you sighed as you stood there with a white dress splattered with blood. How artistic, you thought.

You always loved this part of the process, you’d wear the whitest piece of dress you own whenever you work with your projects.

You loved how the blood peppered your clothes, forming blossoms of dark red flowers on the fabric.

You kept every single piece of them, because no two are the same. Every one of them tells a story, of men and women who loved you and who you loved, of those who were once a body with a soul.

Wiping away the tears rolling down your cheeks, you gave Bucky one last loving look and the blade of your butcher knife came in contact with his once pink but now pale skin as you hummed, the sound bouncing off the walls of the basement, forming echoes.

A few blocks away, a baby cried, body covered in mucus. The tiny infant cried, each time louder than the previous, wailing his lungs out, as if mourning. For one soul born, another reaped.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes #neighbour bucky #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fic #the hotel indigo writing challenge #maeras writing challenge

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kirishimas-manly-eyeliner · 4 years ago

Text

A full, entire list of headcanons for a day with:

1. ☼ waking up with him ☼6am-8am

i don’t know about y’all, but i like to headcanon that todoroki’s morning face is absolutely adorable 🥺

he doesn’t wake up like mr. perfect whenever you see him, but since it’s so early in the morning, his cheeks are just- so- squishyyyy

he looks like a fricken baby with the softest expressions ever

he stares at you and grins, still lying down and stretching his arms out

todoroki doesn’t look at his phone first thing in the morning, or even go to wash his face once he wakes up

the very first thing he does when he wakes up is to gently wrap his arms around your still body, as he kisses your scalp and holds you in the quiet of the morning

he likes to stare at your face, so calm and just so… at peace

he caresses his hand on your cheek before kissing your nose 🥺🥺

he wakes you up in such a gentle way that it’s just not even funny omfg-

i like to imagine that he opens up the curtains for gentle light first, and opens up the window for a cool wave of air

he takes your hand, “good morning, princess.”

“‘morning, my prince, but can we have like,, five more minutes-”

“i already know five minutes is the same thing as ten minutes for you. we should get up while we can.”

“alright, fine, but good morning to you too,”

his hair is ruffled in this ADORABLE WAY that makes my heART SIMPLY COMBUST

for breakfast, i LiKE tO tHiNK tHaT hE TakEs BaCon AnD sLapS iT oN hiMsELf-

i’m only like,, half-kidding, but uGH PLEASE GIVE HIM SOME SOBA AND LET HIM DO THE REST

man’s got everything handled, don’t worry ‘bout it 😌😌

for morning training, it starts as early as 7 in the morning

it’s nothing too intense, more of just him doing yoga

OMGWFHFIUHLIUF TODOROKI WOULD EITHER SLAY AT YOGA OR JUST SUCK IN GENERAL

NO IN-BETWEEN AT ALL

he literally looks like a fricken stick trying to bend and he’s just so awkward and flustured like ????

or either, man’s is SLAYING IT and hitting that tree pose, absolutely nailing the downward dog and killing it with the cobra

you laugh at him as he smiles, and expect him to do the,, lil,, lingering touches if y’all know what i mean ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

you had to buy multiple yoga mats because he ended up singeing them all on accident when he got flustered

and yes, his left side sets on fire when he’s flustered, and that is just the softest thing

2. ☏ [2/5] going to online school with him ☏ 8am-12pm, 2pm-4pm

todoroki makes sure that you focus, which is kinda a problem if you’re like me

…and you just don’t focus-

dw though, because if you ever zone out, man’s will be sure to be prepared because he can and will force you into getting focused again

he promises you a kith whenever you finish a class 🥺🥺❤️

“i love you, but i really don’t want to do this today.”

(honestly, i would like to headcanon that you probably do online school with rolling chairs, so you’re probably gonna be spinning whenever you get bored)

“and i love you, but here we are, my love. the day will be over before you know it,” he brings out the softest smile ever before cupping your face and pecking your nose

since todoroki has online class as well, he sits next to you to be able to hold your hand off-camera beCAUSE YAS

if you two ever get caught, his left side literally lights tf up

you thought man’s would be cool and collected the whole time, but NOPE HE’S JUST AS FLUSTURED AS YOU BABY

but you put it aside and say you were just petting your cat

todoroki also most definitely has some sort of fancy candle or a spray or whatever that he uses to stay focused

once or twice, he’ll most definitely spray way too much, so in one instance you had to go outside

in the backyard

and do your homework there as the wind blew all of your printed papers away

but anyways-

todoroki is on the top of his game to make sure that yOU STAY HYDRATED

IF YOU’RE READING THIS GO DRINK SOME WATER YOU MALNOURISHED AND DEHYDRATED ANGEL

he smiles at you whenever he sees that you’re stuck, and the way his eyebrows furrow in such a cute way just fricken asdfghjklkmnbvcxzaqwertyujhgcwjvhhviu

if you ever get burnt out, he plants a kiss on your forehead and holds you until you have to go to your next class, and gets you a wet towel to just feel better and *sparkles* fresher

oh and FIGHT ME, he most definitely opens up the doors and uses natural light rather than turning the lights on

if you ever feel frustrated or just feel too overhwhelmed, he takes your hand and asks you to breathe with him before pulling you into a hug

he would be such a good companion for online school, please keep him 🥺

3. ♨ lunch + study sessions with todoroki ♨ 12-1pm

SOBA

IF YOU CAME HERE AND EXPECTED SMTHN ELSE YOU CONFUSE ME

hear me out, todoroki literally makes the best soba in the world

expect him to use his quirk and make it colder bc no one wants warm soba

especially todoroki 😠😠❤️❤️

while you’re taking a nap or you’re trying to catch up on your homework, man’s is making absolute magic in the kitchen

when he calls you into the kitchen to eat, everything is set in such an aesthetically pleasing way

“todo, you made this?”

he’ll grin and say quietly, “no, my love. someone attacked and came in and made this and left through the window.”

he’s such a dork sometimes we love that

you also take a lot of photos before you eat, and the way your eyes light up fills him with so much happiness

“how does it taste?”

“you’re making me sound like i’m on master chef or something, one second, i’m still taking the photo!”

but when you do eat it, every time, even when you might not like it– you compliment him

and he literally acts like a child in that time and i think that’s ADORABLE

as for the study sessions, he makes sure that you actually focus instead of wasting the hour you guys have together

and even if you don’t want to, he drags your butt from where you were procrastinating

“it’s out of love.”

“out of love? babe i was having such a nice nap, are you kidding me?”

todoroki just grins as he opens up the windows for ventilation to study

i like to headcanon that he honestly probably listens to classical music when he studies

he despises jazz

i should literally make a list of headcanons for class 1a and their music taste-

he sends you little texts whenever he sees you get bored and go on your phone

4. ☼ ☽ [4/5] showers with todoroki + cuddling ☾☼5-8pm

you had a long day at work, and you were just getting things ready and preparing to go to bed

tired and exhausted, your body trudged towards into the bath for a much needed shower

you rubbed your eyes, drained and exhausted as your eyes locked with todoroki’s

…wait, todoroki’s?

“ah! i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to, just-”

he peeks his head through the shower door, “no, i don’t mind it. care to join me?”

“i- wha?”

but come on, how could you reject something like this? you stepped into the shower before goin’ like “JEEZ WHY’S IT SO COLD????”

todoroki just stares at you, insanely confused, “…what do you mean?”

“you should at least raise the temperature a little, if that’s okay with you?”

being honest, todoroki genuinely forgot that cold showers weren’t a universal thing– it was only then that he realized, since the tea kettle incident, he’d almost by-default take cold showers

but he’d honestly do anything for you, so he raises the temperature as he holds you, his skin soft and the shower finally beginning to steam up a bit

todoroki uses the best shampoo smell in the entire world

just imagine the best scent in the entire world, but at first, you could only find a hint of it, and you thought that what you could smell was all you had

but then WABAM, one day an entire jackpot just shows up with everything

that’s what it feels like showering with todoroki

honestly, the man’s there whenever you need him

definitely loves to play with your hair in the shower, his hands are somehow so soft as he kisses your scalp

but shoto tries his best not to take too many peeks, and if he does he apologizes lmao

OH OH and he most definitely uses your lotion on one instance, so this one time when you saw him come out of the shower you’re just like,, “is that,, my lotion?”

he just stares and nods. “yeah.”

you laugh as you cup his face in your hands, “it smells good, i like it. but keep in mind i have to pay for that-”

he probably says it’s fine and uses endeavor’s credit card

even when you’re in the shower though and he sees your body for the first time, he flushes like crazy

what is this feeling??

he might see your stretch marks, he might see your scars, your acne, whatever it is you’re insecure about, but he gingerly and just so carefully kisses them all

“you’re… beautiful.”

for cuddling, he probably does the same thing– he holds your hand, and if he notices your scars, he kisses them and pulls you in closer to his chest

ALSO LIKE JEEZ MAN’S IS TOUCH STARVED

PLEASE GIVE HIM CUDDLES OMFG

please kiss his scar btw, he might be kind of sensitive about it, but it definitely makes him feel less insecure about it

he might be honestly going on his phone and looking through the news, or he might be looking at cooking videos ngl-

*cough cough soba*

he caresses your cheek, expect him to not know how to act at first

but then he decides to try making the first move and spoons you

bUT LIKE- I CAN SEE HIM AS THE LIL’ SPOON 😭

you make him so insanely happy

5. dating todoroki would include…

hate to break it to y’all’s, but man’s takes an eternity to ask you out

he probably went to the bakusquad for love advice

the poor bby is so confused, and at first, he’s convinced he has a disease

“i think… i’m allergic to y/n.”

(he’s still with the bakusquad,) “what do you mean?” denki honestly be tapping his pencil as he stares at todoroki

“whenever i go near them– i end up feeling weird, i suppose. i get nervous. i don’t know why though. i feel oddly giddy when i talk to them. should i get it checked out?”

at this point, mina and denki’s efforts to hide in laughs are in vain

when they actually burst out, they end up laughing so hard that they get tears in their eyes

todoroki is so confused, “???????”

sero def joins in with the drama, “i-” he stops to snort, “todoroki, have you ever heard of a crush?”

todoroki stands, dumbfounded for a solid minute before his ENTIRE left side just starts toasting

“i… i do like y/n. i like y/n. i like y/n. i like y/n.”

POOR BABY GOES CRAZY and repeats that statement for a solid minute yet again

he’s very confused and flustered at the same time

todoroki honestly tries asking the entire class what to do for his date, and everyone is saying something completely different:

“a movie theatre, kero.”

“an at-home dinner, maybe? you can save money-”

“study dates are very important.”

“✨ take her to the disco ✨“

“go to the amusement park!”

“maybe you two can just have a walk around town?”

“go to a strip clu-”

“SHUT UP MINETA-”

at the end of the day, todoroki’s left more confused than he ever was before, so he just decides to go for it all on his own

after a few more hours of contemplating his date and life choices, he decides how to ask you and where to take you

once he musters the courage, he asks you to meet him after class

you’re lowkey confused, but definitely giddy to be able to meet your crush again

at first, todoroki had this entire speech planned, but the moment he saw you, he stopped and forgot all of his words

“uh, do you want to eat food?”

took a while for you to realize what he was implying, and the way he was flushing and looking at the floor was just so soft and you nodded–

“you mean– go on a date?”

todoroki, still very much hiding his face, nods

“haha, i’d love to! where should we go?”

it takes him a while to compose himself again as he stares at you,

“would the ice skating rink be okay?”

so that day, that’s just what you did :DD

at first, todoroki’s kind of scared to hold your hand in case he ends up getting too caught up in himself

but eventually, you let him know that you don’t really mind as you head over to the rink

Elsa Todoroki for 2021™

man’s is a NATURAL

he be gliding everywhere, and you can see him for a split second, smiling as he skates around so fricken gracefully and i think that’s adorable

todoroki laughs into your ear as he pulls you in to help you balance

you two were skating normally, until you were suprised in the back of the rink as you fell over

“are you okay?”

“yeah, i’m good, don’t worry about it-!”

he pulls you up, his hands firm against yours

for a split second, you make eye contact for a few seconds too long

he finds himself lost in them, as he tightens the grip on your hands, your body still leaning against his arms as if you were in mid-salsa dance

he gazes into your eyes, before thinking: “this is the person. this is the person that i want to spend my whole life, an entire life with– they’re so strong, caring, kind… and there’s so much more to them than i thought.”

…before pressing his lips onto yours, and suddenly, everything stops

your mind is empty and blank, when you realize:

shoto todoroki is kissing you

and you were kissing him back.

you almost forget that breathing is a thing before you realize that you were nearly out of breath as todoroki pulled away before kissing you again, his hands cupping your face as you pulled closer against his chest

when you finish, you see that parts of his jacket were smoking after the kiss

literally smoking

“that was… that was… wow.”

todoroki laughs, “wow was right, a word i’d use.”

you’re about to talk again, when you hear screaming and cheering in the background

“LET’S!! GO!! Y/N!! AND!! TODO!! ROKI!!”

and yas– the entire bakusquad, willingly or unwillingly followed you there

even if it was a lot, todoroki’s happier than ever as he kisses you again

and all you could say?

that day the best day of your life.

thank you for making it this far, love!! this will be a continued series with bakugo + izuku coming up next, stay tuned :) to join my taglist for the next few characters, click here ^^

taglist: @cherry-cake-pies, @xuxisushi-1

#FINALLY FINISHED IT WUFHWLIUFHIUF #WHY IS IT SO HARD WRITING FOR TODOROKI???#PLS GIVE ADVICE #todoroki x reader #todoroki x gn!reader #todoroki hcs #mha hcs #shoto todoroki hcs #please reblog! <3 ^^;;;;#shoto todoroki headcanons #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #todoroki x you #todoroki

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zenith-impact · 4 years ago

Text

Diluc - Vacation

Sorry this one took so long! I was sort of doing all my requests out of order and now here we finally are. I hope you enjoy!

Diluc didn’t take vacations. The idea was completely foreign to him. Unfathomable. Impossible. There was too much work to be done. Alcohol to produce and sell. Darkness to be purged. A vacation would put Mondstadt in danger. A vacation would drive Diluc absolutely insane.

So when you asked about it, a “no” slipped out of his lips so fast he hadn’t even taken the time to think about it.

You pouted, and Diluc tried not to flinch. He hated it when you got that look in your eye or the way your lips turned in that annoyingly convincing way. You weren’t doing it on purpose - maybe - but that look always had an effect on him. Whether or not it was positive depending on personal opinion. You would say yes as it usually got you what you wanted, but Diluc would vehemently disagree. But he didn’t dare bring it up, as that would just spur you to pout more often.

“Why not?” You said. “It would only be for a few days.”

“A few days is more than enough time for things to go under,” Diluc said flatly as he crossed his arms.

“You don’t trust your people to run things while you’re gone?”

“That’s not the issue.”

“Then what is?”

He glared at you. “You know full well what the issue is.”

You rolled your eyes, another annoying habit of yours. “The Knights can handle themselves for a few days.”

“No.”

You were pouting again. “Diluc…”

“Your proposal would not only put me too far away from Mondstadt to help if anything should happen, but it puts you in a position of inevitable boredom.” He didn’t understand why you wanted to spend a week at the Wangshu Inn. What would the two of you even do for that long? You weren’t going to Liyue and you had a habit of getting bored even around the inn. And as much as he loved watching you read to keep yourself entertained…

“I just want to spend some alone time with you.”

Diluc sighed. He couldn’t exactly blame you for that. When was the last time the two of you had done anything on your own? He couldn’t remember, and that was probably a bad sign. But was it harming your relationship? He hadn’t thought about it, but you looked tired. Exhausted. Weary. That caused a moment of panic in his chest. Was this your last straw? Were you recommending this vacation because you were running out of patience with him? Surely the connection you had between each other was stronger than that. “I understand what you want but…”

“But what?”

He hesitated and you pounced. “You know you want to go. You’re just trying to convince yourself that it’s a bad idea.”

“That’s…”

“How about three nights?” You said. “Four days total.”

It was a compromise, but Diluc still frowned. “That’s three days that…”

“The Knights will have to deal with things on their own, I know, I know,” You said. “But maybe its for the best. They can’t rely on you to fix their problems all the time.”

“Yet I still end up doing it.”

“Please,” You said, clapping your hands together. “Two nights, at least. Just enough to get away from this place.”

Diluc sighed again. You were wearing him down and he was certain you knew it. And while a part of him wanted to resist, another part of him felt bad. He didn’t care to indulge himself, but he hadn’t given you the attention you deserved. Coming home late to snuggle up to your sleeping form only to wake up before you did certainly didn’t count. Would a few days hurt? Maybe. Diluc wasn’t certain he could enjoy himself if he spent the entire trip anxiously wondering if something was going wrong.

But that look in your eyes…

“Fine,” He said. “Two nights. But if I get any word of anything going wrong…”

“We’ll come right back,” You finished. “Promise.”

“Give me a week to get things in order.”

You smiled. “Take all the time you need.”

“... Three days then.”

“That sounds a lot better.”

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

It had been a long time since Diluc had been to the Wangshu Inn, and he had forgotten just how much it towered over the world. Just climbing the steps to the elevator felt like an endeavor, even as you bounced up the stairs two at a time, your tightly packed backpack smacking your body with each step. If Diluc hadn’t stopped you, he was certain you would have raced to the top without him, ignoring the elevator completely. “And here I thought we were taking a vacation,” He said as you both stepped onto the elevator.

“I just want to see what room you got.”

He rolled his eyes and you giggled. He may not have wanted to go on this vacation, but he’d made sure that your accommodations were the best that Mora could buy. But as the owner lead you to the top room and beckoned you inside, even Diluc was impressed. The room was massive with a bed even bigger than the one he had at home. The floorboards were vibrant despite being made entirely of wood. The furniture was a variety of neutral colors except for the red blanket that was folded on the end of the bed. There was a sizable tub in the bathroom - easily room for four or five people - and the tiles were a pale gold color, matching the furniture outside. The most impressive thing, however, was the view he could see from across the room. You rushed to the balcony before the owner had a chance to welcome you, leaning over the railing so far that Diluc had to resist the urge to run to your side and yank you back.

“Enjoy your stay,” The owner said with a genuine smile.

“Thank you.”

He gave Diluc a low bow, then left, closing the door behind him. Dropping his own bag on the bed, Diluc joined you on the balcony, careful not to startle you. “It’s amazing,” You said as you looked at him. “I never thought a Marsh could be so beautiful.”

“We’ll have to head down for dinner soon,” Diluc said.

“Relax,” you said, running your hands along his waist and pulling him into a somewhat awkward hug as he refused to unhook his arms from each other. “Please?”

He glanced down at you, stubborn as usual. But you just smiled back at him until he finally unfolded his arms and pulled you close. “Fine,” He said.

“It’s only for two nights.”

“Only two nights,” He agreed softly. But suddenly, as he saw the pure happiness in your eyes when you looked back out over the scenery, Diluc wished he had agreed to more.

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

The first day went by without any problems, and Diluc was pleasantly surprised to find that you both had a lot to talk about. He’d forgotten how nice it was to just sit down and enjoy each other’s company, and he found during your conversations that he deeply missed this time. But all he could do was make a mental note to find more time for moments like this; moments where it was just you and him talking about your days and ignoring the rest of the world.

Day two, however, the vacation turned somewhat sour as he was forced to handle multiple batches of Hilichurls that had wandered too close to the inn. He didn’t mind the excursion, per say. It did, however, bother him that he had to leave you alone while doing so. And you assured him that you had plenty to do and you’d even brought a book along in case something like this might happen. But he also saw that flicker of disappointment in your eyes. He didn’t think you were disappointed in him, just at the situation in general. It still hurt his pride, and he couldn’t stop thinking about it even as he culled the Hilichurls, broke down their camps, and walked back to the Inn, having wasted the entire day.

When he returned to your room, he found you standing out on the balcony, gazing out over the marsh. Again, he approached slowly, though you turned around long before he reached you, giving him your usual smile. “Welcome back,” You said. “Everything went well I hope?”

“The Hilichurls are taken care of,” Diluc said with a dismissive wave.

You hummed at that, moving over to wrap your arms around him. This time, he hugged you back, planting a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Some vacation this turned out to be,” You said with a somewhat hollow laugh.

“There is always some kind of evil to be vanquished,” Diluc replied, his voice quiet.

You giggled. “Ever the dramatic.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Yes,” You said, drawing circles on his wrist. “But it sucks that it always falls to you.”

Diluc couldn’t agree more, but he didn’t say it. Instead, he pulled you closer, letting his warmth consume you. You hummed again, closing your eyes as you rested your cheek against his chest. You both swayed gently in the breeze, and he swore he could hear a hint of music on the wind. “My love…” He said.

“Yes?”

“When we get back to the winery, I promise I will find more time for you.”

You looked up at him, but he couldn’t tell if it was a skeptical look or an amused one. “That’s a hefty promise Mr. Darknight Hero.”

He rolled his eyes as you chuckled and reached up to pat his head. “I do mean it,” He said.

“I know you do,” you replied, still smiling. “But I think it should be a slightly different promise.”

“What do you mean?”

“We should find more time to spend with each other,” You said. “Since we are a team and all.”

After a moment, Diluc nodded. “That is a perfectly fair promise.”

You put a finger on your chin, pondering something. “You know… This vacation can still be saved.”

He smiled with amusement, unable to help himself. “How so?”

You leaned in and kissed his cheek. A shudder shot through him as your lips drifted to his neck, smooth and inviting. “Let me take care of you,” You whispered. Diluc felt his face flush with something between embarrassment and interest, but the heat in his body only heightened as you took his hand and led him back into the room.

-----------

To say things returned to normal after your mini-vacation was a bit of an understatement. If anything, things got more busy once you returned. Diluc’s employees had handled things admirably, but there was still a lot to go over and even more to do as the busiest season was fast approaching. You were there for him, helping keep track of his books, bossing some people around, and even taking a few shifts at Angel’s Share. And as you saw each other less and less, Diluc became more determined to stick to his promise to find more time to spend with you.

So, one afternoon as the dust started to settle and things started to calm down, he pulled you aside and led you to his room. You both sat down on the bed as he took your hands into his. “It’s a mini-vacation,” he said with a shrug as you asked him what he was up to. He smiled as you laughed, and his face heated up as you kissed his cheek.

“This promise of ours is hard,” You said with a sigh and a shake of your head as you scooted up the bed until your back was to the headboard. “There’s just too much to do.”

“Imagine how it was before I met you,” Diluc said as he followed after you, resting his hand in yours as you both stared into the empty fireplace.

“I can’t,” you whispered. “Because that means I’d have to remember a world where I didn’t know who you were.”

You were both silent for a long time. You let your head fall to his shoulder. He eventually shed his gloves and caressed your palm. Eventually, your eyes fell to watch his fingers, somehow mesmerized. You glowered at him when he stopped, and he just chuckled and began again. Together, you stayed like that for far longer than Diluc thought possible, and he was half surprised Adelinde or someone else hadn’t come bursting through the door. It was like you were the only two people in the world, a feeling that Diluc could get used to if given the opportunity.

“We should take more of these,” You said as you looked up and kissed his cheek.

“Yes we should.”

#genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact reader #genshin impact diluc #diluc #reader #diluc x reader #vacation

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sinner-as-saint · 5 years ago

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Power Over Me - 2.

Bucky Barnes x Reader AU

Part 1

Run-through: CEO James Buchanan Barnes is a dominant. And he’s spent the last 5 years searching for his perfect submissive. Then one night, he finds you. He thinks everything will fall perfectly into place now; but he thought wrong. Turns out your unfortunate past which still haunts you to this day, and some of his enemies are, well, connected. Things go wrong. And your bond with your dom is tested in many ways…

Themes throughout the series: dom/sub dynamic, smut, dirty talk, angst, fluff, soft dom!bucky

Please be him. Please be him. Please be him.

You pleaded to the universe, or God, or anything really, as the club manager dragged you back towards the lounge area.

You passed by the large, wooden flight of stairs which led to the playrooms, and it immediately reminded you of Mr. Barnes. How gently he had held your hand while ushering you upstairs earlier that night… how perfectly your hand fit in his and his around yours… how delicately he had intertwined your fingers together. And just how amazing he was.

You soon came to a stop at the more quiet part of the lounge, your head was still down. You were nervous. The manager let go of your hand and walked away, her heels clicking against the marble flooring. You heard another pair of shoes approaching you.

“Look up, doll.” It was him. Mr. Barnes.

You very shyly looked up and found yourself staring into piercing eyes. His piercing eyes. He smiled down at you. You broke into a faint smile as well, but it didn’t last very long, you soon looked down in panic. What if he found your staring rude?

He didn’t. His hand reached out to touch your face again. He grabbed your chin gently and titled your head up so you look at him properly. His thumb softly caressed your skin. “Don’t look away from me.” He spoke softly, just like he always did.

You nodded, and maintained his stare. He scanned your face, his eyes lingered around your lips then he quickly looked back up into your eyes. “I need to ask you something, sweetheart. Know that if that’s not what you want, you can say no. Okay, baby?” he asked, in that caring tone of his.

You nodded again. Bucky held on to the hope he had. And he asked you, “Would you want to come home with me?” he stepped a little closer. “Because I like you quite a lot.” He whispered under his breath and leaned in closer. So close that his mouth touched the shell of your ear. “And something tells me you like me too.” He breathed into your ear.

His voice, his words reverberated within you; sending pleasant chills down your spine which ended at your core; slightly wetting your already damp underwear a little more.

Home with him… that sounded perfect. But what if… what if he turns out to be like- no! Don’t think about him. Don’t think about him. Don’t think about him. This isn’t him. This is Mr. Barnes. Sweet, soft-spoken, kind and caring Mr. Barnes.

You had seen him at the club often, and how he mostly kept to himself. How he always stayed at the bar away from the crowds when most of his friends attended a scene. How he had always behaved like a gentleman. And just how he was leaving the decision on you, which had never happened in your case before.

Yes. Home with him sounded perfect.

“I would like that, sir.” You answered.

No other questions were asked. He smiled at your answer and dropped his hand from your face and reached out to grab your hand in his again. He could still find remnants of nervousness and panic and fear on your face. “Don’t worry, baby. You’re safe with me.”

He meant it. He meant what he said with all his heart.

Not even minutes later, you two were making your way out of the club. And for the first time in a long while, neither of you were walking out of the doors feeling lonely or incomplete.

Bucky had his hand carefully placed in the small of your back, he opened the doors for you once you sat in the passenger seat, he bent down to caress your cheek one more time before he shut the door and walked to the other side.

You let out a nervous breath as he opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat. It was a good kind of nervous. You took a deep breath and only then noticed how amazing the interior of his car smelt; new, and expensive and hints of his cologne were present as well.

You waited for him to say something, but he just held your hand in his as he drove out of the venue. His touch was warm and calming. You leaned back into the cool seat and exhaled slowly. For the first time in a long time, the silence between you and someone else wasn’t heavy, or awkward. It was peaceful.

Ten minutes into driving, he turned to look at you briefly. Smiled, then looked back at the road. You were staring out of the window so you didn’t notice him looking over at you frequently. Bucky couldn’t believe you were actually here with him, in his car; on your way to his house. Where you’d be staying, with him.

You and him, there was definitely something there between you. Something felt like it fit when you were together, and it had only been hours since you met, but still. Bucky could feel it. And it only made him want to never let you go even more.

“Are you alright, doll? What’s bothering you?” he asked, he could tell you were overthinking.

You didn’t reply. Instead you looked down at your lap, where his hand held yours. You hadn’t realized that you had wrapped your other hand around his as well, so now his large, warm hand was secure between your grasp.

You may speak when asked a question, doll. You remembered his words from earlier.

“Nothing, sir. I’m fine.” You kept your answer polite and short, so Bucky didn’t push you. You and him had a long way to go, and he intended on making all your troubles, even the insignificantly tiny ones, all go away.

You just wait, my little pearl, happiness is on the way. Bucky thought to himself.

“Alright then. I need you to know that I’m here, whatever it is. You can talk to me about anything, doll. Okay?” his voice sounded so soothing. So calm.

You nodded, then responded. “Yes, sir.”

Half an hour later, when Bucky pulled into his front yard, past the gate, you looked around in pleasant surprise. Then again, he was well-off so of course he lived in a house which looked like a modern rendition of a castle. You could see part of the illuminated sunroom, and a part of you was immediately curious. You were always a plant lover, so this was a very good start already.

Bucky stopped on the dark brick path, right in front of the stairs which led to his front door. He turned the engine off and the two of you just sat there in the comfortable silence, relishing the warmth inside the car.

He squeezed your hand gently. You squeezed his hand back. He chuckled. “I want you to know, that you can leave at any given moment you want. Just say the word ‘winter’ and everything ends right away. I will have someone drop you off to where you wanna go. Okay, doll?” he asked, his thumb caressing the back of your hand.

As usual, you nodded. He could see the silhouette of your face moving up and down. “Speak.” He said again.

“Yes, sir.”

Bucky held your hand as you two walked in. He had a wonderful house, you were truly amazed. It was just the right blend of a modern home with vintage décor. The perfect balance between contemporary styles and accents of antique pieces here and there.

It was warm, and welcoming.

“Come on, I’ll show you something.” he gently gave your hand a soft tug, to get you to follow him. He reminded you a lot of the kids who drag people to show them their new room. You broke into a smile when Bucky had his back to you.

He took you up the stairs and down a large hallway. Then stopped at a pair of wooden doors. He looked back at you as he opened it with a faint smile. He walked in first, you stepped in right after and you were again, pleasantly surprised.

It was a bedroom, and it was absolutely stunning. Clean lines and shapes, dark wooden floor, accents of red and black and shades of grey on the bedding, multiple pillows, rugs, artworks and furniture. You immediately liked the soft, large, dark grey pouf in the middle of the room. You also really liked the large windows which would give you incredible views of the lush backyard and the sunset.

“It’s your new bedroom. Like it?” he asked, after giving you a few moments to check out the room. You frowned, then immediately remembered that he preferred audible answers.

“My bedroom, sir?” you were puzzled. Your previous master, he… he never offered you your own bedroom.

Bucky didn’t like the look you had on your face once the memories of the past came flooding back in. He could easily read your face. “What is it, baby? You don’t like it?”

You shook your head immediately. The room wasn’t the problem here. “I do, sir. It’s lovely. I just…” you trailed off again. Bucky waited. “I never had my own room with… with my previous master.” You told him. He frowned.

“Then where did you sleep? In his bed?” he asked. There was a part of him who disliked, for some reasons, the image of you beside another man in bed. Not disliked, he actually hated it completely.

You shook your head again, slower this time. “No, never in his bed. I slept on a pallet beside his bed. Always.” you answered so casually. Bucky was horrified. Always? It wasn’t an unusual thing in this lifestyle, but even as a dominant himself, he still believed that that was a bit much. How dare any dom treat a sub any less than like an absolute treasure?

Bucky stepped closer to you, and reached out to cup your face. He could easily tell that talking about that man made you upset. “Hey baby, don’t think about him. You’re here now, you’re with me. This is your room now, your space, you’re free to do what you want with it and in it. My bedroom is at the other end of the hallway, in case you need anything.” He spoke, taking his time and making sure you understood.

You nodded, and he continued. “Now, settle in. You’ll find everything you need in the closets.” He spoke, leaning in and giving you a kiss on the cheek. “Shower, and then get some sleep, okay? We’ll have plenty of time to talk and discuss things tomorrow.”

Shower and sleep, huh? But what about… you opened your mouth to ask but then you stopped before uttering a word. He noticed, and didn’t like how you hesitated.

“What is it, baby? We’re in your room, remember? You’re free to talk in here.” He explained.

You asked him. “What about… your playroom?” He hadn’t shown you that yet. You were curious, after all that was the main reason why you were here, you were sure.

He smiled warmly. “Like I said, tomorrow. You’re tired, you need to get some rest. Now go on, take a nice warm shower, and sleep. Breakfast will be at eight tomorrow morning.” He spoke and leaned down to briefly kiss the side of your mouth. “Don’t be late.” He said before leaving the room. He closed the door on his way out and you stood there, thinking again.

This treatment was very new to you. You smiled faintly and reached up to touch your face, where he had kissed you just seconds ago. This was definitely something you could get used to.

You followed what he had said. You walked into the equally as luxurious bathroom and scanned the shelves and cabinets and found everything one could possibly need. As he said, you took a nice warm shower. You thought of him as you washed and conditioned and rinsed your hair. Mr. Barnes… how lucky you were that he chose you.

Then, you heard the sound of the bedroom door opening. You panicked, but then you remembered his words; Don’t worry, baby. You’re safe with me.

Not even a minute later, you heard the sound of the door closing; signaling that whoever walked in, walked out. Must be Mr. Barnes.

Indeed it was, because when you walked out of the bathroom, wrapped in fluffy grey towels and making your way to the closet to see if you could find clothes to sleep in; something on the bed caught your attention. It was a white t-shirt, nicely folded. With a folded piece of paper placed on top of it.

You picked up the paper first, it read;

-There are PJs in the closet if you want, but I would rather you wear this to bed. Good night, babygirl.

You caught yourself smiling at the note. You ignored the warmth spreading through your body as you picked the shirt up. Mindlessly, you brought it closer to your face and you gave it a sniff. It smelt clean; of soft laundry detergent and remnants of Bucky’s cologne.

You put it on then went on to search for underwear. You found new ones – still in their packaging – in the drawers, slipped them on and climbed into bed. The comforters felt like a giant marshmallow; warm and comfy. You remembered to set an alarm so you could wake up and be ready for breakfast at 8 the next morning. You nearly shivered as you thought of what used to happen back with your previous master, whenever you would accidentally wake up late.

No, stop it! This isn’t him. This is Mr. Barnes. This is different, this will be different.

You forced yourself to think of Bucky as you drifted off to a much needed sleep. The blue in his eyes… the softness of his lips… the way his voice was enough to bring you to your knees and how the sound of his moans was pure heaven. And his perfect face and perfect body…

---

You woke up to an unfamiliar but warm feeling. Warm puffs of air hitting your neck, and strong, muscular arms wrapped around you.

Muscular arms…? Oh, Mr. Barnes!

Your eyes shot open, and you panicked.

Bucky, who had snuck into your bed this morning, felt your body tense in his embrace. “Hey, hey baby it’s me. Don’t worry, it’s just me.” He whispered in your ear, his face pushed into the crook of your neck.

God damn his morning voice!

You freaked out anyways, thinking you had slept in and that you were late. “I’m so sorry Sir, I didn’t mean to sleep in. I did set an alarm, I-“

He cut you off immediately. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s still early. I just came by because… I was missing you.” as soon as he said so, you relaxed, he could feel it. “It’s okay baby, just focus on my voice. Everything’s fine.” He whispered into your ear, softly kissing down your neck.

You closed your eyes and you almost moaned at his soft touch. Just like that, you didn’t have to worry about a thing, and you let him take control. His arm circled your waist, but it soon slipped under the shirt you wore to sleep. His shirt. He chuckled as he slowly cupped your breasts with his warm hand. “I see you chose to sleep in my shirt.” He murmured in your ear as the cold tips of his fingers grazed over your erected nipple. “I like it.” he chuckled lightly.

Bucky pinched your nipple between his fingers just a little, and you gasped as a tingle danced down your spine and ended right in between your legs. You could feel Bucky behind you, his large, muscular body spooning you from behind; his body heat wrapping around you.

Slowly, he pushed his knee in between your legs, separating them and making room for his hand as he trailed it down from your breasts and dipped his hand into the satin underwear. He was so close to your damp core, and his mouth kept muttering sweet nothings in your ear. You involuntarily smiled, with your eyes closed as you relished his touch.

His fingers slowly circled your clit, smearing your wetness around and he smirked at the noises you made. “I’ve been thinking about you all night.” He whispered in your ear as he lazily toyed with your throbbing clit. You almost smiled again at his words. You whimpered at his touch.

He gave you a light kiss on your jaw, his stubble pressing into your skin. “I thought about how good your pretty mouth felt around me.” He dragged his fingers down your folds and slowly slipped a finger inside you, followed by another and he curled both instantly, stroking your walls lazily. “And how pretty you look on your knees.” He breathed into your ear. You moaned, pressing your butt further against his pelvic bone.

“Your pretty, warm and wet mouth and the wild look in your eyes as you looked up at me, your mouth full of my cock.” He whispered, his voice sweet and calm. His fingers sped up, slipping in and out of you, brushing against all your sensitive spots. “You enjoyed it, didn’t you? You enjoyed pleasuring me, knowing that no one else could make me moan and cum like you could. Didn’t you, baby?”

You couldn’t respond. Your mind was foggy, messy. His actions paired with his words were a deadly combo, he was making you tremble in the best way possible. Bucky was exploring you, and he intended on learning more about your body in the coming days. He wanted to know it like the back of his hand.

He pulled his fingers out of you abruptly, completely still. “Answer me.” He growled, but not too loudly, in your ear. And his voice broke the reverie you were in.

“I did,” you answered, still in that haze. “I did enjoy pleasuring you, sir.” You repeated.

He chuckled and kissed you beneath your ear, you shivered. His lips were soft, and you could feel his smirk pressing against your skin. “Good girl.” He pushed his fingers in you again, stroking your walls again. “That’s what I thought.” He whispered again, placing his thumb on your clit and rubbing it in sync with how his fingers stroked your walls. It drove you insane. You moaned wantonly, moving your hips slowly trying to match the trust of his fingers.

“So I decided that you needed a little reward for serving me so perfectly yesterday. You did so good, baby.” he whispered, meaning it, as his fingers brought you to the edge. You whined, pushing back further into him. You felt tingly, and warm. And safe in his embrace – something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“You’re my good girl, aren’t you?” he asked, fingering you and rubbing your clit faster, and faster. You nodded, then remembered he preferred audible answers.

“I am, sir.” You whined, moaning at the end, unable to hold back. You felt your lower body tensing, the pressure built nicely as he sped up.

He hummed in appreciation, right in your ear, before he kissed down your face and nibbled on your neck. “Tell me.” He mumbled against your skin. “Who do you belong to, my little pearl?”

Oh that nickname did things to you. You clenched around him at the sound of it and he noticed. He chuckled and spoke again. “Tell me.” he sounded growly again. You almost came right there.

“I’m yours.” You whined, unsure of how much longer you could hold it. “I’m all yours, sir.” Your desperation could be heard in your voice. He liked it.

He chuckled again, the sound of his voice made you whimper and squirm against him. “Remember that, sweetheart.” He kissed your neck, and you clenched around him, feeling your release approaching. “You’re mine.”

You came, hard. With a loud moan, clenching around him, drenching his fingers with your wetness. Your hips involuntarily bucked against his hand as your orgasm washed over you. Intense, pleasurable and sweet – much like Mr. Barnes himself.

He kissed the side of your face as you calmed down. “All mine.” he mumbled against your skin as he kissed down your neck again. “Now come on, breakfast downstairs in 15 minutes.” He pulled away from you and got out of the bed. You sat up and watched him. Messy hair, shirtless with just his black sweatpants on, he looked delicious. “Don’t be late.” He winked and left.

You still felt tingly in all the places where he touched you. You felt just a little sore and stickiness in between your legs, but you caught yourself smiling again.

You only had 15 minutes so you rushed into the bathroom, showered as quickly as you could and brushed. Then walked out and finally walked into the closet to find clothes. You were, yet again, pleasantly surprised – both at the size of the closet and at the amount of clothes as well. There was a lot of them, and they all seemed like they would fit you perfectly. You made a mental note to ask him about it later.

You settled on leggings and a large hoodie and made your way downstairs.

You found Mr. Barnes in the kitchen, with his back to you as he seemed to be chopping something. And the aroma coming from all the food made you sigh in delight. He heard it and turned around with a smile. He still wasn’t wearing a shirt so you took in his appearance shamelessly.

“Hi doll, come here.” he spoke with a smile, then got back to chopping. You walked over to him and found him chopping fruits and separating them into two bowls. “Hungry?” he asked.

“A little.” You answered. He had satiated half of your hunger earlier already. He smiled to himself, he didn’t have to tell you to speak up this time. You did it on your own, instead of just nodding. You were learning already, it seemed. He liked it.

“Here,” he picked up half of a strawberry and held it up to your mouth. You parted your lips and inched forward, taking it into your mouth. You didn’t realize how close you were standing to him until you looked up and found him only inches away from your face. He slid the fruit into your mouth and watched you intently.

He bit his own lip and pulled away. “Let’s eat.” He carried both bowls to the table where pancakes and muesli were waiting. You chose to have a portion of the latter and sat across Bucky at the kitchen island.

You and him had a small talk over breakfast.

“Now tell me sweetheart, where did you used to live? And where do you work?” he sounded calm as usual, just a little more curious.

You swallowed and responded. “In an apartment that I shared with two other girls. And I used to work for the club.” You answered.

He frowned at the second part of your answer. But you had your head down so you didn’t see it. Work for the club? What does that mean? He, again, didn’t push you because it seemed like it wasn’t your most favorite topic.

“Well, you’re not going back to that club again.” he spoke and you immediately lifted your head up to look at him. His heart fluttered. “I’m plenty able to provide for the both of us. But I wouldn’t want you to just be bored at home, so you may look for a job that you like.” He finished with another wink. You smiled.

Of course he was perfectly able to provide for the two of you, he had more money than half the city combined. But you made a mental note to indeed look for another job. Speaking of mental notes…

“Can I, um, please ask you something, sir?” you spoke softly.

“Of course, doll. Go ahead.”

“The clothes in the closets, I mean I’m very grateful sir, but how did you…” you trailed off, not knowing how to word it well without thinking that you might sound rude.

But again, he knew exactly what you meant. “I messaged my assistants, right before we left the club. And gave them the necessary details and asked them to prep the room for your comfort. Including, the clothes.” He answered.

You smiled faintly. “Thank you, sir.” You said.

“No problem. I wanted things to be perfect for you, given you’ll be living here now. For quite a while.” He spoke again, and you looked up from your cereal bowl.

Quite a while sounded… good. At least he wasn’t threatening to kick you out if you messed up. You shivered at the memory. Bucky noticed.

“Are you okay, doll?” he asked, suddenly very much worried. He hated seeing you like this, tensed and upset and borderline scared.

You nodded. And he didn’t push you to speak up this time. And the rest of breakfast went by in comfortable silence. After breakfast, you were about to pick up your bowls and place them in the sink and do the dishes, but he beat you to it.

He walked over and as he bent down slightly to pick up your bowl, he kissed your temple and whispered, “Go wait for me in the living room.”

You whispered a ‘yes, sir’ and got down from the stool and walked out of the kitchen and down the hallway which led to the living room. You stood by the coffee table and waited. You noticed a notepad and a pen in the middle of the table. You didn’t think much of it.

You looked around, taking in the wonderful room. You could see the huge glass door which would lead to the sunroom and you longed to go there. You were admiring it from afar when you felt a pair of hands on either side of your waist.

“Hi.” Bucky murmured, pushing his face into your hair and inhaling the sweet smell.

“Hi.” You mumbled back, unsure of where this was going. Shouldn’t he be showing you the playroom by now? Shouldn’t he be telling you of his endless list of rules which you had to abide by every single day? Should he be this affectionate and touchy? Not that you minded this, no. This was all so amazing. You liked being close to him.

“Bend over.” He said, taking you by surprise as he pointed to the large velvet couch in the middle of the room, by the coffee table.

Bend over? Would you be punished already? You tensed at the sound of those words. You weren’t unfamiliar with spanks, you just wished to find out what you did wrong. Was it rude to ask about the clothes? You should have shut up and been grateful that he was giving you all this luxury, instead you questioned him. Was he mad about that?

You replayed the whole of breakfast time in your head, look for where you slipped up and made a mistake. Not realizing that you weren’t listening to him, until he spoke up again. “Babygirl,” he sounded just a little stern, “I said go over there, and bend over.” He repeated himself, softly still.

He noticed your nervousness and wanted more than anything to make it go away. You walked over to the velvet sofa he pointed at and bent over the large, cushioned armrest. You waited, nervous because you couldn’t see him anymore. But then he got closer, and you felt his hands on either side of your butt.

“There’s no need to be afraid of me, baby. You’re always on the edge, and I don’t like that at all.” He spoke, softly. You liked the sound of his voice, it had the power to calm your nerves and excite you at the same time.

You shivered when you felt him pulling your leggings down, followed by your underwear. He did so quickly, impatiently. The cold air hit your legs and you shivered again. But then you felt his warm hands massaging your butt cheeks. You knew instantly what was coming. “I want you to count till ten for me, okay baby?” he said. You nodded, and braced for the painful impact.

He lifted his hand up in the air and brought it down to spank your ass. You yelped, “One.” you muttered. You were surprised. It hurt, a little. But it also left behind pleasant tingles. You were confused.

He did it again, allowing his hand to linger on your skin a little longer this time, caressing where his hand landed. “Two.”

Was this punishment or no?

“Three.” You said, almost moaning at how good it felt, and heard him chuckle.

“Good job baby.” he muttered and slide his hand further down, stroking your folds. “You’re so wet already, angel.” He cooed and lifted his hand and spanked you again. “Four.” You sighed, in pleasure.

“Five.” On your left cheek. “Six.” On your left cheek again. It stung a little, but the kind that you wanted more of. “Seven.” On the right one. You whimpered in pleasure and pain. “Eight.” Left again. “Nine.” He smacked your dripping core instead of your butt. Your whole body tingled. You were breathless, but you cracked a little smile. He couldn’t see it.

“Ten.” You said finally. He grunted as he spanked you one last time. You moaned shamelessly this time, you were perfectly fine with being this exposed. He had you all worked up, hot and bothered with just ten spanks. You wondered, what playtime with him in his playroom would be like. Must be Heaven…

You waited again, since you couldn’t see him. You relied on your sense of hearing to determine where he was. But you didn’t hear anything for a few moments. Maybe he didn’t want you to get up just yet.

Then you felt him. His warm, soft lips and his stubble – his face pressed up against your dripping core. Your face felt hot as you realized what he was doing. He left loud, open mouth kisses from your butt down till your throbbing clit.

“Such,” he kissed your butt, then moved down, “a pretty and delicious,” he kissed your wet entrance and teased it with his tongue, moaning loudly at your taste, “little cunt.” He kissed your clit and sucked on it loudly, making you whimper and wiggle your butt just a little. He chuckled and pulled away. He pulled your ass cheeks apart and latched his mouth onto your core. His fingers lightly rubbed your clit as his tongue poked your tight entrance. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as his mouth pleasured you.

A quiet moan escaped your lips as you heard the wet sounds which erupted from him eating you out. He was shamelessly moaning as well. His plump, pink lips worked on your wet heat; your arousal dripping down his chin and coating his lips as he devoured you. He took you higher…and higher until you shattered against his mouth and came undone all over his tongue.

He pulled away after he had his fill. “Such a good girl. Come here, baby.” he pulled up your underwear and leggings and lifted you from the armrest by the shoulder, noticing you were still trembling, recovering from your second orgasm.

He sat down on the couch nearby and pulled you onto his lap. You ended up straddling him, and you scooted closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He ran a soothing hand down your back while the other hand caressed your butt through the leggings. He was spoiling you.

Oh, so that wasn’t punishment?

He frowned and you realized that you had accidentally voiced out your inner thoughts. “Of course not. You did nothing wrong, angel. Spanks can be used as rewards, and for pleasure.” He explained. Oh.

“What was I rewarded for, sir?” you asked. He smiled.

“Just for keeping me company during breakfast. For trusting me, and for being so good earlier today.” He explained, making your heart flutter. Oh. He continued, “Besides, I don’t need a solid reason to touch you, do I baby? You’re mine, aren’t you?”

You cracked a little smile and nodded quickly. All yours. I’m all yours. “I am, sir.”

Bucky leaned in to kiss your forehead. You wondered why he hadn’t kissed you on the mouth yet. Did you want that? Hell yes you did!

“I’m ready, sir.” You said, after a while of admiring his mouth and wondering how it would feel against your own. He tilted his head in confusion.

“What for, baby?” he asked, pulling you closer and making you ‘accidentally’ grind on his crotch.

“For you to tell me about all your rules. I will be good, sir. I promise.” You sounded so… nervous. Bucky did wonder, about the possibilities of what kind of rules you might have had to abide by in the past. He hated everything that came to his mind, just thinking about another man having control over you.

“Oh I know you will.” he cooed. “You’re my precious little pearl, and I know you will always be good to me.” He reassured you that he had complete faith that you would be good.

You were a little surprised. Because a certain someone did tell you that if you don’t abide by all of his rules, he’d return you back. You shivered, again, at the thought of him.

This isn’t him. This isn’t him. This isn’t him.

“As for my rules, well,” Bucky leaned forward and grabbed the notepad and the pen. He opened the notepad and clicked the pen and began writing. “There’s not much baby. Just,” he told you each one as he wrote them down, “Listen when I talk. Obey when I tell you to do something. Don’t let another man touch you,” he looked up from the paper and leaned in to kiss your cheek, “Because you belong to me and only me.” He winked.

He continued, “Answer me when I ask a question. Don’t be rude. Don’t be too much of a brat. Don’t talk back.” he paused, then wrote something down, “Go to the playroom when I ask you to. And remember your safe words during playtime.” He looked up at you, stopped writing and made you recite them and what they’re used for.

Green, means you’re okay and you want this. Yellow, means you’re unsure but you do want him to push your limits a little more. Red, playtime stops right away because you’re in pain or totally uncomfortable. And lastly. Winter, and this is all over and you go your way and he goes his.

Winter… you never wanted to utter the word. And he didn’t want you to. He needed you as much as you needed him.

He added a couple more rules to the list. “Bedtime at 11, each night unless we’re in the playroom. And breakfast at 8 each morning.” He stopped writing and you frowned. “And that’s it.” he tore the paper and handed it over to you.

You looked down at it in surprise. What? That’s all?

He could tell you had a million questions. “What is it, baby? We can discuss anything.” He spoke and you stared at his lips again.

“Sir… what about my chores?” you asked, your voice sounding just a little unsure.

Chores? Bucky had heard about his friends, other doms, talking about the lengthy lists they give their subs.

“What chores, baby?” he asked, reaching up to caress your cheek. His eyes flickered down to your lips. Oh the things he would do to bite that mouth… No! Not yet.

You shifted a little on his lap, and he had to ignore the bulge slowly forming in his pants. Because right now, all he could care about was you and your comfort.

“I’ll need to cook, so what time is dinner? And when do you get home from work? I’ll need to clean before that, and wash and-,”

He cut you off by grabbing you chin and making sure he has your full attention. “Baby, hey.” He looked you deep in the eyes. “I have housekeepers, and butlers and chefs for all that. You don’t have to do any of those things.” He explained.

You were confused. “Then why did you bring me home, sir?”

He smiled softly at you. “Because I need you. And you need me. You’re here so I can take care of you, meet all your needs, be everything you need me to be. To keep you safe and protect you. I’m your dom, baby, it’s what I do. I’m here to take control when you need me to.”

He paused and pulled you closer. “And you’re here to keep me company, and fulfil my needs and be what I need you to be. Follow my little set of rules, which when broken will carry consequences.” He ended on a lighter tone. “And of course, lots of playtime.” He smiled and leaned in to kiss your neck. You giggled, feeling his soft lips against yours.

It was the first time he had heard you giggle. And it truly made him feel nice and warm. He liked the lack of nervousness and fear in your eyes. You were, dare he say, happy. And he managed to make you giggle, and he was freaking proud of that.

“I like that sound. I like it a lot.” He couldn’t help but point it out. You smiled bigger than he had ever seen. He wanted nothing more than to just lean in and kiss you deeply. But he knew he had to wait. Just a little longer, my angel. And I will give you countless kisses.

“We’ll discuss the dos and don’ts, and your limits later today when we-,”

He was talking, and you didn’t mean to interrupt but you couldn’t help it. You were taken by surprise by his words. “My limits, sir?”

He didn’t mind the interruption. “Yes, doll. We’ll need to discuss what I can and cannot to do you during playtime.”

You frowned. “I get to tell you that?” you were confused.

“Yes baby. Otherwise it’s not fair. This has to be a healthy, consensual relationship, does it not?” he was beginning to think of the worst things. Of someone exploiting you, someone taking your submission for granted, and using you. He felt angry.

You didn’t reply. You couldn’t help but think of him. And although you didn’t want to, you couldn’t help but compare Mr. Barnes to your previous master. They were poles apart. With Mr. Barnes, you were comfortable. With him, you had been…

You shivered, not wanting to think about how he had treated you. Bucky noticed you were deep in thought. And he couldn’t bear it anymore, he had to know. He absolutely had to.

“Baby, who trained you?” he asked, softly. You kept your head down as his name echoed in your head.

“My previous master did.” you answered. Bucky sighed and leaned closer to you, running a hand down your back again.

“Look at me, angel,” he said. You did. “You’re here with me now. No one’s gonna hurt you. I’m gonna keep you safe.” He paused and looked deep into your eyes. “Now tell me, who was your previous master?”

You shifted in his lap. “I must never call master by his name.” you repeated what he had told you; one of his many rules.

Bucky was getting more and more impatient and angry. He’s not your master. He’s not your dom. I am! “He is not your master anymore. His rules don’t apply, baby.” he grabbed your chin. “Who was he?” he persisted.

But you shook your head. You were confused and overwhelmed by your emotions and memories. Then Bucky thought of something. “Here,” he handed you the notepad and pen. “Write his name down.”

This, you obeyed immediately. You took the pen from him and wrote down the name of the one who had claimed to be your dom, your master. The first dom who ever collared you, but didn’t treat you well.

You wrote it down and handed it over to Bucky. He braced himself, but nothing could prepare him for the name he saw on the notepad. Bucky was surprised and angry. Bastard, his thoughts raced. He couldn’t believe it. Bucky was quiet, for a whole minute. You were beginning to worry.

Then he spoke up, “Let’s go upstairs, in my study. We need to talk.” He sounded, serious. So serious, almost betrayed? Jealous?

Before him, on the paper, in your handwriting was the name of the man who had treated you poorly under the excuse of being your dom. But it also happened to be the name of his biggest business rival;

Thor Odinson.

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes imagine #dom!bucky #marvel #bucky barnes series

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morganaspendragonss · 4 years ago

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What do you think of a prompt where there’s a gala/party thrown for responders, and so Carlos gets to see TK in his element, all dressed up nice and socialising, and someone flirts with him, so Carlos intervenes again getting a little handsy and all he wants to do is take TK home? (Not in like ~nsfw but like, a little steamy?)

love the idea, thank you! i’ll be honest with you, anon, i even get embarrassed writing things that are only a little steamy, but i did my best here. hope you like it!

ao3

Carlos can’t take his eyes off TK. Which isn’t a problem, per se - his fiancé is very nice to look at - but it does mean that he’s uncomfortably aware that he’s not the only one.

In fact, pretty much everyone at the gala has snuck a glance at him at one point or another, some being more blatant than others. Case in point: the man currently flirting shamelessly with TK, apparently ignoring every attempt to get him to back off.

Carlos isn’t a jealous man. He knows TK loves him, and he knows he loves TK; there’s no need to be possessive or insecure or anything. But he’s been itching to get his fiancé alone pretty much since TK walked out of their bedroom in that tux, doing a stupid little twirl to get Carlos to laugh. So, seeing another man flirt with him is rubbing him up entirely the wrong way.

All Carlos wants to do is go over and haul TK back home, but he knows that he can’t. For one, he’s supposed to be socialising too; the gala is for all first responders, and Carlos’s captain had dropped several hints about the right people to butter up if he ever wants to make detective. Morally speaking, Carlos disagrees with the whole concept - he wants the promotion on merit, rather than knowing the right people - but he should probably make a token effort, in case his captain asks.

The main reason, however, is that TK is so clearly in his element here, and it’s kind of fascinating to watch. Carlos knows his fiancé has always been a bit of a social butterfly, but this is a whole other level. TK flits from person to person, chatting amicably, that easy smile never leaving his face as he charms everyone he meets.

He’s happy, and Carlos doesn’t have the heart to take that away from him.

Paul slides up next to him, Carlos barely glancing over in greeting before turning back to TK and Mr Oblivious. He struggles to hold back a snort as TK flashes his engagement ring for the fourth time in as many minutes, the guy once again missing the obvious as he keeps talking.

Paul has no such reservations, laughing loudly as he follows Carlos’s line of sight. “Man, this is just getting sad now.”

“Tell me about it,” Carlos mutters. “I mean, how blind can he be?”

“I was talking about you, Reyes.”

Carlos chokes, staring at Paul with wide eyes. “What?”

Paul jerks his thumb in the direction of the 126’s designated table. “We’ve been taking bets,” he says, far too nonchalantly. Carlos glances back at the table, Marjan sending him a cheerful wave. “How many guys have to flirt with TK before you go over there and stick your tongue down his throat.”

Carlos shakes his head in disbelief. He wants to be offended, but he still can’t help but ask, “And?”

“Well, you’ve lasted longer than any of us thought -”

“Rude.”

“- so I guess technically you’re winning. But” - Paul shrugs - “you’re also definitely not, because TK’s over there, looking like that, and you’re just standing here mooning over him.”

“I’m not mooning,” Carlos protests, only to be met with a very unimpressed stare from Paul. “I’m not! Besides, am I not allowed to admire my very good-looking fiancé.”

“There’s admiring, and then there’s this.”

Carlos splutters, folding his arms in the face of Paul’s amused expression. He knows, in truth, that Paul is right - he has been staring, and he dreads to think of what he must look like to everyone else. It’s not that he minds that his love for TK is so obvious; he’d shout it from the rooftops if he could, but the fact remains that this is a work function and he’s supposed to be keeping up at least a semblance of professionalism.”

“Just go, man,” Paul says gently, taking pity on him. “I meant it when I said it’s getting sad - for all of us.”

Carlos shoves him, but he can’t stop the grin that spreads across his face. “Ass,” he jokes. “But, I can’t just… He’s having fun. I don’t want to drag him away just because I’m feeling a bit…”

“Jealous?” Paul asks. Carlos makes a face at him and he smirks, clapping him on the shoulder. “Trust me. TK will thank you for it.”

Then he’s gone, but not without a final meaningful glance, letting Carlos know he’d better pull his head out of his ass and rescue his fiancé. Carlos looks over to TK once more, a smile playing at his lips at the bright laugh TK lets out.

He shakes his head at himself. Paul is right; he has been mooning, and he does need to get over himself right now. He squares his shoulders, then marches over, surprising TK with a hard kiss on his cheek. Carlos wants to do as Paul suggested and stake his claim on TK for all to see, but technically they’re at work, so he manages to refrain.

(that doesn’t stop him from sliding a hand down to surreptitiously squeeze TK’s ass, but no-one has to know about that but the two of them)

TK laughs. “Hey baby.” He puts a hand on Carlos’s cheek, tilting his head to sweetly kiss him on the lips. When he pulls away, he turns to the guy he’d been talking to. “Alan, this is my fiancé, Carlos Reyes.”

Carlos smiles politely and holds his hand out. “Nice to meet you.”

Alan turns a bright pink, hurriedly shaking Carlos’s hand. “Pleasure,” he mumbles, then turns and scurries away, head bent.

TK sighs, leaning into Carlos’s side. “I thought he’d never leave.”

“You and me both, babe.”

“Do I detect a hint of jealousy, Officer Reyes?”

“Well, you see, I have this gorgeous fiancé who happens to look incredible in a tux, but I haven’t been able to see him all night.”

TK grins at him, then leans up to whisper into his ear. “If you like this, wait until you see what I bought for our wedding night.”

Carlos shivers, planting his hands on TK’s hips. “Don’t you mean our wedding day, Paramedic Strand?”

“I do not.”

They’re home twenty minutes later, barely making it through the front door.

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlos fic #carlos reyes #tk strand #paul strickland #tk x carlos #lone star #911ls #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing #anonymous

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voidbeau · 6 months ago

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hm ok, gonna ask what Angst in the Sound Booth is (although I am also very intrigued by a lot of them 👀)

Honestly i would yap about any and all of them ; v; But yes! One of the first ever Thorn x Mr Flower fics I was ever inspired to try to write tbh.

It was based on some ship art I started November of last year that I never finished.

I don't think Sound booth is the right term to use here, but that's what I hastily tossed out at the time. 🥴

Summary:

Thorn invites Mr. Flower to a show at his venue, promising him a private view and a much needed distraction from the recent drama in Mr. Flower's life.

What Thorn neglects to mention is part of that drama is employed under him, and it brought it's other half.

Now Mr. Flower continues to watch and anxiously wonder how he can remain a relevant part of an old friend's life.

Or if he even wants to be. Thorn is more than happy to help him figure it out.

Part of the fic so far:

What in the world was Mr. Plant even doing at a place like this? Loud noises, dense crowds, dreadfully high energy. This was absolutely not the kind of place Mr. Plant would have chosen to be of his own volition, yet here he was. With Argos.

When Mr. Flower hadn’t seen or heard from Mr. Plant in almost two weeks.

There was a tightening in Mr. Flower’s chest.

He sighed, the bitterness in his stomach turning to anxious nausea as he tried to shake off the thoughts.

He didn’t like the idea of getting worked up over it, but worked up he was. Even as he turned his gaze and did his best to focus on the band instead.

He had hardly noticed when someone else had entered the private observation booth. Mr. Flower was still gnawing at his lip when the smell of cigarette smoke began to fill the air, still fighting back the welling emotion he had been trying so hard to ignore for days now.

And when a warm and gentle hand found its way around Mr. Flower's waist suddenly, the floral creature stiffened.

A light gasp left his lips as the towering presence of a rose headed man at Mr. Flower's side broke the creature from his thoughts.

He looked up to meet the familiar man's gaze and was greeted by a sharp, toothy grin holding a lit cigarette.

Wild, spiral eyes stared back at Mr. Flower while the hand around his waist made itself comfortable.

The rose monster inhaled from his cigarette and with his free hand, withdrew it from his mouth billowing smoke poured from the sides of his mouth.

“Enjoying the show?” He asked, giving Mr. Flower a light, playful squeeze. An action that tinted Mr. Flower's cheeks a light shade of pink while simultaneously churning out a small grunt and a slight frown from the flustered flower.

“Thorn…” Mr. Flower grumbled the man's name, as if to give warning but said nothing further.

Thorn chuckled, readjusting his hand to let it rest on Mr. Flower's shoulder instead, indicating he took the hint.

Mr. Flower rarely outright protested Thorn's lack of personal space regardless of the fact that he played up a convincing amount of distaste for it.

But it was never long before Mr. Flower began to relax under Thorn’s casual touches.

#twomp #oc x cannon #mr flower twomp #the world of mr plant #god its been so long since i worked on this one #its so rough ; v;#but thats what a rough draft is i guess loool #vbeau answers #im still excited about it tho #also sorry for length #i didnt know what to focus on more #lmao orz

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elspethc22 · 4 years ago

Text

They Make Sense

Scilesweek Day 1: POV Outsider

Title: They Make Sense

Pairings: Scott/Stiles, Scott/Kira (mentioned only as a possibility)

Word count: 4976

Being the new kid in school absolutely sucked. Being the new kid in school halfway through the school year? Even worse! Being the new kid in school, halfway through the year, with a teacher for a parent? They type of situation that definitely warranted a ‘let the ground open up and swallow me whole’ plea to whatever deity may exist and be listening.

Seriously, was there like some induction for all new parents on how to best embarrass your kids at different stages of their life? Like, welcome to parenthood, here’s your handy guide for embarrassing your child, broken into helpful sections on different developmental stages for your convenience. Good luck and happy embarrassing!

Kira lifted her head off the desk and attempted a weak smile, and catches the eye of a cute boy a few rows ahead and one row over from her. He was staring at her, like most of their classmates, but he was smiling and it brought a real, albeit small, smile to her lips. Then he was poked with a pencil by the pale boy in front of him, and he turned away.

As she watched, the pale boy said something that had the first boy grinning and shaking his head and the pale boy smiling wide.

Although she tried to pay attention throughout the rest of the class, she kept finding herself distracted by the two boys. Whenever her dad was distracted, or writing on the board, the pale one would turn around to say something to the first boy, or show him something or even just grin. Once or twice the first boy poked the pale boy in the shoulder with his pencil, then quickly looked down at his book, as if he was taking notes, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The pale boy never looked annoyed – or he did, but it didn’t look very sincere, and he was always grinning when he turned back around.

She thought about going up to them, introducing herself, but they were some of the first out the door when the bell rang.

Her dad followed her into the hall, and as she tried to explain how embarrassing her was never going to be helpful, she spotted the two boys out of the corner of her eye. The pale one was staring at his locker, hand on the lock, and the other boy was watching him, talking.

Kira watched in confusion as the pale boy shook his head at his locker, then looked up at the other boy and seemed to panic about something, pulling the other boy towards him, keeping his head tucked into his chest and leading him away. Then her dad distracted her, and she let the odd behaviour slip from her mind.

***************************************************************************

The following day, Kira decided to spend lunch outside, enjoy the sun before the weather turned. As she wandered around, looking for somewhere to sit where she wouldn’t be intruding, she spotted the boys from her history class. She walked in their direction, and then heard what they were talking about.

‘ – near death experience and comes out of it seeing things?’ The cute boy asked his friends.

‘And is unable to tell what’s real or not?’ The pale boy continued.

‘And is being haunted by demonic visions of dead relatives?’ A pretty brunette girl added on.

‘They’re all locked up because they’re insane.’ Another boy answered, and as Kira approached, thoughts of Bardo coming to her, she only half-heard some weird conversation between the pale boy and the new one about being helpful and childhoods spent in freezers.

‘Hi. Hi. Sorry, I couldn’t help overhearing what you guys were talking about.’ Kira said, cursing herself internally for her weird introduction and tendency to ramble when nervous. ‘And, I think I actually might know what you’re talking about.’

They were all staring at her, and she noticed the pale boy give a quick glance to his friends before focusing back on her.

‘There’s a Tibetan word for it. It’s called “Bardo”. It literally means “in-between state”. The state between life and death.’ She told them, and they stared at her, for a beat, before the red-head girl spoke.

‘And what do they call you?’ She asked Kira, and Kira definitely detected more than a hint of who the hell are you in her tone. But before Kira could answer, the cute boy from history class answered for her.

‘Kira.’ His friends looked at him, and Kira noticed that the pale boy had an almost indecipherable look on his face as he stared. ‘She’s in our history class.’

The cute boy was talking to them all, but his focus stayed on the boy next to him and when he spoke again his voice was softer.

‘Mr Yukimura introduced her yesterday, remember? Before you poked me and told that stupid joke?’ His voice turned teasing as he said the last bit, and Kira watched the pale boy smile and nod slowly, as if remembering. When Kira looked around the table, she saw that the other boy and the brunette were watching the boys with half concerned, half fond/annoyed (the girl and boy respectively) looks on their faces. The red-head, however, was watching her with a look that seemed to be a mix of contemplative and protective.

‘So, are you talking Bardo in Tibetan Buddhism or Indian?’ The red-head asked, drawing attention away from the boys and back to Kira. Kira nodded, and then started to tell them more of what she knew about Bardo, sitting down in the empty space beside the pale boy, and she tried not to notice, or take it personally, when he slid away from her slightly, towards the cute boy. And she really needed to learn their names if she was going to keep talking to them.

When she told them all that the final stage of Bardo was death, the looks they all shared were all scared and concerned, which confused her, but then as she watched, they all seemed to school their faces, and the cute boy turned to her.

‘So, Kira. Your family only just moved to Beacon Hills, right?’ He asked, and she let him change the subject, though it just confused her more.

‘Uh, yeah. Three weeks ago. I think mum used to live here when she was younger, and she and dad just decided to move us here.’ She told them.

‘Well, welcome to Beacon Hills, and Beacon Hills High. I’m Scott, by the way.’ The cute boy told her.

‘I’m Lydia.’ Kira turned to see the red-head giving her a smile, though it didn’t seem quite sincere, although Kira nodded.

‘Allison.’ The brunette told her, and her smile was more genuine. The boy beside her didn’t say anything until Allison nudged him, and he looked at her briefly and said ‘Isaac’ before looking away again.

‘And uh, this is Stiles.’ Scott said when the pale boy didn’t seem inclined to introduce himself. He clapped the boy beside him on the shoulder, which seemed to startle him. She watched as Stiles looked up at Scott, and although she couldn’t see Stiles’ face, she watched as Scott’s went from concerned to fond before he leant forward to whisper something into Stiles’ ear, tilting his head in her direction. Stiles turned his head towards her, gave her a small smile and a wave of the hand, then went back to staring at the table, though Kira thought he leaned in to Scott’s hand which had remained on his shoulder, and Scott’s eyes flickered towards him.

Kira was about to say something, but the bell rang signalling the end of lunch, and the others all started collecting their belongings and standing up.

She stood too, and was trying to think of something, anything to say when they started walking away from the table.

‘Hey, thanks for information on the Bardo thing.’ Scott said to her, having held back to wait for Stiles to finish collecting his things. She smiled at him, and nodded, but before she could say anything else, Stiles stood straight, and then he nearly tripped on – well, Kira wasn’t sure what, actually, there didn’t seem to be anything to trip on – and would have face planted on the grass if Scott hadn’t caught him.

She knew Scott had forgotten all about her as he helped steady Stiles, ducking his head close to the other boy. He rubbed his hand up and down Stiles’ arm a few times, then wrapped his arm around Stiles’ shoulder, and started to lead him away, keeping Stiles close to him as they went.

When Kira got home, she completed her homework, then spent a few hours doing more thorough research on Bardo, so she could give Scott, and his friends, more detailed information on the phenomenon. As she worked, her mind kept slipping back to lunch, and what she’d seen between Scott and Stiles. They were definitely close, and Scott seemed to be very protective of the other boy. Stiles had seemed wary of her, and also, now that she thought about it, looked really tired. Maybe he had been sick recently and was still recovering, so Scott was just looking out for him.

She printed off her research, and made a mental note to put it in her bag before she went to help her mum get ready for dinner.

***************************************************************************

The next day, she greeted Scott before class, telling him about the research on Bardo she’d done for him, although when she went to pull out the pages they weren’t in her bag.

‘Kira, you forgot that research you did for that boy you like.’ Her father’s voice sounded from behind her and her eyes grew wide. She took the offered pages, then all but shoved them into Scott’s hands, avoiding looking at his face so she wouldn’t have to see his expression. She moved quickly, taking a seat and was thankful when Scott sat a few seats ahead of her in the row over.

She tried to shift her attention, focus on her dad and what he was saying as he started the class, but her eyes kept darting back over to Scott without her permission. He was flicking through the printouts she’d given him, but she noticed when he sat up straight suddenly. Kira looked up to see his friend, Stiles, had been called to the front of the class to read.

But instead of reading, Stiles was clenching the podium tightly, blinking furiously and looking like he was on the verge of passing out as he looked down at the page and then back up at the class. Did he have a problem with public speaking?

As she watched, Scott stood abruptly.

‘Stiles? Are you ok?’ He asked, but Stiles didn’t respond. He looked around the room, breathing heavily, then looked back down at the podium, closing his eyes. ‘Stiles?’

Scott moved forward swiftly, moving to Stiles’ side and telling her dad he was taking the other boy to the nurse. Her dad just nodded in shock as Scott put one arm around Stiles’ waist, the other on his arm, keeping close to his side and led him quickly from the room. She watched them go, faintly heard Scott telling Stiles to breath before the door closed behind them.

Her dad tried to pull the class back to their work, but Kira didn’t notice until she heard her name.

‘Kira. Perhaps you can come up and read the passage for us.’ She looked over at him, and saw that he was giving her a look which meant she needed to just do what he was asking and not argue. So she stood and made her way to the front of the room and read the passage, helping her dad to pull the attention off the two boys and back into the lesson.

When the bell rang, her classmates began to scoop up their bags, putting their books and other things back into them and making their way out of the class and off to lunch as her dad reminded them of their required reading.

Kira zipped up her backpack, and was about to leave when she noticed that Scott and Stiles had both left their bags behind. She looked around, and saw that everyone else had left, and none of their other friends were in this class. So she picked them up, and went looking for them. Doing something nice was how you made friends, right?

***************************************************************************

As the weeks passed, Kira did find herself enveloped into Scott’s group once she was introduced to the world of the supernatural, of kitsunes, werewolves, banshees and more. It was great to finally have friends, but also to finally understand what had been going on with her, and to have people who could sort of understand what it was like to be so different.

There were also a few brief moments where Kira thought maybe she and Scott were getting closer over those weeks, from him coming for dinner at her house, to their foray into criminal activity to delete the photos from her phone and the party.

Then Stiles went missing, the first time, and everything went crazy. From nogitsunes and chaos and murder to finding out her mum was over 900 years old and had been lying to her, her entire life, any possible thing with Scott was pushed to the back burner.

And Scott? Well, Scott’s focus was all on Stiles. And at the end of it all, when Stiles and the nogitsune were separated, the nogitsune, and some of their friends, dead, and some time had passed and they all seemed to be starting to heal, Kira was able to think about possibilities with her and Scott, and she went to find him.

His mum was just leaving for another shift at the hospital and let her in with a quick ‘he’s in his room.’

She made her way quietly up the stairs, and was about to turn into Scott’s room when she heard the voices and stopped. She’d like to say she didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the pain she heard had her not wanting to intrude, and then fearing that retreating would call attention to her presence – she was actually very surprised Scott hadn’t heard her coming up the stairs.

‘Scott, I don’t know how to keep going. Every time I close my eyes, it’s like I’m back there – trapped in my own mind, with a front row seat to everything it did. And the one memory that’s stuck on repeat? It’s you, that night at the clinic.’

‘It wasn’t you Stiles, you know it wasn’t you and I’d neverblame you for that.’ Kira really shouldn’t be listening to this, it was clearly a very private moment between them and she should absolutely leave now.

‘It might not have been me, Scotty, but I still remember it. I could feel it as it happened, it felt like my hands holding the sword, pushing it in, twisting it, feeding off your pain. Liking it.’ That last bit was whispered so softly Kira almost didn’t hear it.

‘It got into your mind, Stiles. It wasn’t you, and it wasn’t your fault. You heard Mrs Yukimura talk about it, about how powerful it was. There’s nothing you, or anyone, could have done to stop it, especially when we didn’t know about it until it was too late.’

‘I should have done something when I knew I left the message for Barrow.’ Stiles said, his voice broken.

‘Like what? Locked yourself up in Eichen House sooner? All that did was delay everything – until we knew how to stop it, there wasn’t anything any of us could do except try and hold it off, stop the damage from being too much. And you did hold it off Stiles, you tried – I know you tried to stop it, to fight back and minimise the damage it would do. When Derek and I were on the roof of the hospital, before we figured out what it had done to the wiring, do you know what we could smell? You – struggling. You were trying to stop it.’

After this, there was silence, and after a few moments of internal debate, Kira very slowly (and as silently as possible) poked her head around the frame of Scott’s room to peer in.

The two boys were sitting on Scott’s bed – they had clearly been sitting opposite each other as they spoke, judging by the way Scott was leaning forward on his knees to hug Stiles. As she watched, Scott started to lean back, pulling Stiles with him, shifting until he was sitting more comfortably and hauled Stiles onto his lap.

Stiles was crying, and Scott kept one arm wrapped around Stiles’ waist, preventing him from wiggling away, while his other hand rubbed circles on Stiles’ back.

As Kira watched, Scott appeared to be whispering into Stiles ear. Stiles was quieting now, no longer shifting or fighting against Scott’s hold. The opposite, in fact – now he let his body go, slumping into Scott’s arms, resting his head against Scott’s chest.

‘Why are you always so good to me?’ Stiles asked softly, and Scott looked at him fondly.

‘Because you are the most important person in this world to me, outside my mum. You remember what you said to me at that motel? I can’t do this without you either, Stiles. So I’m always going to do whatever it takes to keep you safe and I’m always gonna be here, no matter what. I love you, Stiles. Always have, always will.’

There was a beat of silence as Stiles pulled back, looked at Scott.

‘I love you too, Scott.’ Stiles responded, cautiously, his voice even. Scott gave him a small smile, then shook his head.

‘I know you do, but I meant… I meant more than just how I’ve always loved you.’ Scott told him, and Stiles just looked at Scott. ‘I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad, or like you have to feel the same, but it’s kind of been building for a while and I nearly lost you so I just had to – ’

Scott was cut off as Stiles pressed their lips together, bringing one of his hands up to cradle the back of Scott’s head. And now Kira really needed to leave. Cross her fingers and hoping that Scott wouldn’t hear her she made her way as quietly as possible back down the stairs.

Then, just as she was about to open the door to leave, she realised that Scott would be able to tell she’d been there – he’d smell her scent. So she opened the door as carefully as possible, then knocked, loudly.

‘Scott!! Are you here? Your bike is outside, and the door’s unlocked, so I’m guessing you’re here…’ She called out, stepping inside and closing the door, audibly, then started her way up the stairs, making sure to let each footfall make a sound. ‘Scott?’

Just as she reached the top of the stairs, Scott’s popped out of his room.

‘Kira! Hi! Uh, what’re you doing here? I mean, what’s up?’ He asked, looking a bit flushed.

‘Oh, I just wanted to stop by and see how you’re doing, and Stiles too.’ His eyes widened and she wanted to bite her tongue.

‘Stiles? What do you mean?’

‘I didn’t want to intrude on Stiles and his dad, but I thought you’d know how he’s doing so…’ She trailed off and shrugged, hoping he believed her. And it was mostly the truth – she would have asked him about Stiles before she knew the other boy was here. Thankfully Scott nodded.

‘Yeah, he’s um… he’s doing ok. He’s getting there.’ She smiled.

‘That’s great, Scott. I’m really glad he’s alright. Oh, um, my mum said something last night – she told me to suggest that if he has any trouble relaxing or sleeping to try tea.’ She said, remembering the conversation she’d had with her mum last night as they’d discussed what had happened.

‘Tea?’ Scott asked, and she nodded.

‘Yeah. Specifically chamomile. I honestly don’t know if that’s just a like, mum thing or it’s actually helpful with this specific type of thing but I remember her giving him some when he came over to talk to her.’

‘I remember – it helped. Well, I don’t know if it was the actual tea, or your mum just telling me it would help but it did. It helped me calm down a bit.’ Stiles said, coming up beside Scott in the doorway, nearly making Kira jump since she wasn’t expecting it and hadn’t heard him moving.

‘Oh, hey Stiles. I didn’t realise – I didn’t mean to interrupt or anything, I just wanted to check on Scott, and… well, I guess you already know, you probably already heard.’ Kira wanted to face palm – she’d gotten so much better at not rambling in front of these guys recently, as they’d become friends, but knowing that she’d stood there and listened to what was very clearly a private moment had her flustered.

‘Yeah. Thanks, for not wanting to just drop by my place, I haven’t really been the most… sociable.’

‘Of course. I can’t even imagine… well, I was worried about you, both of you. Hence coming by to see Scott. But you guys are spending time together, and that’s good, and I don’t want to interrupt so I’m just gonna go now, but you’re looking better Stiles, which is good, really good. And you look good too, Scott. Um… ok, bye!’ She nearly shouted the farewell and turned to race down the stairs.

Just as she was reaching for the door, a hand touched her shoulder.

‘Hey.’ It was Scott.

‘Uh, hey.’ She said.

‘Look… I uh… I know you were upstairs earlier.’ He said softly and she felt her heart drop and her eyes widen.

‘Oh, god I’m so sorry Scott. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, I was just coming up to see you like I said, but then I heard you talking and it sounded really important and I didn’t want to interrupt but then I should’ve just left, but I thought if you heard me leaving I’d interrupt the conversation so I stayed but I shouldn’t have – ’

‘Kira.’ He cut her off, put a hand on her shoulder and gave a gentle, comforting squeeze. ‘It’s ok, I’m not mad. I know you’re not the kind of person to just go around listening in on conversations. And I could’ve said something, but it was the first time Stiles had really talked to me so I didn’t want to do anything to stop that. But that’s not why I wanted to talk to you.’

‘It’s not?’ She asked, confused, and he shook his head.

‘No. I wanted to apologise.’ He told her, and she was more confused.

‘Apologise? Why?’

‘I want you to know that… I like you, Kira. You’re a really good person. And I kinda thought… there were a few times when I thought that maybe you want to be more than friends and for a little while I thought I might too but this thing with Stiles…’ He trailed off, looking like he was thinking about how to say what he wanted to say.

‘Scott. It’s ok. I mean, yeah, I like you. And I did think, maybe… but honestly? If I think about it? It makes a lot of sense, you and Stiles.’ She told him honestly, and the more she thought about it, the more it really did make sense. She thought about all the little moments she’d seen between Scott and Stiles, all the way back to that first history class.

The way they moved around each other, the way their eyes always sought each other out in a group or crowd, the way they’d drop almost anything for the other. How they moved and spoke and often thought in sync.

‘Really?’ Scott asked, and she saw a small smile tugging at his lips.

‘Yeah. And I’m happy for you, Scott – both of you. Don’t feel bad for something this good – and besides, we never really even did anything, or even talked about anything, so I’m not upset, I promise. And more than anything I might have felt or could have felt, I’m just glad we’re friends.’ She told him, smiling.

‘I’m glad we’re friends too.’ He told her, in that amazingly sincere way of his. She reached out and drew him into a quick hug, then stepped back.

‘Tell Stiles again I’m really happy to see him doing better? And hopefully we’ll see him back at school soon – when he’s ready, but hopefully soon.’ She said, and he nodded.

‘I will. And thanks, for coming by.’ Scott told her and she just smiled. Then she turned to open the door, and stepped out. Scott stepped up behind her, holding the door so he could close it. Just before she stepped down off the porch, she turned back.

‘Scott?’ She said, and he cocked his head. ‘It’s really good to see you happy again, both of you. I only saw it a couple of times when I first met you before everything… well, it’s just good to see.’ She told him, and he smiled.

‘It’s good to feel happy again. It feels like I shouldn’t sometimes but – ’

‘I didn’t know her as well as the rest of you, but I think she’d want you to be happy too. She’d be happy that you’re happy.’ She told him, and he looked sad for a moment at the semi-direct mention of Allison, but then he nodded.

‘You’re right. I really am glad we’re friends. I’ll see you at school on Monday?’ He asked, and she nodded.

‘I’ll see you Monday.’ Then she turned and headed to her car. By the time she slid behind the wheel and glanced back at the house, the door was closed, but a quick glance up showed Stiles standing at the window of Scott’s room. She gave a small wave, which he returned before he turned his head away from the window, presumably to the sound of Scott. She started the engine, and headed home.

***************************************************************************

Monday morning found Kira arriving early to school, pulling her car into one of the many empty spots. As she hopped out of the car, she spotted Lydia getting out of her own car just a few spots down. Kira made her way over to her, and they were just catching up with each other when Kira spotted Stiles’ jeep turning into the parking lot. She and Lydia both turned and watched as Scott pulled the jeep into a spot.

‘I wasn’t expecting Stiles to come back so soon.’ Lydia murmured, and Kira nodded in agreement.

‘Yeah, I mean he looked better when I saw him but – ’

‘You saw him?’ Lydia asked, and Kira turned to look at her.

‘Um, I mean yes, technically, but only because I went by Scott’s house to check on him and ask him how Stiles was and Stiles was there and heard me when I was telling Scott something my mum recommended for Stiles and he came out and said hello. So I only saw him for like, less than a minute.’ Lydia just stared at her, and Kira tried to hold eye contact before she broke and looked away. Coincidentally right back to where Scott was helping Stiles out of the jeep.

Kira watched as he pulled Stiles in close, saying something then giving the still too thin and pale boy a hug and a kiss on the head before he pulled back. He took Stiles’ hand in his, linking their fingers, then lifting them and placing a kiss on the back of Stiles’ hand, an action that had Stiles blushing and ducking his head.

‘Huh.’ Kira turned back to Lydia, who was also watching the two boys.

‘What?’

‘I didn’t think they’d work it out so soon.’ Lydia said, still watching.

‘What do you mean?’ She asked, looking back at the boys who were still standing by the jeep talking.

‘I always knew they’d be more than just friends. Well, I may have wavered in that belief just a little when Scott was with Allison, but I always thought there was more than just friendship there.’ She said, though it seemed she was talking more to herself. Then she seemed to realise who she was talking to, and turned to look at Kira, her eyes narrowing. ‘This isn’t going to be a problem, is it? Because I like you Kira, I do but these two – they’ve been through a lot, we all have, but they’ve been in it from the very start and they deserve some happiness, so – ’

‘Lydia! It’s fine. I already, kinda knew – I, when I went to Scott’s I… Scott told me. And I’ll tell you what I said to him – it makes sense. And I agree with you, they do deserve to be happy.’ She paused, looking at the banshee. ‘We all do.’

Lydia studied her, and Kira thought she was trying to detect any lies. She must have found her answer satisfactory, because she nodded, then smiled.

‘You’re right, we do. And we will be.’ Lydia told her, then turned away. Kira followed her line of sight, and saw Scott and Stiles were now heading in their direction. Scott still had a firm hold on Stiles’ hand as they approached the girls. And, like that first day she’d noticed them in history class, Stiles poked Scott, leaned in to whisper something to him that had Scott grinning with humour and Stiles smiling wide. Yes, she thought to herself. Scott and Stiles made sense.

#scilesweek #teen wolf events #teen wolf #sciles #scilesweek day 1 #pov outsider #scott mccall #stiles stilinski #teen wolf fanfiction #sciles fanfiction #kira yukimura #lydia martin #allison argent #isaac lahey

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nnightskiess · 5 years ago

Text

r e q u e s t: Hi !! I love your writing ❤️ I want to know if it’s possible for you to write something with Quinn fabray x reader ? They are together in quarantine in New York with Rachel, Kurt and Santana. Also Reader and Santana are best friends. Can you add humor and fluff please ? Thanks ☺️

Quinn and Y/N were walking hand in hand through the streets of New York. They had planned a little getaway together to the big city. It was mainly Quinn’s idea, she wanted to propose to her high school sweetheart— Y/N. But most of their trip, and thus Quinn’s plan, fell apart due to the rapid spread of the Covid virus. Their tickets for Broadway had been refunded. The cute tearoom where Quinn had planned to propose to the girl— and where the two women had shared their first kiss during Glee club’s Nationals in New York— was closed down due to the virus. Most of the things Quinn had planned out for the proposal got refunded, except for the hotel. Quinn decided that she’d postpone her proposal to another time. She didn’t want to propose to Y/N like this. She deserved a proper proposal, like the one Quinn had planned out in her head for years. Quinn tried not to let it get her down but she found it hard to lie to Y/N about the frown on her face.

“I know it’s different.... but... I’m still glad we’re here.” Y/N brought their intertwined hands together and planted a kiss on Quinn’s knuckles. “New York always brings me back to high school.”

“Remember when we broke the bed during our pillow fight? And, oh God, how Tana fell off it when you smacked her across the face?” Y/N shook her head in amusement, “But the thing I will never forget is when we shared our first kiss in that adorable tearoom near the hotel.”

Quinn gave her a distant smile.

“And remember how panicked I was when Mr. Schuester walked by the window and I thought he had seen us out of the hotel room?”

Quinn hummed softly, rubbing her thumb across Y/N’s hand. She remembered every little detail about that morning, which made this all so much harder.

Y/N came to a halt and stood in front of Quinn, which caused the latter to bump into her.

“Oh, baby-”

“Why are you so quiet? I don’t like it.” Y/N seemed genuinely worried.

Quinn looked at the ground for a second and held her temple, trying to come up with a good enough lie.

“I-” She looked back up at her girlfriend and her expression immediately softened. Whenever Y/N was worried— particularly about Quinn — her eyebrows would furrow and she’d pout her lips ever so slightly.

Quinn sighed, “I’m just disappointed that we couldn’t visit it this time. I feel like a visit to New York is never complete without a high tea at our place.” Y/N smiled softly when Quinn grabbed her cheeks to comfort her.

“You know what else makes our trip complete?”

Y/N grinned like an idiot, immediately knowing what she was hinting at.

Quinn smiled,

“Let’s go pick up our stuff from the hotel first and then drive there.”

✫彡

“Wait, let me scare her.”

Quinn shook her head in amusement as her girlfriend plastered herself against the wall next to the front door of the apartment. Quinn knocked a few times before the door slid open.

“Oh my God! Quinn! It’s so good to see you!” Kurt’s voice rang through the hallway. He quickly hugged her before calling Santana.

“Quinn’s here!”

He turned back to the blond in front of him, “Are you alone?” Kurt was in disbelief, knowing very well that Quinn and her girlfriend were inseparable. Quinn quickly looked at Y/N through her peripheral and saw her nod her head.

“...I guess so-”

“Wait... you two are still together, right?” Concern filled Kurt’s voice, but before Quinn could reply, Santana appeared out of the bathroom.

“Ha! You bet they are.” She smirked at her friend, “Wait... where’s the fiancée?”

Quinn’s eyes widened and she immediately faked a long, awkward laughter. “Good one, San.”

Kurt looked between the two girls in confusion, and even Santana seemed lost.

He let out an awkward chuckle. “Am I missing something?”

Santana got the hint after Quinn shot her another look, “Oh- that’s just an inside joke of ours.”

“Y/N! Oh my God!” Someone squealed.

The three turned around and saw Rachel stand in the hallway, two large bags in her hand. She had seen Y/N hide behind the wall when she walked up to their frontdoor.

“Damn it, Berry.” Y/N groaned. “You ruined my surprise.”

Santana snorted, “Well, I knew you were somewhere. Quinn gets rashes when you’re not within a radius of 16 feet.” She opened her arms wide when Y/N revealed herself. “C’mere, I missed you.”

The two best friends shared a sweet hug while Rachel clumsily carried her bags inside.

“What’s up with that?” Kurt turned to her.

“Oh- well, now that our shows are postponed to God-knows-when... I thought I’d bring the stuff from my dressing room back home.”

“Why’d you bring this coffee machine home? We already have one.”

“Yeah, but I don’t like that one.”

“Rachel! We have no more countertop space... or available plugs!”

He gasped when he saw the brand, “These coffee pods are thirty dollars per package?!”

Santana rolled her eyes and walked Quinn and Y/N to the living room.

“So...while we let Bert and Ernie bicker... what’s up? No trouble in paradise?” She turned to the couple, hoping to cryptically find out why Quinn hadn’t proposed.

"I can’t believe you think we’d be able to part ways.” Y/N joked back and cuddled up against her girlfriend, who shook her head at Santana to let her know she’d tell her later.

“What do you girls want to drink? Or do you want some of Rachel’s exquisite coffee?” Kurt asked from the kitchen.

“Can I try a sip first?”

Quinn smiled at the childish antics of her girlfriend. Rachel gestured the girl to come over, which left the two ex-cheerios alone to talk.

Santana leaned in closer so that no one would hear,

“What happened?! Did you freak out at the last minute? Tell me you didn’t...”

Quinn sighed and rubbed her temples, “No, my whole proposal fell into pieces thanks to this freaking virus.”

“People are dying, Q.”

She sighed, “Gah, I know. It’s just- I’ve had this all planned out in my head for years. This was how it was supposed to go. And now everything is ruined.”

Santana gave her a sympathetic smile and squeezed her knee. “And there’s no alternative that you’d like?”

Quinn shrugged and shook her head softly.

“Well, if I may speak freely... we’re the only people who know Y/N in and out... which means that we also both know that she wouldn’t care if you went on one knee in a clown suit or if you wrote your big question in the sky with a plane...” Santana looked back to see if they were paying attention to their hushed conversation, but Y/N was sitting on the counter, her feed dangling while she took gentle sips of the expensive coffee. A small smile appeared on both girl’s faces.

“The only thing she cares for is that you are the one to ask her.”

Quinn’s eyes were filled with tears as she came to the realisation.

“Thanks, Santana.”

“Anytime.”

The two hugged until they heard Y/N run up to them.

“I want in!”

✫彡

A few hours had passed and all five of them were sprawled about the couch, their take-away food on the coffee table. Y/N’s head rested against Quinn’s chest while her legs were put on Santana’s lap. Quinn mindlessly played with the strands of Y/N’s hair.

It had become a tradition for them to watch ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s’ every time they visited their friends in New York.

“This scene breaks my heart every damn time.” Y/N mumbled and threw a napkin at the TV when Holly left the cat on the curb in the rain.

“She goes back for him later, though.” Kurt spoke.

“I don’t care. Damage is done.”

‘People do fall in love, people do belong to each other. Because that’s the only chance anybody has for real happiness.’ Paul, one of the characters spoke.

Quinn put her head against Y/N’s at hearing that. She was filled with so much joy at having this wonderful girl in her arms.

“I’ve been carrying this thing around for months,” Paul grabbed a wedding ring box out of his coat which caused Quinn’s mind to wander off. Even though she had seen this movie a dozen times, she was still surprised to be reminded of her ruined proposal.

Before she could make herself feel miserable about it again, Rachel’s phone rang. She quickly excused herself but motioned for them to not pause the movie.

Rachel walked to the living area after a few minutes, her expression tense and filled with worry.

“Guys...”

Kurt paused the movie as the girls turned to Rachel.

“We might have a tiny problem...Well... a big one, actually.”

Everyone got the memo that it was something serious and they sat up.

“One of the ensemble members has been tested positive for the virus... which means that everyone— crew and cast — needs to go into quarantine at home... and that includes everyone they have been in contact with... so that would mean that we have to stay inside for the next two weeks too...”

The bunch on the couch took a moment to take the news in until Santana shot up,

“I am not going to spend two weeks, non-stop, in here! I already go insane with too much of you as it is. I usually can deal with curtains as walls, your stubble in the sink or your god-awful annoying vocal exercises when I’m trying to sleep but that’s because I get home from work, eat and head straight to bed. But I will literally kill someone if I have to go through that all day long. I was supposed to see Brittany this weekend but hey, thanks a lot, Berry.”

“This is hardly Rachel’s fault. It’s the responsible and safe thing to do. You wouldn’t want Brittany to get it, right?”

Santana avoided eye-contact, but it was clear that she agreed with what Kurt said.

“Wow, I feel so unwanted right now.” Y/N mumbled out, slightly joking. “You get to spend your quarantine with us!”

Santana gave her a tight-lipped, apologetic smile, “I know, that’s the only good thing about this.”

Rachel saw the gloomy looks on everyone’s face. “They won’t tell us who it is for privacy reasons, but I usually don’t hang out with the ensemble anyway so I hope I’m safe. I’m so sorry, you guys.”

Kurt stood up with a sigh, “I guess I’ll go find the spare mattress then. You two can take my bed.” He was about to walk off but pointed a finger at Quinn and Y/N. “No sex... in my bed.”

Quinn pursed her lips, not that happy with Kurt’s rule.

“You were the leader of the celibacy club, you can last two weeks without sex. Besides, there are no walls so I will know when you break my rule.”

“Like that’s ever stopped you and Blaine before.” Santana rolled her eyes. “But great. We’ll have five, sexually frustrated people cooped up together in a tiny apartment with no walls for privacy, no natural light and no entertainment. Someone’s definitely going to get murdered... by me.” She added.

“My vote’s on Rachel...” Y/N mumbled out. Santana stuck out her hand behind her back for Y/N to high five.

“I’m just glad we decided to check out of our hotel this morning and bring our stuff to you guys... because no matter how much I love you all, I am not going to wear any of your spare panties.” Quinn stood up to go and help Kurt.

“You could just go commando.” Y/N shrugged, “I wouldn’t mind.”

Quinn sent her a teasing look and winked.

“I would say get a room but yeah, we don’t have any...so...” Rachel shrugged.

“I can’t believe we’re going to have to do this.” Santana sighed and walked off to her part of the apartment.

“Hey- but, look at it this way. We’ll have two weeks of non-stop karaoke, binge-watching and eating junk food. Doesn’t that sound great?” Rachel tried again but no one replied.

✫彡

One week done, one week to go.

For Quinn and Y/N, this week had consisted of a lot of cuddling and making out in bed, watching silly movies and cooking with whatever they could find in the pantry.

Santana had surprisingly been on her best behaviour, though they let her be whenever she had a ‘don’t-talk-to-me’ look on her face. Y/N suspected that Brittany had probably told her to be nice and to make the best out of it, but she also liked to think that it was because of her presence. She hadn’t been able to visit her best friend often now that they lived so far away. But it was like old times whenever they saw each other again. However, Quinn had caught herself feeling jealous that the two women had spent that much time together. But her jealousy washed away when she saw the best friends joke or laugh like they used to when they were still 16 year olds. It warmed her heart.

Kurt blended in perfectly and knew exactly when to give someone space or when to approach them. He and Quinn made sure there was food on the table and he had ordered a lot of, mostly useless, stuff online to try and keep everyone entertained. The twister game had been everyone’s favourite so far. And the effort he put into his bingo night was even too wholesome for Santana to make a comment about it, no matter how bad she wanted to after getting a rubber duck as present when she won.

Rachel did her best to help wherever she could and she was, surprisingly, a lot of fun to have around when things got boring. Though, yes, the daily vocal exercises got a bit out of hand when she woke them up belting high notes at 7.30. Santana was close to killing her had it not been for Quinn and Y/N holding her back. Santana wasn’t intimidating at all with her bed head, tangled up hair and red PJs and Y/N couldn’t help but laugh.

Quinn had been over the moon, so to say. She got to spend two whole weeks with the love of her life. Yes, they lived together but that was different. Now, there was no schedule or work to interrupt them or cloud their minds. It was just them, enjoying being in each other’s arms. For a lot of couples the lockdown and quarantine would probably be make or break, but Quinn hadn’t been worried about a negative outcome at all. When you’ve been together for that long, and been through hell and back, you know you will persevere together. The company of Kurt and Rachel was fun, and it was certainly good to have Santana around again but Quinn couldn’t help but wish it had just been Y/N and herself in quarantine. If that had been the case, she knew they wouldn’t just spend their days only cuddling in bed.

Y/N was the only one that was visibly annoyed and on edge. She would roll her eyes or sigh in annoyance if things went wrong or if someone said something she didn’t like. Quinn had caught her staring out of the window, to which Y/N explained that she hoped if she looked hard and long enough she might see the dragon that would save her. She wasn’t used to sit around and do nothing and was bored out of her mind.

Quinn and Y/N were lying in Kurt’s bed with their legs tangled together. Quinn held her girl close to her chest. She squeezed her and inhaled the scent of her freshly washed hair. The window was slightly open, causing a chill breeze to slightly move the curtains.

“Now I’m sure of it...” Y/N started, getting Quinn’s attention, “I’m never going to commit a felony.”

Quinn let out a breathy chuckle, “Were you questioning it before?”

“I can’t imagine being stuck like this for years.”

“Well, you still have access to the internet, great food, your friends...and your wonderful girlfriend.”

Y/N looked up at Quinn and grinned. She grabbed the girl’s cheek as she kissed her.

“Can’t believe I’m about to say this but I’m actually really thankful we got stuck in quarantine.”

Y/N subtly arched a questioning eyebrow.

“It made me realise two things— too much of Rachel Berry will be the end of me-” Y/N let out a breathy chuckle at that, “-and...”

Quinn stared into her girlfriend’s eyes, was she really going to do this now? Yes. Yes, she definitely was. This was the-

“Oh my God!” Kurt’s exciting squeal filled the apartment, startling both girls. They heard Santana shush him and it suddenly got very quiet. Too quiet...

Y/N tiptoed out of the bed in her PJ’s and fluffy socks and opened the curtain to see Santana and Kurt staring directly at her. She had clearly caught them with something, but with what? Quinn appeared behind Y/N and noticed the jacket that Santana was trying to hide behind their backs.

Kurt noticed she was doing a poor job at it and snatched the jacket out of Santana’s hands to hold it up to his face, admiring it like it was a newborn baby. “Oh my, it’s so pretty! Where did you buy this?”

Quinn quickly glanced at Y/N, who didn’t seem to notice what was happening. “Guys,” She groaned, “I thought something happened, you interrupted my peace.” She walked back, irritated, and closed the curtain in a swift motion.

“Why were you snooping in my stuff?!” Quinn hissed and plucked her jacket out of his hands.

“Um, excuse me? When where you going to tell me that you plan on proposing to her!?” Kurt whispered, enthusiasm clear in his voice.

Quinn didn’t reply and instead searched the pockets. “Where is it?”

“Here,” Santana gave her the jewellery box. “It fell out when Kurt was organising the coat rack.”

“Why haven’t you done it yet?”

“I had everything planned but the virus ruined it. It was suppose to happen the day we came here, but our favourite tearoom was shut down and so were all the other activities I had planned.” She sighed, “I was about to do it just now, in the heat of the moment, but then you two interrupted that. Whatever. I’m glad I didn’t. She deserved better than that.”

Santana crossed her arms, not happy with the fact that Quinn had apparently totally forgotten what the two of them had talked about a week prior.

“Damn, I wish you would’ve done it just now. That would mean the end of wicked witch Y/N.” Rachel joined their conversation. “Oh, so you can make fun of me but not the other way around? It was just a joke.” She added and raised her arms when she saw the looks Quinn and Santana were giving her.

“Okay, I know everyone’s feeling a bit irritated, but it’s just one more-”

The bell rang.

“Don’t tell me you bought us all matching boho outfits for your Mamma Mia night. I’m not wearing it.” Santana crossed her arms.

“I didn’t order anything?”

Y/N appeared again and opened the door.

“Thank you so much. Here, keep this.”

She closed it, walked over to the kitchen table and went to put everything down, completely ignoring the rest. She noticed the silence and turned around.

“Oh- Don’t worry, I ordered for everyone.”

Quinn eyed the table and recognised the familiar logo on the napkins.

“Baby-”

“I felt so bad that we couldn’t go to our place this time. So when I found out that they started doing deliveries this week, I knew I wanted to order their high tea menu. I got the one we usually get... to make you feel better...”

Quinn wrapped her arms around the girl’s waist from behind and put her chin on her shoulder. Y/N leaned into her touch.

“This is the sweetest thing ever. I love you.”

Y/N kissed Quinn’s forehead and sat down, immediately grabbing a brownie.

“You need to wife her up, fast.” Santana whispered into Quinn’s ear when she walked by.

And she would, when the moment was right.

✫彡

Kurt was watching a movie with Blaine through face time, Rachel was practicing some lines and Santana was face timing Brittany. Quinn and Y/N had promised to do the dishes, but Quinn ushered the girl to take a nap on the couch when she saw how tired her girl looked.

Quinn took quick glances towards the living room every few seconds and saw that Y/N had finally fallen asleep on the couch. With a faint smile on her face, she grabbed a blanket and tucked Y/N in. One of Rachel’s dvd’s, The Sound of Music, was still playing in the background. She slowly took the remote out of Y/N’s hands and turned it off.

“You’re the best and most precious thing in my life. I love you.” She bent down and caressed her cheek.

She widened her eyes when an idea suddenly struck her mind.

✫彡

“What do we sing?”

“No... no singing proposal. Y/N would hate that.”

“I loved it.” Kurt shrugged.

“So, then what’s the plan?”

“Listen up...”

✫彡

Their quarantine was over and no one had gotten sick. No one from Rachel’s crew or cast had gotten it either. Brittany and Blaine came over as soon as they could. They were over the moon to hear about Quinn wanting to propose and agreed to help.

“Love, what are you doing?”

Y/N sat on her suitcase, desperately trying to get it closed.

“I thought I had gained weight, not my clothes.” She grunted, “If we want to get home before the dark we should drive off by-”

“Actually... I had something planned before we go home.”

“Oh?”

“Is it okay if we leave as soon as you can? Bring a jacket, I don’t want you to get cold.”

Quinn left Y/N to get ready and anxiously walked into the kitchen where the rest were whispering words of encouragement to her. Quinn knew how much they had loved each other for the past years, but something inside her was still very insecure if Y/N would say yes to her question... to her. What would she do with herself if Y/N didn’t accept her ring?

“She’s going to love it.” Santana hugged her tight but quickly let go when Y/N opened the curtain.

“Why are you all looking at me?”

“Because you look lovely.” Quinn grabbed her hand. They all sent her thumbs up as she took one last glance over her shoulder.

✫彡

Y/N was eating a pretzel that Quinn had bought her in the park. The two were walking in a comfortable silence. Quinn glanced to the girl beside her, hoping that Y/N would catch on on what was happening soon.

They had walked almost the very same route that they walked on that morning in New York many, many years ago. Their end stop would be at the edge of the park, where Santana and Brittany were now probably busy setting their high tea up.

“Why are pretzels so much better in New York?”

“Eh, I don’t know. I’m not really a pretzel girl.”

The park was normally crowded with locals and tourists, but they had barely seen a handful of people so far.

“Wasn’t this where we sat with the kids from Glee?”

Quinn smiled softly.

Finally.

“Yeah, it is, actually.”

“Oh- Well, everything from that trip is very blurry in my mind, except for our first kiss, of course. I can even still tell you the colour of your coat.”

Quinn gave her a playful smile and grabbed Y/N’s hand. “Which was?”

“Red.” She booped her nose with the end of her pretzel, earning a giggle from Quinn.

She grinned softly, “Remember that snow globe I bought for you? With New York’s skyline?”

Y/N gasped, “I loved that thing.”

The two laughed, remembering that Y/N had dropped it when they rushed to cross the street only half an hour after buying it.

“Then you bought me a couple others throughout the years but none of them have ever been able to have the same value to me. Sorry not sorry.”

Quinn smiled to herself, hoping she was about to change that in a few minutes. She saw Santana and Brittany sitting on the grass in the distance and guided Y/N to the two. They left without saying a word, but not before giving the two enthusiastic but knowing smiles. Santana wiggled her eyebrows but Britt pulled her away.

“I am so confused right now.” Y/N hesitantly sat down on the blanket. “Why were they here?”

“I asked them to help me set up this little picnic so it could be a surprise. I know you ordered the high tea last week but I wanted to end our trip off like this, with just us. Also, we’ve spent the last two weeks in NYC without even a day outside. I didn’t want to leave before we went somewhere. I hope you like it.”

“Like it? I can never get enough of their cheesecake bites.”

Quinn smiled nervously, trying to hide how stressed she felt. She poured the juice in their glasses and fed Y/N a bite of a scone with butter and peach marmalade.

“How does that taste?”

Y/N threw her head back and groaned. “I’m going to miss their food.”

Quinn barely replied, too focused on how she was going to bring it up. Backing out now felt like a good way to calm her nerves but she knew she shouldn’t. Not only because Santana would kill her if she did, but also because there would never be a more perfect moment than now.

“Quinn?”

“Uh-Yeah, love?”

“What is this?” Y/N repeated.

Quinn’s eyes widened when she saw the wrapped up package Y/N had grabbed out of the basket.

“Oh- I... that...-” She sighed, “Screw it.” She went to sit on her knees and ushered Y/N to open it.

“For me?”

Quinn nodded, a big smile on her face.

“Quinnie... you-”

“Open it, my love.”

Y/N removed the wrapping paper and gasped when she saw what it was. It was a handmade snow globe, made in a mason jar. The New York skyline was glued to the bottom of it with a laminated picture of the two of them that they took during their first visit to New York. (Thank God Kurt was into a crafty phase during the second week of quarantine).

“I’m not the best at crafts but I just thought-”

“I love it.” Y/N beamed from ear to ear and her smile only widened when the snow inside of it fell onto the skyline.

“This is the most thoughtful gift someone has ever given me.”

“I’m glad you love it.” Quinn grabbed Y/N’s hand and softly moved it around so that the bottom of the snow globe was now facing up. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows until she realised what was scribbled down onto a piece of paper at the bottom. Quinn put the snow globe down and grabbed both of Y/N’s hands in her own, brushing her thumbs against the girl’s knuckles.

“I must admit that I thought what I’m about to say a million times over for the past days and I imagined what I would say to you in this moment for years—but truth be told, I kind of forgot all of that because of the nerves,” Quinn let out a chuckle, “To be honest, I have always known that you were the only girl I wanted to be with in this life. I don’t know what it was, but we’ve just had this instant gravitation towards each other. I know I wasn’t always the kindest to you in the beginning yet you still helped me through everything. The pregnancy, the accident... Now I can say all this cheesy shit about how you and I bring the best out of each other and how much love we have for one another but I think I don’t need to say that. We both know how much our relationship means to us. New York has always been a special place to me since it reminds me of why and how we fell in love. Which is why I wanted to do this here. This is were it all began. Now, I had everything planned months ago but... the situation changed and well... yeah. I had to adjust. At first, I wanted to postpone it all. Until I realised that I couldn’t wait any longer. Y/N, you are my everything. I want to be by your side until eternity. I want to be your person for as long as I can. I want to love and care for you for as long as you want me to.”

She let out a shaky breath.

“So I guess...what I’m trying to say here is...” She grabbed the box out of her pocket, opened it and presented it to Y/N. “Would you like to marry me?”

Y/N looked at the box in shock, she hadn’t made eye contact with Quinn ever since she had presented her with the ring in her hand.

The silence lasted only for a few seconds but it felt like minutes to Quinn, who slowly lowered her hands.

Y/N suddenly let out a sob, then another. She jumped onto Quinn and wrapped her arms around her neck.

“Yes.” She said through her sobs. Quinn let out a gasp of relief and squeezed the girl in her arms, letting her own tears fall freely now.

“Oh-” Y/N groaned and let go of her embrace. “I stepped into the scones...” She pouted and looked at her marmalade stained knee. Quinn laughed through her tears, realising this was exactly why she had asked this girl to marry her.

Y/N forgot it immediately the moment she locked eyes with her fiancée. She held her tight and kissed her like she never had before.

They let go like two love-sick puppies when they heard all of their friends approach. The newly engaged couple was radiating.

“I love you, so much.”

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