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fae-fucker · 2 years ago

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Breaking Time: Final Part

Remember when I said “I could get this done before the end of the year”? Last year? Anyway. This is it, lads.

Chapter 26

So Klara’s father confronts her about her lying to him, but he does it in the least interesting way possible, because Sasha can’t write. You’d think an actual parent would be, I dunno, worried? Upset? But this guy is just so mild and understanding that it boggles the mind why this scene exists to begin with.

“I changed my mind about college. I thought I might get it back, or at least I was hoping to, but it just never happened. I wanted to tell you, but—” She paused. “It was Mom’s dream. I felt like I was crushing it by not wanting to go.”

Her dad’s brow furrowed in concern and in the next second, his arm wrapped tightly around Klara. “Her dream was for you to be happy, honey.”

Klara breathed out. Even though this wasn’t exactly her top concern right now, finally telling the truth felt like coming up for air. “And that’s not the only thing going on right now,” she added.

He was still nodding, still squeezing her with reassuring pressure. “Yeah, I kind of guessed that. Why couldn’t you tell me what was going on in your head? Did I do something? If I did—”

“No,” she said firmly, heart breaking that he could even think it was his fault. “I just—” She breathed, bracing herself. “Right now, I’m dealing with something else kind of...big.”

“You can always talk to me, kiddo. I know I’m an old fogey, but I have grown up before, you know.” He smiled down. “Or did you think I was born perfect?”

No, but with the way you’re acting right now, you’re clearly written to be perfect.

I’m in a fun position where I have one parent that sucks and one parent that’s good, so I can sort of compare and contrast. My mom is very understanding and tries her best, even if she fails a lot of the time. Point is, she trusts me and accepts most of my choices.

But do you think she’d be okay with finding 18-year-old me in a strange place with a strange man, after also figuring out I’ve preemptively dropped out of college? She’d freak the fuck out, justifiably. Ya know, because she cares about me? Not because she’s evil and or because she doesn’t understand or trust me?

I know what Sasha’s going for, that they’re so wholesome and understanding, but it’s just not realistic? If this has been his parenting style until this point, I’m surprised Klara gives a shit about him at all. She should be a spoiled brat with the way this man clearly sets no boundaries and offers zero discipline. The utter perfection of this relationship is saccharine and phony. I’m not asking for every parent-child relationship in media to be fucked up, but parents are people too? You could hint at some pain by just having the dad react differently, by letting him be upset at her sudden withdrawal. Now, with how unfazed he is, it both comes off as him not giving a fuck, and wastes the reader’s time because you’ve spent so many words forcing Klara to worry about hurting a parent who ends up being totally cool with everything.

They have some generic uwu wholesome child-parent banter that’s still deeply unfunny, they talk about Klara’s mother and he gives Klara her mother’s necklace for reasons, then the dad leaves the way he came, pleasant and understanding and not bothered by anything at all. Sasha, just make your protags orphans next time. Clearly you have no business writing parents if this is how you’re gonna waste their word count.

“I’m sorry for not telling you, Dad. I really I am,” [...] “I just—I need to do something, and I can’t tell you what. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” [...] Her father took a deep breath. “Everything within me is telling me to take you home with me but I know you. I trust you.”

Ain’t that fucking convenient.

Chapter 27

Time skip to the Samhain celebration. Because Callum reacting to seeing a parent and child have a heartfelt (well, supposedly) reunion would have no interesting effect on him, being an orphan and all. Gotta get to the good part!

Klara stopped. “Happy Samhain,” she said darkly, shifting the weight of the sword higher on her shoulder.

Callum looked at her, examining her face. Her lips glowed in the firelight, and in profile she looked like a Celtic warrior queen of Thomas’s tales. He tried to memorize every line of her lovely face—the strong line of her nose, the swoop of her jawline, the eyes which so often danced but now looked steady and serious.

Yeah I’m sure a lot of Celtic warrior queens looked like skinny upper middle class American YouTubers. This is so embarrassing. You’d have to pay me to write a self-insert this blatant and this girl did it for free and got (some) money for it? I’m being Jokerified.

Here’s an eyewatering exchange, and not because it’s emotional.

[...] “Do you really believe it could stop Llaw?”

Callum did not want to lie to her anymore, so he said nothing. The flames looked suddenly pale.

“Do you think anything can stop him?” she said.

“Ye can, Klara,” he said forcefully. It was the only thing he felt certain of. He put his palm over his chest and knelt to show fealty to her. “I swear it, with all my heart.”

“Oh my god, Callum.” Blushing, she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him up to his feet. They stood chest to chest, just barely a hand’s length between them. “But—how do you know?”

“Because I believe ’tis your destiny,” he said softly. “My purpose is here, my heart is here.”

“I don’t want to be your purpose, Callum. At least not like this.” She looked up, into his eyes. “I don’t want to be the reason you get hurt, or worse.” Her eyes welled with water, glowed fervently like a candle burning low. “I want to be the reason you want to live.”

Wish I was Jared, 19. And what, do you think this is the end of the trite regurtitations of a talentless hack? Because it’s not! They dance in the light from the bonfire with all the other people there, there’s music and song and laughter and bla bla bla. Just imagine the totes emotional bonfire scene in any other piece of vaguely historical romantic media and you’ve got it. Except instead of maybe being good or fun, it’s heavily undercut by the two main characters declaring their love for each other after less than a week of knowing one another.

Instalove is a fundamentally flawed trope that takes a very skilled writer to make work.

...

I think I’ll leave it at that.

Now feast your eyes on this:

“Ye’re not going to die—”

YE’RE?! YE’RE?!

OH MY GOD.

Anyway, one moment they’re making out, the next ... a couple breaks them apart? Somehow? This also somehow knocks Callum on his ass? Bro aren’t you a bigstrong hunky Scot fighter? What’s happening?

I think I get what Sasha’s going for, that Callum loses Klara in the crowd, but they were literally making out. As in, occupying the same space. As in, holding each other tightly. You’d have to put conscious effort into breaking a couple apart like that. Granted, Sasha does try to make it work by saying a loud voice forces them to part first, but I call bull. Figure out a better way for Callum to get lost. Especially when he spots the bean-nighe right after this. Why couldn’t he just see her in the crowd and come up with an excuse to leave Klara? Whatever.

Callum runs after the bean-nighe. She’s all evil and mysterious and says some nonsense bullshit that’s supposed to mean something but won’t. Make up your own mysterious dialogue, whatever you come up with will probably fit in here because there’s no point to it anyway. Once Callum gets the strength of ten men, he runs off to find Klara, but she’s left without him. He runs off to the Ring of Brodgar, the final mystic center and sees Klara ... step ... into ... the mist? Idk.

It’s supposed to be dramatic and all, but I’m struggling with the sense of scale and distance in this thing.

Chapter 28

Klara hated this feeling.

It reminded her of visiting the pool with her family when she was young. She insisted on jumping off the tallest diving board with the big kids. With each step she took, the more frantic her heart beat, the rougher the board scraped the bottoms of her feet. At the top, the sun bore down on her from above. She wanted it to melt her on the spot.

All she had to do was get to the edge of the board and do it. Just do it.

“Can’t she just jump already?”

“Hurry up.”

“Loser.”

Oh great, is this where we find out Klara was bullied, too? This book is so fucking funny. Like a collection of a writer’s first mistakes. Klara was bullied but she has totally loving and understanding parents! She’s an awkward loner but had a boyfriend in high school and is gorgeous! She’s totally not rich but lives in a massive historic mansion and has never struggled financially in her life! Ok girl.

Klara enters the ring and takes out her Main Character Sword.

If she was going to win this fight, she would have to use her power, her wits. Her heart. There was no technical training for that. She closed her eyes, and focused on her heart—the string that had pulled her in the right direction every time before. Her gut, her intuition, her destiny, whatever it was, it would take her to what she needed to do.

The plot. Call it whatever in-universe thing you want, but functionally, that’s the plot. She may have the Main Character Sword, but she still can’t act for herself and has to wait for the writer to hold her hand.

She stabs the sword into the ground and a bunch of mist appears and is very mysterious. Not sure how it connects to the sword being stabbed into the ground, as the mist appears from the outside and in instead of pouring out of the earth, but ok. Missed an opportunity for a cool visual and some logic to Klara’s plot-demanded actions, there.

As this is going on, Klara’s narration keeps referencing Stephen King and horror movies. No, really.

The mist closed in on her and gathered around her feet. She took a step. The mist clung to her like a shadow, as if she were in a Stephen King novel.

Well, she didn’t like that. If you ended up in his books, you’d probably end up dead. Or worse, wishing you were.

[...]

There was a reason Klara hated horror movies. It was the suspense, the lead-up to a jump scare that always nearly killed her. She didn’t need to fear being murdered, because she would die of fright waiting for the killer to pop out from a closet or under the bed. Right now, she felt fear churning in the marrow of her bones.

It’s like Sasha knows that reading and enjoying other media will improve your writing, but took it to mean that you should just reference the material instead of learning from it.

Given the level of “analysis” in her book reviews, I’m not particularly surprised.

I know horror is hard to write, but maybe going “You know how scary those things are in other stories? Yeah, this is like that” is not the right way to go about it. Especially referencing movies in a book. C’mon. You’re a different medium.

Anyway, Klara finds her mom in the Otherworld.

Chapter 29

Callum is standing about when he hears a spooky howl in the distance.

Callum closed his eyes and let his senses focus. He had always been a decent tracker and patient hunter, perfecting his stillness while Thomas lazed about and sang songs, sometimes scaring a hare from its den with sheer luck.

Okay? Drop new info on us three chapters before the book ends, why don’t you?

Being a decent tracker and patient hunter doesn’t help Callum in this case, because Llaw shows up with four more scawy cweatuwes and hands Callum his entire ass. Again.

“Hellhounds,” said a familiar voice.

Callum whirled. Llaw. Smiling.

Such writing.

Alright I’ll give the guy some credit. Callum does take out the wolves before going for Llaw. But Llaw kicks his ass in the end anyway and Callum fucking croaks lmao.

He’s kind of useless for a bigstrong heartthrob Scot, isn’t he? It’d be endearing if it was intentional, now it just comes off as a bit embarrassing. All that bean-nighe angst only to get killed off almost immediately.

Now that I think about it, a lot of this book is characters worrying about shit that doesn’t end up mattering in the end or is resolved super quickly.

Moving on.

Chapter 30

So I won’t go too hard on the reunion of Klara and her mother because it reads pretty okay and feels disctinctly like a more genuine and less self-indulgent personal touch from Sasha. The need to connect with a dead loved one and get some closure is very human and I won’t harp on a person including that in their novel for some personal catharsis. That’s what art is for, after all.

However, everything after their heartfelt reunion and once Arianrhod crashes the scene? Free real estate, baybeeee.

Arianrhod explains that Llaw can’t enter here, aka the Otherworld. We knew this already, yet Klara reacts with surprise and relief. Then ...

Klara remembered Llaw’s speech. He talked about ushering a new age of gods and men, which she had scoffed at and dismissed. He yearned for a world that gave him power, though he didn’t deserve it. Not anymore, at least.

But the power had existed, Klara realized—it existed here, where she stood, in the Otherworld.

“That’s what he wants.” Klara shifted on her feet, growing eager as understanding dawned on her. She felt her mother’s protective presence next to her. It kept her bold. Safe. “He wants to walk among the gods as an equal—”

Y-yeah? I ...? Yeah?

I’m sorry, am I being gaslit again? How is understanding dawning on you when you’re repeating information that has been explicitly stated to your face multiple times at this point?

This book is a fucking fever dream what the hell.

Arianrhod says that Klara is safe here but that time is stagnant, and if she stays, decades will have passed by the time she returns. Meaning she can’t camp here and wait for Llaw to croak on his own time unless she wants all her loved ones to die, too.

Klara says that she came here in order “unlock her powers” and asks if Arianrhod can help with that.

“I am the Silver Wheel. The goddess of life, death, rebirth, with a throne in the stars.” Arianrhod stared at Klara. “It seems like there is something in you that needs to be born.”

Relief, along with fear, washed over Klara. She was pretty sure that was goddess for yes.

Well, I’m glad Klara could make sense of that, because it’s pure nonsense to me. It probably was nonsense, too, because Arianrhod does and says nothing else after this lol.

Her mom embraced her. “Sometimes I get really annoyed with myself for doing such a good job raising you,” she whispered [...]

Yeah, ya didn’t.

Her mother’s hands gripped her. They radiated warmth; the warmth spread through her veins, then grew hot—but this was not pain. Not at all. It was renewal.

The fire spread through her, washing her body clean of what was, replacing it with what is. And yet somehow, at the same time, it was only revealing what had always been.

For her whole life, she had been one of billions. But her true self—her secret—was hidden within. In that moment, Klara could see herself suspended in the space between worlds, hair blazing around her like a halo of fire. The dormant power fully awake, no longer buried and forgotten.

I’m so glad this wealthy, pretty cishet white girl finally feels as special as she thinks she deserves to be. Confirmed by a goddess, no less.

And she didn’t have to do anything to get there, either. It was just bestowed upon her by a higher power. Lifted above others by chance rather than merit or effort.

I guess Klara truly is a self-insert, isn’t she, Sasha?

You know what’s funny, though? This whole book was about Klara and Callum going to mystic centers to try to unlock Klara’s powers, which they sort of did, right? But in the end, all it actually took was asking Arianrhod to do it. There was no final trial or test, no character development to justify this power-up. Arianrhod didn’t even say anything about Klara finally reaching her potential or proving that she deserved to have her powers unlock. Even Klara’s little epic inner monologue comes after Arianrhod gave her the go-ahead. It’s a little sad, really. She didn’t do anything herself. Even her supposed specialness is only there because a goddess gave it to her for no apparent reason. And once again, it shows how much of this was a waste of the reader’s time. If all Klara actually had to do was ask Arianrhod for help, why did we bother watching her prance around Scotland with her boytoy?

Klara yeets herself back to the real world just in time for Callum’s dead ass to land at her feet. It’s very funny, but I don’t think it’s supposed to be.

Chapter 31

Klara collapsed over him, as if her body could shield him from the injuries that had already riddled his body. She placed a hand along his damp cheek, she could see the clammy beads of blood masking his face.

“I didnae imagine death would have such a sweet embrace.” He murmured from his bloodstained lips.

Oh god, kill him faster before he says more cringe shit!

It was then, at the final moments, that she realized, he was it for her. He was the man she loved.

And now he was gone.

[...]

She wanted to pinch herself and wake up from this nightmare, but she knew that this—this devastating, irreparable moment—was her reality. Nothing she could do would change it. It didn’t matter if she had a goddess’s blood running through her veins. She was alone, with a power she didn’t understand and the boy she...loved...dead.

So anyone else kinda rooting for Llaw? Hear me out. He’s evil, but he’s hot. And he wants to kill Klara and already killed Callum. That’s pretty sexy of him, I think. Sasha just hates to see a girlboss winning so that’s why he’s the antagonist.

Klara gets the random idea to try to summon Cernunnos because he said something about how he’s always there for her.

But instead, Llaw just ... materializes in front of her and shoves her to the ground with his boot? I genuinely don’t know, it’s so awkwardly written, especially when he says nothing and Klara barely reacts and instead seems to focus more on Callum. Either way, she’s on the ground next to Callum’s busted-ass corpse and with Llaw’s foot on her chest. That’s all you need to know.

The shadow of the waning eclipse acted like an extension of [Llaw’s] darkness. He tipped his head down to look at her. To her surprise, he did not look angry, nor did he glare at her with hatred. Instead, he smiled, as if bemused by the very sight of her. A slick of white hair fanned down to his shoulders. Behind him, the shadows seemed to darken, as if a mass of monstrous beasts waited just out of sight. The hem of his cloak swirled around her in waves.

Days ago, she might have said he looked godlike—but she would have been wrong.

He looked tired. His eyes were ringed with darkness, as if he had not slept in days. A shudder passed through her. How long had he walked the earth? Hundreds of years? Thousands?

His unkempt appearance gave her a sliver of hope. [...]

Me too, honestly. I think I could fix him.

Klara gets a power surge and throws Llaw off. He lands on the ground on the other side of Callum’s busted and borked Scottish remains.

The eclipse was almost total, as if a symbolic reference to Callum’s life. She wished it were not; the thought ruptured her soul.

Yeah, totally makes sense for her to be thinking this. Love how Sasha just states it’s symbolism instead of using symbolism. Chef’s kiss, truly.

And ruptured her soul? Really? Okay.

They exchange some “middle schoolers hopped up on shonen anime” type dialogue. Check a look.

“You find this funny?” [...]

[...] “A little girl, thinking she knows how to wield the strength of a god? If not comical, then it’s just pitiful.”

[...]

“You are pathetic,” she said. “Honestly, I almost feel sorry for you.”

“And why is that?” he said.

[...]

“Because I know what you want, Llaw, and you’ll never get it,” she taunted. “All of the lives you stole will have meant nothing. They’ll have died for nothing.”

“You know nothing, child,” he said. “Enough games.”

Klara scoffed. “That’s rich, coming from you .”

“Your blood belongs to me,” Llaw said.

[...]

“You can’t have it!” she cried.

Truly some “mom said it’s my turn on the xbox” shit.

Klara taunts him that she was welcomed into the Otherworld, unlike him who can’t go in there because his presence “has no weight in the hearts of the dead or the eternal.” I’m confused. So is Klara able to go in there because of her super special blood, or her mother wanting to see her? This doesn’t make any sense.

Anyway, Klara chops Llaw’s hand off. He’s like “omg what” but then is all like “whatever, man” and tells her it’s not over yet before stabbing her sword into himself. It’s unclear whether he dies or not, I assume not because of his threat before, but either way, light bursts out again and Klara is yanked through time and space.

Chapter Epilogue

Klara lands in Rosemere, in the same spot where Thomas got shanked. Except Thomas is still alive, his wound wrapped in bandages.

She knew only a few things to be true in this moment, in her current reality.

Thomas was alive.

Callum was dead.

And somehow she had ended up five hundred years in the past without any clue how to get back home.

She’s a literal time traveller and doesn’t know how to get back home? Huh?

Yeah I ... don’t know, y’all. Nothing means anything.

Multiple reviewers complained about the random cliffhanger and I have to agree. It’s not even bad, it’s just ... confusing? Perplexing? Not even exciting, it feels like a non sequitur, like Sasha pulled it from her ass last minute.

Most importantly: Do we think this will get a sequel? Or has Sasha's pride been wounded by the paltry and mostly negative reception? I suppose only the sales will tell, and I have no way of checking those.

I’m conflicted. I don’t want there to be a sequel, because Sasha needs to learn how to write before trying to publish again and that’s clearly gonna take the better part of a century if this is what 6 years of work looks like. Buuuuut I also need to read the rest of this trainwreck.

Guess we’ll see!

Acknowledgements

I’m not gonna critique these, obviously, but her editor’s name is Kate Sullivan. Just uh ... putting it out there. For reasons.

As for my acknowledgements: Thank you everyone for your patience while life happened and I scraped together the time to write these. I hope you enjoyed this journey, and may we have many more in the future! I’ll be posting a review of this novel later, which will mostly be based on these posts, so that’s something to either ignore or look out for.

Thanks for reading!

#eff reads: breaking time

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

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Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader (part 4)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

series summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself. except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.

word count: 5.3k

warnings: smut!!, overstimulation, oral f receiving, lots of dirty talk and begging, very very subtle d/s dynamics if you squint, slight angst??, awkwardness, pining

Bucky’s heart was racing as he tried to prepare himself for what was coming. It was never easy to watch that scene of you being fucked by somebody else— even if it wasn’t real, and even if it was technically your character that was getting fucked— but it was going to be an entirely new struggle with you a foot away, laying next to him on your bed.

“We only did two takes of this,” you remembered, talking over the conversation on-screen. The smash cut to you being shoved against a wall, lips fighting for dominance in a searing kiss, made you chuckle. “This we had to do, like, a million takes.”

Bucky’s hand tightened into a fist at the idea of you kissing this guy over and over. “I’m sure he was real broken up about that,” he grumbled sardonically.

“No, I promise he actually was,” you defended, “I was terrible. I kept laughing and ruining it, and it meant we had to keep starting over.”

That relieved some of his jealousy, hopeful that laughing meant you weren’t attracted to your co-star or turned on by filming a love scene. He still felt his heart clench as he watched your shirt get pushed up and two hands (both flesh, like he was showing off or something) grab at your breasts. Sooner than he was prepared for it, you were being thrown down onto the bed and moaning loudly, nails digging into his back as he stared down at you.

“I can’t even imagine how many guys have gotten off to this scene,” you shuddered.

I can’t believe I’m one of them, Bucky thought as he swallowed dryly. “What about the guys on set?” he wondered aloud. “Do they ever, you know, get…” he whistled and pointed his finger up straight, hoping it was enough to get the idea across.

You laughed, playfully shoving him on the shoulder. “They have tape for that, to keep everything down in case they get a little too into it.”

Glancing to the screen, he wondered how this guy didn’t pop the tape right off.

“Have you ever…?” Bucky pressed, heart rate picking up as he pushed the boundaries a little bit.

“Have I ever… been turned on, while filming?” you finished his question. “No,” you scoffed, sounding bemused and taking another swig of your drink.

“Why not?”

“I guess they’re just not my type,” you shrugged.

“Movie stars aren’t your type?” Bucky joked, but your answer was completely serious.

“Nope.”

He nodded slowly as he contemplated that, taking a moment to build up the courage to ask his next question. “What is your type?”

You smirked a little, and he wasn’t sure at all what it meant aside from the fact that he was done for. Whatever you were gonna say was sure to break his heart. “Tall, dark, not famous…”

He could so picture you picking up fans at bars; you must have no trouble at all finding guys to mess around with. Yep, totally heartbreaking.

“Good driver…” you continued, voice a little quieter and a little deeper.

Bucky cleared his throat anxiously. “I guess that rules me out.”

“What? You’re great; haven’t even blown any red lights or made illegal U-turns.”

“I mean, good drivers don’t eavesdrop on their passengers,” he explained, “especially when they’re with tall, dark, not-famous friends of theirs in the back.”

You laughed a little, half-lidded eyes looking him up and down. He felt very exposed under your gaze. “I didn’t mind,” you shrugged.

Oh god, oh fuck, Bucky’s mind raced, we’re talking about it. All this time and we’re finally talking about it. What the fuck do I say? “I still shouldn’t have—” he began.

“I wanted you to,” you interrupted firmly.

“You… wanted me to look?”

“Wanted you to do a lot more than that,” you admitted.

He looked back at you with wide eyes, entirely devoid of thoughts or words or ideas on what to do in the moment. Sure, it was pretty heavy flirting, but it wasn’t necessarily an invitation. You said wanted, past tense, it didn’t mean you wanted him now. Maybe you were just letting him know he missed his chance. If he did the wrong thing and upset you, he’d never forgive himself.

“Seemed like you were pretty satisfied with what he was doing,” he remembered, hearing the waver in his voice and cringing.

“Only cause I was thinking about you,” you grinned. “I do that a lot, actually. I’m just usually alone when I do it…”

He shivered as you shifted onto your side and leaned towards him, reaching across his body to set your beer down on the bedside table next to him; with you so close, he feared his heart would beat out of his chest. With the beer set aside, all you had to do was let your hand pull back to rest on his chest, and lift your leg up to rest on his, and you were straddling his side like it was the most simple, casual thing in the world.

But it wasn’t. It was the most insane thing that had ever happened to him. He looked down at you and blinked a few times, confident the hallucation would end but nope, he could feel the warmth of you radiating through his clothes, threatening to burn him alive.

“I’m usually in this bed, right here,” you continued slowly, and he had trouble keeping track of what you were saying with your finger trailing along his chest through his shirt, “warm under the covers, wearing a lot less than this, knowing you’re just a few rooms away and wishing you would come in here and touch me…”

"I’m here now,” he replied, just louder than a whisper. “Can I touch you?"

“Take off the gloves,” you requested softly. He was quick with the right one, but hesitated before removing the left— the moment of truth. Your breath hitched as the light caught the golden and black metal, and he winced.

“That bad?”

“No, no,” you denied, “it’s… sort of beautiful, actually.”

With you wrapped around his left side, it was natural for his right hand to move up your thigh. His left hand brushing against your face seemed to surprise you, though.

"I'm sorry, is it cold?" he asked gently.

"A little," you giggled, "but I don't mind."

Demonstrating how little you minded, in fact, you slowly kissed the tips of his bionic fingers, getting more and more adventurous until you were suddenly slipping two of them into your mouth and down past your throat.

"Fuck," he shivered, silently thanking whatever gods were out there that technology made him capable of feeling the wet warmth of your mouth on his fingers.

"Just skin everywhere else, right?" you smirked. "It's not a Swiss army knife down there?"

"Nope," he laughed, "flesh an' blood."

The blood aspect was especially salient as his cock filled so fast he thought he might pass out. Your hand slipped down and started to ghost over the front of his jeans, and he fought every instinct to keep from bucking up into your hand. You started to go for his belt but he sat up a bit.

“Wait,” he requested, clutching your shoulders a little; as soon as you looked back at him, he pulled you into a kiss, probably a little too aggressively but he was too pent up to care. After all this waiting, he actually had to hold himself back a bit compared to how he really wanted to kiss you. He moved his lips against yours slowly but with determination— and it was you, in the end, that started to slide your tongue along his lips until he opened them, giving him a chance to taste your mouth like he’d dreamed of for so long. Past the beer was the unmistakable flavor of you, and he was instantly addicted to it. His arms wrapped around you and held you close, one hand tangling in your hair a bit as you started to lean into his palm. Your hands clutched at his shirt, the warmth of your touch managing to permeate through to his skin, and he heard the softest moan from you right against his lips. It was perfection, and he would’ve been happy to stay like that forever if it weren’t for you sitting up to straddle him. He couldn’t decide if it was the sight of you on top of him, or the weight of your body on his, or the feeling of your thighs clenching a bit just above his throbbing cock— it was probably all three, but he suddenly became so needy for you that his head was spinning.

Still absorbed in the kiss, he reached down and gently pulled at the knot holding your robe shut, letting it fall open before pushing it off your shoulders slowly. You smiled against his lips and sat up, taking it off the rest of the way to reveal your entire nudity underneath. You’d think that he would’ve wished to be naked with you, and that certainly would’ve made a few of his ideas a lot easier to act upon, but something about your bare body compared to his covered one— something about your mound grinding on his jeans like that— drove him fucking wild.

“God, baby,” he praised with a purr, running his hands all over whatever he could reach. A movie could never do a body like this justice. It deserved to be appreciated and worshipped in person, which was exactly what he planned to do.

“Your turn,” you giggled as you leaned down, unbuttoning his shirt hastily. He was proud of the way you bit down on your lip as his skin was exposed, though he was also a bit embarrassed to reveal he was wearing his dog tags underneath. “A little more metal under here than I was expecting,” you smirked, trailing an errant finger over the silver chain. “There’s always more to you than meets the eye… what other secrets are you hiding, hm?”

Right now, he wanted you to have all his secrets. He wanted to give you everything. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he admitted first.

“I don’t think that’s that much of a secret,” you smirked as you finished the last button.

He sat up to help you discard the shirt, shivering as your touch trailed over his chest, his abs; then his scars, and the rest of the arm. He used it to pull you down by your neck for another kiss, testing the waters by getting a touch rougher and letting more of his desperation seep through. You responded very well, your moans gliding from your tongue onto his as your hips started to rock on top of his. “Needy little thing, aren’t ya?” he gently mocked, smiling as he started to kiss down your neck and onto your shoulder. “Ridin’ me through my jeans, like a damn teenager dry-humping after prom.”

“Hnng, Bucky,” you choked, slowing down.

He grabbed your hips with both hands. “Hey, I didn’t say to stop.”

With a moan and renewed vigor, you moved faster on top of him, the rough denim clearly a bit too much for your sensitive clit as your thighs began to quiver where they were clamped down around his. The stimulation on his cock, alternatively, was rather dulled through such thick clothing— it was just enough to keep him desperate, but not enough to get him too near coming, which was the way he wanted it at the moment. If anything, it was the sight of you rubbing yourself on him desperately that put his restraint at risk.

“Can you feel how hard I am, baby?” he growled a little. “Can you feel how hard you make me?”

You nodded with a little gasp. "God, Bucky, I want it in me now."

"Not yet, pretty girl,” he soothed with a smirk. “I need to taste you first."

He flipped you onto your back and settled on top of you between your legs; he kissed you one more time, resisting the urge to rub his hips on yours again before heading down south to suck your nipple between his lips. You were so sensitive, moaning loudly each time his tongue circled the bud, and he moaned at the feeling of the skin hardening against his tongue. He made sure to give some attention to the other one before making a show of kissing down your chest and stomach, looking back up at you with a stare that he could only hope carried all the weight that he was feeling.

"I get it," you grinned down at him, "this is how you reclaim your territory. You're gonna do what he did to me, but so much better until I can't even remember his name, right?"

"Sweetheart, you didn't even remember his name thirty seconds after it happened,” he reminded you between kisses, moving lower and lower on the bed.

"So you're not trying to assert dominance over sexual competition?" you pressed with a gleam of challenge in your eyes.

"You need to stop reading those evolutionary biology books," he laughed, but then got a bit more stern. "Think of it this way: I don't see any of those stupid boys as competition. They're nothing. It's you who needs to know that nobody can make you feel as good as I can."

That seemed to shut you up for the moment, and he smirked before getting back to work kissing along your spread thighs and shaking hips. He could already smell your need in the air, intoxicating to the point that he struggled to stay focused on mercilessly teasing you. He wanted to taste you so bad, but he needed to hear you beg him for it. He started with one finger gently exploring your folds, slow and light, until he felt your hips trying to push up into him for more stimulation. Then all he had to do was kiss that spot right on the inside of your thigh that wasn’t quite where you wanted him, and you arched your back with a desperate whine. “Bucky, please,” you whimpered.

He laughed a little, amused by your little sobs and the way your hands clutched at the comforter beneath you. “Tell me what you need, sweetheart.”

“Your mouth,” you gasped.

“Where do you want it?” he asked innocently.

You snarled with irritation but answered anyway. “My pussy.”

“I don’t think I understand,” he encouraged, voice getting deeper on accident as his own arousal became too intense to ignore.

You growled frustratedly but got what he was getting at. “I need your mouth on my pussy, Bucky, please…”

“Well, why didn’t you say so, darlin’? All you had to do was ask,” he grinned as he roughly grabbed your thighs and buried his face in between them, sloppily exploring you with his tongue until your taste coated his mouth and overwhelmed all his senses.

“Fuck!” you yelped, shivering against him. “Oh god, yes, Bucky, oh my god…”

“Is this what you wanted, pretty girl?” he asked, pulling back just as much as he needed to to speak.

“Yes, Bucky, just like that,” you nodded wildly, “feels so good, don’t fucking stop, please—”

He dove in again, finding a pattern that allowed him to suck on your clit and push his tongue inside you simultaneously. That was the combination that seemed to rile you up most, your hands searching for something to hold on to until they suddenly found purchase gripping his hair, guiding him as your hips bucked against his face. That was fine with him— more than that, in fact, cause he thought it was so sexy when you demanded control like that— until you switched from pulling him in to pushing him away. That wouldn’t do at all; with a growl, he grabbed your wrists and forced them down beside you, holding them firm as he licked at you rougher and faster.

“Fuck, Bucky,” you sobbed, back arching so much that he had to fight to keep you in his mouth, “right there, right there— oh fuck, I’m gonna come.”

He nodded, but it wasn’t permission; it was ‘of course you are.’

Your walls clenched so hard that your entire sex was pulsing in his mouth, your taste getting stronger in the same way your moans got louder. He wanted to hold you there as long as you could, and that turned out to be quite a while; he stopped when your screams of pleasure started to push too far into pain, finally letting you rest… for a moment, that is.

He watched your panting breaths catch as he slowly pushed a finger into your hole; it was still pulsing a little bit from the orgasm, and was unbearably hot and wet.

"Fuck, this pretty little pussy is tryin' to suck me in, you see that? Wants me so bad…"

"M-more, Bucky, please," you whispered. He obeyed and slipped in a second finger, slowly twisting and trying to open you up for him.

"You like that, pretty girl?" he asked with a smile as he watched your back arch, returning to suck on your clit without waiting for an answer. He relished the weight of your thighs on his shoulders, taking mental note of where he had to touch you to make them clench around his head. You kept repeating 'yes' but he didn't think it was intended as an answer to his question because he was pretty sure you hadn't even heard the question. Still, it was answer enough nonetheless.

He could tell it wouldn't take that long to get you there again, with your g-spot all swollen from the last one. He didn't push too hard on it yet, just letting his fingers curl ever so slightly to apply a teasing amount of pressure.

"Don't you wanna fuck me?" you moaned between sobs.

His cock seemed to process that question before his brain did. "Yes," he answered quickly, even though he thought it was rude to talk with his mouth full.

"Then get on with it," you suggested desperately. "Come on up here and fuck me."

"I'm not done with this yet," he insisted.

Your head fell back as you hissed frustratedly through your teeth. "Damn you and your… thoroughness."

"No point in doing anything if you're not gonna do it right," he laughed. "Besides, I couldn't stop now when you're about to come."

You looked back at him for a second like you didn't agree with that assessment, until he curled his fingers again and your walls rippled erratically around him. "Fuck," you shuddered. “Please fuck me, please fuck me, please,” you sobbed, “I need it so bad, I need you inside me— Bucky, pleasepleaseplease—”

He growled against your skin, struggling to resist that but desperate to make you come just one more time before he gave in. His cock really hated that he wasn’t giving you what you wanted, throbbing and weeping another drop of precum just to remind him of his own desperation. But he stayed strong, focusing on his task as he felt your walls tighten around him with another orgasm.

You nearly screamed with this one, your voice breaking as your nails dug into the bed beneath you. You looked fucking perfect with your head thrown back in pleasure like that— and you tasted even better as a gush of your arousal coated his tongue.

He kept circling your bud with his tongue until you started to sob a little and try to push him off of you, “can’t take anymore, please—”

And he took pity on you, for once— or maybe it was moreso pity on himself as he sat up and palmed himself through his jeans. He was so hard it hurt, and you looked like you could tell by the way you looked up at him: a glimmer of mischief in your eyes, still, even with the way they’d glazed over a bit from coming so hard. “Get over here,” you purred as you sat up and pulled him down on top of you, kissing him again as your hands slipped down to clutch at his chest.

Of everything he’d imagined, he had never even thought to consider what it would be like to be undressed by you. Those nimble fingers fiddling with his belt, working open his fly and zipper with such unabashed desperation, like you needed him more than you’d ever needed anything… truly, it was intoxicating.

Then again, it was nothing compared to your hand slipping into his boxers and wrapping around his cock. He was sure he’d never gotten so much out of just one touch before, and he had to fight off the moan bubbling in his throat. Your hands were so soft as they started to gently stroke him; his hips moved of their own accord as they started to thrust into your grasp.

“God, I need you to fuck me,” you groaned, “please, Bucky, need it so bad.”

Entirely speechless as this point, all he could do was nod as he pushed your hands off of him, pushing his jeans off quickly so as to be away from you as briefly as he could manage— and then he was on you again, kissing you everywhere he could reach, moaning when he finally let his cock brush between your legs for a moment. Even just that and he was already coated in your slick: the rewards of demanding to be thorough, clearly.

“Please,” you sobbed, “put it in me, can’t wait any more, I’ve waited so long…”

It almost made him stop to think, because it was ambiguous if you just meant tonight or more. But you were begging him for his cock so he wasn’t really in any position to think.

So many times he had wondered if your real moans sounded anything like your fake ones from the movie. He fantasized for months about a chance to make the comparison. But with you in front of him, under him, biting down on your lip as he pushed into your perfect warmth, he couldn’t even remember that you’d ever been in a movie. He couldn’t think about anything else but this moment, right now, and he didn’t want to.

“God, Bucky,” you sighed, as if the two were being regarded at the same level in your mind— and he wasn't even halfway in yet.

Equal parts of him wanted to ease you into it and to tear you in half. You'd always ignited this paradox in him, this instinct to protect and to destroy, this desire to cherish you and dominate you, but it was most apparent now. It made him worry that he could never really give you what you deserved, but naturally, he was at his most selfish in this moment. He had only just begun to push himself into you and he was ready to justify anything to get the rest of the way and bury himself to the hilt.

Your body opened up to him slightly, enough that he felt mostly right about going a little deeper; you gasped and clutched at his forearm, and that was only just barely enough to stop him as a sick pressure of arousal made his gut twist. Oddly enough, your nails biting into his skin did more to egg him on than it did to slow him down.

He kept his eyes trained on where your bodies were joined, watching in awe at the way you looked stretched out around him; he could feel your struggle to take him in the way your walls quivered and quaked, but he could hear how much you enjoyed it as you moaned and gasped beneath him.

"I want it all, Bucky, please," you begged. Just because he needed to, he was rough with the last inch— not enough for it to be really brutal, but plenty to elicit a precious little sob from you.

It felt so good to be all the way in you that it nearly made him dizzy.

"Baby," you whispered, and it sounded just like the way you'd said it in the back of the car, just like the way he'd committed to memory and stowed away in his mind to visit whenever he needed to feed his addiction.

How could his chest not burn with jealousy when he remembered that night? How could he cope with that jealousy with anything but pinning you down and fucking you hard and fast like it was the end of the goddamn world?

You all but screamed as he did it, your whole body shaking as he pounded into you. He feared it would be more than you could handle but you went from wet to dripping in an instant, your moans loud and hoarse but undeniably a sound of pleasure. It turned him on even more to know that you liked getting fucked this hard; maybe he didn't need to worry so much about holding back, if this was gonna make you bite your lip and look up at him like that.

"Bucky, oh my god," you sighed, a hint of disbelief in your tone, "it's so good, fuck, you feel so good…"

He wanted to hear more, but he couldn't resist capturing your lips in a kiss first, sloppy and aggressive and needy but overall perfect. It was almost like he could taste your moans as they vibrated over his tongue, until he could barely tell his apart from yours anymore. Pulling back, his dog tags were dangling over your face, and you looked so damn good with his name tickling your skin.

When he lifted your legs and pushed them back up into your chest, you snarled and clutched at the sheets beneath you. "Too deep?" he asked, not sure himself if it was concern or taunting or somewhere in the middle.

"So fucking deep," you answered, "but not too deep."

"Then maybe I'm not deep enough," he smirked, and you laughed.

"You're trying to ruin me, is that it?" you pressed.

He was afraid to be entirely honest, but your tone wasn't one of fear. "Something like that," he admitted after a moment.

"It's working," you sighed as you pulled him down by the chain of his tags, kissing him again as your arms slipped around his neck and held him close.

His hands squeezed your thighs, before taking a detour to run up and down your legs. It made you shiver, and he felt it from inside you which was overwhelmingly erotic. The time he’d spent making you come so many times was paying off: for one, you were so wet it made him feel a little-lightheaded, but also it meant that he felt familiar with your body now. He knew what it meant when your walls tightened just so, when you bit your lip that way, when your moans sounded all breathy and strained. That being, of course, that you were about to come— and he couldn’t wait for you to come just from being fucked, make a mess all over his cock.

And yet, there was still so much more to discover: like how it felt when your legs wrapped around his hips to keep him inside, or when your fingers dug into his shoulders as you looked up at him.

“Gonna come,” you warned him with half-lidded eyes and your mouth fallen slack, “oh my god, Bucky, you’re gonna make me come.”

He growled and tightened his grip on your thigh— something to stabilize him as he fought so hard to stave off his own orgasm. You felt so good and he could probably come just from the sight of you like this anyways, let alone being inside you right now. Think about baseball think about baseball think about baseball—

“Yes!” you screamed. “Right there, oh fuck, Buckyyyyy!”

“Fuck,” he hissed, completely unable to think about anything but you, lost in the way you cried out his name as your walls fluttered and pulsed around him so perfectly.

Maybe he was disturbed for thinking you looked pretty with your eyes filling with tears. He was definitely disturbed for taking some pride in making you cry. Of course, only because he was making you cry from this. If he had it his way, Bucky would make you cry in only this way, every day, forever— and make sure nobody made you cry in any other way, while he was at it. You hiccuped your sob as he continued to pound into you, refusing to let up even as he leaned down to kiss away your tears. “S-so good,” you mumbled weakly, “Bucky… please…”

"Fuck, gonna come— I'm gonna come," he stammered his warning.

"Inside me, please," you whimpered, "I want it inside me."

"Jesus Christ," he hissed, shaking his head in some form of exhausted shock. You grinned, wrapping your hands around his neck and pulling him closer to you until your lips brushed against his ear.

"Bucky, I want you to come inside me," you repeated in a slow whisper. "I want every drop of your come in my pussy, I wanna be so full of you, I wanna feel it leaking out all night, I want you to make me yours."

How was he supposed to hold back anymore, with you talking like that? With you weaving your fingers into his hair and tightening your legs around his hips, with you kissing him deeply and suddenly? A weak moan was lost to your lips as he filled you, warmth washing over every part of him until he thought he might just melt. You smiled against him, and he summoned just enough strength to not collapse on top of you and surely crush you with his weight. Instead, he gave you one last kiss before burying his face in your neck, laughing exhaustedly.

"Mine, huh?” he remembered. “You really mean it?"

You hummed quietly, holding him tightly. "I probably shouldn't answer that question just after you made me come a dozen times."

"No no, you should,” he pressed as he pushed up to hover over you.

You smiled and looked back up at him. "I'm yours, Bucky."

He growled, leaning down to give your neck light teasing kisses. "Fuck, keep talkin' like that and I'll double that dozen."

"My body couldn't take it," you asserted.

"I'd make you take it," he promised.

You bit down on your lip, and he couldn't help but chuckle a little. You weren't as good at feigning innocence as you seemed to think.

"Oh, you like that," he posited. "Maybe someday I'll tie you down and make you come until all you know how to do is say my name, hm?"

"Bet it wouldn't even take you that long," you admitted. "I already feel pretty braindead."

Testing that theory, he reached down and drew light circles over your swollen clit with his thumb, even just that subtle touch making your legs and inner walls quiver as your back arched.

"Bucky," you whimpered as you tried to push his hand away, "s'too much, please…"

"Nuh uh, pretty girl, I wanna see you fall apart again. You know how many times I dreamed of making you come?"

You shook your head.

"Me either, but I wanna keep doing it until I feel like I've reached a number that at least comes close. I've finally got you in my arms and I won't let you go until I've made up for all the time I wasted."

Notably, his cock which had begun to soften inside you was now getting hard again, from some combination of watching you and feeling you in this moment.

“How do you feel about a second round?” he suggested with a smirk, even as his muscles ached already. Your eyes went wide but your walls clenched, too. That was answer enough for him. “I might break you,” he warned.

“Promise?” you smirked.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years ago

Text

Healing

Prompts: So I’ve recently binged all your SS fics practically and I know you SWAMPED in prompts, but if this sounds like something you could enjoy creating I’d love to request a promt as well:

Set in your SS Butterfly Project, could we maybe get Virgil reacting to all the sides (specifically L and Ro) learning to heal, and bouncing between helping sooth everyone’s anxiety over all the changes? I’d just love under appreciated Virgil helping in the moments in between the healing process if that makes any sense…

I appreciate the he*l out of you regardless if you take this prompt or not; and you deserve all the kindness the world has to offer you. ❤️ - mylgbtbabies

I would take any fic where somethigns off and virgil knows it. Someone: Im sure its fine!! Virgil: Idk man Im anxiety my spooder sense be tingly. - anon

If you're taking requests for Sanders Sides uwu can I ask for something Virgil-centric? I just love the emo boy - anon

ahh yes the babes

Read on Ao3

Warnings: ngl this one's pretty much fluff

Pairings: DLAMP, LAMP, DLAMPR, that found family

Word Count: 3538

Healing: To restore to health or soundness; cure.

Healing: To ease or relieve (emotional distress).

* * *

Healing isn’t a linear process.

It’s messy, it’s hard, and no one should expect it to be anything otherwise. Humans are complicated, more often than not brains are absolute garbage, and trying to navigate everything on your own is difficult. Really difficult.

So is learning how to ask for help.

Virgil sighs and leans back against the couch as Roman continues to type on his laptop. He risks a glance up at Princey to see his brow furrowed slightly in concentration. Every so often he’ll quirk his eyebrow in the way that means he just made a hilarious typo and has to go back. Virgil hides a smile as he turns his attention back to his phone. Can’t intrude too much on the process, that’s not how it works. He glances up to make sure no one’s coming down the stairs and shifts his weight again.

“Are you alright?”

There’s Roman, taking care of everyone else first. “I’m good, Princey, just trying not to fuck up my spine.”

“…do you want to come sit up here with me? I won’t mind.”

Virgil cranes his neck back, letting a slow and lazy smile come across his face. “Nah, ‘m good right here. You just make with the typey typey, okay?”

Roman smiles too, victory achieved. “Okay.”

“That’s my Princey.”

Virgil isn’t humble enough to not feel the little rush of pride at seeing a quick flush spread to Roman’s ears as he turns his attention back to his laptop. Suppressing a chuckle, he starts mindlessly scrolling again, getting sucked back into whatever’s contaminating his dash this time. What’s this about a k-drama…?

“Oh! There you are!”

Patton might not notice the way Roman startles, but Virgil does. He looks up and quickly shakes his head as Patton comes the rest of the way down the stairs.

“It’s work hours, Pat.”

“Oh, I thought—“ Virgil gives him a look that he knows Patton understands as Roman is setting the rules here, and he nods quickly— “well don’t mind me, I’m just getting a drink.”

Roman relaxes slightly as Patton bustles in and out of the kitchen, then a little more as Virgil reaches up to squeeze his hand.

“Thank you,” comes the quiet mumble.

“I gotcha, Princey. Work hours are your thing, I’m happy to help.”

Sure enough, a few minutes later, when Logan comes down the stairs carrying his computer, he takes one look at them in the living room before his mouth drops open slightly.

“Is it…work hours?”

“Mhm,” Virgil says, letting his head loll back, “you wanna join?”

“May I? I can be quiet as well.”

Virgil looks up at Roman. Roman glances up, smile softening when he sees it’s Logan, and gently pats the sofa next to him. Logan smiles too and yeah, okay, Virgil’s fine with his edge lord image fading slightly if it means he gets to be fond at watching these two nerds be gentle with each other.

The two of them start to type on their laptops, Logan’s constant murmurs of what he’s working on an amusing contrast to Roman’s silent yet expressive face. Virgil keeps the barrier there, warding off Janus and Remus when they try and drag the others into the dramatics—if anyone, especially Janus, tries to deny that he’s as much a part of it as Remus is, do not under any circumstances believe them—to keep the nerds safe.

After a while, when Virgil re-emerges from whatever deep dive he’s gone on this time—and yeah, he might be looking to pirate that k-drama, maybe—he realizes there’s no more typing. He looks up, a little concerned, only to be incredibly glad no one else is around to see him melt at the sight on the couch.

Roman’s laptop lies partially closed on his lap, the screen just touching the tops of his knuckles. His head and shoulders are angled toward Logan and his eyes are closed. Logan’s glasses are slipping slightly off his face, his head on Roman’s shoulder, eyes closed, lips parted slightly as his hair falls back into his face. His laptop has been set on the coffee table, somewhere safe.

Virgil shakes his head, standing and carefully taking Roman’s laptop from him. He saves whatever’s on it and sets it next to Logan’s. Then he takes the blanket from the back of the couch and carefully drapes it over the two of them. He slides Logan’s glasses from his face and undoes the top button of Princey’s collar. Can’t do for them to have a red mark, after all. And he sits back down to keep watch.

Sometimes, when they’re doing better, they ask for more. Roman comes to him sometimes and asks, very very quietly, but he does ask, for Virgil to come sit with him by his room. Virgil happily takes up residence in the warm spot in the hallway next to Roman’s room, right where the big windows are, soaking in the warmth from outside as Roman closes the door gently behind himself.

Something that everyone had to learn pretty quick once Logan and Roman started reaching out was that both of them are extremely private people. On the surface, it might seem like they’re different—and if they’re being honest, they certainly thought they were very different—but they aren’t. Not really. Roman hides behind being too much, Logan hides behind not being anything. Whether or not anyone actually knows them without any of the facades is up for debate.

Except each other. They…they…know each other.

Virgil would be lying if he said he isn’t a little jealous of how close the two of them have become. There are soft smiles they only have for each other now, little brushes of their hands against each other’s as a constant way of saying ‘I’m here, I see you, are you alright?’ And sometimes it’s Virgil’s job to sit outside one of their rooms as they try and hold each other steady.

Their company feels better than their solitude and it’s up to them to decide where that line is.

Today, Virgil’s just keeping an eye on Roman. Fielding off anyone who comes to knock on his door, glaring away the more persistent ones who don’t seem to understand that Roman needs his space right now, kindly fuck off. Logan comes around the corner and immediately understands and he sees them murmur quietly to each other when it’s time for dinner.

When he watches Logan, it’s a little harder. Because poor Logan is so used to pushing himself to the side to be able to make decisions, to help do things, that Virgil has to remind everyone involved that no, Logan’s enforced a boundary that means he doesn’t want to be disturbed right now, he’s allowed to do that, let’s leave him be for now. Left brain boys have to stick together.

But the others, to a certain extent, are easy. They care about Roman and Logan as much as Virgil does, and if it’s to help them, they’ll do whatever they have to. Protecting them from themselves…that’s another story.

Logan is too fucking good at pretending he’s fine. He’s too good at pretending he doesn’t have emotions, that he doesn’t care what’s going on unless it’s the absolute most illogical thing that’s happening. So, sometimes he has to work a little harder to get Logan to admit it.

“L,” he mutters as the others continue to argue, “check-in.”

“I’m fine.”

Janus shoots him a look as he continues to argue. Virgil tugs gently on Logan’s sleeve.

“No one’s gonna be mad if you say you aren’t, bud.”

Logan shakes his head firmly, eyes still trained on the way Patton and Janus are insisting that they’re the one right.

“Hey,” Virgil says softly, making them take a step back, “I need you to look at me, L.”

“What is the purpose of this?”

“You’re seizing up again.” Logan looks down at his hands, sees the way they’re shaking as Virgil gently runs a finger over the back of one of them. “It’s okay, bud, you’re gonna be fine, you just have to let yourself not be for a moment, okay?”

Logan risks a glance at the others but they haven’t noticed anything. Well, that’s not entirely accurate. Judging by the way Janus is being more dramatic than normal and Roman has turned so his back is facing them, they’ve noticed something’s wrong and are purposefully not noticing anything else.

“Logan,” Virgil calls, “do you need a minute?”

Logan’s mouth opens, closes, then he nods sharply.

“Okay, thank you, I’m really proud of you for saying that. Can I sink you out?”

Another sharp nod.

Virgil sets his hand gently on Logan’s elbow and sinks them out, right outside Logan’s room. He nods to the door.

“Do you need to be alone for a moment? Or do you need me with you?”

Logan looks at the door. His hands shake again. Virgil sees them twitch toward his legs. Then he looks at Virgil and oh, okay, no, Virgil’s definitely coming inside.

“Come on,” he says, guiding hand still on Logan’s shoulder, “just through here, okay? I’m gonna get you a glass of water.”

Logan looks small, Virgil decides he doesn’t like that. He presses a glass of water gently into Logan’s hands, watches as he drinks the whole thing without complaint, and then carefully sets one of Logan’s fluffier pillows into his lap for Logan to hang onto.

“Do you want to sit here for a moment?”

Logan nods, then buries his face in the pillow and breathes. Virgil closes his eyes and starts to breathe too, keeping it slow and steady as he breathes in, then out, then in, then out. When Logan’s breathing starts to hitch, he opens his eyes and scoots a little closer, wordlessly offering a shoulder. Logan takes it after a moment, his face still buried in the pillow even as his head comes to rest on Virgil’s shoulder.

“Let it out, bud,” Virgil murmurs into the crown of Logan’s head, “don’t try and keep any of that shit in you. It’s just me.”

Watching Logan cry isn’t fun. He doesn’t recommend it. But it’s much, much better than the alternative.

“Hey,” he calls again, a fresh glass of water in his hand, “drink, bud, it’ll help.”

Logan drinks, a little slower this time, as Virgil settles back on the bed, one leg folded under him.

“Do you want to talk about it? Or do you want me to distract you?”

Logan shakes his head. “I…do not think distraction would be helpful.”

“Okay. Do you want me to give you the logical reason why this is fine, or the emotional one where I tell you how much we care?”

Logan sniffles.

“Both it is, then.” Virgil scoots closer, ready if Logan needs to lean against him again. “Despite the fact that your role is Logic, no one expects you to be entirely logical. You are a person, you have feelings and emotions, and they are as much a part of you as Logic is. Trying to deny that isn’t logical, nor productive. The reason you are who you are is equally due to both of those things.”

He softens his voice as Logan leans toward him again, smiling at how shamelessly Logan is asking to be comforted.

“And that’s why we care about you,” he mumbles, ignoring the heat rushing to his own face, “because you’re you. You’re…prissy and stuck-up and a know-it-all and it’s perfect, L. You’re our braincell and you’re fucking ours. You’re—you’re not going anywhere.”

Logan’s arms still grip the pillow tightly even as his head nudges its way under Virgil’s chin. Virgil smiles and lets him, only realizing he’s absentmindedly nuzzling Logan’s hair after a minute.

The others will be fine. Logan just needs a moment to check out.

Roman, on the other hand, fucking sucks at letting himself ask.

And yeah, Virgil’s not too proud to admit he still feels sick at how much he’s fucked that up for him. But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try and fix that now.

Princey’s gig as Creativity isn’t misplaced; Virgil’s equal parts impressed and dismayed at how well Roman’s managed to get himself what he needs without directly asking for it, be it a favor, a piece of feedback, or a conversation.

The one thing he can’t do that with is touch.

Roman needs physical contact like he needs water. He may run hotter than a goddamn furnace but he somehow manages to look cold. Watching him sit himself apart from everyone else hurts now, especially when Janus comes and confesses that he can hear how much Roman tries to insist that he doesn’t need affection from the others.

So, they built a system. Some with Roman’s knowledge, some without. Roman goes to them for comfort when he needs it, but sometimes, when he really needs it, it’s up to them to figure out just how much.

Remus knows his job when it comes to this. His brother is Roman and you don’t get to be a Dark Side without Janus as a dramatic caveat. He’s well-versed in blackmailing self-sacrificing idiots into taking care of themselves.

Remus finds Roman when Roman’s sitting alone, off to the side, staring out into the expanse of the Imagination. He sits down, brushes their shoulders together, and frowns when Roman apologizes and shifts further away.

That’s the first indication.

He suggests they go bother Patton, or sneak out to the field and practice cliff jumping. If Roman’s alright, he’ll roll his eyes and propose an alternative, or agree and they’ll scamper off. But instead, he smiles softly and says no thank-you, politely inviting Remus to stay if he likes, but he’d rather not move.

That’s the second indication.

The third one comes when Remus carefully—really carefully—prods at Roman to see how obvious Roman’s dazed state is. He’s barely there.

Time for reinforcements.

Who gets called depends on who’s around. Since Remus is usually the first one in the chain—although that responsibility does get bounced around—everyone else’s schedules make absolute consistency difficult.

Today, it’s Janus.

He sits on Roman’s other side, pressing their shoulders together. If he’s alright, he’ll lean into him, or at the very least, tolerate it. His presence is strong, enough to coax down his shields and that’ll be the end of it. But today, he scoots away from him too, another apology on his lips.

They exchange a look over Roman’s head.

No one banters quite like Remus and Janus, and sometimes that’s all it takes to pull him out of his head. Sometimes it’s an offer to go flounce around an abandoned castle, and there’s a small smile on his face as they leave.

Not today.

As a last resort, Janus reaches out and gently calls to him.

“My prince, are you alright?”

Sometimes it’s enough.

Not today.

“Alright,” Remus declares, getting up and clapping his hands, “time to pull out the big guns.”

Sometimes he’ll get up and walk with them, sometimes he won’t. He has carried him through the Mindscape before, but it was only once. And that was when he couldn’t actually move and they’d had a murmured conversation where he gave him permission to.

Today he gets up and follows them, confused as to what’s going on. They march him straight to a door and Remus knocks on it.

“Roman’s upset,” he says as soon as the door opens.

Virgil smiles and steps aside, letting him come in. Sometimes it’s a waiting game, sometimes Remus pushes him inside. But today, Roman bows his head and walks inside, letting Virgil close the door behind him.

Sometimes it’s a protest. Sometimes it’s a: ‘this really isn’t necessary,’ or a ‘do we have to do this?’ When that happens he indulges Roman, meets every quip with one of his own until he can knock Roman off-balance with well-placed sincerity and use his distraction to steer him to the bed.

Sometimes it’s an apology. It’s an: ‘I’m sure you’ve got other things to do, I can just go,’ and he shakes his head, tells Roman he’s more than happy to spend time with him. That no, he’s not being rude, that he all but asked for Roman to come. When that happens, he normally clams up, stays quiet, until he relents and gathers Roman up into a cuddle by the door.

Sometimes it’s silence. It’s a bowed head, curled up like a frightened animal, braced for punishment. It’s the moments where the gap between Light and Dark feels uncrossable. It’s the moments where the anger is disappointment, where the frustration is indifference, until he speaks first and murmurs that no, Roman’s not in trouble, he’s not here to lecture him, he’s hurt and he wants to help, as he takes Roman into his arms.

Every time it’s a fight.

It’s knowing that he can’t win because of course, he can’t win but this isn’t something he’s supposed to win but he can’t show weakness but he won’t have a choice because it’s the slow, patient kill that speaks of nothing but kindness and care but Virgil has enough to worry about and he doesn’t get to dump all of his problems on Virgil but he knows he wouldn’t do this if he didn’t care but he cares about everyone and Roman isn’t special but he knows that doesn’t matter and he needs this but it makes him want to rip all of his skin off and start over but then he’d get blood on his carpet and that wouldn’t be very polite either—

Virgil guides him to the couch with a hand on his back, sitting him down and bringing two cups of tea to the table. He cups Roman’s hand around one to gauge how warm it is and if his fingers grow too red, he sets it aside. He sits next to him and carefully reaches out.

Here she is, sitting right next to him, and yet he’s almost nowhere to be found.

He needs to relearn how to ask for comfort, for reassurance, for what he needs, but the wait hurts them both.

I’m trying, I’m trying, I promise, I’m sorry—

It’s alright, I’m right here, just ask, that’s all.

When he finally reaches out, Virgil snaps and bundles Roman into his arms. He tucks Roman up against his chest, letting him wind his arms as tightly as he needs to, guiding one leg, then the other, over his. Roman lets out a little whine as he tucks his face into the crook of his neck. He cards his fingers through Roman's hair and smiles as the poor prince melts into his arms.

The familiar protective instinct swells up and Virgil finds himself wanting very much to wrap him up in his hoodie and keep him safe from the universe.

He keeps his breathing even, hoping his heart doesn’t begin to race from the need to protect the Roman. This is for Roman, this is what he needs, to chase away the worries of the world and be safe.

Sometimes they fall asleep like that. Sometimes Roman needs to cry and he hushes him tenderly. Sometimes he seems convinced that if either of them lets go they’ll fly apart.

It doesn’t matter.

If he feels the safest with Virgil’s arms around him, his head on his chest, his heartbeat in his ear, the world could be on fire and he would not leave his side.

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#dragonbabbles #fic #sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #roman angst #logan sanders #logan angst #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #patton sanders

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haikyuuuuuhypeeeee · 3 years ago

Text

Ch. Fifteen

⚠WARNING: Mention of previous character's death

• ────── ✾ ────── •

You set your phone down and look at Oikawa’s prone body lying next to you.

Once you returned to your apartment Oikawa was 99% asleep - you’re really not sure how he was able to put one foot in front of the other, but he did. You were going to deposit him into your bed but Oikawa was clinging to you like an octopus. So instead you let gravity do the work and you both had fallen backwards onto your comforter and pillows.

Oikawa didn’t even bother moving to get underneath the blankets before he properly fell asleep, mouth open and everything. He remained clutched to your arms, and you were helpless to try and escape from under him.

Ever since they were children, Oikawa always had to cling to someone and he’d be especially clingy when he was upset (which given today wasn’t surprising that you couldn’t pry yourself from his grip.) Since you, Oikawa and Hajime all lived in the same neighborhood since elementary, you had frequent sleepovers at each other’s homes. And sure enough, every time Oikawa would subconsciously choose you or Hajime to cling to while sleeping.

Hajime absolutely hated it but you didn’t mind.

Watching your friend sleep you can't help but give a sad little smile. He looks peaceful and so young in sleep. You know he’s the furthest from innocent right now, and he has a lot of work ahead of him to fully earn your trust back. But you wish that he wasn’t tortured with the troubles that plague you all.

A knock at the door makes you sit up. Oikawa’s face pinches at the motion, and you speak to him. “Mattsun and Makki are here, but you can sleep if you want.”

His reply is a sleepy grumble but he too sits up. You know that despite him only getting a few hours of sleep he won’t want to be left alone in your room. Together, with Oikawa leaning on you, you walk to the door and let in your friends. Mattsun raises his eyebrows at the sight of a clingy and exhausted Oikawa hanging off your frame but you just shrug. Makki seems to take pity on you as he drags Oikawa off and over to the couch, handing his coat off to Mattsun to hang up.

“Thanks for coming over,” you tell Mattsun. “I’m gonna put the kettle on and order some lunch.”

Mattsun nods. “Whatever you need to do.” He gives you a small smile and leaves you in the apartment entrance. You can recognize that he’s giving you space and letting you set the boundaries for the conversation to follow, and you appreciate his tact.

After you order the take out and make tea you enter your living room and see Makki and Mattsun sharing your couch. Oikawa is slumped in your armchair, eyelids drooping as he tries to stay away.

“Oikawa you can go back to sleep if you want.” You offer after setting down the tray with tea. He shakes his head at you as you pass out mugs but doesn’t verbalize.

“Okay, if you’re sure.” You settle on the ground by the coffee table, choosing to face your friends instead of sitting next to them. It’s quiet for a few minutes while everyone relaxes in their seats and sips the jasmine tea you’ve made. There’s a tangible tension in the air, stemming from the second Oikawa opened his mouth at the restaurant last night to this very moment. Mattsun and Makki are waiting for you to initiate, for in their eyes you were ready to tear Oikawa limb from limb yesterday and today you greeted them at the door with your tall friend clinging to you.

Plus there's the whole you loving Hajime thing that should be addressed.

You know that your friends would never, ever push you to discuss it. But they’re probably wondering why they weren’t privy to the info, why Oikawa was, and if you don’t trust them or something. The last thing you want is to make your friends doubt the relationship you have with them, so you’re ready to clear the air and address the elephant in the room.

“I love Hajime.” You say. Everyone looks up from their tea to you. “I’ve been in love with him since the first year of high school, I think.”

Predictably, you’re met with matching sad looks. But even though you knew it was coming, you still can’t squirm uncomfortably at the pity you feel coming from them. This was exactly why you didn’t want anyone to know, especially now.

“Were you ever going to tell him?” Mattsun asks quietly.

You shrug, both at his question and the uneasiness settling in your gut “I didn’t feel like I needed to at the time. We were still in high school, still living life. I was happy with our friendship and I didn’t think anything more.” You smile ruefully. “If anything I think I was more worried about not being friends with him anymore if a confession went south.

“Honestly, I didn’t think that there would be a day that I wouldn’t be able to tell him how I felt. Even if I grew out of those feelings, part of me thought I’d be able to confess some day. I don’t regret our friendship, not when I wanted more. But I do regret not being upfront about my feelings with Hajime. He was my best friend, and I should’ve been able to tell him anything.”

You feel tears prick at your eyes and you look down at your tea. “We all have wonderful memories with Hajime, and I will never ever forget him. But it sucks, because while the memories are wonderful I can’t help but think how much better they could’ve been if I told him how I felt about him.”

You sniff, holding back your tears. You look back up and see Oikawa wiping his eyes and Makki sniffling.

Mattsun is looking at you with a serious expression. “I don’t want to go through hypotheticals or explore ‘what ifs,’ but I don’t think I’m alone in saying that Iwazumi cared for you differently than he did us. And I don’t think it was because you were best friends growing up with Oikawa, because he hated Oikawa.”

“Hey!” Oikawa pipes up from his spot, but there’s no real heat behind it.

Mattsun shifts, clearing his throat. When he speaks again his voice is rough with emotion. “You were precious to him, and his actions reflected how much he cared for you.”

You recognize that Mattsun is not outright saying the L-word but his careful alluding makes you smile tearfully. “I know, and he’s always going to hold a special place in my heart.”

Nobody says anything to that, and the room is blanketed with silence again.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Makki asks quietly, subdued. “Oikawa knew, but me and Issei didn’t.”

You sigh, your chest tight at the wounded look on Makki’s face. “I didn’t mean for Oikawa to find out. And I didn’t want to hide it because I didn’t trust you. But I just didn’t know how to bring it up, especially after Hajime passed away. I just,” you pause, sighing. “We’re all struggling, and I didn’t want you to think differently of me, or I didn’t want you to think that your feelings weren’t valid.”

It’s a lame excuse, but it’s probably the best way you can explain your thoughts. You’re not sure if their feelings are stronger or lesser than yours but you don’t need to know. The varying levels of grief people feel do not need to meet a criteria to be judged. Just because you love Hajime beyond the level of friendship that Oikawa, Mattsun or Makki probably love Hajime doesn’t mean that you “win” the game of grief.

“Y/N,” Mattsun says softly. “We’re your friends, and we want you to come to us with anything. Well, anything you feel comfortable sharing, which I guess in this case you weren’t comfortable with.” Mattsun pauses, it looks like he’s struggling to pick his words. “I do feel pain for you, but mainly because you’ve been dealing with these thoughts alone. I’m sorry if we ever gave you the impression that you couldn’t talk to us.”

You shake your head. “It’s not that, I swear. I just didn’t want to burden you all.”

Mattsun sighs. “I understand, and I don’t want to push you to share anything you don’t want to. But we love Iwaizumi, and if you want to talk about him or need to talk about him, know you can always come to us.”

Makki and Oikawa nod in agreement. You feel your eyes sting again but you smile, because you have the most kind and generous friends you could ask for. Hindsight is 20/20, but your heart does feel lighter knowing that your friends won’t ostracize you or anything because you love Hajime.

“We should’ve known that Oikawa would’ve just confronted Y/N straight on, he’s always been a jerk like that.” Makki says teasingly, trying to lighten the mood.

But instead of squawking in protest or complaining dramatically, Oikawa nods. “Yeah, I’m an asshole.”

Makki’s smile instantly shifts into an uncomfortable frown. “Oikawa, I was just joking -”

“But you’re right.” Oikawa cuts him off firmly. “And I’ve been even worse the past few months. I haven’t been taking care of myself like I should, and I’m sorry taking my frustrations out on you guys.” He takes in a breath. “I’m going to take a break from volleyball so I can make time for my therapy sessions.”

You, Mattsun and Makki all share the same look of surprise. “Oikawa, are you sure?” You can’t help but think back to Oikawa’s reason for not wanting to quit volleyball, and part of you feels guilty for suggesting he take away the strong connection he had to Hajime.

But Oikawa gives you a weak smile. “If Iwa-chan were here, he would call me a dumbass for not taking care of myself.”

“Yeah, he’d probably call you a dumbass and throw a volleyball at your head.” Makki adds. Oikawa squawks at the tease, making everyone in the room laugh.

You smile as you watch Oikawa snap back at Makki, with Mattsun egging them both on. They fall into a routine they’ve established since high school. The one missing component - Hajime either ignoring Oikawa’s calls for backup or sharing comistering looks with you - is obvious, but it doesn’t hurt as much. Your friends’ presence in your apartment fills you with warmth and comfort, like a warm blanket at the end of a hard day.

A knock at the door disrupts your thoughts and you stand to grab the takeout. Mattsun goes to the kitchen to grab plates and utensils, while Oikawa and Makki continue to squabble in the living room. You and Mattsun return to the living room at the same time, causing Makki and Oikawa to call a truce and grab food. There’s a comfortable silence in your apartment as you all fill your plates and settle. As you dig in, an errant thought comes to your mind.

“Oikawa, how do you know where Osamu lives?”

Oikawa speaks around the noodles shoved in his mouth. “I have a fan who works in the registrar’s office and it wasn’t hard to bribe her to look it up.”

“Yeah, that’s something we haven’t talked about yet.” Makki notes, looking right at you.

You avoid his gaze. “About Oikawa’s fans? Yes, it’s ridiculous how crazy they are.”

“That’s not what I was talking about and you know it.”

You glance up, sighing at the looks of intrigue on Makki and Mattsun’s faces. “I was upset last night, and I left my keys at his place. He let me stay because I was upset. We’re just friends.”

Mattsun purses his lips at you, but Makki has a thoughtful look.

“Well, he’s pretty cute. If Mattsun ever gets tired of me I might have to give him a call.”

“Shut up,” you hiss. You know you’re just playing into his trap, and hell would have to freeze over before Mattsun and Makki broke up but you couldn’t even hold back your distaste at the idea.

The smirk on Makki’s face only grows. “Oh, is Osamu into possessiveness?”

“Excuse me?” You ask darkly.

“He said you were possessive.” Oikawa helpfully supplies with his mouth full of food. You’re about to yell at him for manners when Mattsun speaks up.

“You’re different around him.”

Uh oh, he’s using the same voice he used earlier when talking about Hajime and you. He’s not teasing you.

“Different how?” You ask quietly.

He shrugs. “Different, like how you acted around Iwaizumi.”

His observation is met with silence, Makki glancing at Mattsun nervously and Oikawa gazing directly at you.

“Do you like Osamu-kun?” Oikawa asks.

“Wow, yet again Oikawa is not scared to ask the hard questions!” Your attempts at deflection do not go well, as Mattsun serves you an intense look.

“Do you like him?”

You push back, rolling your eyes. “I think you guys know more than anyone that I’m in no state to be in a relationship right now.”

“That’s not what we’re asking.” Oikawa replies. He’s still staring at you, but it’s not a mean look on his face. Neither Mattsun nor Makki are looking at you meanly either, but all three of your friends’ eyes bore into you. Oikawa speaks up again. “Do you feel differently about Osamu compared to me, Mattsun and Makki?”

Your first instinct is to say no because you do see him as you see your friends. You think of all of the conversations you’ve both had about school and classes. And you think of all the stories you’ve shared about growing up in Sendai and your likes, dislikes.

You would even say that you and Osamu are best friends, given how much you’ve relied on him when it comes to dealing with Iwaizumi. A twinge of guilt twists in your stomach as you worry that maybe you rely on him too much. He has his own burdens to carry.

But at the end of the day, you just know that he’d be there for you. And he’s shown time and time again that he will be there for a late night phone call or a shoulder to cry on.

Even those late night text conversations when you’re too scared to fall asleep. Or how the way he supports is different to Makki, Mattsun and Oikawa.

But why? Why is it different?

Is it because he didn’t know the Y/N you were when you were younger? He didn’t know the Y/N that existed before high school?

He doesn’t know you from before Hajime died. He’s seen this raw, broken-down version of you. And he still wants to talk to you. He still wants to hang out and get coffee and be with you.

And in return, you know this raw, broken-down version of Osamu. Honestly, you could care less if the Osamu you never knew was the richest man in the world, or the smartest man alive. The Osamu now has been shaped and has grown from every experience he’s lived, the good and the bad. And everytime you talk you find out more about him that draws you in more. You’re never going to be satisfied until you find out everything about him. You’re not sure if it’s obsession or infatuation, but every little fact you unearth brings you a joy that you haven’t felt in some time.

You revel in the small expressions he shows around you and your ability to decipher his mood based on those looks. You shine when he focuses on you, his intense gaze indicating that he’s giving you his full attention on you and only you.

You felt safe with the strong arm around your shoulders when you felt like breaking. You felt comforted when he wiped your tears from your face.

You felt loved.

You look up at your friends, amazed.

“Oh my god, I think I like Osamu.”

The boys nod their head at you, none of them surprised by your revelation. You look down at your full plate, appetite long gone. You honestly can’t believe you’ve been so blind. Looking back it was so OBVIOUS that you’ve had feelings for Osamu for a long time.

Another thought crosses your mind, much more displeasing than your realizing your feelings for Osamu. “I don’t think I’m ready for a relationship though.”

The boys nod at you again. This time Oikawa isn’t able to hold back his eyes roll. “Well obviously.”

You shrink down, feeling a new level of low. There’s no way you could try to pursue a relationship with Osamu, not now. But what if he wants to? What if he returns your feelings and wants to date you? Or worse, what if he doesn’t accept your feelings and doesn’t want to be your friend anymore?

“Y/N-chan, get out of your head.” Oikawa sing-songs, and it does bring you out of your head. You look at him and frown.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Babe, you don’t have to do anything.” Makki replies.

“But I want to.” You say instantly. “I mean, I think I want to, or I should?”

“But you know that you’re not in the right headspace to pursue a relationship now.” Mattsun reminds you gently. “And making sure you’re healthy enough to give the relationship all that you can is important.”

You nod sadly, agreeing. But your face must display your disappointment, so Oikawa sets his plate down and comes to sit by you.

“Look, just take it day by day. Nothing really has to change, you just have a different outlook on your relationship with Osamu.” He grabs your hand and holds it in both of his. “Instead of looking through a plain window, you’re looking through a stained glass window, right? It’s still Osamu out there, and he’s still the same person you like and want to be with. But now your relationship with him is richer and more vibrant. Even if you can’t act on your feelings now, you still have this new and beautiful view.”

You stare at Oikawa, dumbfounded. Mattsun and Makki look equally surprised at the deep and meaningful comparison Oikawa pulled out of nowhere.

“Wow,” Makki eventually says. “I didn’t know you could be so romantic, Oikawa.”

“Excuse you, I’m very romantic!” Oikawa snaps back indignantly. “Anyway, Y/N-chan, I guarantee that Osamu will be willing to wait. He’ll be patient, especially with you.”

“What would you know about patience?” Makki asks, genuine confusion in his voice.

Oikawa snaps again wordlessly, his tone shrill. You and Mattsun laugh, and the rest of the day is filled with everyone laughing and teasing each other.

At some point you take a second to look at your friends and smile. Your lives are unimaginably hard, and Hajime missing from these get-togethers still makes your heart ache. But with Oikawa, Mattsun and Makki here to soothe the pain, you know you can get through the worst of it.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

A/N: Okay, so all the cards on the table - I cried during the entire writing process with this chapter - planning it, drafting it, writing it, finalizing it AND even reviewing it. It’s not the first time I’ve had emotional reactions to my own writing, but it’s the first time it’s been such a visceral reaction. Not only is it so satisfying to see that small character growth from Oikawa, but the character growth from Y/N was oh so satisfying. She is FINALLY opening up to her friends, and they are FINALLY having a conversation that has been MONTHS in the making. She isn’t scared to suppress her feelings anymore, and she FINALLY trusts herself to open up to her friends, despite her subconscious trying to protect her from being vulnerable in front of those she cares about. If you’re reading this now, please know that there is NOTHING wrong with being open and forthcoming about your feelings. The people in your life who love you unconditionally, including me, will THANK you for it. 💖💖💖 Okay, gonna go cry again after writing this A/N LOLOLOL.

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janeykath318 · 3 years ago

Text

Assassins give The Best Shovel Talks

“Alright guys, listen up!” Darcy stalked back and forth in front of the row of attentive superheroes. Much as she loved them, she had to set some boundaries before they ruined another budding relationship. Having five wanna be older brothers was more trouble than it was worth sometimes.

“We’re listening,” Steve said quietly.

Bucky, Sam, Clint and Thor all stood in line beside him looking as intimidating as possible. Johnny stood beside Darcy not giving an inch, which she kind of loved. He was strong enough to stand up to them and that boded well for the future.

“I am going out with Johnny Storm,” she continued firmly. “He’s been a perfect gentleman and you are not allowed to hurt or threaten him. You can have ONE shovel talk period, and that’s it. Flip for it. If I find out you’re harassing or stalking him, you lose all brother privileges for a year, including pie days.”

Clint, Steve and Thor looked horrified at this idea while Sam pouted and Bucky shrugged.

“Oh, and Bucky? I will tell Shuri AND Sarah on you,” she added, seeing he hadn’t taken her seriously yet. “So behave.”

She poked him in the arm for emphasis and Bucky sighed.

“Fine, fine,” he sighed, giving Johnny the side eye. Bucky was known for his dislike of Johnny, and so far he’d been the most vocal in expressing his displeasure that Darcy was involved with The Human Torch.

“Are we clear?” She added loudly. “You know I have my taser and the skills taught by Natasha, may she Rest In Peace. Just chill out, and don’t worry about me. Okay?”

There were several nods and a chorus of “okays”.

Steve smiled at her and gave her an encouraging shoulder squeeze.

“Have fun, Darce. We’ll be around if you need us.”

“Thanks, Steve,” Darcy said, softening instantly. She was one of a handful of people who knew just how heartbroken he’d been after Natasha’s death and she could never be too hard on him.

“Alright, we’re off!” She called,taking Johnny’s arm and steering him to the door. “See ya, boys!”

“Farewell, Lightning sister and fire brother!!” Thor boomed.

“Whew,” Johnny exclaimed as soon as they were safely out the door. “Thought I was gonna have to run the gauntlet. You sure handled that like a pro.”

“Thanks. Comes from years of practice. And you’re the first date I’ve had that hasn’t acted all scared or obnoxiously cocky around them.”

“Hey, I waited six months for this. I’m not gonna let them scare me away now,” Johnny assured her. “You look amazing, by the way.”

Darcy preened. She’d splurged for a cute new dress and heels for the occasion and his appreciative look felt good.

“Thanks. Please tell me we have actual transportation. Your bike is sweet and all, but I’m really not dressed for it.”

Johnny laughed.

“Yes, I brought a car. Figured I’d save the bike for possible future dates.”

He looked at her hopefully and Darcy smiled coyly.

“Then let’s hope it’s a good one.”

Meanwhile, Bucky was glowering on the couch, pretending to be watching TV, but really unable to stop thinking about Darcy being with Storm.

The guy was a total tool and known for being a player. Sure, he might have matured, but leopards didn’t change their spots in Bucky’s opinion.

“C’mon, Buck. You know Darcy will be fine,” Steve tried to soothe him. He was playing pool with Sam and looking more relaxed than Bucky had seen in a long time. He was even starting to smile again, something he hadn’t done since Natasha had died. Bucky suspected Sam was a very big reason for Steve’s good spirits, but he respectfully held his tongue, not wanting to mess things up for his two closest friends.

“What about Johnny Storm makes you think that?” Bucky questioned grumpily.

“We’ve talked,” Steve informed him. “He’s really in love with her. Being dead for five years and coming back seems to have sobered him up a bit. Oh, he’s still a little shit, but it’s nothing that Darcy can’t handle. They’re a good match.”

Sam chuckled as he sank a shot.

“I agree with Steve. Storm’s not a bad dude, and Darcy can handle what he dishes out. Are You volunteering to give the shovel talk, Barnes? If not, I will. I’ve got plenty of recent experience with those, after all.”

Sam leveled a pointed look at Bucky, who shrugged sheepishly.

Sam hadn’t been too keen on Bucky dating his sister, but he’d finally accepted it, though not without the absolute mother of all shovel talks, which left the former winter soldier quaking a bit.

(Bucky planned to reciprocate if and when Sam decided to make a move on Steve.)

“Maybe Clint and I can team up,” Bucky suggested. “Having TWO deadly assassins deliver it would get the point across pretty well.”

Clint never took his eyes off the screen, but an evil grin spread over his face.

“I like the way you think, Barnes,” he approved. “I’m down for that. What are we gonna say?”

Steve just shook his head as the two men fell to plotting. They were an absolute menace to society when they joined forces and Steve felt a little bad for Johnny already.,

Darcy and Johnny capped off their date with a stroll through a local science museum. It was not at all what she would have expected, but she loved it, because she got to see just how much of a Science nerd Johnny actually was.

“So there is more rolling around in your brain than fast cars and hot chicks,” she said playfully. “How refreshing.”

Johnny turned a bit pink.

“Yeah.” he sighed. “I sure wish I hadn’t wasted so much time giving the exact opposite impression. I dated all these people that were all kinds of wrong for me on purpose, knowing it wouldn’t last because I was so afraid of an actual…….”

“Relationship?’ She finished knowingly.

Johnny sighed and nodded.

“Growing up isn’t all bad,” She joked. “It’s a good look on you.”

“Sue said the same thing,” Johnny admitted with a wry grin. “She’s gonna like you a lot.”

“I think I’ll like her, too,” Darcy said, eyes twinkling. The fact he wanted her to meet his sister was a pretty good sign, she thought. She was having such a good time, she had forgotten about her overly protective Avenging friends until Johnny was dropping her off at her door and Clint and Bucky suddenly appeared out of the shadows, standing like two menacing statues on either side of the door frame.

Darcy sighed and rolled her eyes again.

“I told you, ONE shovel talk! And nothing untoward happened, so you can put your weapons away, boys.”

They didn’t move.

“We’re tag teaming on this one,” Clint said, a much too gleeful expression on his face.

Bucky was casually flipping a knife and looking quite stern.

“Oh, for pity’s sakes,” she fumed. “I’m so sorry, Johnny. Next time, I’m not telling any of them a thing. I was so looking forward to a goodnight kiss, too.”

“There’s gonna be a next time?” Johnny said, perking up as much as he dared under the circumstances.

Darcy smiled at him.

“Yes.”

“Well, that’ll give us more to look forward to, Doc.” He said with a cheesy cute smile.

Sensing that Clint and Bucky were waiting for her to leave, she leaned up to give Johnny a quick hug.

“Night, Flame Boy!”

“Night, Doc!” Johnny replied, winking at her.

Darcy forced herself to walk inside and shut the door, but she stayed with her ear pressed against it, ready to leap to his defense in case Clint or Bucky got out of control. Clint started the speech.

“Ok, look here, Storm. Darcy is an incredible, amazing, wonderful person and like a sister to us. What are your intentions here? Because if you’re just looking for a quick lay, don’t even bother coming back. And if you lead her on to think you want more than you actually do, well, let’s just say they will never find your body, will they, Barnes?

She heard Bucky catch the knife again and hum his agreement.

“I know about seventy different ways to kill you and make it look like an accident,” Bucky added casually. “But I really don’t care to do that anymore, so please treat her well, would ya? Darcy deserves the world and we want her to be happy. I admit, I’m not too pleased about her seeing you at all, but if you make her happy, I can deal with it.”

There was a long pause and Darcy held her breath in suspense waiting for Johnny’s reaction.

“I’ve been in love with Darcy for a long time,” he said, which made her heart skip a beat. Love? Really?

“I’ve spent the last few months working on building up a friendship and trust before I asked her out,” Johnny continued. “I’m done wasting time. Being dead does a lot to change one’s perspective on things.”

She thought she heard a small puff of flame ignite, as tended to happen when Johnny was feeling especially emotional about something.

Darcy heard a snort of amusement from Bucky.

“You’re not wrong, kid.” He sighed. “You’re lucky you’ve got Steve on your side. I’ve learned to trust his judgment on character, even though it annoys me. Just don’t screw this up. None of us can stand to see her get her heart broken.”

“I understand. I don’t want to be the cause of breaking it, either.” Johnny said seriously. “I really do love her.”

Darcy didn’t hear the rest of the conversation, as she was clutching her burning face, freaking out over Johnny saying he loved her. It completely flustered her. She knew he liked her, but apparently it went a lot deeper than she thought. Oh, wow. Well, this was very interesting. She’d have to pretend she hadn’t heard anything. Johnny was clearly trying to take it slowly, which she appreciated. But wow, now she understood how serious he was and it put a whole new perspective on things.

Eavesdroppers never prosper, Darcy. She reminded herself. Her pounding heart begged to differ.

After Johnny had pulled away with a good-natured wave, Clint and Bucky stared after him, with a lot less hostility than they had previously.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Bucky sighed. “Steve was right. Now I’ll have to be nice to him.”

Clint chuckled and put his bow away. “Not too nice. Keep him on his toes.”

#tasertorch #darcy lewis #johnny storm #clint barton #bucky barnes

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seijorhi · 4 years ago

Note

Ok so YouTube keeps recommending anime clips from that one rent a girlfriend anime and now all I can think of is reader renting a boyfriend just to have yandiere bokuto or maybe hajime become infatuated with her and immediately touching her way more than what the contract has written on it 💦

I am on a Fukurodani kick this week, so let’s go with our darling boy Bokuto 😌

Once again Rhi learns that she is actually incapable of creating a ‘short drabble’

TW implied non-con

It’s embarrassing. You can’t even get a date to your ex boyfriend’s wedding. The fact that you’re even going to your ex’s wedding is bad enough as it is- you’d tried to wriggle out of it, but considering the girl he’s marrying is your cousin, your attendance is apparently ‘not optional’ according to your family.

But you’ll be damned if you show up to watch them tie the knot alone. Finding a date however, is more difficult than you think. Your male friends are either busy, taken, already going with somebody else or close enough with your ex that he’d know you were just bringing them along for show. Basically, you’re screwed. It’s not even that you want to prove that you can one-up him - it’s the pity he’ll give you. He thinks he ruined your life when he left (he didn’t) and that you’re still desperately pining for him (you’d rather throw yourself off a cliff than get back together with him).

It starts as a joke with a friend, you’re both a few wines deep, bemoaning your struggles when she suggests those Craigslist’s ads. “You know, the whole rent a boyfriend for a night thing, and then when you meet he’s actually kinda cute, and then you kiss him as part of the act but you both secretly want more and then you guys end up sleeping together and then-”

Ok, she’s clearly had one or two more than you, because that is definitely not how those stories go, but it does get you thinking. You’re not going to use Craigslist - you value your life and safety thank you very much - but there are sites out there that offer those... services.

Which is what leads you to Bokuto. The website seems reputable enough - at least for a boyfriend for hire kind of a deal, and the reviews don’t look too frightening. Actually, they’re glowing, and maybe that’s what gives you the final push to arrange a ‘consultation’ with the man.

“It’s an overnight thing,” you tell him over the FaceTime call, only for your eyes to widen and your cheeks burn as you realise what it sounds like you’re implying. “Not that I’m asking you for sex! I’m not, I know that’s against the rules, it’s just that-”

He cuts you off with a warm laugh, “Don’t worry about it. Overnight is fine, though we do charge extra for that.” You’d expected as much - at this point you value your pride more than you care about the small fortune you’re going to end up forking out for this whole thing. “Just tell me exactly what you’re wanting out of this, what you are and aren’t comfortable with, and then I guess we can start talking about how we met, come up with some meet cute story that’ll make everyone else super jealous.” He winks and your heart skips a beat.

The call that’s supposed to last twenty minutes goes on for almost an hour, but you feel strangely relieved when it’s done. Well, relieved and maybe even a little excited? Bokuto’s attractive and funny and he didn’t seem like a creep. It’s a ridiculously stupid idea, and you should probably be horrified that you’re even considering it, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

He arrives at your place on time, which you count as a win, looking particularly fine in a nice suit with a tie that compliments the colour of your dress (as you’d discussed). He’s somehow managed to reduce you to a blushing and stammering mess as you sign the paperwork - and he hasn’t even done anything yet.

“Relax, baby,” he says, grabbing your hand and bringing it up to his lips for a kiss. “I’m gonna take good care of you tonight, just follow my lead.” His smile is beaming, but there’s a flicker of unease at the affectionate gesture. You’d agreed that posing as a ‘couple’ meant you’d have a show a little bit of PDA, but you’d thought he’d at least wait until you were actually at the wedding to start...

But he’s probably just trying to ease you into it. It has to look natural between the two of you, right?

To say that your family are impressed in an understatement. He’s tall, fit and handsome, and there’s this kind of bright, shining exuberance that just seems to draw people in. He’s like a puppy, almost - a super friendly golden retriever desperate for cuddles, and it’s sweet. Dutifully he sticks by your side the entire time. A little too close, maybe - following you every time you go to get a top up of your drink or a bite more food, reaching out to take your hand in his, but you suppose he’s just playing his part.

And he’s more than aware of your ex, who seems mighty interested in your new boyfriend, particularly for a man on his wedding day. You’ve just finished the entree course when all of a sudden Bokuto grabs your chin and tilts you back into a kiss, his tongue sliding between your lips to deepen it as you gasp in surprise. It only last for a moment, but when he pulls away there’s a distinctly satisfied look on his face. Your stomach twists into a knot, your cheeks warming under his heated gaze. You know that you said kissing was okay, inevitable at some point, but... it just took you a bit by surprise.

“What was that for?” you ask him quietly, trying not to frown as he toys idly with your fingers.

“Hm? Oh, your ex has been staring at us for the past five minutes. Figured I’d give him something to look at.”

It wasn’t a bad kiss by any stretch of imagination, but you can’t deny that it made you a little uncomfortable.

You know he’s only doing what you both agreed on, so you push down on those feeling and offer him a small smile and a nod, “Just, maybe warn me next time?”

He leans over and pecks your cheek, “Of course, baby.”

You choose to let the endearment slide.

It only gets worse as the night wears on. Bokuto’s reluctant to let you slip too far away. When your friends swarm to try and get you to come dance with them, Bokuto follows. He pouts when you ignore him in favour of dancing with the girls, and the very moment they turn their attention, he’s resting his chin on your shoulder, arms looping around your waist.

“Dance with me,” he whines, and you fight back a sigh.

He holds you close as you sway with the music, his broad hands resting just south of what’s considered appropriate, but you have to keep reminding yourself that he’s playing the role of your boyfriend, and if he really was your boyfriend, you wouldn’t be making such a fuss.

But when those hands start to wander, fingers grazing your sides, a hand dipping to rest on the curve of your ass, you have to put a stop to it. You don’t want to cause a scene, not when you can feel the eyes of the groom burning a hole in your back, but this doesn’t feel right anymore. He’s not exactly breaking any of the rules you set out, but there’s clearly been some miscommunication, because this is pushing right past your boundaries. “I just need some air,” you tell him with a tight smile, prying his arms off of you so you can make a hasty escape.

It’s both a blessing and a curse that you’ve booked a room in the hotel. You’re not relying on him to get you home, but there is absolutely no way in hell that you’re feeling comfortable enough to spend the night with him in the rooms you’ve booked - adjoining or not. It’s not his fault, you rationalise as you wait for the elevator, key in hand. Maybe this is how all of his engagements go - but fake boyfriend or not, he’s still a stranger, and this whole night has been too much.

You figure that you’ll slip away now, call an Uber back into town. There has to be a bus or something you can catch the rest of the way back home, even at this time of the night. You’ll text him once you’re on your way, letting him know that he’s welcome to the room (both of them, if he wants - they’re already paid for) and that he can expect the rest of his payment tomorrow as agreed. This was a bad idea, but you’re not going to be a bitch about it. You just want it over and done with.

You’re halfway through changing out of your dress when there’s an insistent knocking at your door. It must be your mother, you figure, or maybe one of your friends who saw you all but flee the dance floor downstairs, so you hastily re-do the zipper and try and right yourself before answering the door.

A pair of hooded, golden eyes greet you. Bokuto is grinning lazily, leaning up against the doorway with an arm braced against the frame, boxing you in. You hadn’t realised earlier just how big he really was - not just tall, but muscular - he dwarfs you without even trying.

He barges into the room before you can even try to protest, kicking the door firmly shut behind him.

“If you wanted to ditch so bad, baby, all ya had to do was say so.”

#BD drabbles #ask #yandere haikyuu #anon #not a request #tw implied noncon #not proofread we die like men

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binniesthighs · 4 years ago

Note

shy and inexperienced reader first time with jisung🥺 fluffy smut with han bc he's just so cute and i think he would be so gentle and loving ahh maybe im crying -🐱 (umm i was the one who requested that neighbours to lovers w lee know n i decided to be 🐱 anon from now on also im looking forward to it i cant wait!!! ik ur gnna write the cutest thing ever ur great i love youuu)

hello this is the cutest thing ever??? and hello 🐱anon omg!! welcome welcome eehee ♡ ah! also! I’m so hyped to get Two Tails going!! I hope that ya enjoyed the first part :)

lets be honest, han jisung would be ready to go not even two weeks into the realtionship

please don’t fault him for it tho!! he just really really wants sexy cuddles and kisses all over his body, he literally daydreams about it all the time and can’t wait!

also he’s got you!! literally every little quirk about you turns him on, he’s sooo weak for you

he’d never never bring it up though until you’re ready

and you’ve been thinking about it

come on we’re talking about the one and only han jisung here!! his charisma is through the roof!! he’d wink at you and your head would be spinning over how badly you’d love to have him do whatever he wants!!

there’s something about the way that he gives you shoulder massages or plays with your hair that just gets you aching to take it further with him

but, you haven’t done anything before 🥺outside of, of course, a couple make out sessions and that one day’s dry jumping that got you way more excited than you expected

so, jisung is sleeping over at your place (as he often will—“your bed is just so much comfier than mine!!”)

he’ll roll over to swoop ya up and hold you all close to him, nuzzling is head into your shoulder.

theres nothing cozier than your ball of sungie hehe—sidenote

you being the little spoon, you’re often VERY aware of how both of your hips kinda interlock

you barely know how to initiate, so you start grinding into his lap, making extra effort to let your ass brush up against those soft cotton boxers of his

he’d giggle “what are you doing?”

“i just like how it feels” you mutter quietly

“what’s that babe? can you say that again?”

this time you grind down harder, and he feels it

jisung groans out a bit, then pulls you into him, no space between your bodies while you continue. he’s gulping down every little bit sensation he can feel

knowing how he’d never want push your boundaries, he’d even be okay letting you grind an orgasm out of him just like this

but that’s not what you want

jisung would kiss careful lips into your neck where your shirt collar dips a little, letting you hear his needy little gasps in your ear

he’d whisper, “can I please touch you?”

you immediately nod, getting that feeling once again: you want to be completely at his mercy.

you're too embarrassed to ask for anything in specific, but would much rather him do anything he’s been imagining

immediately his hands are all over you skin, touching you in places you’ve never been touched before, you didn’t even know you could feel this way

jisung’s hands fall up and down your body: all over and around your legs, digging into the skin of your thighs and waist, up on your chest too, spreading his fingers out so he doesn’t miss an inch.

he’s got calluses on his finger tips from playing guitar that day, but feeling the rough skin on yours makes you tremble

he nibbles at your ear too while his hands reach your hardened nipples which hurt a little under the fabric of your shirt. he pinches and pulls at them, creating a whole new sensation

the sounds you’re making are so foreign, you had no idea you could do such a thing but you can’t stop at all

“are you ready tonight? is this what you want?”

your voice cracks giving him your affirmation

“baby you’re so perfect. i’ve waited so long for you, I only want to make you feel good. just relax okay?”

Jisung’s hand returns to your waistband where he reaches in from behind you to ghost over your wetted underwear.

“oh my god,” he nearly growls into you ear

by now he’s nearly panting into you while he explores your arousal, reaching under your underwear at last

for good measure, you grind down as hard as you can into his lap while he traces your throbbing sex first, then begins to rub at you as slowly and carefully as he can

pressed against your ass, his twitching hard-on swells by the second

with his free hand, he continues exploring your body, steadily maintaining his pace below your waist

“do you like this? shit, you’re unreal.”

your face is furiously warm, and you even feel like hiding your face even though he can’t really see it from behind you

“mm-so…good.” you whimper, then find yourself now grinding into both his hand and his lap

“are you ready for more?”

his vibrato lowers while he brings his lips back to your neck, this time pulling at the skin and marking you as his

“m-more.” you barley manage to squeak

jisung pulls your sleepshorts and underwear off, then does the same to himself

suddenly under the sheets it feels a lot warmer

from behind you, jisung grabs at his hardened dick to tease your enterance with his tip—something that drives you mad with desire for him to just fucking start already—but you’d never find the words to say so

jisung lets shakey breaths of his fall all over your shoulder as he guides himself in, and sinks down just slightly to get the best angle he can

he pushes himself into you fully, stretching out your neglected hole until it hurts just a little

jisung grunts out a string of explicit words while clawing into your frame and gifting kisses to your back

you moan out a little in response while you get used to the feeling of him being inside you. he smooths down your whole shaking body while he lets himself bottom out within you

“you feel so amazing baby, you’re doing so good, so good. are you okay?”

you nod, but that’s not the answer jisung was looking for

“I’ll only accept a yes, okay?”

your fingers dig deep into your pillowcase. “Yes, yeah I’m okay, can you…keep going?”

“of course my love. tonight I’ll take it slow. I can’t promise the same for other nights though.” He laughs a little to himself

Jisung’s makes his first thrust and your body feels explosive. his length and girth are perfect for you, and this deep inside he gives you another round of pleasure that feels dream-like

he sets a pace, slow are careful while holding your back firmly against his chest.

“oh god” he exclaims once, then repeats the phrase more once he starts to reach deep inside

jisung holds onto you as if his life depends on it and he fucks you deeper, relishing each and every pretty little moan that escapes your lips

“can you do it louder for me baby? say my name when you cum for me hmm?”

you’re even more flustered from his request, but gather up all your will to not let him down.

his breath quickens and he starts to go a little faster, building up an orgasm within you with astonishing speed

“god, I love you.”

his hips snap while his pace becomes frantic, just as you’re both about to cum, he reaches down once more to rub into you needily and lovingly

“-gonna cum—cum with me?”

he pleads into your skin, then with a couple more whips, his cum is seeping inside your hole with an unexpected warmth. you’re already addicted to the way his dick throbs inside you as you’re both in aftershocks

you remain this way for a while, simply soaking up every bit of intimacy you can feeling connected in this new way

“did that all feel good for you?” he sweeps some strands of your hair from your eyes, pulling you back slightly to press kisses now on your lips

“I really liked it” you timidly let up, coupled with a giddy little smile

he gives you another one of those winks that makes your heart race

“I can’t wait to do more with you angel, this is only just the beginning.”

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids oneshots #stray kids drabbles #stray kids imagine #han jisung smut #jisung smut #jisung x reader #jisung x you #jisung x y/n #kpop smut #kpop imagines #kpop oneshots #kpop drabbles #kpop fanfic #stray kids fanfic

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wolf-and-bard · 4 years ago

Text

So, I wrote a Lambert x Aiden thing because of a conversation I had with @littoraly-art, so here we go. It’s hurt/comfort, but very much on the angsty side.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: explicit language, (brief) mentions of self-harming behaviour

You can also read it on AO3 if you want to

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The hunt didn’t go according to plan. Lambert underestimated the amount of ghouls that would crawl out of that shithole and fought them well into the night, dodging and striking, dodging and striking for hours on end. They chased him through the forest and branches whipped at him. More than once, did he narrowly escape their bites and when they were dealt with and he stumbled back to light a bomb in the nest, he wasn’t fast enough on the retreat. His ears still ring and white spots dance at the margins of his vision. Lambert only notices that he’s overdosed on Thunderbolt when he’s already back at the inn he booked for the night, two ales down, and his muscles are still taut, ready to strike, while his sense of self-preservation has plummeted. Fuck. His fingers shake as he gestures for another drink. Sweat gathers at his collar, at the small of his back. He wants to sleep and rest, but he won’t be able to, not with the residue adrenaline.

“Lambert?” someone says and Lambert hunches his shoulders. Maybe if he hides his face, he won’t be recognized. But Aiden’s already emerged from the crowd and, anyway, he would have smelled Lambert the moment he set foot into the building.

“It is you!” Aiden saunters over, all neat bun and scandalously tight gear, his brown hair looking almost black in the downcast light of the inn. His smile is brilliant as he takes the chair opposite Lambert. Takes Lambert’s hands and inspects them for wounds before bringing them to his lips. “Hey, there, pup,” he murmurs against Lambert’s knuckles. Lambert’s heart does skip a beat, but with that comes a flare of anger. Aiden doesn’t get to be lovey and cheerful when Lambert wants to crawl out of his own skin. He hums something indiscernible.

“What is it? Talk to me.”

“Nothing.”

“Oh, really? Alright, if that’s how you want to play it,” Aiden says mockingly, letting Lambert’s hands go. “What? Oh, yes, it is good to see me, isn’t it? How I am? I’m so glad you asked. I managed to haggle a big fat fee on a rock troll couple that were mating up in the mountains and causing avalanches and now I’m drowning in coin. Pretty crazy, right? If I made it okay? Aww, sweetie, there’s no need to worry. Haven’t got a scratch on me. You wanna hear more about it? No, of course it isn’t too much to ask, I will happily oblige.”

"Just... leave me alone," Lambert cuts in, and lifts his tankard to veil his face. He's good at hiding his emotion, but in the face of whatever this is and with the day he's had... well, his boundaries are more than probed.

“What? So, you can give yourself a sorry hand-job and cry yourself to sleep? No, sir, that would be incredibly pathetic and a crime against humanity.” Aiden smiles and before Lambert can keep drinking, he’s snatched the tankard away and emptied it himself. Great. Now there isn’t even that to hide behind. Lambert likes Aiden, he really does. On most occasions, he’s so overjoyed to see him that he doesn’t recognize himself. Aiden makes him feel… too many things to think about right now. Today though, Lambert’d rather be alone.

“None of your business.”

"Fine, have it your way" Aiden says with a good-natured shrug and, humming, stands. He makes a beeline for the nearest table full of average-to-handsome soldiers with the Temerian blazon on their chests, and slams a hand down on the table. His hips are cocked out, his smile sly, exposing overly sharp canines. They all look up at him with varying degrees of surprise, realisation. “Any of you boys down to fuck a mutant?” Lambert's blood runs cold, he’s had enough of this. He hurls his empty tankard across the room, angling just so he doesn't hit anyone - though no guarantee on the rebound – and leaves.

His armour, clothes and swords are scattered across the small room he rented by the time he makes it into bed, wearing only thin cotton smallclothes. He sits not two minutes, contemplating whether to go asleep or order himself more alcohol to dull the edge of his frustration even further, when Aiden comes into the room, no knock, no courtesy.

“Aren’t you off sucking flaccid cock? Or are you already done the whole lot of them?” Lambert spits, and crosses his arms over his bare chest. Aiden’s eyes darken and he shuts the door behind himself, forceful enough that it rattles, then slips out of his own armour and boots without much ceremony. “Go get your own room, asshole.”

“You know what? Go fuck yourself,” Aiden replies in a measured manner. All his earlier aloofness is gone, replaced by a gravity Lambert has a hard time looking at. Aiden sorts both their stuff into neat piles, then takes Lambert’s swords to the corner chair. Lambert stares at his own knees, but he can hear every tiny movement of Aiden’s hands as he cleans Lambert’s swords, inspects them for chips, pulls out a whetstone to restore their edge. The amount of care this alone conveys almost brings tears to Lambert’s eyes. Aiden could be deep-throating handsome soldiers right now, but instead he’s here, doing for Lambert what he doesn’t have the energy left to do for himself.

When he’s done the swords, Aiden does the same to his own pair, then examines the two sets of armour plating for tears or gashes that need mending. He lines up both chests of potions and counts out what’s missing, takes notes for ingredients. It’s a normal routine, only that usually, each witcher does it for himself. Lambert feels a mixture of embarrassment and affection heat his cheeks, but he doesn’t look up, not yet. Only when Aiden finishes with a soft exhale and wanders over to the bed which dips under his weight, does Lambert uncross his arms. Dares to take a peek. Fuck. He shouldn’t have. Aiden’s pupils are wide in the starlight that falls through the single window, the moon painting him in blues and silvers. Some of his hair has escaped his bun and his lips part on a sigh that expose his teeth. He’s a fucking vision, too gorgeous to be sitting here.

For once, there is quiet, so rare with the two of them. If Lambert lets go of consciousness a little more, it almost feels like a dream. If it were, he would reach out, draw Aiden onto his lap, lose himself in the familiar glide of their bodies against one another. As it is, the silence hangs by a thread and Lambert cuts it, edges fraying into dust between them.

“What,” he barks and Aiden sighs again.

“The only cock I want to suck is yours, idiot. Flaccid or not.

“Is that so?”

“Yes? I thought I had made that abundantly clear.” Aiden has. There have probably been more blowjobs than nights they shared a bed, altogether. And maybe that’s the problem. Aiden might not seem it now, but one day Lambert’s cock will not be enough to make up for his mouth.

"Why were you so obnoxious then?" he asks.

"Because you need to learn not to push me away, Lamb. I'm here, I understand, I'm yours." Three quick sentences that puncture Lambert like barbed arrows. I'm here feels like sparks of an off-kilter Igni that eat at his fingertips. I understand goes right to his gut and makes him feel like he is out on the rocky sea, in a rickety boat all by himself, at the storm's mercy. I'm yours is the lightning that strikes then and short-circuits his nervous system into small spams. He takes a deep breath and the soft kiss Aiden places on the corner of his mouth when he leans over helps quell the panic. "I can't change how I am," he says. Prickly, loud-mouthed, mean.

"You really aren't... no, that's not gonna work, is it? C’mere." Aiden crawls over the bed and settles next to Lambert, draws him against him, his strong arms wrapped firmly around Lambert's bare chest. Lambert's head is throbbing lightly, heartrate kept accelerated from the alcohol, but he deflates a little. Notices the small vial with almost clear liquid Aiden is holding between his index and middle finger. “You didn’t drink it, did you?”

Lambert shrugs. So, maybe he forgot to take the White Honey, fucked-up as he was. So, maybe he didn’t want to take it, stay fucked-up a little longer. He has days like this, where the lingering toxicity of the potions stokes some dark flame deep inside of him, kindled by his hatred for what he is, what he has become. Lambert isn’t prone to self-harm, but this, well. This he is prone to and Aiden is seeing right through him. Fucking cat, fucking.... is this love yet?

“I didn’t.”

“So, do it now.” Aiden uncorks the bottle with one hand and his grip on Lambert tightens so that he would have to struggle to escape it. For a moment, Lambert thinks about refusing. He wants to wallow, dammit, he wants to pity himself and maybe have Aiden pity him too. “Don’t think about it, pup. You can bullshit your way around other people, but not around me,” Aiden continues and holds the vial to Lambert’s lips. Lambert snatches it away and empties it in two long drags. Immediately, his vision sharpens and his lungs clear. His muscles stop trembling and his heartrate settles into its normal, mutated rhythm. “Better?”

“Better,” Lambert agrees sulkily. He tosses the vial aside and sinks back against Aiden.

“You’re really stupid sometimes, you know that?” Aiden says with a sharp edge to his voice, but he noses at Lambert’s ear, under it, breath hot over the skin of Lambert’s throat.

“You’re the one that’s stupid…” Stupid for caring for me. Stupid for still being here.

“Will you stop it already? I’m trying so hard to be patient and you keep pushing me away. Did you forget who I am? What we share?”

“I didn’t,” Lambert says. He is weak and tired. He lets Aiden tug at his chin and half-turn him for a kiss that lingers even after their lips part for breath.

“Then drop the farce. Fuck, I don’t know what to say to you,” Aiden whispers against his mouth, chasing each word with a kiss to Lambert’s lips, the corners of his mouth, his nose. “I love you, Lambert, I love you so fucking much, but I can’t keep prying you out of your shell. Don’t you trust me?”

I want to love you too, Lambert thinks.

With my life, Lambert thinks.

You’re the best person I’ve ever met, Lambert thinks.

But he isn’t ready for that yet and so he settles for the next best thing: “I’m sorry.” The rest of it he pours into their next kiss, one that feels frozen in time for how slow and indulgent it is, the world reduced to the drag of their lips and the scratch of Aiden’s canines, the stuttering of his breath. Lambert wriggles around until he straddles Aiden’s lap with his thighs and frames Aiden’s tanned face with his scarred, pale fingers. Even paler next to his lover. Aiden fucking glows and Lambert is less a man, more a phantom next to him.

“Fuck, puppy, you’re so beautiful, do you know that?” Aiden gasps when they part once more. His hands are splayed over Lambert’s upper back and they are both half-hard against one another, but Lambert doesn’t feel like sex. He feels like curling up and having a good cry. He feels like kissing Aiden again, and so he does.

“And here I am, trying so hard to hide it so you peasants don’t feel bad about yourselves,” Lambert says, on instinct more than anything else. He wants to slap himself, this is exactly what Aiden meant, isn’t it? But Aiden laughs, the fucker, a clear sound that sets loose something fluttery inside of Lambert. Shit. It is love. “I thought the scar would have done the job.”

“Joke’s on you, I adore the scar.” Aiden presses his lips to the bottom of it and drags them along, skipping Lambert’s eye in favour of nuzzling his forehead. It’s ridiculous. It tickles. Lambert laughs and hides his face in Aiden’s neck. Aiden sighs and his hands wander up to Lambert’s head, cradling it. “Promise me something, pup?”

Anything, Lambert thinks. He grunts.

“Allow yourself this. I don’t need you to fall onto your knees and profess your love in some grand gesture, but… don’t shut me out. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Thank you.”

Lambert falls asleep like that, tucked against Aiden’s chest and he wakes in the morning facing the sunrise with an arm slung around his bare torso and Aiden’s nose pressed against the nape of his neck. He allows it to last.

#the witcher #witcher #tw3 #lambden #laiden #lambert x aiden #lambert #aiden #hurt #comfort #angst #the line about flaccid cock is inspired by a line in the game #bonus points if you know which one #cw swear words #cw self deprecation #cw self harm #my writing #fic

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ricadiosa · 3 years ago

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my man is so fine. inside and out. like, damn. a blessing for real.

first off, it’s the way he truly worked to win my heart for me. remaining lovingly and patiently persistent. still holding to his healthy standards and boundaries, while consistently showing me that he was more than willing. as he learned about my love history, he knew it would take some extra time. the grace that poured out of him as he gave me room to open up and accept him was just what i needed. he’s tall, pretty as hell in the face, with a body that seems sculpted by michelangelo himself. sheesh! and his emotional availability and intelligence?! my god, this man just knowsss. we relate to each other in ways that were once unfathomable to me. he’s such a protective provider and gentleman. whenever i’m near him i know that i’m safe, lacking nothing, and truly loved. he never fails to remind me of how beautiful i am in his eyes, inside and out. my femininity blossoms effortlessly within our relationship, and reaches into other areas of my life. even my art is glowing lol. i’m so excited that i get to show up for him daily, as he shows up for me. i get to be soft, a safe space, sounding board, and much more for him as we journey through this life together. and why is that? because he created the space for me to be confident enough to show up fully for him. my dreams are never stagnant or out of reach. he makes it his mission to help me bring them into fruition. he has his mission and purpose, and makes sure that my mission and purpose are grafted into his and honored highly. he believes firmly in his woman having the best, and that includes leadership. the way he leads me on our journey is simply divine. he understands the importance of his woman having a firm foundation. he allows me to reach his heart and support him in ways no one ever has before. we have healthy boundaries and allow each other the space to grow individually. praying over each other is never a question. we go to god always. we set the standard for one another, and are truly each other’s best friend. the epitome of soulmates. i see myself in him, and he sees himself in me. what’s more? our families and friends love our bond, and each other! yep, this is gonna last a lifetime. only abundance on all fronts for us until the end of time. i thank god everyday for bringing me into alignment with one of his best and favorites.🤍

***this is a manifestation. and it is coming to pass. gonna revisit this with the ultimate praise report. very soon.🥂

#my musings #my heart #journal #manifestation #love letters #love #relationships #when this comes to pass it’s gonna be such a beautiful testimony #winter 2021

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hit-me-with-a-ladle · 3 years ago

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Ch. 8 Creepypastas x Fem! reader

Sorry I've been gone for so long. My grandfather died a month ago and I wasn't in the right mindset to write. But I'm back and ill do my best. Thank you all for your patients. Anyway, enjoy<3

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As the week progressed, the girl found that it was the slightest bit easier to read through Masky's facade. Though that did not mean that she could thoroughly read him quite yet, she made it a challenge that eventually she would. Masky himself became lenient at first as to mind her injuries. But the moment she started to heal, it was all back to the ruthless nature of his work. Finally, when the week ended, she got informed that someone else was going to teach her. That person turned out to be Ben, the blond-headed boy that seemed too eager to meet her.

An early sensation lurked in the air the moment she woke up, groggily walking to the bathroom and taking a well-deserved shower. The feeling of all of the previous days' dirt and grime washing off her punctured flesh was refreshing. Her mind was finally clear, able to freely think and dwell on her current predicament without any outside interference. The hot water trickled down her naked body, soothing her as she thought of any way she could escape. But no matter how hard she thought, deep down she knew that the only way she could truly leave was to stay a little longer to devise a plausible plan.

Sadness overtook her body, hot tears streaming down her already wet face intertwining with the water droplets from the showerhead. She'd been able to withhold her tears for a while now, not wanting to give those bastards the satisfaction. But as her current position set in her mind once more, she couldn't hold it in. It was like a never-ending loop. After being rudely introduced and forced to spend a week being trained to the bone by two different killers, she had to repeat the process with another. It felt like her own personal hell.

Feeling the scalding hot water turn cold was an indicator that it was time to get ready. Not giving a damn if she was late. Stepping out of the shower with a huff, she looked at herself in the full-body mirror. Steam covered its surface from head to toe. Though, no matter how blurry, the rough outline of all the large scars, cuts and a few red bruises that littered her body were still very much visible. The feeling and texture of her once somewhat clear skin was now a distant memory in her mind. Slowly tracing all of the scars with the tip of the rugged fingers she winced when she made contact with a few of the most recent injuries.

Getting dressed in the same greyish jump-suit she has been washing and wearing for the last few days, she went to eat breakfast. But before leaving her bedroom she looked at the nightstand, there laid the old pocket watch he gave her. For some reason, he didn't want to take it when she offered it back. Shrugging her shoulders she put it in her right pocket and headed downstairs. Reaching the kitchen, noticing that Masky must have left early. Not paying any mind to his disappearance she carried on with her day. Eating the meal she prepared for herself. Sitting there on the dining table, in total silence, patiently staring at the clock. Ben still hadn't arrived. He was already ten minutes late, to begin with, which was a significant tonal shift from Masky, who was extremely punctual and despised tardiness. After what felt like hours, a loud crash was heard that made the girl's ears perk up as she ran to the living room. Their laying spread eagle, on the front of the old television, was none other than Ben.

" What happened, how did you get in here?" The girl quickly said while helping him up. " Dammit, forgot how small the damn television was." He said under his breath, ignoring her previous question. Getting on his feet he brushed himself off giving the girl a better look. Unlike the other two men, he was significantly shorter, 162 to 165 cm or 5'4-5'5 feet tall. Medium length golden hair under a long green hat and sharp pointy elf-like ears. His pale white skin looked ceramic, almost like a doll's and thin lips with a button nose. He seemed considerably young, but she assumed that he most likely was about eighteen years of age. Though, what caught her attention were his round black eyes that had a speck of red in them that acted as pupils. He was dressed as an elf, with his bright green tunic, forest green pants and leather belt neatly tied around his waist that held a small satchel type bag.

Looking in her direction he flashed her a creepy smile that showed off his white teeth. The girl didn't know how to react to his sudden action, as she felt discomfort all around her body, shifting her weight awkwardly she chose to ask him again. " How the hell did you manage to get in here without me hearing you?" " Well, I did the same thing I'm gonna' be teaching you today. Sorcery or magic. Whatever word floats your boat." " Magic? As in witchcraft, like spells and potions?" " Yup. I mean I know Jack already told you this so I don't know why you're so shocked." He snickered, it sounded distorted. " Yeah, I remember but I didn't actually expect-not that I didn't think that it would be magic-it is just that this is all so strange, I can't believe it." " Believe it, cuz I'm gonna' be teaching ya some spells. Follow me now out the back door." He spoke loudly, shaking his hands in a flamboyant manner.

Walking swiftly to the kitchen towards the back door. The girl was visibly confused as she followed suit. Why did they have to go through the back door, it was all quite strange. Stepping out, she noticed the rather large, wooden table a few meters in front of them. Its surface is covered in all kinds of trinkets, herbs and plants. " What's all of this for?" She said, approaching the table. "I got Masky to set it up before he left, we're gonna be needing some of this stuff so I can show you the ropes and basically help you understand the basics of making potions. A skill you'd need for survival." He answered while picking up a bunch of the items off the table and stuffing them in the bag. " Oh, what do we have here?" He said excitedly under his breath " Is it Raskovnik? My god it is. I know what i'll be teaching you first now, don't I. '' He started with a laugh as he made his way towards the trees. " Where are we going now?" " To the brewery. Do you really think you will be making risky positions in front of the cabin? You humans are actually the dumbest creatures."

The girl's face scrunched up in annoyance but still kept her mouth shut. She knew better than to try and argue with these people. Biting down on her tongue she got drawn in by the scenery like most times she was out in the forest. Autom was soon approaching so the wind had started to pick up the past few days, it made the multicoloured leaves on the trees dance as it passed. It calmed her as it passed through her body. Taking in a large breath she smiled and carried on behind Ben. Dogging trees and branches as there was no pathway in this part of the forest.

" Did you get the plant?" Ben spoke up after a while, cutting the calm silence. " Sorry, what?" " Were you the one that got the Raskovnik?" He repeated the question louder. " Oh, well yeah. I got it a while back as a part of my training with Masky." She replied quickly walking to his side. " Figures. Maskys is the type to make others do his dirty work." He muttered bitterly. But the girl was still able to hear it. " So you have a bad relationship with him?" " You could say that. Most of us do. The scumbag." The air started to tense. " I guess you could call him that. But he's not always that bad, he has his moments I guess." " Not that bad? Tell me, how did you manage to get that big ass gash on your neck." He harshly replied, pointing his leather-gloved hand to her neck. She quickly covered it and looked to the side. Not responding. " As I said, he's an absolute scumbag." " Well if it isn't stepping over a boundary, mind telling me why he's so bad." " Well, to begin with, he's a sadistic prick that only cares for himself. He broke into my house and stole some of the VERY rear herbs that took me YEARS to collect. And worst of all, he's the dog of The Operator." His face darkened when he mentioned The Operator's name. " The Operator? Whos that?" The girl quickly asked, lowering her hand and looking at him with a confused look on her face. " He's one of the most powerful beings to even exist. The embodiment of evil." " So like the devil?" " No, he's not the devil, the devil is a different being, but he's still terrifying." " Why do they call him The Operator then?" " Well, like. I don't really know how to explain this to you but, imagine this forest being a very large city. Y’know how every city has a mayor or someone in charge that leads it. Well, that's what The Operator really is. The Operator isn't his real name but a nickname given to him."

With that they finally stepped into a small grass filled clearing where in the middle, was a very small cottage covered in vines, plants and flowers. The old wood that it was made of was held up the multitude of plants, securing it firmly. The half-rounded door was nicely placed in the front, a yellow brick pathway leading to it, with a square window to the side. They quickly approached the door, the girl's breath taken by the beauty. The inside itself was small, shelves were on every side of the walks, each holding a plethora of books, trinkets, herbs and plants. It was relatively messy but still easy to walk in. A cauldron was in the middle of the room with a desk stacked with papers, pens, and scrolls.

Placing the Rascovnik and emptying his bag on the desk, Ben looked at the girl. " So let's begin I guess." He said walking to the medium-sized cauldron. " What are we going to do exactly?" She quickly asked as her eyes followed him, as he walked around the cottage collecting different ingredients and placing them on the desk. " Well, you're not going to be doing anything, just taking notes." Tossing a notepad at her. " While I prepare something and explain the different things you'll need to know." " Yeah that's great but am I going to be quizzed the same way Masky quizzed me because I need to know what I should expect." She said frantically, firmly grasping the notepad to her chest. " Nah, you're not. I don't do quizzes or tests, I like doing things spontaneously y'know. And plus taking notes will help you understand things more, so just write down herb and spell names, important details and whatever else will help ya remember. K?" " Ok, I guess." Anxiety began to dwell in her mind, as she looked around. " Readdy?" He said walking in front of the cauldron, giving her a slightly crooked reassuring smile.

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sbtlns · 5 years ago

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Wings

Warnings: nsfw!!

A/N: first time writing smut! feedback is much appreciated (◠‿◠✿)

You found Casitel captivating from the moment Dean introduced you two. “Castiel, Y/N,” he gestured in the space between you. “Y/N, Castiel. He’s the one that pulled my ass up from hell, He’s an-” “An angel,” you cut him off, in awe of Castiel’s wings. “Uh....yeah. I guess Bobby filled you in. Anyway...” he went on to talk about the details of the case but you were too distracted by the angel before you. His wings took your breath away; his long, black feathers were iridescent under the fluorescent lights of the motel. They were huge, with thousands of feathers overlapping each other, you had never seen anything like it.

“Hello? Princess are you getting any of this?” Dean asked annoyed while snapping his fingers in front of your face. You tore your focus away from Castiel and quickly turned to look at Dean. “Y-yeah, salt and burn, milk run, got it,” you choked out. Dean gave you a weird look before continuing. Again, you tuned out his words as you came to stare at Castiel’s wings. You couldn’t help yourself from staring, you could barely keep yourself from reaching out to touch them. Cas seemed to notice you staring and cautiously folded his wings against his back, trying to gauge your response. You furrowed your brows at his movement, briefly looking up at him before turning back to Dean.

From that point on, Castiel was more reserved when it came to stretching his wings around you. He knew the brothers couldn’t see them, Sam had almost sat on them on more than one occasion, and Dean was constantly throwing things to Sam with Castiel’s wings in the line of fire. Cas wasn’t sure if you could see them or not, but he couldn’t shake your reaction to him folding them out of your view.

Sam and Dean had gone on a food run, leaving you and Castiel alone in the motel room. You were thumbing through a lore book, trying to get any useful information you could find, when you saw movement in your peripheral vision. You looked up to see Castiel roll his shoulders back and slowly stretch out his massive wings. You stared at them in awe, watching random feathers twitch as he continued to stretch. Castiel looked up to meet your eyes, tilting his head in confusion. He froze as the realization dawned on him. “Cas, t-they’re beautiful,” you whispered, eyes locked on his wings. His eyes widened at your words. “You....can see them?” he questioned slowly. You tore your eyes from his wings to look him in the eyes, brow furrowing. “Uh...yeah,” you laughed. You noticed his shocked expression and confusion overtook you. “Can’t everyone?” you questioned. He shook his head in response. You stared at each other for what seemed like forever. Finally, the sound of the door opening broke the silence and in walked Sam and Dean. Dean saw the startled looks on you two and furrowed his brows. “Uh, what did me and Sammy just walk into?” he asked gruffly. You shot a look at Castiel, who was wide eyed and speechless.

You turned back to Dean and gave him a questioning look. “Can.....can you two see Castiel’s wings?” you asked hesitantly. The two brothers shot each other a confused look before turning back to you. “What are you talking about?” Dean asked gruffly. “Y/N,” Sam started as he took a few steps towards you. “Can you?” You looked between the brothers, then to Castiel. “Uh...uh y-yeah, I can,” you stuttered, looking down at the floor. The brothers looked at each other, not knowing how to approach the situation. Sam shot Castiel a hesitant glance, before asking, “for how long Y/N?” You bit your lip, still looking down, “since I met him.” Before the brothers could question Cas, the angel quickly stood up, muttered something about heaven needing him, and poofed out of the room. The room was silent for a good couple of minutes before Dean cleared his throat, saying, “Well, I think this calls for some beer.”

A week later, you and the brothers needed Castiel’s help on a case. Dean prayed to him and he appeared, looking apprehensive. The brothers were explaining the details of the case to him when you walked in the room. Castiel’s eyes shot up to meet yours and he quickly folded in his wings. You furrowed your brows, walking towards him. “Cas,” you said, “please don’t hide them from me..they’re beautiful..” you trailed off, forgetting boundaries and reaching towards them. Your fingers had just brushed against a few feathers when you heard Castiel stifle a groan, trying to cover it by clearing his throat. “Y/N, he said in a strained voice. He quickly moved out of your reach. “Y/N to touch an angel’s wings is a very...intimate action,” he said gruffly. The brothers raised their eyebrows and shot each other a glance from the corners of their eyes. Your face turned beet red, immediately regretting it. “I-I didn’t know I’m s-sorry,” you barely managed to choke out. The silence in the room grew unbearable until Dean finally broke it. “Alright, well, uh, let’s go get the son of a bitch,” he said, grabbing his pistol from the table and walking out of the door.

The hunt was rough, what you thought was three demons turned out to be over ten and the four of you got your asses handed to you. You all had just gotten back to the motel room when Dean announced his need to go drink away the ass-whooping the four of you had just received and pulled Sammy out the door with him, saying he needed a wingman. You and Castiel sat in silence for a few moments after the door closed behind them. You noticed Cas wince as he tried rolling his shoulders back. You remember seeing Cas get thrown across the warehouse and landing with his wings under him.

“You alright?” you asked softly. He sighed before quietly responding, “it’s my wings.” You bit your lip, hating seeing your angel in pain. “Can I help?” you asked. He looked at you nervously, throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly before looking down at his fidgeting hands. “Cas,” you said softly, moving to sit next to him on the bed. “Let me help, please, you insist on healing me after every hunt, even if it’s just a scratch,” you put your hand on his thigh. “Please let me help you,” you said softly. He sighed before nodding his head and shrugging off his trench coat. You bit your lip as he removed his suit jacket, leaving him in just a white button up that fit snugly around his muscular arms. You felt your cheeks redden as his slender fingers began unbuttoning his shirt. Heat pooled in your core as he removed the button down, revealing his toned chest and stomach. You had never seen this much of Castiel and you had to force yourself to stop staring. Castiel shot you a hesitant glance before unfurling his wings. You gasped, taking in the beautiful sight.

“There are some feathers that I can’t reach,” he started slowly. “I usually comb my fingers through and fix the ones that are twisted.” You nodded before getting up to stand between his legs. You reached out hesitantly, fingers barely grazing his feathers. He inhaled sharply and you ripped your hand away. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to hurt you I’m so sorry-” you panicked before he cut you off. “Y/N,” he said softly. “It did not hurt me, it....was enjoyable,” he looked up at you sheepishly. Your eyebrows shot up, “Oh,” was all you could muster. Feeling more confident, you reached for a few twisted feathers and gently set them back in place. You tried to ignore the way Castiel squeezed his eyes shut and let his lips part. You took a deep breath before continuing to comb through his feathers, enjoying how soft they felt against your fingers. You continued grooming his wings, eliciting soft moans from the angel. You desperately tried to ignore the growing damp spot in your panties and the soft ache in your core. You had no idea you could have this kind of effect on the angel and you were loving every second of it.

“Cas,” you said, pausing your motions. He looked up at you with a hunger in his eyes. You had never seen the angel this wrecked before. His face was red with small beads of sweat at his forehead and his breathing was shallow and uneven. You bit your lip, gathering the courage to continue. “There’s some tough to reach sections in the back. You don’t mind if I move closer, do you?” you asked in your best seductive voice. His head tilted slightly, eyebrows furrowing. “I do not mind, Y/N,” he replied in a low voice. You smiled as you moved to straddle the seated angel on the bed. His eyes shot open wide as your clothed pussy brushed against his hardened member. You gasped slightly at the sudden, but needed friction. “I apologize Y/N, I’m having a hard time controlling my vessel-” he gushed apologetically. You cut him off with a soft kiss Cas seemed taken back at first, but soon leaned into your touch, deepening the kiss. You slid your arms around him, taking fistfuls of the curls at the base of his neck. His hands found their way to your waist and he held you down firmly as the two of you continued to make out.

You were in desperate need of some kind of friction, so you began to grind against his hardened member. He groaned at your movements, letting his head fall back. You continued to grind against him as you placed wet kisses to his exposed neck. You gently nipped at his pulse point, eliciting another moan from the angel. You began kissing lower on his neck, slipping off of his lap and onto your knees as you reached his chest. You placed a line of kisses down his chest and stomach before reaching his belt. You looked up at him innocently as you took his belt in your hands and quickly unbuckled it. You quickly undid his zipper, reaching into his boxers to free his cock. “Y/N,” he said in a deeply strained voice. “It’s okay Cas, I’m gonna take care of you.” You smiled sweetly up at him before licking a broad stripe up his shaft.

He groaned, bucking his hips up to meet your tongue. You licked all over his head, cleaning the precum off of his slit. Castiel’s head fell back as he gripped the sheets tightly. Deciding he had enough teasing, you wrapped your lips around his tip and began bobbing your head up and down. “Y/N,” he groaned, hands flying to grip your hair. “That feels..” he moaned. You hollowed out your cheeks, taking more and more of him, before you felt his cock twitch in your mouth. “Y/N,” he strained, “something is....I..I can’t..” he sputtered. You pulled your mouth off of his cock just long enough to say, “it’s okay Castiel, let go,” before returning your lips to him. A few seconds later you felt his cock twitch again, this time shooting hot ropes of cum down your throat. You swallowed everything he gave you as he moaned your name over and over. After working him through the last wave of his orgasm, you pulled off of him with an audible ‘pop’ and looked up to see the panting angel with his eyes closed. He had barely recovered when you heard the key press into the lock of the motel room. With a snap of his fingers he was dressed and cleaned up, just in time for the door to swing open, Sam holding up a drunk Dean.

Castiel leaned down to whisper in your ear. “I’m not done with you, honeybee. I intend to return the favor,” his gruff voice sending goosebumps down your body. You felt something trailing up along your inner thigh, gasping as it found its way to your slick center. Your eyes shot up to meet his and he gave you an amused grin.

“Why does it smell like sex in here??” a belligerent Dean demanded.

#cas x reader #castiel x reader #castiel smut #castiel

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romanosgirl1978 · 4 years ago

Text

Taking Over Me II

A/N: Welp... @pascalslittlebrat here's your second part. Hope you like it love 😘😘 As always. thank you to @fan-grell-411. The two of you are the best and help give me a reason to finish this. Love ya'll

Max Phillips x Reader

Words- 1255

Warnings- Cussing, Max being an ass

Summary- After overhearing a conversation about some dreams you've been having, Max decides to push you to act on them. Will you bet able to resist?

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

Max had been walking by, planning on formally thanking you for dropping the reports off when he hears his name and pauses just down the hall to listen when he hears something interesting.

“- I just want the dreams of Max to stop.”

He smirks when he hears the desperation in your voice. So you did want him, now he just had to lay on a little more charm.

He hears Jennette ask about sex with someone, probably a partner, and listens intently to catch your reply.

Lackluster, he concludes from your dismissive reply of your partner's performance. Adequate, yet lacking.

Definitely something he could change. And from the groan you give your co-worker while you tell her of your dreams, of your dreams about him, it sounds exactly like what you wanted.

“So what are you gonna do?”

He barely contains a snarl when he hears your intention of just ignoring him.

With a smirk and a plan forming in his mind, he turns on his heel and walks back to his office.

He would let you finish the day in peace, but come tomorrow his plan would be put into action and you would be crawling back to your partner, wrecked and ruined, after he was done.

When quitting time rolls around your bag is over your shoulder and you reach into your drawer for your keys when there are two knocks at the door.

You turn and smile. "Hey, I'm about to head out. Was there something you needed?"

Max grins and shakes his head. “No, I just wanted to thank you for dropping those reports off. I was a little busy when you came in earlier.”

“Oh,” you tuck an errant lock of hair behind your ear. “It's not a problem.”

“Mind if I walk you out?” He asks, “I think we’re the last two here.”

You pull the strap of your purse further up your shoulder but step around your desk, nodding. “Yeah sure.”

He steps to the side as you flip off the lights and let's his hand hover over your lower back as the two of you walk down the hall.

“So I know you are aware of what we sell here. But I can’t help but wonder, what do you dream of?” He asks, smirking when he hears your heart stutter in your chest. “What are your goals?”

Your breath catches in your throat at his question and it takes you a few minutes to collect yourself, a few more to string together a coherent thought that would be an appropriate response to your boss.

"I-I um… currently, finding a house. My partner and I have gotten tired of the apartment we’ve been living in. Decided it was time for a change," you tell him, trying to set a boundary. “We haven’t been able to find anything yet, but we’re still looking.” Your fingers dance over the strap of your bag as you talk.

Max nods, smirking a little. “It’s a shame when something that was once so exciting becomes something that’s just mediocre. But good for you, wanting something different. Wanting something bigger and better. I’m sure if you set your mind to it you get anything.”

As the two of you approach the elevator the nerves you had earlier return full force and knot themselves in your stomach. There was something in his tone that didn’t sit right with you.

He seemed like he was talking about more than just living spaces. You just had no idea what he could’ve meant.

The elevator dings and you step in. He follows you quickly but instead of standing beside you he presses you against the back wall.

The doors slide closed and he grazes his nose up the side of your neck, taking a deep breath, hands sliding across your hips.

A shiver runs down your spine at his proximity and you know that you should be shoving him away but you want to hold his attention for a little bit longer.

"Your partner is very lucky," he tells you, breath fanning against your ear. He pulls back and looks at you, tongue darting over his lips.

Instinctively, you copy his action and he catches it.

His eyes darken as you bite your lip and breathe in shakily, heart racing.

You feel a sudden urge to lean up and press your lips to him, the image of it so vivid in your mind.

Muscles straining from the restraint to keep your feet still.

To keep you from taking that one step.

That’s all it would take.

You could do it.

It would be as easy as breathing.

Your head is spinning.

Lungs burning.

One step and you could have him.

Why weren’t you stepping forward?

His brow furrows.

The elevator dings, having reached the lobby, and he blinks.

When he does it’s like you can breathe again and you gasp for air.

You sag against the back wall, no longer able to support your own weight. Your legs are shaking and you struggle to calm your breathing, to stay upright.

Fuck, you shouldn't have done that. You should have pushed him away the second he started to get too close.

And kissing him?! What were you thinking? You loved Alex. You were moving into a house with them.

Right. Time to stop… whatever this had been.

You take a deep breath and stand up straight, your hand on his shoulder firmly pushing him away from you as you step out of the elevator.

“Look Mr.Phillips. I don’t want to give you the wrong impression. I am in a happily committed relationship and have no plans on doing anything that would jeopardize that. Let’s forget this and just stick to a professional relationship.”

His eyes study you as you walk past him, and you hate yourself for the desire that starts to hum in your veins at being under his scrutiny.

He clears his throat once he realizes you have turned to face him, waiting on a response. He smiles at you and nods.

“Yes of course. We wouldn’t want anyone to know that anything was happening between us,” he winks, taking a step towards you.

“That’s because there will be nothing going on between us,” you huff before turning on your heel, the audacity of this man. “Have a nice night Mr.Phillips,” you call over your shoulder, marching out of the building.

You fume the whole way home and slam the door to your apartment harder than you mean too.

“Woah there, you okay?” Alex asks, looking at you from their place on the couch.

Shuffling over to them, you lean over the back of the couch and bury your face in their neck.

Their hand comes up to cup the back of your head, lips pressing against your temple. “Rough day?”

You just nod and press a kiss against their neck. “Yeah. Boss was being a prick today,” you grumble before heading into the kitchen.

“What happened? Do I need to go punch someone?” They half joke.

You pour yourself a drink and laugh. “Maybe,” you walk back to the living room and plop down next to Alex.

They throw an arm around your shoulder and you cuddle into their side.

“What do you feel like watching?” they ask, handing you the remote.

You shake your head. “This is fine. I just wanna sit with you.”

With a smile and a nod they turn back to the tv and you let your eyes slide closed.

#max phillips #Max Phillips x reader #max x reader #bloodsucking bastards #x reader #max Phillips fanfic #fanfiction

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kaimelia · 4 years ago

Text

Paper Rings (Ch 15)

a/n: hi! this is the last part to this story, thank you for all of the support during it!

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

“I just think that sometimes, you ask for more than you’re willing to give.” His voice was soft, and Amelia looked over at him. There was a certain distance between them, one making Amelia feel more uncomfortable than she should. She’d sat down on their bed, expecting him to join her, yet he settled into the desk chair in their bedroom. A few feet had never felt larger.

“And, I think that you expect a lot from me. More than I am.” She picked at a thread on the comforter below her. “There are parts of my life that I’m not open about. Things that happened with Owen, my addiction, my father’s death, I just don’t like to talk about them. With anyone, frankly.” She pulled her knees up to her chest.

“I know. And, I’m sorry for pushing you; that was wrong. The other night scared me. Seeing you like that-”

“I never wanted you to see me like that,” she protested, looking away from him. “But it’s also a part of my life, and I can’t promise it won’t happen again.”

“Then tell me how to help. Because I didn’t know what to do.” Amelia laid back onto the comforter, rolling onto her side to face him.

“Listen to me. I told you to go to work yesterday. I just wanted to be alone. I know myself, and I know my limits. It’s why I asked you to stay with me at the stadium when I didn’t trust myself to be alone. But after that, I needed time.” He nodded sternly, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Okay. I will do better to listen, and I’m gonna respect your boundaries better.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, tucking her arm under her head. “And, I’ll do better to talk to you. With what I’m comfortable saying. And, not leave the apartment whenever I get mad.” Link chuckled gently, almost nervously, as if testing the waters.

“The job.” Her eyebrows rose. “I’m gonna tell them I can’t do it next season. I just feel like it’s either this relationship or the job.”

“Link,” she sat up, “no. It’s your dream job. I don’t want you to lose that because of me.” He stood up, walking to the bed, and sitting on the edge.

“Amelia, I love you. It’s not something I feel very often. And, I want to build a life with you. Continue what we have together, and if something is stopping me from doing that, I have to get rid of that thing.” He reached for her hand, scooching closer to her. “I’ll be just as happy at Grey-Sloan. I mean, maybe we’ll go on more dates to baseball games, but I don’t need the job to be happy.” Her eyes glossed over. “I just need you.” Amelia surged forward, wrapping her arms around him as she fell into his embrace. He sighed contently at the familiar smell of her shampoo, his hands gently combing through it.

“Promise me one thing?” He loosened his embrace around her, feeling her pull away to look at him.

“What is it?”

“You’ll tell me if you’re not happy. I don’t want you to resent me for giving up your job.” He nodded firmly.

“Of course.”

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

6 months later

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

“Hey, you’re all finished?” Link asked, sliding his arm around his girlfriend’s waist in front of the O.R. board. She turned to look at him and smiled.

“Yup. Just need to update Koracick, and then I’m free to head out.” She erased her surgery from the board, setting the marker down on the sill of the board. Their hands found each other as she led him toward the lounge. “Did I forget that we have plans tonight?” Link shook his head.

“I was thinking we could pick up Italian and have a night in.” Amelia grinned, pushing open the door while walking to her locker. She pulled off her scrub top, quickly changing into her clothes in the cubby.

“You’re looking at me weirdly,” she commented, glancing over at him. He had sat down at the table, his head resting on his palm. “What’s going on?” Link smirked and stood up, walking to his locker next to hers. He rummaged through it.

“I want you to marry me.” Her face fell in shock, watching as he produced a ring box from the inside of his locker. “And I know it feels a little sudden, we’ve only been together for about a year, but I want to spend my life with you. Spending our days locked up in our apartment, pretending we didn’t meet on Tinder, helping each other be better.” He opened the box and looked down at it. “It’s not a very magnificent ring, I know, but I’ve been thinking a lot about the future recently, and I had to run out and get a ring.”

“It’s perfect,” Amelia whispered, looking between her boyfriend and the ring in front of her. “It’s simple and beautiful, and frankly, I don’t care about what the ring looks like.” He grinned widely.

“Is that a yes?” She nodded enthusiastically, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“It’s a hell yes.”

#amelia shepherd #amelia x link #amelink #atticus lincoln #grey's anatomy #amelink fanfiction #amelink fanfic #greys abc #greys fanfic #my fics

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jaskiers-sweetkiss · 4 years ago

Text

Sunset Swerve - Part 4

Pairings: Luke x OC

Word Count: 3.7K

Warnings: none?

A/N: This one’s a bit longer but now we’re officially through episode 3! As always, let me know what you think and message me if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

Part 3 Masterlist

___

“We have to do something to help Julie with Flynn,” Jordan said firmly when they landed in the garage. “It’s our fault she’s in this mess.”

“I still don’t understand why she can’t just tell her about us,” Luke said and Jordan sighed.

“Seeing ghosts, real or not, isn’t really ever perceived as a one-hundred percent good thing, especially when you’ve just lost a parent.” She explained quietly and Luke nodded, suddenly unable to meet her eyes.

When she turned to look at the other guys she was met with a curious stare from Alex as if he was trying to figure out what was going on between them.

“How’re you holding up?” She deflected, trying to get away from his scrutiny.

“Not great, actually,” Alex admitted beginning to pace in front of the couch where Luke and Reggie had plopped down.

Jordan crossed the room to join them, perching on the arm of the couch.

“I think he’s practicing his model strut,” Reggie speculated in a whisper and Jordan rolled her eyes.

“He’s so nervous it’s making me nervous,” Luke admitted.

“Alright Alex, spill,” Jordan addressed the blond and he stopped to stand in front of them.

“Okay, look, you guys know I don’t handle change well,” he spoke, waving his hands around anxiously. “Alright? Death? That was a change. Okay, then we became ghosts, alright? Another change. And- and now we can be seen whenever we play with Julie. Big fucking change!”

“Yeah but, bro, it was a good change!” Luke exclaimed. “With Julie we can play on stage again and be the band we never got to be! C’mon, you gotta be down for that.”

“I mean, yeah, who wouldn’t be?” Alex gulped, “I just… I wanna figure out why.”

“Forget why!” Jordan elbowed the brunet and he cursed, standing up to move away from her. “I say we invite Julie to join Sunset Curve.”

“Yeah, totally!” Reggie gasped, standing up as well. “I mean, like, think about it! With a new lead singer, this band would be legendary.”

“Hey! I’m our lead singer,” Luke pouted and Jordan snorted, earning a glare from the boy.

“Dude, that girl has the voice of an angel and she can make us visible,” Reggie explained, “Without her, we’re just elevator music.”

“I know, but you don’t gotta be so mean about it,” Luke whined, completely ignoring Alex who had begun pacing again.

“You deserve it,” Jordan quipped, receiving another glare from the boy.

“And we’re on the runway again!” He exclaimed, turning to see Alex’s pacing.

“Okay, I’m sorry, alright? I just…” Alex sighed, stopping his pacing. “I gotta go clear my head.”

He made a beeline for the door, attempting to grab the handle but his hand kept going through it.

“Dude you’re a ghost, just poof out,” Reggie said and Jordan leaned over to hit his arm.

“Don’t tell me how to ghost!” Alex cried before poofing away.

Jordan sighed when neither of the boys moved to do anything.

“I’m gonna go make sure he’s okay.” She said decisively, ignoring the boys’ arguments that he was fine as she poofed out.

When he had found her in the graveyard the day before he had said something about going someplace familiar, so she poofed to the first place she thought of: the Orpheum.

It didn’t take long for her to figure out he wasn’t there but she decided to wander around Hollywood to look. Sunset Curve had spent a lot of time in the area, playing gigs and just hanging out. She had stopped to scrutinize the costume of a fake Marilyn Monroe on the Walk of Fame when she spotted him. She immediately started walking towards him but stopped once she noticed that he wasn’t alone. He was talking to some long-haired skater boy and she silently awed when she saw the look on his face. Not wanting to interrupt his serendipitous meeting and comforted by the fact that he wasn’t alone, she poofed away before he could spot her.

She’d tried to poof to Reggie, wanting to tell him about the skater boy but she was immediately distracted upon arrival.

“What the hell guys?” She asked rhetorically, “Did you seriously learn nothing from yesterday?”

Once again Luke and Reggie were in Julie’s room, the latter once again laying on his bed. However, what Luke was doing was considerably worse. The boy was sat on the floor with Julie’s dream box open in front of him as he rifled through the pieces of paper.

“Did you not hear anything she said about boundaries?” The dark-haired girl huffed, attempting to close the dream box.

When her hand just went through the lid she plopped down in front of the box, pouting at her lack of ghostly abilities.

“This is perfect!” Luke gasped triumphantly, finally looking upon from the piece of paper in his hands. He jumped slightly when he noticed Jordan as if he had been so involved in whatever was on the paper that his brain hadn’t registered her presence. “Oh, hey Moss. When did you get back?”

Jordan raised her brows in surprise. “Wow, and I thought Reggie was the oblivious one.”

“Hey!” Reggie protested, sitting up on the bed only to be met with identically ‘come on’ looks from the ghosts on the floor. “Okay, fine, you’re right.”

“Anyway,” Luke redirected, sending one last side-eye at Reggie before addressing the room. “This poem would make killer song lyrics!”

“Ooh! Lemme see,” Reggie scrambled off the bed to lean over Luke. “Flying Solo. This looks great.” He mused.

“C’mon, we should start writing the melodies,” Luke said, poofing away to the garage, Reggie following suit but not before waving goodbye to Jordan who was still sitting on the ground. The girl dropped her disapproving look to smile at the boy before he disappeared.

She sat alone in the room for another minute before sighing and pushing herself off the carpet. She wandered through the house, searching for something to occupy her time now that all the guys were busy and Julie was at school. After a period of aimless wandering- time seemed to flow differently now that she was dead- she stumbled across a large bookshelf and paused. Jordan hadn’t read a book since ’95 but it had been one of her favorite pastimes after music. She browsed the selection of mostly unrecognizable title- of course plenty of hits had been published in the twenty-five years since she had passed- until she settled on a novel heralded as ‘The Next Harry Potter’ though she had no idea who Harry Potter was. The book was well worn as if it had been read many times and as far as Jordan was concerned, that was the tell-tale sign of a good book.

She pulled the blue-green book from the shelf, taking it with her as she poofed to the garage. The book showing endeavor had taken quite a bit of time as the books had kept falling through her ghost hands. Fortunately, none of the Molina’s had been home to hear the multiple thuds.

Despite the amount of time she had spent in the house, when she arrived in the studio Reggie and Luke were still stood around the piano working on their new song. Neither boy acknowledge her appearance- too immersed in their work- so she laid down on the couch and immersed herself in 2012 New York.

She wasn’t sure how long she’s laid there in silence, only that she’d reached Chapter 8: We Capture a Flag when her attention was finally drawn away. The guys had moved from writing to working it out on their instruments (which Jordan had selectively ignored because they wouldn’t listen to her anyway) when Julie got home from school.

“Guys! You’re not supposed to be out here playing alone,” she said, giving them her signature ‘are you serious?’ look.

“But we’re not alone,” Reggie explained as Luke came up to hold him from behind, “Because we always have each other!”

“Ugh,” Jordan groaned, rolling her eyes at their cheesiness.

“Agreed,” Julie quipped, smiling briefly at the ghost girl before moving to unplug both boys’ instruments from their amps.

“But we had the volume on level one!” Luke protested.

“But we rocked it on volume ten!” Reggie added, “Want us to play it again?”

“I really don’t think she does,” Luke whispered to the boy as Julie unplugged his amp, dropping the cord to the ground menacingly.

“We’ve actually been waiting for you to get home,” Luke changed directions, hoping to avoid the Latina’s wrath. “Okay, so, we have some pretty major news to tell you. We had a band meeting earlier and…” He pointed at Reggie who began a drumroll on his legs.

“We want you to join Sunset Curve! And no, you’re not dreaming,” The brunet exclaimed, looking very proud of himself.

Julie, however, looked less thrilled. “Oh.”

“Oh? That’s what you say when you get socks for Christmas, not when you get asked to join the most epic band ever!”

“Second most epic band,” Jordan spoke up from the couch where she had set aside her book momentarily to watch this unfold.

Luke glared at her while Julie began to explain herself.

“Sorry, I’m honored, but I can’t think about anything but Flynn right now. She’s still mad at me for lying, she hasn’t even texted me back!”

“Yeah, you’re in a tough spot,” Luke started, though clearly he wasn’t really considering what the girl had said, “So, you wanna join the band?”

“Read the room, dude.” Julie glared, turning to walk out of the garage.

“Way to be sincere doofus,” Jordan said harshly, returning to her book.

“Oh, come on!” Luke called, getting the girl to stop before the doors, “We need you and you need us because you need music! We found this poem that you wrote-“

“She’s gonna be pissed,” Jordan said in a sing-song voice, eyes trained on her book but clearly still listening.

“Reggie and I added this really cool melody to it. It sounds awesome!” Luke continued, ignoring Jordan.

“Where’d you find that?” Julie asked warily.

“Uh… definitely not in your dream box,” Luke lied, pulling Reggie in front of him to protect himself from Julie, clearly forgetting that she could just walk right through the ghost bassist.

“You went through my stuff?!” She shouted, quickly advancing on the guitarist while Reggie jumped out of the way.

“Told you,” Jordan muttered, though it was lost in the chaos of the room.

“I know, but-” Luke tried to excuse but was cut off by Reggie.

“Yeah, we can do that now!” The dark-haired ghost responded, completely contradicting his bandmate.

“No! No you can’t! Boundaries!” Julie shouted, reaching across the piano towards Luke. “Give it back!”

“No!” Luke denied, climbing onto the piano bench. “You need to realize how insanely talented you are! Okay? Listen to this:

“If somebody hurts you, I’m gonna get hurt too, and my life my life would be real low, zero, flying solo.”

“Oh-Oh” Reggie echoed from behind Julie and Luke grinned at him before turning back to the girl in front of him.

“It’s a killer melody,” he said.

“I wrote that about Flynn when she was helping me with all my mom stuff,” Julie sighed. “I gotta go.”

“Hey! What about the band!” Luke called after her as she turned to leave again.

Oh, I almost forgot,” She spoke, turning back around and an excited look grew on Luke’s face. “Stay out of my room!”

“Yeah?” Luke called, running after her and sticking his head through the door, “We will if you join our band!”

“Idiot,” Jordan muttered, finally turning her full attention back to the book.

She did her best to ignore the shuffling around her as the boys moved about. She was mostly successful, managing to get in a full page of reading before Reggie poked the back of her hand and she pulled her attention away to glare at him.

“What do you want?” She groaned as she turned to look at the two boys who were now seated in front of the couch.

“So, you’re a girl,” Luke started and Jordan snorted.

“Very astute observation, Sherlock,” she quipped, turning back to her book with the intention of ignoring them completely.

“Just let me finish!”

“That’s what she said.”

“Jordan!” He whined, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “Please?”

She sighed, closing the book and setting it down next to her as she swung her legs around to sit up on the sofa.

“Fine. Yes, I am a girl, what do you need?”

“We thought you might have some insight on what to do about Julie?” He said, though his unsureness made it sound like a question.

“She’s not going to even think about joining your band until she’s smoothed things over with Flynn. She’s her best friend and she means more to her than music does.”

“Woah. How’d you figure all that out?” Reggie asked, amazed.

“Girl code, man!” Luke answered, hitting Reggie’s chest.

“She’s literally said all of that to you within the last twenty-four hours,” Jordan said, staring at them with a look of pure disbelief. “There’s no ‘code’, you guys just don’t listen.”

“Okay, so how do we fix things with Julie and Flynn?” Luke said, selectively ignoring what she had just said.

“I hate to say it,” she sighed, “But you guys might already be on the right track with the song. Julie said she wrote the poem about Flynn, so maybe if she performs the song for her, Flynn’ll see how much their friendship means to her.”

“That’s a great idea!” Luke exclaimed and Jordan smirked, jokingly flipping her hair over her shoulder dramatically. “C’mon! Let’s get to work.”

Jordan moved to return to her reading when she noticed the brunet was staring pointedly at her.

“What do you need me for?”

“Well, Reggie and I can’t write the piano part.”

____

“So, when she says ‘deep-dish’, do you think she’s talking about pizza?” Reggie asked in all seriousness.

Jordan, who had kept playing the piano despite the other two ghosts dropping out, stopped playing then in shock.

“Dude,” she breathed, at this point in awe of the boy’s cluelessness.

It was just then that Alex decided to show up, poofing in right on top of the piano between Reggie and Luke.

“Oh! Hey man, where you been?” Reggie asked, immediately distracted from his previous question.

“Um, kinda everywhere,” Alex answered, “Yeah. No, I met a new ghost friend.”

“For real?” Reggie asked, amazed.

“Wait, cute skater boy was a ghost?” Jordan asked from behind them, brows raised in surprise.

“Yeah he- wait, how’d you know that?” He asked, turning around to peer at the girl behind the piano.

“Hm? Oh! I went to check on you after you left but when I found you, you had already found him so I just came back,” Jordan shrugged and Alex nodded.

“Yeah, anyway, he answered a ton of questions.”

“Like whether Julie’s gonna join the band or not?” Luke asked through the guitar pick he still held between his teeth.

“Uh… well we didn’t... didn’t really get to that,” Alex muttered, giving Luke a weird stare before turning back to Jordan and Reggie. “But, I think I know why we’re here. Okay? All ghosts have, like, unfinished business. So we have t do our unfinished business so that we can cross over.”

“Why would we do that?” Luke asked, immediately drawing everyone’s attention in a mix of shock and confusion.

“Some of us might actually want to cross over,” Jordan said crossly, frowning at the boy.

“I’m just saying, this is like our second chance. All we need to do is get Julie to play with us.” He explained and Reggie nodded.

“Not only can that girl sing, she can write too. Luke and I made a killer melody to one of her songs!” Jordan cleared her throat and Reggie blushed, adding on, “And Jordan helped too.”

“Oh… without your drummer, cool,” Alex mumbled as he looked over the song Luke had just handed him.

“Drumming is so ’90s,” Luke joked, clapping his friend lightly on the back. “We’re just gonna… stomp our feet now.”

“Okay. Well, you know what else is so ‘90s?” Alex responded, “Being rude. All right? Get woke, these are sensitive times.”

“Alex! Ow…” Luke whined quietly as Alex forcefully returned his notebook.

“I learned that from my ghost friend,” Alex whispered to Reggie and Jordan.

“What so they don’t say ‘fly’ anymore but they say ‘woke’?” Jordan muttered in a mix of confusion and distaste.

“‘Woke.’” Reggie repeated. “That’s a cool word, what does it mean?”

“No clue.”

Jordan chuckled lightly before noticing the petulant look on Luke’s face.

“Well, now that Alex is here maybe we can properly work on this song?” She proposed, “We gotta fix things with Julie and Flynn; we got her into this mess in the first place.”

The boys all nodded, Alex moving off the piano so they could all see each other. Fortunately, Luke and Reggie had already worked out most of their own parts and now all they needed were the piano and drum set. They got a good few minutes in working together, Alex drumming on the piano with his hands while Jordan played as quietly as possible, the four of them stopping every few lines to scribble in rhythms. They had the song just about finished when Julie burst into the garage.

“Grab your instruments, we need to rehearse the song.”

The four ghosts looked between themselves in confusion.

“I need to prove to Flynn that you’re ghosts but we only have a half-hour to rehearse, let’s go!” She exclaimed, clapping her hands together as if to say ‘chop-chop”.

The guys began to scramble around the room getting everything set up, and Jordan handed Julie her piano part before retiring to the couch once more. She laid back down, grabbing her book and flipping to the page she had left off on while the new Sunset Curve began to rehearse their new hit.

The half-hour flew by quickly and before they knew it Flynn was knocking on the door of the garage.

“Thanks for coming,” Julie smiled as she opened the doors. “We just wanted to rehearse the song so it was perfect, which it’s not, but whatever.”

Jordan put her book down, wanting to watch what happened.

“No, if I’m gonna hear a song from your imaginary ghost band, it needs to be perfect.” Flynn objected, “So get back in there, all of you. You too.” She said, pointing around the space at the imaginary ghosts.

“Wow, she was way off,” Reggie said and the rest of the ghosts shook their heads. “I’m over here!!”

“They’re not out here,” Julie informed Flynn with a chuckle, gesturing the girl inside the garage.

“Oh, I know.”

“Alright guys, you ready?” Julie asked, looking back towards the guys who all gave thumbs up.

“Um, Julie?” Reggie spoke up, “Can you move Flynn? I need room to, y’know, rock out.”

Julie laughed but complied with his request, ushering Flynn to one of the chairs in front of the setup.

“If you’ll notice, there’s no equipment that can create a hologram. Feel free to look around the room.” Julie spoke, taking her place behind the keyboard.

She took a deep breath before addressing her friend, “The guys took a poem I wrote about you and put it to music.”

“Aww! I wish I didn’t have to talk to your dad after this,” Flynn sassed and Jordan laughed.

“I like her.” She said, and Julie glanced her way with a smile.

“It’s called Flying Solo, I hope you like it,” Julie introduced the song before beginning to play.

Jordan could see the song working on Flynn right from the start, the girl clearly vibing with the music and lyrics. At the risk of sounding cheesy, she felt like she was watching their friendship mend itself.

Flynn screamed when the chorus hit and the guys joined in, immediately becoming visible. Julie stepped away from the piano to crouch in front of her best friend, singing the next verse directly to her before pulling her up to rock out with the guys for the chorus. Jordan tried to hide the bouncing of her own leg to the beat, not wanting to admit she too was vibing with Luke’s song. Though, the boy had clearly noticed, moving over to the mic stand that had been left next to the couch. He perched on the end, making sure to smirk superiorly at her and she rolled her eyes, crossing her arms stubbornly.

As she sang, Julie guided Flynn around the room to each of the boys, ending with Reggie as they reached a break in the song, the guys continued to play lightly in order to stay visible. Flynn experimentally stuck her hand through Reggie before retracting it quickly in alarm.

“Weird right?” Reggie spoke and Flynn gasped.

“They’re ghosts!” She exclaimed and Julie nodded.

“Uh, we prefer musician spirits,” Alex corrected jokingly and Reggie nodded, pointing affirmatively at the drummer.

“Where’s the other one?” Flynn asked, peering around the room, “The girl?”

“Oh, Jordan’s on the couch. I honestly don’t know why she’s not playing.” Julie turned to look at the girl in question and Jordan shrugged.

“Not my song, not my band.”

“Hey, Julie?” Luke called, redirecting the living girls’ attention. “Does this mean you’re joining our band?”

“Actually, I think you’re joining her band,” Flynn interjected matter-of-factly.

“I’m gonna go with what she said,” Julie grinned, slinging an arm around her best friend. “You too Jordan,” she added, gesturing to the dark-haired girl.

Jordan smiled brightly at the invite, poofing behind the piano as the band started back up.

Julie and Flynn immediately moved over to her as she picked up the piano part. It felt nice to rock out with the girls and it felt even more gratifying when the guys dropped out, leaving only the piano part and Julie’s voice as she sang to her friend.

The four ghosts exchanged smiles with each other, Luke and Jordan to high off the performance to care about their rivalry.

“Still wanna talk to my dad?” Julie asked when the song had finished.

“No, I’m good,” Flynn responded and the girls hugged, the four ghosts vanishing from sight.

Part 5

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Taglist: @oopsiedoopsie23 @meangirlsx @angryknightstatesmantrash @onlygetaway

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