#but the drabbles will keep trickling in because i have some... five i think? all ready to go. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cherrysha · 4 years ago

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1.english is not my first language so sorry if something sounds strange. I realized that the requests are open and I would love it if u wrote something with the feitan pls. maybe a headcanon of him dealing with a very affable s / n (?) kkk i can't explain but like he is disturbed because she is accepting very well the fact that she was kidnapped and now she is forced to fall in love with him, and he is like "me I'm a fucking criminal, why are u so calm?"

It doesnt sound strange at all! This went in a completely different direction and its part headcanon but mostly just a short drabble. I’m not one hundred percent happy with this piece, but i wanted to get it out there!

Also, This is a universe in which I deny the fact that he sounds horrible in the dub. We only stan subbed Feitan over here.

word count: 1572

My requests are open atm

Warnings: TORTURE. thats it. thats all it is. just one big torture scene.

So if his s/o didn’t resist...

• He’d prolly just think they were biding their time

• He wouldn’t ask, he’d just straight up assume that they were playing the long con

• And a few months of it and he’d be sick and tired

• They were so agreeable, they let him touch them even when he was covered in blood

• And I don’t see any way this doesn’t end in torture

• He’d be really pissed off abt it

• Probably goading you the whole time

• “It doesn’t have to be like this if you just tell me.”

• And in truth he knows no plan would work, but he just wants some confirmation that you were going to try to escape

“Plan for what?” And he sighs. Part of him knew this was going to happen; that you’d still feign innocence. And that same part of him revelled in the course of action he’d decided to take. Basking in the chance to finally cause you pain. It’s a deeply rooted desire, one he isn’t accustomed to controlling. He wasn't one to pass up an opportunity such as this one.

You’ve been tied, arms above your head as the balls of your bare feet support the weight of your full body on the unforgiving concrete floor. The blindfold he had used to lure you into the room with is now converted into a gag as its shoved into your mouth. He’s done listening. Maybe when he’d given you incentive to be more... forthcoming, he’d remove it. The knife glints in the low light, the sight of it seemingly manifesting out of nowhere is startling to say the least. He takes a minute to ponder the situation. The apprehension on your face. You’d never seen him like this, only ever catching glimpses of his profession in the blood soaked clothes you washed so diligently. Was that not enough of a warning? He makes quick work of cutting off your top as well as the bra underneath. He deftly moves behind you, the sound of something heavy being picked up as he opens his mouth to speak. “This is going to hurt.” And it’s the most warning he’s given any of his victims. The suspense they felt, the jagged breaths they took as he circled their body like a hawk; it was part of the excitement for him. The whip cracks against your back one, two, three times before he takes a break. Your mouth opens in a wretched scream, but Feitan has become accustomed to the noise. It’s as irrelevant as the sound of the overhead light buzzing in the background. Blood seeps from the places the whip had licked your skin. Dark red as it lazily rolls down your back and soaks into the top of your cotton shorts. He stands back and admires the way your muscles bunch up under your skin in a useless effort to pull away from the pain, lifting you off of your toes until your feet lazily swung away from the ground. He was starting to enjoy the weak noises that left your throat. You don’t even notice when he forces your shorts and underwear down your legs. There’s a pool of cloth lying at your feet, dainty fabric that had been soaked with blood and cut into ribbons. He hits your thighs and ass with the next five strokes of the whip. Before moving again, he stutters, torn between being forgiving or continuing his endless assault of your soft flesh. The way your head falls limply to your chest, a sheen of sweat coating your body as crimson red rivulets silently descend to the ground below you, as if it’s their duty to entice him. To push him over the edge with need until he couldn’t take it anymore. It makes him give in, seven more and then he drops the instrument in an attempt to contain himself. He takes a moment to look at his work. Lover’s blood, he’s sure that he’s read something about the beauty of it. But seeing it for himself, hearing your shallow breaths as you succumb to the pain and your body slackens against its bindings, is more beautiful than he’d imagined. - He wakes you with even more pain. A faint trickle of something searingly hot burns down the fresh wounds that mar the opened flesh of your back. The scream you let out is the loudest yet, and he takes pride in the fact that he was able to wrench such a sound from you. A noise that no one else had heard and it was all because of him. “It’s just a disinfectant.” In all actuality he knows the level of pain you’re experiencing is probably on par with receiving the injuries, but he can’t stop himself from teasing. He finishes with a sigh and walks around to your front, smiling slightly as he sees your face. You looked wrecked, completely sinful as ribbons of pink tinged liquid dribble down your legs. It’s an encouraging thing. Feitan was the only one to see you this way, would only ever be the one to see your face streaked with tears and sweat, eyelids drooped and breath heavy from the excruciating pain he’d given to you. It makes his own breathing heavier. The spit slicked gag is ripped away and you don’t budge, head still slack against your chest as you stare dazedly at the floor. “Were you hoping to gain my trust so you could try to escape?” He whispers. And you almost don’t hear it over the sound of your own breath. You stutter out a feeble ‘yes’, because you know it’s what he wants, but it doesn’t seem to placate the man. He’s done this long enough to know when someone is lying to him. He’d previously came to the conclusion that you were just good at telling him what he wanted to hear, the paranoia settling over his mind like a heavy blanket as months stretched on and you’d remained unwavering in your acceptance. He can see it now, the truth of the matter enclosed in your feeble attempts of stopping the torture. He takes a step forward and smiles at the slight hitch in your breath at his sheer proximity. You were finally giving him a reaction he was accustomed to, one that he knew all too well. “See, I’m not so skilled at keeping people.. alive” he twists the blade in his hand, eyes shying away from your own as if he’d just revealed a weakness to you. He’s deep in thought, mulling over what exactly to do so as not to harm you too bad. You had told him the truth, after all. “This.. this is where I’d sever your leg from your body.” The knife is red hot as he pierces it through your skin, successfully drawing the image onto you. “At the joint.” After doing the same to the right, he digs it into your lower stomach, “if I had cut here, your entrails would cause such a mess.” Groans leave your throat in your attempt to breathe through the pain, rolling your head back to avoid looking at him. Its hard to contain the excitement he feels just from looking at your debauched state. You were enticing to him, enough so that he had gone out of his way to pluck you from your miserable life and let you start fresh with him. But right now, all he could really think about is how alluring your body was. Bloody and raw, so vulnerable in every sense of the word. He closes his eyes and lets out a puff of air through his nose in an attempt to contain himself. After he has, he continues his earlier ministrations. “The arms would be next, as you’d imagine,” And the lithe blade penetrates the meat of your shoulder as he continues with a downward stroke. It’s debilitating at this point. In a desperate attempt to block it all out, your eyelids involuntarily dance closed. Your body felt utterly destroyed, but your mind was in even worse shape; Choosing to forego the pain, black dots clouded your vision as you felt yourself being quickly tugged under and into unconsciousness. It’s a gentle slap, in his opinion, a warning to keep you alert. He didn’t want you to block this out. Not yet. He’s talking more than usual, a pent up frustration at the fact that he didn’t get what he was looking for. That he was denied the satisfaction of making you admit your wrongdoing. So, he snatches it from the crunching noise of your body hitting the floor. “If I did that, you’d die. Do you think I want that?” You only have enough strength to nod ��no’, and your answer gains you a swift kick to your gut. He knew you were lying. “I’m not going to kill you.” He lets out something akin to a shaky laugh, the revealing sort that lets you glean just how unhinged the man truly was. He only meant to punish you, to force the truth from your mouth. But once he had a taste of the way you shrieked at his touch, how sweat made your naked body glow in the dim light, he knew this would be the first of many punishments to come.

#feitan #feitan portor #feitan x reader #yandere feitan

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okaywitheverything · 4 years ago

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Konoha X Reader ♡1

A/N: So I’ve been really inactive I know but its because I have a lot of tests coming up. Here is fun series I wrote long ago which is sort of everybody flirting with you in Konoha. Hope you like it. Here’s part one of three.

"Yeah, it would be a nice change of space. I've been cooped in one place for far too long I feel. I've always had a nick for travelling and exploring." You answered with an adorable smile on your face.

"Is that the only reason? Pardon me for questioning you but I need to be completely sure about approving your request to move here to Konoha. I can't take any duty of mine lightly."

"Nothing less would be expected of you Hokage-sama. You truly are as intellectual, perceptive and ingenious as people say."

The Third Hokage laughed lightly at this. "As flattered as I am dear, I am not cutting you any slack." He replied smugly.

"I'm an okay Jounin-level kunoichi that feels the urge to start anew. Oh come on, I'm not an assassin in disguise! I could have fooled you if I actually wanted to." You replied as serious you could, slightly staring at him to try and intimidate him.

Don't think it's working at all.

"I'm actually in a disguise right now."

That's seemed to have caught him off guard. You smirked a little. "You haven't even checked my ID yet. The photo it has right now, doesn't match my current self. Wait! Don’t peek! Let's make this interesting. You'll see my abilities as a ninja as well. What do you say?"

Tempting the Hokage was probably not a good idea, but you have never been one to shy away from risks.

"Oh I'm not doubting your ability of deception. Say what, that door leads to a bathroom. If you manage to amaze me with a different disguise that matches whatever is in your ID, I'll let you move here, no more questions asked." He said, propping on his elbows, leaning forward. This old man was surely fun, you had to give him that.

"Alright, give me five minutes."

You looked at your appearance right now. Really big dorky glasses that hid your beautiful features under its frame. A really tight braid with middle parting of your hair. You looked oh-so-nerdy right now. But only you knew that on the removal of these two things, your entire appearance did a one eighty degree. And that's what you intended to do as of right now.

You looked at yourself with awe in the mirror. You never bragged about your appearance or thought of yourself as superior to basically anyone.

But you weren't one to willingly drag yourself down, you remained confident with whatever you wore, whatever you had. Sure everyone had bad days, but to make a routine out of it? That was not you. Right now, your beautiful (h/c) tresses cascaded down your body to (whatever your hair length is).

Your cherry pink lips glossed more as you reapplied the lip balm. Your (favourite colour) blouse was the one thing that remained the same. You swapped your baggy pants with a similar (favourite colour) skirt that reached your mid thigh that matched your painted nails. You had removed your glasses already and replaced it with contacts. (Or just removed if you don't need contacts)You were thankful for all the accessories you kept in your (favourite colour) purse in case you needed to party anytime.

But you really outdid yourself by taking out matching heels from the bag and replacing your flats.

Guess the female purse is really a mystery.

You readied yourself and stepped out.

Go big or go home, right?

The Hokage looked up from some documents he was checking and Kami, you could have sworn you saw blood trickling down his nose. You instantly grew worried, was he having a seizure?

You then saw him frantically grabbing your folder and snatching out your ID. His widened eyes darted back and forth from the photo on the ID to your confused face.

"Are you going to say something?" You said after few minutes of silence.

"I think I need to check the bathroom to see if you swapped places with someone. As shocked as I am to admit this, I was totally not expecting that. Keeping my end of the deal, as you have truly amazed me, I can only hope this will help our undercover missions. Anyways, welcome to Konoha!" The Third replied with a grin, a narrow strip of blood still gushing down.

You responded with another charming smile of yours. However, before you could say something, the door abruptly opened revealing a large man with really long white hair and a lady close behind who had beautiful golden locks."Hokage-sama, did you hear about Oro- Oh! Hello there. I don't believe we have met. I'm Jiraiya, a renowned writer and appreciator of beauty and grace. And you seem just the kind of elegant lady that I was looking for."

The man started but changed his composure entirely when his eyes met yours mid sentence. You tilted your head in slight confusion and saw the lady behind him come ahead while smacking the back of his head. However, as soon as she saw you, a slight pink tinted her cheeks.

Maybe at the embarrassment of realising someone else's presence?You wondered.

"Hello I'm Tsunade. I haven't seen you around, you seem new." With pink cheeks, she put her hand forward which you gladly accepted giving her a small smile.

"Yes, I arrived here today. I'm (Your first name) (Your last name)." You replied.

You didn't realise at what point exactly did the white haired man had moved to the corner of the room during your conversation. You saw him squatted down, vigorously writing down something and mumbling incoherent words along the lines of 'new characters initials will be (your initials)'.

What surprised you was the river of blood gushing down his nose, blood almost thrice the amount you witnessed on Hokage's face earlier.

He seriously looked like he was about to pass out.

Is the weather here really this hot and cruel? Good thing I'm wearing a mini skirt right now.

You came out of your thoughts when you heard knuckles cracking quite loudly and saw Tsunade glaring at Jiraiya that he totally ignored as his eyes only travelled between your face and his book.

The Hokage, about whom you had completely forgotten until now stood beside Jiraiya, leaning to read what he wrote, giggling like a lovestruck teen.

"Is this how you are supposed to behave?!" Tsunade pulled Jiraiya up by his ear, and to be honest she even scared you. "And you sensei, supporting him like that?!" She continued and you praised her confidence and unwavering voice.

If you hadn't witnessed the scene, you would never believe she was talking to The Lord Third.

The Third sheepishly scratched his neck, embarrassment coating his cheeks. You felt you should excuse yourself before the situation escalated to another level. "If my request is approved, I'd like to look around the Village." You said moving towards the door. "Let me assist you with that. I know all the exclusive spots in the vill- Oww ow what?!" You heard Jiraiya exclaim from the corner.

"Have you forgotten about the important matters we came to discuss here? It's not like I'd rather stay here than show her pretty ass around but we have some duties." Tsunade said making you blush.

'Pretty ass' caught you off guard. Both the curse and the compliment.

You grabbed your folders and put them inside your purse and headed out, not before flashing a bright cheeky smile to all the three people in the room as you heard Tsunade say, "We hope to see you around soon."

The two guards outside almost didn't recognise you as the same girl who entered the office. They exchanged quizzical glances while all you could wonder was how could they let Jiraiya and Tsunade intrude like that. Maybe because it was an emergency. You gave them both genuine smiles and shrugged to yourself while moving to find the exit.

This wasn't how you planned on exiting and roaming, in such a short skirt but you had no choice because of the intrusion in the office. You didn't mind though, Konoha seems to intrigue you in a good way and you found yourself excited to explore, looking like a total bomb in that sleek, sexy (favourite colour) outfit of yours.

A/N: this was just some meaningless drabble of sorts. Hope you enjoyed.

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jungshookz · 5 years ago

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Winemaker!Hobi!!!! y/n is wine tasting with her friend (idk why people go wine tasting but I'm sure it's for parties or something) and she forgets you aren't actually supposed to SwaLLow the wine and gets a little tipsy and she embarrasses herself, and her friend, but Hobi is like uwu she cute

➺ pairing; jung hoseok x reader

➺ genre; sommelier!hoseok, mostly comedy because y/n’s kind of a dummy

➺ wordcount: 3.6k

➺ what to expect; “the choice to spit or swallow is entirely up to you.”

➺ note; after one million years i have returned with a hobi drabble!! i thought this request was sO good and also everyone look how handsome sommelier!hoseok is :’)) i hate wine but i would chug ten bottles just to sit around and listen to him explain to me how white wines go with creamy foods and red wines go with spicy foods :’)) okay happy reading clink clink!! (gif source unknown but i found it off here!!)

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

sometimes the fact that you’re friends with kim taehyung genuinely confuses you

not just because you’re complete opposites in terms of literally everything but also because-

well… that’s pretty much it.

the two of you are like... a peanut butter and pickle sandwich!

when you first look at it you might think that combination is a little funky anD could possibly lead to destroying a toilet BUT when you actually give it a try you realise it’s actually pretty great!

…you get the point

so when taehyung told you that he wanted to spend his birthday at a wine tasting event, you really weren’t that surprised because of couRse he wants to spend his birthday drinking wine and socialising with other wine snobs instead of doing something actually fun like… literally anything else in the entire world

you’ve always prided yourself on being a good friend so if wine tasting was what taehyung wanted, then wine tasting was what he’d get!

but, uh

to be perfectly honest

you’re not really a wine person

you’re more of a margarita person

you just don’t see the appeal of drinking fermented grapes!!!!

why drink bitter grape juice when you can drink sugary lime goodness??

why drink something that’s been ageing in a barrel for like fifteen years when you can drink something that nevER ages due to the insane amount of additives in the premix formulas??

“wowiE, check out that spread!” you look over at the round table in the centre of the room as you and tae trickle in with the rest of the participants of the event “is that fondue?? holy shit.”

“hopefully you don’t burn the roof of your mouth again.” taehyung snorts before the smile falters on his face, “…maybe you should stay away from the fondue altogether.”

the two of you take your seats (there are fancy name cards for everyone!!) and you smooth your skirt out before smiling politely at a couple of the other people at the table

so far, the rest of the people here are… to put it as nicely as possible… more mature than you thought they’d be

but then again this is a wine-tasting seminar so it would be a huge surprise to see other twenty-something year olds hanging out here

you feel out of place but taehyung is just soaking it all up

he’s happily chatting away with the older gentleman seated next to him

sometimes you tell taehyung that you feel like he’s a fifty-five year old man trapped in the body of a twenty-four year old

and he never fights back because he knows it’s true

you let out a breath as you take a look around the room

god

you’re going to be stuck here for a good two hours drinking wine

maybe you can sneak away to the hotel bar or something

taehyung probably wouldn’t notice, right?

but would that make you a bad friend?? abandoning him here when you said this was a thing you were going to do with him??

“you know, i see myself as a wine enthusiast. the more i drink, the more enthusiastic i become!” taehyung laughs heartily and the other couples join him

christ almighty

you’re tempted to ask him which wine-mom facebook page it was that he stole that joke from

“does anyone have the time? i think it might be wine o’ clock soon…”

you let out a quiet groan as you feel your soul literally float out of your body

okay well

that’s your cue

you are ouTTa here

just as you’re about to get up off your chair, you hear the door slam shut and-

“good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen! welcome to today’s wine-tasting event. my name is hoseok, and i’m going to be your host…”

you shift in your seat as you follow the host with your eyes

you feel your heart skip a beat when he spins around to face the table

he’s handsome

like vERY handsome

perfectly tousled dark brown hair

bright twinkly eyes

his nose is literally perfect!!! perfectly slanted and perfectly pointed!!!

and his smile!!!!! it’s shaped like a heart!!!!! how precious!!!!

the thin gold chain hanging around his neck winks at you under the lights and you swallow thickly

it seems as though you’ve found a reason to stay at this event

as hoseok begins to explain how the structure of the event is going to pan out, you find yourself paying extra attention to the way his lips curve around certain words

“as you’ve probably already noticed, there’s an abundance of different dishes in front of you that’ll go great with some of the wine you’ll be tasting today… over here, a roasted fruit and cheese platter… a smoky three cheese fondue with some freshly baked french baguette slices on the side… popcorn with sesame glazed pistachios…” he slowly makes his way around the table as he introduces each of the dishes and you feel your heart drumming away as he gets closer and closer to you, “dark chocolate sea salt cashews… baked brie with figs and walnuts…”

and you think it might be a nervous habit or something but whenever he pauses his tongue pokes out quickly to lick over his bottom lip

whatever it is it’s cuTE

as he passes you and tae you catch a whiff of his cologne and for some reason you instinctively cross your legs

and when hoseok looks directly at you your thighs automatically squeeze together and-

oh god

okAY you need to relax

why don’t you just stare at the fondue or something??

you’ll do that

you immediately look down at the three cheese fondue and you begin counting how many chunks of baguettes there are on the plate sitting next to it to keep you distracted

it’s a shame you’re staring down this fondue instead of paying attention to hoseok because you don’t notice the way his eyes scan over you before he’s quickly looking over at someone else

“i believe it’s essential to expectorate when you’re tasting a wide variety of wines, but i’m well aware that some people might not be comfortable with spitting into cups and pouring that into a dump bucket, so-“ you look back up at hoseok after you finish counting the baguette chunks (you counted twenty six but some are hidden under others) “the choice to spit or swallow is entirely up to you.”

you immediately choke (on nothing??? apparently??? goD you’re lame) and reach over to grab your glass of water to keep yourself from bursting into giggles

tae gives you a couple pats on the back before rolling his eyes playfully

you find toilet humour pretty funny so he’s not surprised that you chokEd over the spitting or swallowing thing

the corner of hoseok’s mouth twitches in a smirk when he hears you whisper: “in my humble opinion, spitters are quitters-“ to your friend before you’re pressing your lips together and holding back a grin

he looks at your name tag quickly

y/n y/l/n

how cute

“so you’re going to want to hold the glass up and examine the wine against the light,” hoseok explains, “what you’re looking for are colour and clarity.”

you let out a little sigh as you prop your cheek up on your fist while the other hand holds up your glass on wine

you look down at the information sheet on the table

it’s basically just a list of the wines that you’re trying today and you’re still on number one

it’s been like fifteen minutes!!!

there are seven wines you have to go through!!!

this hoseok guy is hot but gee whiZ he really takes his time with things

you could probably explain the wine better and faster than him!!

the colour of the wine is red!

…and you don’t know what clarity means so you’re just going to say that the clarity of the wine is also red!

“now stick your nose into the glass and give that a good whiff. what do you smell?” hoseok pauses as he looks around the table

“i’m getting notes of… i’m thinking strawberry…?”

“yes, so am i!”

“is it strawberry or cherry? i feel like it’s easy to mix those two up.”

“there’s something nutty… i’m picking up something nutty but i’m not quite sure…”

“it smells like wine to me.” you blurt out and tae elbows you when you get a couple irritated glances from your fellow wine buddies

what???

were you wronG??

you lean over to get closer to tae, “when are we drinking??” you whisper as hoseok continues to babble on about the different notes that you should be picking up on

“hush.” tae scowls before nudging you back

goD

this is torture!!!

“go ahead and give that a taste.”

there we go

you tilt your head back as you down the wine in one go

down the ol’ hatchet!

also

another reason as to why you’d be a much better sommelier than hoseok: his serving sizes are tiny!!!! how are you supposed to properly taste and appreciate the wine when he gave each of you like a tiny baby shot of it??

“now, this wine pairs particularly well with the dark chocolate sea salt cashews, so feel free to try that combination.”

you perk up at the mention of eating

noW we’re talking

>:)

since the two of you are here for him, taehyung didn’t think that he’d have to worry too much about you

because today is his day! he should be able to enjoy his fancy wine tasting event! he wants to chat about how the creamy brie cheese compliments this rich white wine! he wants to learn about how different types of glasses can change the way you taste a certain type of wine!!

but NO

he doesn’t check up on you for good half an hour and thIS is what he gets

you’re wasted

zooted!!!

completely gone!!!!

you’re slumping back against your chair with a dopey little smile on your face while trying to balance a little chunk of camembert cheese on the tip of your pointer finger

“y/n, you weren’t- you weren’t supposed to drink all of the wine, you blockhead-“ taehyung whispers as he plucks the cheese off your finger before using his napkin to wipe your hands clean

“well, i believe in noT being wasteful, sooOo i think you might be in the wrong here, mr. look-at-all-the-wine-left-in-my-glasses-“

“alright, so this next one is a merlot,” hoseok explains as he makes his way around the table to fill everyone’s glasses up, “in terms of flavour, it’s definitely more fruit-driven and has a more cherry-like aftertaste. it has a smoother finish compared to the cabernet sauvignon that we tried earlier…”

taehyung whacks the side of your leg when hoseok gets closer to the two of and you immediately straighten up in your seat

“wine me up, monsieur.” you hold your glass up for hoseok and offer him a bright smile

he chuckles and plucks the glass from your hand before setting it back down on the table

taehyung gives you a warning look before reaching up slowly and gesturing to keep your lips zipped

you raise your hands in defence before zipping your lips and throwing the key away anD blinking hard (it was supposed to be a wink)

taehyung raises a brow

you can’t zip your lips anD lock your lips that doesn’t make any sen-

you know what

it’s fine

as long as you don’t say anything else for the remainder of this session it’ll be fine

“everyone has a little in their glass? good. go ahead and give that a taste.” hoseok clears his throat before turning to put the bottle down

you take a small sip of it before tilting your head back and-

gurlrulrulrurlurlurrgurlugr-

“what the hell are you doing?!” tae hisses as he gives your arm a hard pinch

you choke and give your chest a couple hard pats before grimacing

“god, that did noT go down smoothly.” you whisper loudly and shake your head, “i’m giving that one a sssaaad face.” you slur as you doodle a little frowny face next to the name

taehyung’s eyes widen as he looks at what you did to your information sheet

where did you even find a pen????

‘not good very bitter if ass was a flavour then this would be ass juice’

‘supposed to be complimentary with aged cheddar but i think it would go better with a kraft single’

and then in thiS corner there are several attempts of you trying to spell sauvignon blanc and they’re all scribbled out

‘sawvinion bank. solveingrown blank. sawnananananananananananananananana batman!!!!’

oh dear god

you slap tae’s hand away before scribbling something new down

‘tasted better after gargling.’

oh dear GOD

“everything alright over there?” hoseok chirps and taehyung gives him a sheepish smile before nodding quickly

“all good! sorry, we’re all good.”

“alright, does anyone have any questions for me before we move on to-”

“oOh, i have a question!! i have one, i have one, pick me-“ you wiggle your arm around and hoseok nods in your direction

“yes, y/n?”

“i think, i think that we should order, um, we should, we should order a pizza. because these water crackers or whatever you call them are nOT doing it for me, like, look at this-“ you pick one up before popping it into your mouth and chewing obnoxiously, “fho dhry. fho DRY-” you let your jaw drop and taehyung suppresses a groan of mortification when what looks like straight up saND falls out of your mouth and sprinkles right into your wine glass

“oh, god. please stop, please stop-“ taehyung winces and quickly reaches over to snap your mouth shut

you slap tae’s hand away before swallowing your bite

“so, thoughts on this pissszzzaa?” you slur as you reach for another water cracker (tae moves the plate away before you get a chance to grab one) “is pepperoni okay with everyone? yes? yes? good? nice? yum? hm?” you look around the table while nodding enthusiastically, “barbara, my love, i noticed your earrings are from chanel which can only mean you’re loaded so because of tHAT i think you should be the one to pay for this extra large, cheese-stuffed crust pepperoni-

“okay! i think you need a time out-“ taehyung chuckles and gets up before grabbing you by the arm and yanking you up off your chair

“time out??” you gawk as you stumble over your feet, “i’m not three years old, taehyung, i- oOh, barbara, dahling, if we order within the next five minutes, we can get two cans of coke on the HOUSE-!“

sLam

“-you’re going to sit here and do nothing, got it?” taehyung scolds as he helps you get settled on the ground next to the door of the room

“i gotta say, i think all this wine is making you a little catty-“ you purr before playfully batting at taehyung’s face

luckily he moves before you get the chance to scratch his cheek

tae pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration and shakes his head, “y/n, you know you’re one of my best friends and that i care a lot about you, and i appreciate you being here with me but- today was supposed to be my day! my day! so can you please just sit here and behave? please?”

even in your drunken haze you can see that taehyung is upset with you and that’s enough to sober you up a little bit

you didn’t mean to upset him :-(

you were just trying to do this wine tasting thing right!!!!! and you weRe technically tasting the wine.,. just maybe a little too much of it.,,.

you nod slowly and reach up to zip your mouth shut

“good. the water dispenser is right there, so stay hydrated.” he gets up off the ground and dusts his knees off, “and we can order a pizza after this is over, okay?”

you nod again and offer him a meek little smile

you spend the next twenty minutes staring at the wall in silence

occasionally you looked around to see if anything besides nothING was happening

you did get up once to get yourself a little paper cone of water

and then you put the cone on the top of your head like a little party hat

but theN you realised that putting a white paper cone on top of your head was just you giving yourself a dunce cap which… was actually pretty fitting in this situation

at the twenty-eight minute mark the door opens quietly and you immediately perk up because you automatically assume it’s tae

“it’s y/n, right?”

“oh, uh-“ your eyes widen as hoseok slides down the wall to plop himself down right next to you “yes? yeah. i’m- yes, i’m y/n.”

“i noticed you were a fan of the dark chocolate covered cashews, so-“ he holds out a little napkin filled with the cashews before handing it over to you, “everyone in there is currently mingling with each other, so i figured i’d come out here and keep you company.”

you blink owlishly

he’s being pretty friendly considering the fact that the two of you are complete strangers

almost too friendly

…you like that :-)

because you totally like being overly-friendly with strangers too!!!!

in fact, that’s how you and tae became friends!!

but enough about tae because heLLo attractive young man sitting right next to you-

“ah, well, i’ve been staring at that patchy blotch of paint on the wall for-“ you pause to check the time on your phone, “coming up to be twenty-five minutes now, so you’re not missing out on that much.” you murmur as you unwrap the napkin and pick up a cashew before popping it into your mouth

“i, um, actually…” hoseok trails off before laughing lightly, “i wanted to come out here to talk to you about earlier-“

“oh, god. you don’t have to say anything, i know i was acting insane-“ you shake your head before snorting, “trust me, you won’T be seeing me again after the event ends-“

“but i do want to see you again.”

you freeze for a second before turning to look at him

you wait for another second to go by juSt to make sure he’s not playing around with you

“…say that again?”

“i mean… i thought you were hilarious!” he grins, “i know the alcohol was definitely a contributing factor, but i took a glance at your information sheet and-“ he pauses to pull the folded up piece of paper out of his shirt pocket, “-i don’t think i’ve ever heard anyone describe the aftertaste of a sémillon like: ‘you know lemon-scented febreze? now imagine what it’d taste like if you mixed sprayed lemon-scented febreze into a glass of bleach, because that’s what this tastes like’.” hoseok looks over at you with wide eyes, “you made this wine-tasting session way more fun than i thought it was going to be!!”

huh!

what a pleasant surprise!!!

cute boy thinks you’re funny!!!!!!

“i’m glad to hear that me humiliating myself was entertaining for you!” you joke before rolling your eyes playfully,“the only reason why i’m here is because my friend is a self-proclaimed wine snob.”

“oh, please. everyone here is a self-proclaimed wine snob.” hoseok rolls his eyes playfully, “no offence to your friend, of course.”

“oh, no. all the offence, please.” you snort and pick up another cashew, “he kicked me out to punish me but i didn’t even wanna be in there in the first place so this is actually super great.”

“ooh, i think i just felt my heart split in half…” hoseok winces dramatically as he presses a hand to his chest

you can’t help but giggle before you look away nervously

now that you’re not drunk off your ass, you feel the butterflies returning to your tummy

you barely know this guy but you’re pretty sure you’re already 500% in love with him

…what wine is he going to pick out at your guys’ wedding?

oOp

okay time to reel it in a little

“-i know this might seem a little out of the blue, but… would you wanna go out for drinks sometime… with- with me…?” hoseok clears his throat

wait what

you look back at hoseok so quickly that your head probably could’ve popped off your neck

he glances away before letting out a nervous chuckle, “i just… yeah, can i take you out?”

your eyes widen slightly

oh!!

you certainly weren’t expecting for him to ask you out but you’re definitely not complaining

“feel free to say no, i just- ah, i don’t know, i don’t usually get a lot of people my age coming to these things, and i feel like you-“

“i’d love to go out for drinks sometime… definitely with you.“ you tease as you nudge his arm gently

hoseok’s cheeks flush before he beams at you

“great! i know a place that makes really good cocktails- say, do you like margaritas?”

your lips part in a gawk

“do i like- do you wanna get married??” you scoff as you sit up straight, “i love margaritas!”

“great! i promise i won’t make you drink anything that tastes like-“ hoseok pauses to look at your sheet again, “‘mouldy grapes after they’ve been trampled on by someone with athlete’s foot’…?”

you flash him a sheepish smile

yeah

you don’t think you’re ever going to be a wine person.

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

requested drabbles masterlist

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sooibian · 4 years ago

Text

Paragons of Virtue

image from pinterest

🚸 pairing: sehun x fem!reader

🚸 description: “the dog ate my homework!”

🚸 themes: innocence, friendship, fluff

🚸 au: childhood au

🚸 word count: + 1.7k

🚸 a/n: the EXOs are 12 year olds! no, really. in this universe they are! this one-shot kicks off the ‘Back To School With EXO’ series of drabbles/one-shots for all individual members. hope you enjoy!!! @is-that-baekhyuns-shirt you have the craziest elementary school stories! thank you so much for sharing

_______________________________________________

Your parents never ‘mistakenly shred your homework to bits just to show you how a paper shredder worked'. Neither did your homework ever ‘blow away in the wind while you were walking to school’. Because a: you hardly ever walked to school - your mother drove you everyday and b: your worksheets were always neatly stacked and sealed in shiny new folders (you’d even devised a foolproof method of avoiding unsightly smudges of fingerprints on the transparent ones). If academic learning was your one true love, simple but highly functional stationery was a close second - colour coded writing equipment, neutral notebooks (the ones with animated characters were a guilty pleasure), even your year old geometry tools were as good as new.

A stringent schedule did now allow for any embarrassing dents, cracks, or cavities wherein lived the perennial ‘I did not have the time for homework’ excuse. Come hell or high water, you were always at the top of your game.

Additionally, your greyhound was a well-behaved, not-so-little fella, so the dog never ‘ate your homework’

….until he did. His choice of breakfast this morning was your Geography worksheet. Ravenous, he obliterated your hours of work in a matter of seconds. You fought tooth and nail to salvage it but his grasp on the paper was ridiculously strong.

So just like that, all of your hard work was reduced to shreds of chewed-on paper.

If there was one thing worse than ditching school, it was turning up without having the homework done. So you clutched your stomach with clasped hands and cried wolf, “Mom, my tummy hurts! I don’t think I can go to school today!” Just then the corner of your mouth twitched ever so slightly and her keen eyes didn’t miss the movement.

This awfully weird sudden convulsion happened every time you told a lie.

Stupid twitchy mouth was a dead giveaway.

The car ride to school, although a short one, felt like an eternity. Mother told you a story about a gardener boy who became king only because he told the truth. But you were no gardener boy! And you didn’t even want to be a king --- queen! All you wanted to do was to lie low and maintain your grades (and a spotlessly bright impression in the staff room - like a shiny new pencil holder, or a stainless steel writing pad).

The wall clock loomed over the green chalkboard, ticking away frighteningly. If you told your mother about your tummy ache now, your mouth wouldn’t twitch.

The bell rang. Your heart sank.

It was time for the short ten minute break.

Feeling helpless, you put your head down on the desk only to be startled by a sudden tap on your shoulder. A lanky boy stood blinking at you, his eyes covered with unruly bangs and lips stretched into a rationed grin.

It was the science teacher’s son - Oh Sehun.

Vacantly, you blinked back - hands still folded upon the desk, posture crouched somewhere in between sitting up straight and spiralling back into the comforting state of denial.

You wonder how he manages to read at all with a vision obstructed by a cloud of black frizz.

You’ve never bothered about Oh Sehun before (or anyone else for that matter), except for the one scarring thing you’d once witnessed him doing - truth be told it had left you a little concerned. It was really stormy one day after school and the grounds were empty. You’d stayed back to complete an assignment and he was probably waiting for his mother to wrap up her teacherly duties.

The wind motioned in circles, swirling dry leaves and whatever else it could muster in its rotations. Oh Sehun stood in the middle of this ‘mini-typhoon’. Hands outstretched, mouth open, eyes shut, eyebrows raised, head thrown back toward the dark skies, he pronounced, “I am the God of Wind! Bow before me you lesser mortals!”, to absolutely...no one.

He’s blissfully unaware that you’ve been witness to his indignity and you’d like to keep it that way. For one, he’s always stood second in class and never vied for your top spot (his consistency, you think, is commendable) and secondly - and most importantly - he is the son of an authority figure.

The boy's still hovering. Shifting his mingy weight from one foot to the other. Despite your inner turmoil, you plaster a polite smile onto your face and ask, “Can I help you with something?”

“No, but I think I can?” grin still rationed, eyes still clouded, uninvited he takes the empty seat to your left.

“You can what..?” Your eyes follow his frame as he parks his bony bottom on the worn out wooden bench.

“Help you with something? There’s obviously something wrong with you today.” He rests his chin in his flattened palm and purses his lips. Blinking.

Am I that obvious? You have an indescribable urge to shake his hair out of his eyes - to get an idea of what he’s thinking exactly.

“What makes you think there’s something wrong with me?”

Moon Taeil, the class rep, is dusting the chalkboard clean for Geography but you know his ears are on your conversation.

“Your hand didn’t shoot up once during any of the lessons today...are you okay? Do you need to go to the nurse’s room?”

Your face flushes out of embarrassment and this is….an invasion of privacy. This scrawny boy is making you uncomfortable. But you know that you could use a friend right now. Is this what friends do? Share embarrassing secrets?

“I didn’t do my Geography homework”, you start and beneath the mop of hair you notice his eyebrows skyrocket to his hairline so you hurriedly explain, “I mean, I did the homework but...”

Blink. Blink.

“My dog ate it”, your hand slides down the pocket of your skirt and you pull out shreds of paper.

You fully expect Sehun to laugh, but he doesn’t. Instead he raises his twig-like index finger and says, “Wait.”

He dashes out and returns with his backpack dangling down one shoulder and slumps back into the seat to your left. He takes out a spotless transparent folder and hands it to you.

It’s his Geography worksheet.

“There’s no way I’m copying this! I, obviously, can’t now...Madam Park will be here in like, five minutes.” You’re mortified at your desperation.

“I want you to have it. Also, Madam Park is on leave today onwards since she’s going to have a baby and all that... A new teacher is coming in who, obviously, won’t know what your handwriting is like. You can submit my worksheet instead.”

“A new teacher?” Your mouth goes dry, completely aware of how important first impressions are.

He nods.

“But why?” You notice he’s left the space given for personal details blank.

“Loyalty.”

Eyes narrowed, you shrug, utterly bewildered.

“Toward my classmates. We’re all friends first. And if this is so important to you, you can have my worksheet.”

He can’t be serious (or not serious)!

“Are you some sort of a “Homework Peddler”? Won’t people take advantage of your -” generosity, you wanted to say, “of--of you?”

“I’m not stupid, A+...I have a system.” He relaxes into the chair and you can practically see the ‘bow-before-me-you-lesser-mortals’ aura around him.

Students are trickling back in and you’ve consciously kept the cruel clock out of your sight. Sehun doesn’t go back to his seat, instead he settles besides you.

I don’t want to be queen.

“What’s that?” He quips.

With the corner of your mouth twitching again, your gaze drops. You take the sheet from his hands and gently put it down between your outstretched arms on the desk, “Nothing...thank you.”

His lips curl upward. Faintly.

The after-break cacophony dies down as the new teacher introduces herself as Madam Jung.

In exchange for her introduction, she wants all of yours. So to submit worksheets, she individually invites every student before the class to introduce, and to say one good thing about themselves.

She starts from the row to your right and your stomach clenches.

One good thing? I am incapable of making friends. I am careless about my homework. There’s nothing good about me!

Your eyes flit between Sehun (who is annoyingly unperturbed) and the worksheet which boasts of his loyalty and illegible chicken scratch.

When you realise it’s your turn next, you glance over at Sehun one last time (who is now twirling a pen between his fingers). He feels your eyes on him and catches your worried gaze and nods as if to say that it’s okay.

Feeling yet another telltale convulsion rise, you quickly scribble into the personal details space as Moon Taeil drones on about his fourth “good quality” and Madam Jung seems mighty impressed.

Before stepping in front of the class, you shove the worksheet back into Sehun’s hands. He first gapes at it which has his own name written on it and then at you - your surprisingly confident stance. Chin up, shoulders back, although your breathing is a little heavy.

Madam Jung encourages you with a motherly smile and you return it.

After introducing yourself you say, “I don’t think I have any impressive qualities, dear friends”, from the corner of your eye, you catch Sehun intently studying your face, “unlike some of you here who are complete embodiments of friendship and loyalty...”, you nod in Sehun’s direction. His wide grin makes his eyes crinkle. He sticks his tongue out and sinks into his seat, making himself tinier.

“...but I’d like to think of myself as an honest person and, Madam Jung, I hope you’ll believe me when I say that my dog...” a now wide-eyed Sehun is shaking his head furiously, “ate my homework.”

You produce scraps - a week’s worth of toil - and lay them on Madam Jung’s desk, and the class erupts in laughter. Pursing your lips, your eyes catch Sehun’s who wordlessly encourages you to laugh along.

Shoulders relaxed, you look at your classmates with an inexplicable sense of achievement. The kind Madam Jung chuckles, shaking her head and patting your back and your new friend (you dearly hope you can call him that now) - Oh Sehun - stands up amidst the cheerful ruckus, applauding you.

#exowritersnet #exosnet #sehun #exo #exo fluff #sehun fluff #exo oneshot #exo oneshots #sehun oneshot #sehun oneshots #sehun drabbles #sehun drabble #exo drabble #exo drabbles #exo scenarios #sehun scenarios #oh sehun #please don't judge this is healing writing!!!#exo childhood au

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beckzorz · 6 years ago

Text

Old Habits

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader Words: 7445 Warnings: 18+, NSFW, smut, swearing Summary: Training with the Avengers isn’t supposed to be like the Red Room, but for you and Bucky, the past is hard to shake. A/N: So you might recognize the beginning section from a drabble I posted back in February. Some folks asked for a continuation, so here it is. Hope it lives up to expectations :3 Let me know what you think!

“Again.”

“No. Again.”

“Again.”

You yank off a sweaty glove and hurl it at Bucky, panting. Enough is enough. “No! Not again! It’s been hours—”

Before you can finish, Bucky rushes you, his face transformed from its usual impassive façade to a violent snarl. You leap out of the way, sweeping a leg behind you to trip him up.

He’s too quick.

Bucky grabs your ankle and yanks hard, aborting your roll and nearly pulling your leg out of its socket. You twist onto your back as he clamps a hand on your waist, hard fingers digging into your side. You’ve still got two hands free, and a leg besides, but this is the Winter Soldier after all. In seconds you’re pinned to the floor. Bucky’s elbow digs into your throat until you see stars.

Only then does he pull away.

By the time your vision clears, his face is back to its customary blankness. The only hint of his moments-ago ferocity is the tic in his jaw.

“Again,” he orders.

You push yourself up on your elbows and glare up at him. Every muscle burns, and you can feel a bruise forming on your throat already. You don’t move.

“No.”

His jaw clenches. He takes one step closer until he’s nearly straddling you, so tall he might as well be a mountain.

“You need to keep going,” he says.

“I’m done.”

You sit the rest of the way up and peel off your other glove. You try and look nonchalant, but you’re on full alert. Would he attack you like this? You can’t be sure.

He doesn’t attack you. He just drops to his knees and grabs hold of your chin, jerking your head up until you meet his eye.

“That wasn’t good enough!” he shouts.

“Don’t yell at me like I’m a child,” you retort. You will not let him drive you to shouting back. You press your shoe hard against his groin, pushing him back. “Just because you did when I was doesn’t mean you can do it now.”

Bucky’s dark look washes away with sudden shock. His blue eyes go comically wide.

“Oh,” he says. “Oh.”

He scuttles backwards, his pinched expression so full of regret that you lean forward to stare.

“What?” you say.

Bucky runs his hands over his face, pushing his loose hair back. It falls right back into place.

“Old habits die hard,” he says, not meeting your gaze. “Got caught up in—I’m sorry.”

“You should be.” You stand with a wince; the hours of grueling training have taken their toll. You stretch your arms over your head and bend to press your hands to the ground. You straighten again. “No one here will kill me if you don’t push me past the point of reason. This isn’t—“

“I know,” Bucky interrupts. “I know.” A brief smile flickers on his face. “This isn’t there. No children. No handcuffing to the bed, either.”

“Speak for yourself,” you say with a snort.

Bucky’s eyes light on yours with sudden, piercing interest. “Oh?” he drawls.

You freeze, caught in his intense gaze. A blush rises to your face. Bucky’s eyes are darker than before—damn it, this isn’t supposed to be the Red Room, but here you are sneaking glances at the soldier, wondering what it would be like to have him cuffed to your bed.

What would it be like to have the power over him for once?

You swallow.

“Mind out of the gutter, Barnes,” you say, as lightly as you can.

Bucky smiles wistfully up at you. “If you insist.”

You force your eyes away from curve of his mouth and gather up your gloves. It’s wrong, to think of your old teacher like this… but how can you resist?

Even after he’s literally driven the air from your lungs, you’re drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Still, no call for him to know it. After everything you’ve been through, you know how to deny yourself anything.

Even something as dazzling as Bucky Barnes.

“I do.”

—

You tilt your head back and study yourself in your bathroom mirror. Concealer is a wonderful invention. The blooming bruise on your throat is totally hidden. Nothing out of the ordinary, just the smooth skin of your neck.

You press your hand against your right side. The finger-shaped bruises there are hidden by your shirt.

But they still hurt to the touch.

It hurts to talk, too. You’re perfectly capable of working through pain, but that sure as hell doesn’t make it fun.

Fortunately, you can get away with minimal talking for the rest of the day. Once you grab lunch and a granola bar for later, you can sequester yourself back in your room and lounge in peace and quiet.

You pass by the main mess and wince; it’s far too crowded for your liking. Instead, you go farther afield to the lounge kitchenette.

Natasha glances over her shoulder as she dumps fruit into the blender.

“Hi, Natasha.” You squeeze past her to raid the pantry.

“How was training?”

You shrug. You stick a wrapped granola bar between your teeth and grab the bread. From the fridge, you snag your sandwich fillings. Natasha wordlessly passes you a plate and knife. You hum in thanks and spread everything out on the table.

“Hm.”

You glance over your shoulder, eyebrows raised. Natasha’s looking at you with a furrow in her brow.

“What?” you ask.

“Oh, nothing.”

You shrug and turn back, popping the bread clip off. Natasha sets her smoothie down beside you and steps out of your line of sight.

A hand clamps around your throat.

Red floods your vision.

In a heartbeat, you’ve flipped Natasha over your shoulder, sending her crashing onto the table. The bread lands with a muffled thump somewhere behind you. Natasha blinks up at you as you collapse into the closest chair, clutching your neck gingerly.

She’s not even winded. You scowl.

“Dammit, Nat, what the hell?” you rasp.

“What happened?” she asks, sitting up.

You look away, heat rising to your face. Will Natasha be as scolding as Bucky has been?

“Bucky had me training for hours,” you whisper. Anything louder hurts. “I told him I’d had enough—”

“Let me guess,” she says drily. “He rushed you.”

You shrink in your chair and nod. “I guess he forgot we weren’t, you know. There.”

“Yeah, he gets that way sometimes. Not saying I don’t, but…” Natasha shrugs and swings her legs back and forth. “He’s more intense than the rest of us put together. Except for Tony when he’s in one of his manic episodes.”

A smile flits across your face. No lie there.

“I’ll have a word with him,” Natasha says.

“Oh, please don’t,” you blurt. You wince and try not to massage your throat—that would only make things worse. Quietly, you add, “He knows he got caught up, and then he’d know we were talking about it, and I just don’t want to have to deal with that next time.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “Next time? Why don’t you just train with someone else?”

You open your mouth, then close it. Natasha takes a long sip of her smoothie.

Why don’t you train with someone else? No one else, not even Natasha, goes to Bucky’s lengths. And there are other large men who can pose a reasonable threat. Steve, maybe? No, he gets too defensive about Bucky. Sam might do.

Whomever you pick, a change in partners might be just the thing to clear Bucky from your mind. You’d told him to get his mind out of the gutter, but there are moments where you can barely keep your head in the game. Bucky and his tight workout gear—not to mention that sinful mouth—draw you in no matter how much you tell yourself no. A little distance will do a world of good.

Bucky’s a teammate. He’s your old teacher, your old tormentor, your fellow sufferer. He’s one of the few people alive who could truly relate to your past. But in his eyes, you’re just the kid who still needs breaking in.

That settles it. You can’t keep sighing over a man who only wants to lecture you. No matter how much he makes you weak, Bucky Barnes isn’t for you.

“Thank you,” you say at last. “That is the reasonable thing to do.”

Natasha smirks. “Of course it is,” she murmurs. She stands and raps her knuckles on the table. “Later.”

—

A week later, you’re in the ring with Sam, sweat trickling down your face. Sam has a hard punch, and even without wings he’s tough to hit.

In the ring, anyway. If you weren’t playing by arbitrary rules, you’d’ve flattened him a half-dozen times already.

Oh well. It’s good practice.

Sam aims a few more hits in your direction before stepping back with a fresh smile.

“Sup, Barnes?” he says.

You look over your shoulder, gloves still up. Bucky’s leaning against the ropes, his eyes flicking between you and Sam. His sweats ride low on his hips below his fitted t-shirt.

You look away.

“You still goin’ at it?” Bucky asks.

You glance at Sam, unsure if Bucky’s talking to him or you.

“We can wrap it up if you need the ring,” Sam says. You give Sam a panicked look, and he blinks. “Well, five more minutes?”

“Uh, sure.”

You watch surreptitiously as Bucky wanders off, peeking over his shoulder at you with a frown. His hands are stuffed in his pockets, his shirt pulled tight across his shoulders and back.

“Wonder who he’s sparring with,” Sam muses.

You shake yourself out of it. Enough of Bucky. “C’mon,” you urge Sam. “One more round.”

Sam puts up his gloves with an indulgent grin.

You barrel towards him, eyes on the prize. The rush of adrenaline sends all thoughts of Bucky to the wind.

Sam’s defeat comes swift. A surge of power runs through you as you hold him down an extra second with a foot on his knee, but at his urging you help him to his feet with a grunt.

“You’ve got moves, girl,” Sam says, grinning good-naturedly. “Thanks for going easy on me.”

You giggle. “Sure thing, Sam.”

Your smile holds as you amble to the locker room, gloves swinging from your hand. When you turn the corner to your row, you freeze.

Bucky is sitting hunched over on the bench in front of your locker, elbows on his knees and one hand in his tousled hair. The soft lighting in the corner engulfs him in a gentle halo. He looks like a goddamn angel, sweats and all.

No, no.

You grit your teeth. Whatever he looks like, he’s a man who can’t control himself who’s hell-bent on controlling you.

You step back, but your sneaker squeaks on the tiles. Bucky’s head snaps in your direction. For a moment, his face is soft, with wide eyes and barely parted lips and a hint of a blush in his cheeks. Of course, his expression hardens as he pops to his feet.

“Why are you avoiding me?” he demands.

“Uh—”

Bucky steps towards you; you step back instinctively, dropping your gloves and settling into a fighting stance as your heart hammers in your chest. He stops short.

“Fuck,” he mutters. He collapses back onto the bench and rubs a hand down the back of his neck, chin tucked against his chest. “Forget it.”

You blink. “I’m not avoiding you,” you tell him.

“I said forget it,” he snaps. He jumps up and stalks away, passing so close to you that you can feel the air moving in his wake.

You spin to stare after him. His stiff shoulders fill you with sudden rage.

“Fine!”

You storm past where Bucky had been and open your locker with so much force that it bounces back closed, nearly taking your fingers off in the process. Teeth bared, you grab a change of clothes and slam your locker shut.

You make for the showers. Shirt and leggings off first, then you shimmy out of your sports bra and underwear. The water is a relief, and in here behind the locked door, you can finally relax.

Relax? No, you can’t relax. All you can think of is Bucky.

What the hell is his problem?! Why does he turn into the fucking Winter Soldier every time he talks to you? Why can’t he just deal with you like a normal person? Like Natasha, or Clint, or whoever the hell he wants. It’s not like you’re actually avoiding him.

You aren’t. Well…

You worry the inside of your lip as you run your soapy hands down your arms.

Are you avoiding him?

Sure, you stopped training with him, but it’s not like you run out of the room when he comes in. You’re just keeping a healthy distance, the better to contain him—and yourself. It’s better you’ve switched to working with Sam. Better for everyone. Clearly, your presence alone triggers Bucky. The man can’t even ask you a simple question without putting you on the defensive. And there’s no point in hovering by him, panting after him like a lovestruck child. You’ve done that before, back… back before. It never got you anywhere, except stuck in a chokehold from losing focus.

You run your fingernails lightly along your neck. The phantom memory of Bucky’s hand on your throat sends a sudden chill through you.

No, not a chill. Just a shudder, one that settles right where you wish it wouldn’t. Your hand dips between your legs, and you lean heavily against the wall as want pools in your belly.

Maybe you have been avoiding Bucky. Under the circumstances, you’re pretty sure it’s for the best.

Thank god you don’t have any missions planned together anytime soon.

—

Two days later, Steve summons you to the conference room.

You sit on the edge of the table across from him and bounce your foot as you wait for him to get started. He pushes a file over to you. You thumb through it.

“Something’s come up in Ukraine,” Steve says. “We need Ukrainian speakers.”

“This looks simple,” you tell him. “I can take this. Don’t drag Natasha into it; she’s almost had a full two weeks on-site.”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “I wasn’t planning on pulling Natasha. She’s earned some rest. I’m sending Bucky with you.”

“What?!” Your stomach drops. “Steve, I—”

“I don’t know what happened between you two,” he says, standing slowly. He leans on the table, fixing you with a sharp stare. “But fix it. You leave tomorrow, five a.m. Sharp.”

You sputter as he sweeps out of the room.

Great. Just great. You groan and kick the closest chair over. A mission with Bucky? Alone? How the hell are you supposed to manage? It’s not your fault he gets lost in the past when you’re around. Of course, it’s not his fault you dissolve when he’s around, either.

If only he’d stick to his instincts and let himself be soft around you.

You squeeze your eyes shut and try not to imagine it.

You don’t do a very good job.

—

The flight, at least, is bearable. Mostly because Bucky spends the entire time piloting in the cockpit while you review the file in the cabin. There’s really only a few meters between you, but the cockpit door does an excellent job at letting you forget how close he is.

However distracted you let yourself get on base, this is different. This is a mission, with strategizing and information gathering and subterfuge. You can handle yourself on a mission like this, even with the Winter Soldier.

You’ve done it before; you can do it again.

You glance at the cockpit door, fiddling with the corners of the papers in your lap. You can do this. You can stay professional, keep your cool, not let his inevitable reversion get to you.

There’s no other choice.

Hours pass before the intercom buzzes to life. You stiffen in your seat and clutch the file tight as you wait for Bucky’s voice.

“Fifteen minutes to landing. Pack it up.”

He kills the intercom, and you let out a slow breath. Your knuckles are white; you open your hands with wide eyes. All that for just the sound of his voice?

No. You shake your head hard. No more.

You have to get a handle yourself. There’s no other choice.

—

Phase one goes off without a hitch.

Steve had written up a suggested plan in the mission brief. Pretend to be tourists, scope out suspected hubs of criminal activity, listen closely for any hints. All that sounded great. The fake dating part? Not so much. You know exactly how that would have gone. Fake relationship, all-too-realistic break-up scene. No thanks.

So you changed the plan. Splitting up, you told Bucky, meant you could cover more ground. Hear more conversations.

He didn’t argue at the time—and to be fair, you’d only pulled that out right before your arrival—but now that you’re on the road to the motel, the tension is as thick as cheddar cheese. Bucky’s hands are clenched on the steering wheel of the mid-grade rental car. He’s got gloves on, but they’re pulled tight over his knuckles. The leather creaks against the wheel whenever he shifts.

You only glance occasionally at him; you spend most of the ride typing up notes and staring out the window, parsing the various tidbits you’d gleaned from the last hours of spying.

Neither of you say a word. Fifty-six minutes of silence.

You check into the motel, letting Bucky sit in the car. The old-fashioned key with its numbered keychain jingles as you amble back to the car.

Packing light is a specialty; both of you just have one large backpack each. You grab yours from the trunk and make your way to the room as Bucky locks the car up, clearing any evidence away.

You unlock the door and push it open.

You freeze in the doorway.

There’s only one bed.

Bucky’s footsteps behind you rattle in your skull, and you hurry to dump your bag on the side of the bed closer to the door. It’s cold, despite the heat being set to seventy; you turn it up to seventy-five. You pray Bucky doesn’t notice your hands are shaking.

You rummage through your bag for your pajamas, every hair standing on end as Bucky shuts and triple-locks the door. He goes straight into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

You run your hands down your face and struggle to contain a groan.

One bed. One bed. Who the fuck decided this? Is this Steve’s misguided attempt to make you and Bucky get along? Doesn’t he know what the problem is?

The toilet flushes, and you hurry to change into your silk romper. Off with the civvie clothes of the mission, on with your romper. God, why is it so cold?

When Bucky comes out, you glance his way, then automatically look back, heat rising in your cheeks. Bucky’s wearing a loose t-shirt over a pair of boxer briefs, his metal arm gleaming in the dim light. His hair is tucked behind his ears, neat for almost the first time this whole trip. Despite the looseness of his dark shirt, you can still easily make out the shape of his pecs. You don’t dare let your gaze go any lower.

Oops.

Your thighs clench together. Oh god. You’re fucked.

Bucky drops his bag on the floor and pulls out one of his many guns. He settles in the chair by the little round table and glances up at you as he dismantles the pistol for cleaning. His eyes widen briefly as he looks you over. He shifts in his seat, brows drawn low.

“What?” he asks gruffly.

Your cheeks burn. “Nothing!”

You run into the bathroom, desperate for air. It’s barely over fifty degrees and still the air is too thick. You showered this morning, but you’ve still got the urge to scrub yourself clean. Thoughts of Bucky rattle around your head, teasing and torturous. You press the heels of your hands to your eyes. Enough!

You brush your teeth furiously, hard enough to make your gums bleed. You cup water in the palm of your hands and swish it around in your mouth, wincing at the sting. If only washing out your mouth could clear your thoughts as well!

By the time you emerge, you’re certain Bucky’s going to make some comment about girls and bathrooms. But he doesn’t. All he does is turn his head a few inches in your direction, then look resolutely back at his disassembled rifle. The cleaning cloth practically squeaks from his furious rubbing.

God, his hands move fast…

You swallow, a rush of heat flooding your face as you studiously ready your bag for the night—if something happens during the wee hours, you’ll be ready to book it in seconds. All the while, you can’t help sneaking glances at the chair, and at Bucky’s hands. He reassembles his rifle in seconds, then he wipes it down one more time with a gentleness that makes you shiver.

His hands have never been gentle on you, but he sure knows how to use them.

On his guns, at least. Would he be able to use them gently on you, if you told him how? Could he keep them still, if you asked?

Ugh.

You slip under the covers and swear under your breath. The sheets are cold to the touch. You huddle in a fetal position on the edge of the bed, holding yourself tight and facing away from Bucky. You shut off the light on your side, leaving only a weak yellow lamp for Bucky’s work.

Bucky is quiet, perhaps too much so. Is he still cleaning guns? Is he done? Is he just sitting there, waiting for you to fall asleep? You run your hands along your bare legs, trying to infuse some warmth. For all the blushing you’ve been doing, most of your body is still cold.

Best not to think how warm you’d be if Bucky joined you.

You bite your lip to contain a snort. If Bucky joins you, he’s more likely to kick you off the bed than offer any real warmth. His track record even in just the last couple weeks involves nearly strangling you, for heaven’s sake. Not to mention all those times in the Red Room…

A shudder runs through you, more pronounced than your shivering.

“Something wrong?”

You freeze. “No, nothing,” you say quickly. You pull the blankets tighter over your shoulders, your fingers digging into your arms.

“Riiight.” Bucky cracks his knuckles, then his neck. “When exactly are we going to talk?”

Terror passes through you, and your answer comes faster than reason can quash it. “Tomorrow. Good night.”

You pull the blankets clean over your head.

“Fucking hell,” Bucky mutters, almost too quiet for you to hear.

But you do hear it. Tears prick at your eyes, but you don’t answer. What right does he have to complain? He didn’t even try to talk in the car, and once you got here, he just locked himself in the bathroom.

But you’re no better. You should be debriefing with Bucky, planning with Bucky, talking to Bucky… Instead you’re curled up like a fucking baby, teary and angry and eyes squeezed so tightly shut that your eyelids hurt. The thought of talking to him with all those thoughts swirling around in your head is enough to turn your stomach. How can you look him in the face when all you want to do is mark him as yours?

If only Steve could see you now.

Bucky’s moving around again. You stiffen, the better to hear him; he slides a gun under the bed, another in a nearby drawer.

Then he lifts the blanket, exposing your back to the cold, and slides in.

You let out your breath slowly as he settles on his side of the bed. Bucky’s not close enough for you to feel his body heat yet, but from all your training you know he runs warm. In the meantime, you press the blanket down for better insulation. Bucky shifts seconds later, ruining your careful tuck.

What a waste.

Intermittent shivering aside, you lie as still as you can, curled up with your back to Bucky. Deep, shallow breaths do nothing to relieve your tension. Every few seconds, Bucky turns, or shifts, or tosses. You try to keep track of which direction he’s facing without looking at him, but in minutes you can’t imagine. He’s moving too damn much.

All you want to do is sleep, and by sleeping stop thinking about him.

“For fuck’s sake, Bucky, stop twitching!”

Bucky sits up with a huff, the blankets pulled tight over your shoulders yanked down with him. “I haven’t had to share a bed in months, and you think I can just lie still?”

“I’m managing,” you say icily. You tug the blankets back into place, suppressing a shiver. The heat in the motel is awful; you’d set it to seventy-five an hour ago, but the room is barely at sixty. In a better world, you might have shared Bucky’s body heat, but you’re on separate edges of the bed, as much space between you as possible.

“You’re shivering,” Bucky says. “That’s not managing.”

You groan. “My shivering is not your problem.”

“Of course it’s my problem,” he argues. “I don’t know why you’re being such a—” He cuts himself off. “Of course it’s my problem,” he repeats slowly. “We’re teammates. If you get sick…”

Seriously?

Enough is enough.

You sit up, arms crossed tight over your chest, and glare at him.

“First of all? It’s not cold enough to get sick in here. We both know that. From experience. Second, being teammates doesn’t make us friends. We’re here to complete a mission, not babysit each other. We’re adults. And third, you know damn well why I’m being such a bitch.”

Bucky’s eyes widen through your little tirade, but narrow as you finish. He licks his lips, his eyes darting across your face. “Do tell.”

“You’re a fucking control freak!” you snap. “This isn’t there. You don’t get to tell me what to do all the time. You’re not my boss, and you sure as hell aren’t my handler. I’m done letting you dominate me. I’m done roleplaying our past. I’m done! So lie down, be still, and shut the fuck u—”

Bucky’s lips stop your mouth.

You freeze.

His mismatched hands cradle your face, one warm flesh and one cool metal. His lips are soft and slightly chapped against yours. You can’t move, but your heart hammers in your chest. What is happening?

Bucky pulls back after what feels like an eternity, or maybe a single second. His dark eyes flit across your face. You just stare.

“I never could do that,” he whispers. “There, I mean. But god, I’ve wanted to do that for—”

You barrel into him, pinning him to the bed. You hold his wrists down over his head, your knee pressed against his groin. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to notice that he’s hard. His eyes are almost black, just a thin ring of their customary lightness still visible in the dimness of the room. The muscles of his right arm are tense. He could throw you, from this position, but he lays quite still beneath you.

His face is inches from yours. Both of you are panting; his warm breath fans your face. The smell of toothpaste doesn’t mask his particular intoxicating scent. Goosebumps break out along your bare arms and legs.

You crouch over him, your torso stretched above his. Bucky licks his lips again. He tilts his head up, baring his throat. His eyes are heavy with desire.

“It’s only fair,” he says huskily.

Your eyes drag down across his flushed face, his lips, his stubbled chin, the line of his throat, and finally settle on the rapidly beating pulse point just above his collarbone. You duck your head, your arms stretched a little more to accommodate the movement, and press an open-mouthed kiss to that pulse point. His heartbeat thuds against your lips.

Then you sink your teeth against his collarbone, and Bucky jerks beneath you. His chest brushes yours—when did your breasts get so tender?—before he collapses back down, his breathing even heavier than before.

You pull back and stare down at him. Heat dances through you, between you; Bucky’s grinding himself on your thigh, just enough to notice. His arms are still splayed over his head, his hands caught in yours. You push his hands into the mattress and slowly move back until you’re kneeling between his knees.

He leaves his hands where they are.

You take the opportunity to look him over. Your teeth have left a mark on his collarbone. His loose t-shirt is too dark for you to make out the shape of his chest, but the tent in his boxer briefs casts a hefty shadow. You run your hand up his thigh, the dusty hairs there standing on end as your fingernails scrape against his skin. You stop at the hem of his briefs, your thumb curling against his inner thigh and just brushing against him.

His cock twitches, and he shudders.

“You tease,” he rasps.

“Alright, alright.” You can’t help the smile on your face. “Well, tell me then. What do you want?”

“I want you.”

“You’ll have to be a little more specific than that…” You push his shirt up over his abs, kissing them as you go.

Bucky grabs your hips and pulls you up his body; you lose your balance and collapse on his chest just as he takes your face in his hands and kisses you again. This time, you’re not frozen. This time, you’re burning up. The feel of him under you is everything you’ve ever wanted. In this position, his cock is nestled between your legs, and you rock against it with no mind to what Bucky might think.

Then his hands slip around to squeeze your ass, and you remember that his hands were supposed to be over his head. You bite his lip and slam his hands back into place.

Bucky ducks his head and latches his mouth onto your breast. Your silk romper is no protection from the wet heat of his mouth, and your elbows buckle as he sucks your soul out through your nipple.

“Fuuuck, Bucky—”

He pulls back with a wicked grin and licks his lips. “Sorry, baby. Couldn’t resist.”

You laugh breathlessly. He’s too adorable, too fuckable—do you even care about control anymore? Every second the power changes. If things keep going the direction they’re headed, both of you are going to win no matter what.

What’s a little democracy among friends?

“Alright, fine.” You sit up on his thighs, threading your fingers in his, and kiss his knuckles. “No point in resisting anymore.”

Bucky sits up too, his cock pressed tight between you. He worms his hands free and loops his arms around you. He doesn’t grab your ass again, just holds you against him and gazes into your eyes.

“You mean that?” he murmurs.

You raise your eyebrows. “Sure.” You drag your core against his cock, a shudder running through you. “I think we’ve gone past holding it in.”

“Well,” he says. He peppers kisses across your face, prompting a giggle, and finally slides a hand down to squeeze your ass. The other dips between your legs from the front, and the brush of his hand against your clothed clit sends starbursts rushing through you. “Here’s to not denying ourselves.”

“Ch-cheers,” you stammer.

Bucky turns and lays you back on the bed. You look up at him, breathless, as he whips his shirt over his head. He has to tilt his hips to free his cock from his boxer briefs, but they go flying off the bed in turn.

God, what a man.

His chest is smooth and pale in the dim light, his sculpted muscles leading a natural trail down to his Adonis belt and the thin line of hair leading down to his jutting cock. Fuck. He’s big; his glans is almost purple, the tip leaking precum.

Bucky chuckles at your blatant staring. “Enjoying the view?” he teases.

“I’ll say,” you answer breathlessly. You press your thighs together, desperate for friction after that single touch.

Bucky notices. Of course he does.

“Let me,” he says huskily. He peels the straps of your romper down your shoulders and arms, peeling the fabric away from your tender breasts—you suck in a breath as the cool air hits your skin—and past your hips with your underwear. There’s a wet spot in the crotch, of course there is; you hadn’t noticed before, but you’re positively dripping with desire. You kick your clothes away. Bucky worms his way between your legs until your thighs are hooked over his. You grab hold of the sheets with a moan as Bucky kneads your breasts. His right hand skates down your belly.

When he finally dips his fingers inside you, you cry out and buck your hips into his touch. He brings his fingers to his lips and hums as he tastes you. Then his hand is back between your shaking legs, sending fresh lances of pleasure through you. His thumb circles your clit as two fingers tease your entrance. Your toes curl and your hands ache from clutching the sheets, but god, you can’t let go. The wet sounds of his fingers thrusting into you are pornographic.

“Mm, so wet, baby. Is all that for me?” he murmurs.

You let out a breathy moan, unable to form words. Your eyes flutter shut as his thumb traces patterns on your clit and his fingers curl inside you, all while his metal hand plays with your breasts.

When his fingers finally find your g-spot, you see white. Your back arches right off the bed as your limbs seize up; a wordless cry leaves you as shudders rack your body. All you can feel are Bucky’s hands on you, in you, his mouth suddenly back on your breast.

When your orgasm finally passes, you realize Bucky has pulled away. He’s lying next to you, his cock pressed innocently against your hip as he wipes your damp brow.

Of course, there’s nothing innocent about the way he’s sucking his wet fingers. When he wipes them on his bare skin, you pull him down for a brief, lazy kiss.

“There we go,” Bucky says. His eyes are still dark, but there’s a gentleness to his expression that fills you with unexpected warmth.

Was the room cold before? You can’t tell anymore.

“Think you’re up for more?” Bucky asks.

You reach over and take his hard cock in hand; he hisses at the sudden contact. “You’re certainly up for more,” you tell him, and he laughs breathlessly and kisses you again.

“You minx.”

You squeeze him, and he crawls over you until his cock is nudging your entrance. He pauses suddenly and pulls a few inches back.

“What?” you ask, annoyed.

“Um, what about protection?” he asks hesitantly. The blush on his cheeks isn’t the flush of desire. It’s cute.

Also entirely unnecessary.

“I’m clean, you’re clean, and we both know I can’t get pregnant,” you remind him. His eyes flash with sudden memory. You sigh and kiss his cheek. Maybe he had forgotten—but it doesn’t matter. Not now, when he’s inches from screwing you into the bed. “Now fuck me already, yeah?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You hitch your hips as he aligns himself, propped up by his elbows curled under your arms. You reach down to help him find the right angle, then wrap your arms around his waist and press your hands against the small of his back.

Both of you gasp when he finally pushes in. Your eyes slide shut, and Bucky’s head falls onto your shoulder as he rests there, only the first few inches in. It’s tight, and after your orgasm you’re extra sensitive. You can feel when he twitches inside you. You can feel every millimeter, every bump and ridge, as he slowly sinks the rest of the way in.

“Fuuuuck,” he groans. He brushes sloppy kisses along your shoulder until he’s sucking a mark into the same pulse point you’d kissed on him before. “Fucking perfect.”

You squeeze your walls around him, absurdly pleased when he hisses in pleasure. Damn right you’re fucking perfect. You were trained to be perfect at this, among other things. But hearing it from him, with his voice so damn wrecked, is a million times better than the stilted approval from the rest of them back at the Red Room.

He’d never given you words of approval before, but now…

Hearing him sing your praises is a literal fantasy.

He pulls out, then slowly pushes back in. His hair tickles your skin; his lips are still on your neck, his chest against yours. It’s all so good, too good. You spread your legs wider, digging your heels into the mattress as you lift your hips to meet his on the third thrust. You turn your head and kiss the side of his head, the shell of his ear.

“Fuck me,” you whisper as he pulls out, leaving only the tip inside. “I want—”

Bucky buries himself inside you so fast you cry out in shock. He sets a furious pace, pulling back enough to stare down at you as he breathes harshly, the air whistling through his teeth. His hips snap into yours. You buck up against him as best you can, but he’s so unrelenting you can barely keep up. All you can do is let him hammer you into the creaking bed. You reach up and grab the headboard, holding it still and anchoring yourself.

He grabs one of your legs and hooks it over his waist, opening you even more to him. Your mouth falls open. Now, every thrust hits your g-spot, sending a steady stream of sparks through you. Your arms tremble from the strain of containing yourself. You’re awash in feeling, in heat; your painfully hard nipples are burning from the friction of his chest, and there’s the throbbing radiating from your clit, and, and, and…

Your second orgasm comes without clear warning, when Bucky hitches your leg higher and pushes in just a little deeper. This time, your cries are soundless, and your eyes squeeze shut as you let the sensations crash through you like tsunami waves.

Through it, Bucky keeps pounding into you, bottoming out every time. He slows as you come back to yourself, and finally stills long enough to kiss you senseless all over again.

“You sure know how to wear a girl out,” you mumble against his lips.

He chuckles, low and filthy, and pulls out of you. Cool air tickles you as he moves away; you feel empty without Bucky’s cock in you. You whine in disappointment, but then he flips you onto your front and pulls your hips off the bed. He grabs your pillow and stuffs it under you.

“If you weren’t so darn worn out, I’d let you ride me,” he says. He squeezes your ass, spreading you open for his eyes. “ Let you hold me down… But you’ll have to make do with this.” He pulls one arm back, trapping you in place. Your cheek is pressed against the rough sheets. You clench your walls, desperate for some relief.

He guides himself back inside you, and oh god, it’s even better than before. The new angle lets him get even deeper; he hits every spot. Soon, he’s snapping his hips so hard into yours that you’re slipping up the bed, losing height as he flattens you into the mattress. Your arm burns from his hold, and dimly you realize you couldn’t get out of his grasp if you tried.

You whimper at the thought, a fresh wave of want pooling at your core. Your nipples are throbbing in time with your rapid heartbeat; Bucky’s free hand digs into your hip. You know he’ll leave bruises, but this time all the realization does is spur you to push back against him as best you can, moaning.

“God, Bucky, more, more, c’mon!”

Bucky growls. He lets go of your arm and pulls you up by the base of your neck until your back is against his chest. He slams up into you, his right hand coming around to squeeze your breast and his metal left hand snaking across your belly to flick your clit with the speed of a machine. Your head falls back onto his shoulder. Your eyes are squeezed shut, your keening cry unending. You grab your left breast and tweak your nipple in tandem with Bucky at your other breast; your right hand joins Bucky’s left at the joining of your bodies, your fingers forming a V around the base of his cock as he pulls out and pulls you down on him. You can feel your wetness coating his length. God, he’s got you right where he wants you—no, you’ve got him where you want him…

Tears prick at your eyes as tension coils in you so tight that you’re desperate for release, but Bucky stills his hand on your clit at the last second.

“Stay with me, baby, I’m almost there, hold on, a’most,” he rambles. His rhythm falters as his cock swells impossibly harder inside you.

Your legs are jelly, but he’s more than strong enough to move you as he wills. Your walls clamp tight around him, your hand reaches lower to cup his balls, and with a shout he slams you down on him one last time, his metal thumb flicking your clit with abandon as his cock twitches inside you.

You see stars.

All the tension building releases in an earth-shattering explosion. Waves of pleasure pass through you; you quake in Bucky’s arms, and he holds you tight as he cums inside you. You hear yourself babbling his name, swearing, crying out—you’re a mess, you’re wrecked, you’re buried in his arms and he’s buried in you, and oh god, it’s everything you ever dreamed of.

Bucky lifts you off him. You topple forward, still wrapped in the aftershocks. He falls to his side beside you and wraps you in his arms as you slowly ease into stillness. His stubble scratches against your shoulder as he kisses the skin there.

Eventually, you feel recovered enough to speak, but words fail you. You’ve just had the best sex of your life with the man of your daydreams—and actual dreams, to be honest—but you’re at a loss for words. You don’t need to pump him for information. You’re not about to thank him.

What else is there to say?

“That was fuckin’ incredible,” Bucky mumbles. He rolls you onto your back and kisses the edge of your mouth.

You smile weakly and thread a hand into his hair. His words are all you need. “Yeah,” you tell him. “It was.”

“Next time I wanna watch your pretty tits bouncing,” he says, tweaking a nipple between his fingers.

You burst out laughing and shove his hand away; after all that, you’re still too sensitive to enjoy his teasing touch. “What?!”

“Hey,” he says, holding his hands up defensively, “you’re the one who told me to be more specific.”

You shake your head incredulously as you hobble to the bathroom. “Alright, alright…”

Once you’ve used the bathroom and cleaned yourself off with a damp washcloth, you crawl back into bed. The heat has finally kicked in; it’s pleasantly warm now, but not too hot to keep you from snuggling into Bucky’s open arms.

“So?” he asks.

“So what?”

“Next time…”

You huff tiredly into his neck, but a smile curves your lips as you recall how this all began. One stray comment about handcuffs… Maybe it all went sideways for a while there, but god, what a beautiful resolution.

“Sure. You can watch my tits bounce all you want. But you’ve got to keep your hands where I put them.” You catch his hands in yours and hold them together against your back. “Think you can submit to that?”

Bucky groans, but it’s a good kind of groan. The kind of groan that’s anticipating, not dreading, what’s to come. “For you, I’d submit to just about anything.”

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky x you #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x you #winter soldier smut #mcu imagine #bucky barnes imagine #becca writes

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soheila-1996 · 5 years ago

Text

My story- part seven

My little disclaimer:

I have epilepsy. This details my seizures, I can’t speak for everyone, everyone’s seizures/ experiences are different. This is graphic. Seizures are messy. They aren’t fun and it felt wrong to make it out to be cute when they really aren’t. Pretty much all the things that happen in the plot have happened to me. Well, I’m not married to a king or live in a palace so…there’s that but everything else is accurate. There may be some jokes about it here because I do joke about it sometimes. It makes me more comfortable and I find it helps relax everyone around me. I’m also writing about it because there really aren’t that many fics written about it and I think it’s important to shine light on it.

Any feedback is really appreciated! :)

Tagging people who shared the last part. You don’t have to read it! I just thought you might want to see what happens: @kacie-0156, @texaskitten30, @cordonianroyalty, @kingliam2019, @bebepac, @kingliam-rys, @cordonia-gothqueen, @kimmiedoo5, @bbrandy2002, @loveellamae @bobasheebaby @losingbraincellseveryday @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @jared2612 @flutistbyday2020 @debramcg1106 @anotherbeingsworld @leaharhys @cordoniaqueensworld @bascmve01

This is also part of wacky drabbles hosted by @emceesynonymroll. The prompt this week is: #42: Let's be honest with ourselves, we knew this was going to happen.

Paring: Liam and Riley

Warnings: hospital setting, mention of miscarriage, blood.

Word count: 2535

Catch up here

(Liam’s POV)

I can’t do this.

I can’t lose her.

All the worst case scenarios are going through my head as my wife continues to seize on our bedroom floor. We’re coming on nearly seven minutes now and she’s not showing any sign that this is going to stop on it’s own. I know by now that we’ve gone over the five minute mark that the seizure stopping by itself isn’t likely.

I wish in a way I hadn’t done so much research on epilepsy when I found out because I know about all things that can go wrong. I know that this is now Status Epilepticus and I know about the long term effects that this could possibly have on her if the seizure isn't stopped quickly.

I’m snapped out of my thoughts when Karol places a comforting hand on my shoulder. It’s then I notice i’m crying, I can feel the tears streaming down my cheeks.

“They’re on the way,” She said reassuringly, “She’s going to be okay.”

I nodded as I attempted to gather myself, sniffling and wiping my tears away. I looked down at her as my eyes welled up again. “You’re going to be okay,” I spoke to her softly, “I love you so much Riley.”

I looked down at the timer: 7:17. “I’m here. It’s going to be okay.” It’s like I’m unravelling into a complete, giant emotional mess. I’m unable to stop the tears from flowing.

A minute felt like an hour to me right now- it always did while she was having a seizure. Her movement’s started to become a little less violent and I couldn’t help but hope she was starting to come out of it. That It really was going to be alright.

“I think she might be coming out of it,” Karol said hopefully through her own tears. I can’t imagine how Riley’s parents are feeling. I’m her husband and It kills me everytime, I can’t imagine how I'd feel in their shoes.

“Good,” Micheal nodded. He came back into the room and knelt down beside Karol.

We were all wrong. The seizure just kept going. Her movements were a little bit more subdued than before but it wasn’t stopping. I just kept running, put fingers through her hair and pushed it out of her face.

Some blood started to trickle out from the corner of her mouth. I used my sleeve to wipe it away.

“You’re doing so good Love ,” I cooed, “It’ll be over soon.”

It was a minute later when we heard someone “Paramedics!” to announce themselves as they opened the door.

“In here!” Micheal called. We heard footsteps and rustling of bags as they made their way through the apartment to us.

The paramedics entered my bedroom followed by Bastien.

“How long has she been down?” One of the paramedics asked no one in particular. I’m too focused on Riley to actually pay any attention to what they’re doing.

Karol looked down at the timer: 9:54: “Nearly ten minutes,” she answered. Karol and Michael moved out of the way to give the medics some space to kneel beside us.

One of the women made quick work of setting up and IV as the other prepared some medication.

“This is a medication that will help stop the seizure,” the one explained.

She administered the drug and seconds later the seizure came to a halt. I ran my fingers through her hair. “There you go, Love,” I whispered to her, “There you go.”

“It’s normal for her to sleep a little now from the medication, okay?” She explained. I nodded as her partner started taking her vitals.

The woman that had given Riley the drug turned to me and gave me a small, reassuring smile, “I’m Jenny by the way,” She explained, turning to the other woman, “That’s Christine.”

I nodded and gave them a small smile in return. “Does she have epilepsy?” Jenny asked.

“Yes.”

“Okay,” she nodded, “Do you have any idea what led up to this.”

I sniffled and cleared my throat, “She hasn’t been taking her medication.”

“Okay, I think it’s important to take her to the hospital because of that and the length of the seizure, especially now that I’ve given her the drug as well.” I nodded in understanding. The way she had explained it though had calmed my nerves ever so slightly.

“Okay,” I replied. I just want her to be okay- that’s all I want and I would do anything in my power to make sure of that.

They make quick work of getting Riley onto a stretcher. “We’ll meet you at the hospital,” Karol told me.

“Alright.” Riley is then quickly loaded into the back of the ambulance with Jenny and I in the back with her.

Jenny asks me a few questions about her medical history as we began the journey to the hospital.

She rechecks her assessment as my gaze stays fixed on Riley.

“Are you okay?” she asked me sweetly, breaking the silence.

I don’t really want to talk about myself right now. I’m too focussed on my wife but answer it anyway with a nod. She gives me a small smile. “I know how scary that must’ve been but she’s doing really well now.”

“Good,” I nodded. I turn back to Riley and see her eyes are starting to move behind their lids which Jenny soon notices too.

“The medication I gave her is also a sedative, so she’ll be pretty weak for a while.” Her eyes start to move a little bit more before fluttering open.

(Riley’s POV)

I open my eyes and all my vision consists of is black splotches. There’s a dull ringing in my ears too.

Where am I?

Whatever I’m laying on isn't very comfortable and there’s something over my mouth and nose too. It feels like it’s trying to suffocate me.

I’m trying to move my arm to remove the device but I can’t...why can’t I move? It’s almost like I’m magnetized to whatever I’m laying on .

Where the fuck am I?

I manage to move my head to lay flat on whatever is beneath me and a metal ceiling comes into focus. What is this place?

I’m not able to keep my head in that position and let it fall limply to the side, like how the rest of my body is laying.

Why am I so tired?

I want to look around me to try and make sense of it all but I can’t. I’m too exhausted to move. I’m so confused that I just want to burst into tears.

I don’t understand what’s happening.

It feels like I’m moving…?

“I don’t…”

He stroked my cheek. “I know. Your seizure was a little bit too long and I needed to make sure you were alright, okay? It’s okay, you don’t need to be scared.”

Liam glanced away from me to look at something behind me. I try to turn around but again, I can’t. Someone moves into my line of vision- a woman. Her hands are purple- no, it’s gloves, I think. She’s wearing a uniform and that makes me slightly scared.

“Hi, Riley. I’m Jenny, I’m a paramedic.”

“Ambulance?” I asked groggily. Liam’s earlier explanation had kind of gone over my head.

“We’re in an ambulance, that’s right,” she confirmed.

My eyes feel heavy. “M tired.”

“That’s okay,” she nodded, “I had to give you some medication to stop your seizure, okay? It’s meant to make you feel sleepy.”

I give her a small nod as my eyes start to close.

What’s going on?

I want a sign that I’m safe but there isn’t one.

The more I try to look around and realise I can't, the more panicked, scared and confused I become. I let out a whimper- muffled by the device on my face.

I want Liam.

“Li,” I try to say, I can feel my eyes start to well up. Something comes into my field of vision but it takes me a little while to be able to decipher what the new object is.

I hadn’t realised that I couldn’t hear properly but now I can at the same time i realise the thing above me is a person and that person has a face. I stare up at the person above me intently.

“I’m here. It’s alright,” the figure said, “I know that you’re scared and confused but you’re okay.”

I’m still trying to figure out who it is. The person’s face isn’t fully in focus yet and my hearing still isn't back to normal.

“It’s Liam,” The figure told me. My vision starts to sharpen. I recognize that voice. That face. It really is Liam.

“Li,” I say through a sob. I really don't understand what’s happening. I’m scared. I’m really scared.

“It’s okay, You’re okay,” he said quickly to calm me down but it doesn't work. I felt something squeeze my hand, I just don’t have the energy to look at what has just grasped it. “I’m right here, everything is okay,” he said, My hand is squeezed gently and I realised it must be Liam that’s touching it.

“I’m tired,” I muttered. Talking makes the device on my face steam up.

“You had a seizure,” he told me, “but you’re okay now.”

"Where am I?” I ask in a slurred voice.

“We’re in an ambulance.”

I don’t want to be here!

This news makes me panic as I try to get my body to comply with my demands, I'm too exhausted to think. I just don’t have the energy and choose to relax instead.

(Liam’s POV)

Riley slept for the rest of the journey to the hospital and while she’s unloaded from the ambulance and rolled into a room once we arrive. The new medical team is nice- efficient. They try to keep the situation light but I know that they’re also alarmed by the length of Riley’s seizure.

I’m just happy- elated that she's alive. It could’ve gone so very differently. This reminds me of when she aspirated a few weeks ago, All i know right now is that i never want to come this close to losing her ever again.

I don’t think I could survive without her. She is everything to me. She’s my best friend.

Once they had her stabilized with labs drawn and some new medication in, I sat next to her bed as she slept.

I’ve never been so scared in my life.

I don’t think I can explain how much I love her with words. There aren’t any words that have been invented that can describe the love that I have for her.

Today broke my heart.

I can’t lose her.

(Karol’s POV) -

Micheal and I are sitting in the waiting room, Riley was stable now, they had managed to stop her seizures and Liam was with her. We’d just spoken with her doctor and decided to let Liam be with her for a little bit. As much as I wanted to go to my little girl, she needed her husband more right now.

My husband is sitting down and I’m continuing to pace. “Let's be honest with ourselves, we knew this was going to happen,” I told my husband, “We should’ve been here. We should’ve been able to stop this.”

“Karol, we didn’t know. Riley- she’s not a kid anymore-”

“That doesn't mean that it’s not our job to protect her,” I interrupted, “She’s still our little girl, Mike.”

“Come and sit down, “ he told me as he patted the seat next to him. I sighed and plopped, reluctantly down beside him. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “All that matters is that she’s going to be okay, K. That’s all that matters right now.”

“What if she’s not?”

“The doctor said-”

“I know she’ll recover from this. She got incredibly lucky but...she’s hurting. She’s blaming herself for something that she had no control over and I...What if this happens again? You know what Liam told us she was thinking about...I-I can’t lose her, Mike, I can’t.” I tried to hold in a sob but I couldn't. Just the thought of losing one of my children is indescribable. They all mean the world to me. I love them all so, so much. They’re all my babies but Riley is my youngest, she’s my little girl and I can’t imagine my life without her.

(Riley’s POV)

My mouth feels dry and sore as I open my eyes.

I’m not in my bedroom...

Where am I?

The last thing I remember is seeing my parents then heading back to bed. I look around the dimly lit room, my eyes lading on the window and the darkness behind it- How is it night already?

Why am I in the hospital?

I looked to my side and saw Liam there. “Hey,” he said softly.

“Where…?”

“You’re in the hospital. You had a seizure that was a little bit too long.” I go to try and rub at my tired eyes but my movements are restricted by the IV in my arm . “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty shitty,” I replied honestly. My voice raspy. I gesture to the glass of water on the side. Liam quickly grabs it and helps to position the straw by my lips.

I take a few sips and let Liam place the glass back down. I realise that it’s fairly quiet for a hospital, other than the beeping from my monitor and the sound of the blood pressure cuff self-inflating periodically.

I look back up to look at Liam and realise his eyes are red- rimmed and still a little puffy.

It’s weird how the mind works. Somehow seeing Liam upset and knowing I’ve caused it makes me think that I deserve this more. I don’t even understand my own logic but it makes some sort of sense right now.

I know I haven't been thinking rationally for a while but I’ve dug myself such a deep hole that I no longer care.

“I love you,” he said, his voice cracks slightly. It feels like the knife in my chest twists to cause another wave of agony. I hate myself for hurting him. He’s the best husband you could ask for and yet I keep causing him pain.

He sniffles and reaches for my hand. He places a light kiss along my knuckles. “I love you so much.”

“I love you,” I mumbled, my own voice trembling.

“We’re going to get through this together, okay?”

“Okay.”

#my story #wacky drabbles #tw: seizure #talk or pregnancy loss #hospital #tw blood #riley brooks #liam and riley #trr #the royal romance #epilepsy #choices #trr liam #trr riley

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alkhale · 5 years ago

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Hm... That’s like, five, so I’ll stop there for now lest I make you wanna murder me. Sorry this got so long! Anyways, take care of yourself, and make sure to eat or sleep or drink some water when you need to! Also, I really loved the recent chapter!!! Thatch was great, I hope he lives. Also also, what’s the letter she left Ace??? I wanna know geeez. (Vira, 8/8)

Lovely Vira has actually left a handful of great and amazing AUs for Memos, I’m just hopelessly slow at getting through asks and I feel like when I go on an answering spree I just spam you guys, answering this one might not make sense, but it’s because the last line of ask (7/8) is about a soulmark AU!

I’d like to expand and write a blurb for it (I’ve been contemplating making a separate story for all the AUs/Side Bits to the story called Drabbles or Doodles of a Suicidal Pirate, but lmk how y’all feel about that) but I’ll just give you guys bits and pieces of what it’d be like

Soulmark AU (with a twist)

In this world, people are born with a small splotch of color on a specific part of their skin, when they turn 12, their marks appear fully. Marks range from designs, images, splatters of color or monochrome, and sometimes words. In this world, however, some choose to believe marks are meant to be signs of a significant other or “soulmate” and many romanticize and publicize these marks to be of romantic nature--however, the general consensus is actually that one’s mark is meant to represent a person who will make a significant, soul changing experience to the life of the person who has the mark. A person’s mark represents someone who will come into their life and make an impact, a change--a person who by some unknown force is meant to come into their life because they are connected down to the core of their souls.

A group of people can have different marks that in actuality, represent one single person who will influence each respective person’s life.

It could be said that their souls have been marked by this person.

People can also be born, by chance, without a mark.

- The people of Artopoki are funny about soulmarks, as coming of age marks are usually placed somewhere on the body as well, their marks are often mistaken for one of their many tattoos

- Hoku notes the information of soulmarks dully, they don’t really seem important to her and she doesn’t pay much attention to it since she’s busy trying to figure out how to kill herself

- Mahina’s soulmark is of black fire that lines her collarbones, sparks coming out like a forge and fire-- “A black sword is being made, maka.” Manu’s is cherry blossoms that stretch over his shoulders.

- The Fall of Artopoki occurs and while Hoku is traveling with Mihawk, she asks him about his because she’s curious and she can’t see it anywhere visibly. It isn’t until one day where he’s wearing his overcoat but not his dress shirt that she sees it--falling feathers covering his back.

- Hoku starts to grow fond of drawing soulmarks, it’s a bit taboo for her to do so, but she usually rips it up after, just keeping the drawings of the people close to her

- Hoku hopes she never meets the person her soulmark is meant to match with, she prays for their better fortune.

- And then there’s Luffy.

- Luffy doesn’t talk much or care much for soulmarks, Hoku is relieved

- and then there is Shanks and for once, Hoku considers the idea of a soulmark and how beautiful it can be and how she’s never wanted to see anyone’s more than she wanted to see his

- They go about those days in a blur and then time passes and people come and go and when its down to the soft three of them, no longer four--

- Ace’s mark comes in a blur, fissures and cracks across his chest as though someone had shattered glass, trickles of hot red shining through.

- And then Hoku turns 12 and her mark never comes. They wait, they wait and Luffy’s mark comes in the form of the sun on the front of his chest, spreading light every which way--and still, Hoku’s mark never comes.

- Hoku has no soulmark, she is markless.

- She’s perfectly, utterly, and completely content with that.

- “I was never supposed to make an impact on anyone’s life anyway.”

- When Hoku and Kid meet, his mark is prominent and showy--it’s violent and angry--splatters of dark red along his biceps with claw marks slashing through and down. He demands to see hers, becomes furious when she won’t show him, and is left staring when she reveals she has none and will never have none.

- (For some reason, that doesn’t sit right with Kid. He doesn’t know why but he feels it in his gut, that something belongs on the light tan of her skin and he knows it. He does.)

- It isn’t hard to figure out why the Straw Hats are brought together, in a flurry of dazzling, bright, shining marks--it’s painfully clear to see who has touched their lives and marked each of their souls, shining his rays of sun on their skin

- Law’s mark is hidden and private, a swatch of black dragged across his right hip like a paintbrush dipped in ink, splattered with tiny stars.

- He can’t get the meaning of Hoku’s name out of his head or the bright white star that stands out against the black of her cloak, he can’t get a lot of things out his head lately, including the fact that her wrists are blank and her neck is blank and every inch of her skin is only colored by the ink she placed there herself

- (He can’t get the idea that her soul, the core of her being, even for a person like Law who only believes in bone and flesh and blood--isn’t touched by something in this world, isn’t grasped or splattered or colored by anything else and--)

- “What does it take to color a soul?”

- (How can he color a soul--)

- Hoku is happy she doesn’t have a mark, she really is, it makes things easier.

- (But perhaps some marks just can’t be put into ink, into words or pictures because some souls are so colored, so marked and blinded by so many people in their lives that--)

- i think it would go something like that hahahaha

#Memos #Hoku #Straw Hat pirates #soulmark au #memos au #Luffy #Mihawk #Eustass Captain Kid #trafalgar law #Ace #Shanks

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doodlepanda101 · 5 years ago

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Vampire

WARNING: there’s blood and the harming of a animal in this, so if that makes you squimish or anything I’d keep scrolling.

Eddie couldn’t stand blood, more specifically the sickness you could get from having contact with other people’s blood. Anyone who was in his presence for more than five minutes knew that. That’s one of the many reasons this was so terrible. He remembered the night it happened not only because it felt like it happened yesterday, but because it DID happen a week ago. He’d been bitten by a vampire, to put it simply. He’d been dead for a few minutes, probably from blood loss if he had to guess, but the vampire had either decided he hated him or liked him enough to bring him back after draining him like a go-gert pouch. Maybe it was even guilt that pushed it to save him. Eddie would never know. All he knew was when he woke up he felt like he was starving, that the sun rays that snuck through the cracks in the blinds were to bright, that his head felt both to light and to heavy all at the same time. When Eddie finally stumbled his way home from wherever he’d been before he raided the fridge. He ate until he couldn’t anymore, but the hunger was still there. The thought maybe he was sick, but medicine did nothing for him. Each day that passed he felt more and more hungry, it was painful, and it was all he thought about. Eating was all he thought about, but he wasn’t sure what to do. For awhile he was in denial about what he’d become. He ignored the way that night time looked almost like day time to him. He ignored how his canines had gotten sharper over night. Most importantly, he ignored how the wounded bunny that had just ran past with blood soaked into its fur looked, and smelled, like a home cooked meal. He was trying to ignore it at least. He was at the quarry with Richie, only vaguely aware of whatever Richie was going on about, Eddie’s eyes fixed on the rabbit as it limped and hoped along the forest line. “I’ll be right back.” He muttered, cutting Richie off, but to focused to care. He started slowly walking towards the rabbit, his canine teeth almost itching with anticipation, it hoped off into the woods. Eddie followed. In the back of his mind his brain recognized Richie’s voice asking what the hell he was doing, but now Eddie wasn’t thinking like he should. All that he cared about was him, his hunger, and this rabbit. They came to a small clearing by a stream where the rabbit stopped to drink. Eddie approached it, pupils dialed. It was probably in pain, his brain reasoned, Eddie would be doing it a favor. ‘What am I going to do?’ Eddie asked himself mentally, but his body and some primal part of his brain already knew. He dropped to his knees behind the rabbit and grabbed it. The rabbit was surprisingly calm, and upon closer inspection his pelt was brown under the blood. The human in Eddie thought maybe he could help the rabbit, he had bandages in his backpack, and it wasn’t hurt all that bad- but before Eddie could even start to get up whatever animal that had been put into him raised the rabbis throat to his mouth and made him bite in. His teeth sunk in, and with a mix of horror and a sick kind of relief he began to drink. Before being bitten blood tasted like a dirty penny, metallic, and unpleasant. Now it was like taking a drink from a fresh water spring after wandering in the desert for days. Before he knew it he’d practically drained the Rabbit’s veins of all its blood, and it laid limp in his hands. It’s blood stained his teeth and trickled down his chin, he knew if anyone saw him he’d look like a monster. God, he felt like a monster. Maybe, he thought, maybe he was a monster now. He laid the rabbit gently down, tears falling in trails down his cheeks, guilt and regret high in his chest both from what he’d done and how satisfied he felt because of it. His hunger was subsided, at least for now, and he felt so much better physically. He started rinsing his hands off in the cold stream water. Eddie was much to lost in his own mind to feel Richie’s wide, horrified, and confused eyes on his back.

“Eddie?” Richie muttered, his voice wavered at first, but he cleared his throat and tried again. “Eddie, What the hell did you do that for?” He said more firmly this time. Eddie was frozen, his whole body stiff.

“How.. how much did you see Richie?” Eddie asked nervously, refusing to turn around and look at him with the rabbit’s blood still on his face. Richie was quiet for a long minute, which scared Eddie more than anything he could have said, because Richie was never quiet.

“...I’ve been following you this whole time. I was- I was talking to you while we walked.” Richie said, stepping towards Eddie.

“Oh.” Eddie said simply, that realization sitting heavily on his shoulders. “So you.. you saw..?” Eddie started, his voice small. He looked over his shoulder up at Richie, his brown eyes so doe-ish and innocent it was hard to believe if you looked just a few inches down to his mouth there’d be a trail of crimson blood trailed down his chin, and four sharp blood stained fangs where his canines should be. “I-I was just so hungry Rich. I was going to help it- I was- I just.. I don’t know- one moment I was just watching and I- I blinked and I was.. god Rich, what’s wrong with me?”

—————————

So this isn’t finished and it may never be, I originally was trying to make a starter with it but now it’s sort of a?? Drabble??? Idk but I doubt I’ll ever finish writing it 😔 sorry about that.

#IT #it stephen king #it movie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #vampire #vamipire eddie kaspbrak #reddie #if you squint #really hard

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loridrabbles · 5 years ago

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Habenda et Tenenda (Fives x Jedi!Reader) Part 1/?

Hey there! so I'd like to request a drabble with Fives, where the reader is a Jedi and she has a huge crush on Fives and she doesn't know what to do because the more she tries to deny her feelings for him the more her feelings for him grow. hope that makes sense :)

(Y/n) sat on a flat rock in the middle of a peaceful field of wildflowers on Naboo. It was Litha, so she thought it would be the perfect time to surround herself with nature. The soft breeze blowing the sweetgrass, the gentle trickle of a nearby creek, birds and other creatures singing in the distance all contributed to the positive balance she was trying to achieve. Obi-Wan and Anakin, her new master and mentor didn't always agree with her choice of meditation, but her late Master Cadmun Adonis, taught her that there were more sources of energy than just the force.

She used to spend hours with him, leaning about how to connect mind and body to things around you, how other people's negativity could rub off on you and how to form a spiritual shield to protect against it.

She was young when she lost her master, only 14, and now 4 years later she could still feel his presence. He dwelled in the field she sat in now, his old chambers, the greenhouse, and anywhere else they used to spend time together. Obi-Wan hadn't been able to teach her how to contact him through the force, but she could communicate with him other ways.

Now, with the war between the Republic and Separatists, she needed to put what he taught her to use, more than ever. She was always ready to fight. Adonis once told her "a jedi must react to a sudden threat quickly and eloquently, and with vehement force." She had spent a little bit of time with Anakin, Obi-Wan and their soldiers, but something to her didn't feel right.

"Meditating, little one?" She heard her new master ask from behind her.

"Yes. Something doesn't feel right. Like I'm doing something wrong."

"Could it he the way Cadmun taught you about the force and meditation?"

"No!" You said crossly. "His teachings have helped me many things. He was a very wise man."

"I agree he was." He took a seat next to you. "He followed the Jedi code strictly and I'm sure he taught you very well. I may not always agree with everything he had to say or what he believed, but I admired him. I have to say, (y/n) I'm very proud of the Jedi you've become."

"You are?"

"Quite. Anakin and I were having a discussion about you the other day. We believe it's time for you to get more involved with the war. You're strong enough and brave enough and we thing there is much you could do for the Republic." Obi-Wan and Anakin were like your brothers. Hearing this almost moved you to tears.

"Wow, Obi-Wan. I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. Just be ready by tomorrow morning. I'm going into head back inside. Keep meditating and figure out what it is that's irking you."

"I will. Oh. Wait! Who will I be working with?"

"The 501st. You've already spent some time with them." He said walking away.

There it was. That feeling in your core and in your spirit that told you something was amiss. Something about Rex and his squad filled you with a feeling of dread. Like that feeling after you've told a lie or spoke ill of someone. That guilty feeling like you've sinned and made you yearn for penance.

Night had fallen and you were sleeping peacefully in your bed. Unfortunately, your deep sleep wasn't going to go uninterrupted as your spirit turned inside your mind. Images flashed in your mind. 2 souls, just out of reach of one another, kept apart by a glass wall. Etched into the wall were texts she couldn't make out. The glass was then broken and the 2 spirits met eachother, emitting a blinding, bright light.

Next flashes, the spirits turned into people, one of them was a woman. She was unable to make out who the other was, but it was a male. He stood behind her, his hands around her body, gently at first then, as his fingers made his way up her body they wrapped around her throat. The white, golden glow of their bodies turned red and the peace turned to chaos.

Next, the female was alone. The male stood in the distance, following, trying to get closer. Whenever the female would turn around, he would run.

The next flashes in her mind went quickly as she began to stir awake. Teeth, bore into the females neck.

Their mouths captured and recaptured one another.

A tangled mess of limbs.

The woman cried out in sorrow.

They were torn away from another and the shattered pieces of glass began to reform the wall that once separated them.

She jolted awake, panting. Her mind races as she tried to make sense of the vision she just had. It was 4am. She couldn't find peace no matter how intensely she meditated. Instead of trying to fall back asleep after fruitless meditation sessions, she decided to speak with Master Yoda who was undoubtedly awake now that it was a little past 6.

She picked up her handheld hologram projector and rang for Yoda, who was still on Coruscant.

"Uneasy, I feel you are, young (y/n)." He said when he answered.

"Yes, master. You always know when someone isn't feeling quite right." You said, taking a seat on the ground and crossing your legs as you set your projector in front of you. "I've had an odd feeling the last couple weeks. During Litha too! Its supposed to be the most relaxing time of the year. I had a vision last night...or a very strange dream."

"A vision? What about hm?"

"It's hard to explain. There were two people being separated from one another. Then when they were together they were distraught. They were torn apart by other people and then one spirit would chase after the other. Whenever the male spirit turned around to look at the suitor, she would disappear."

"Very strange this vision is. Meditate on it more you must." Yoda said, putting his hand up to his chin. "Speak with your master Obi-Wan. Help you concentrate on your visions he will."

"Ok. Thank you for your time, master Yoda."

"Willing to help, I always am." He said, hanging up. You took a deep breath and went off to find Obi-Wan. While walking the long halls of the Naboo palace, you ran into Anakin.

"Ani." You called, jogging to catch up to him.

"Hey, lil' one. What's going on?" He spun around and walked backwards a few steps as you reached his side.

"Have you seen Obi-Wan? I need to speak with him about something." You slowed your pace as you caught up.

"Actually I was just coming to talk to you. He already shipped off with the 212th so you'll be with me today as we prepare to attack to separatist camp on the other side of the planet."

"Oh."

"Was it something urgent? Or maybe I can help you."

"No it can wait. It's not a big deal." You said folding your arms. "What's the plan for today?"

"We're going to attack the footsoldiers tanks tanks, while Obi-Wan and his men take care of things from the sky." Anakin said. "Everyone is ready to board the LAATs. They're just waiting for us. Let's get on over there."

"Right behind you." You said. A few minutes later, the two of you arrived at the boarding zone, and approached the 501st.

"Hey guys!" You said excitedly.

"Hey!" They all said. Echo walked up and put an arm around your shoulder.

"Long time no see." He said.

"Echo, it's been like 3 weeks."

"I know but we missed you. You're so much more fun to have around than Anakin over here." He said under his breath, pointing with his thumb.

"Hey, I can hear you." Anakin said.

"Nah I'm just kidding. You're great, general." He said popping on his helmet.

"Hey (y/n)." Fives said. "How have you been?"

"Good. What about yourself?" You asked, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach.

"Pretty well. I'm glad you're here." He smiled softly.

"Me too. I'm glad to see you again."

"Alright everyone. Let's get moving." Anakin said boarding the ship. You tried to reach a handle bar to hold on. Even standing on your tip toes, you couldn't reach it. You felt someone put their arm around your waist. You turned to look and noticed it was Fives.

"I gotcha, shorty." He said as he put his helmet on. You smiled a little but drifted off into your thoughts.

You didn't even have to think about meditating again. You realized that awful sinking feeling you would get in your gut happened every time you were around or thinking about Fives. The spirits in your vision had to be the two of you, separated by the Jedi code. You had to get rid of these feelings, no matter what it took.

#star wars #clone trooper rex #clone troopers #the clone wars #clones #clone trooper echo #swtcw #clone trooper fives #clone trooper Fives x reader #fives x reader #star wars imagine #star wars fanfiction #my fic #my fanfic

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rex101111 · 6 years ago

Text

Izuocha week day 5- Strength/Weakness

Okay so this one is SUPER LONG one shot somehow instead of a drabble. Yay!

And it’s super angsty! Yay!

...what? At least one of these things needed to be.

"It wasn't your fault."

Izuku paused in the middle of unlatching the lock on his front door at the sound of the soft mumble behind him. His grip tightened around his ring of keys, his heart thundering in his chest as he bite his tongue to keep from screaming.

"None of that was your-"

"Can we not-" Izuku muttered between his teeth, voice chocked. "Not now, please?" He looked behind him to look at Ochako, her hero costume burned and covered in soot much like his own, her face a picture of grief despite whatever encouraging words she tried to use.

She looked like she'd been struck, and he cursed himself for doing nothing but hurting people today.

He shook his head. "No wait I-" He took a deep breath and looked at her again, voice slightly clearer. "I just-don't think either of us wants to hear something like that…right now."

(Concrete shattering and buckling under its own weight, fire licking at his face, people screaming)

Ochako eyes lost focus for a moment, opening and closing her mouth at a loss at what to say to that, before letting her head drop in a quiet nod.

An apology burned in Izuku's stomach, but he just couldn’t bring himself to say it. "Let's just…let's get out of these clothes." If he took one more breath laced with the bite of smoke, he was going to lose his mind.

He unlocked the door with a soft turn of his key, pushed open the door and waited for Ochako to enter. She looked behind her for a few minutes, eyes focused on the distance, before sighing and slowly padding into their home, already working on taking off her shoes as Izuku locked the door behind her.

Half an hour later, Izuku was standing in front of his bathroom mirror as he placed one last bandage on a burn in his left thigh, eyes twitching from the sting of disinfectant. He looked up when he finished, spying the many elastic pads and off white bandages adorning his face, trying his hardest not to think about what put them there.

(The flames deafening around him, the heat boiling him alive, smoke in his lungs he can't breathe he can't breathe-)

"Izuku!" He flinched away from the hand on his shoulder, whipping his head to see Ochako clad in nothing but her slightly damp underwear and her wet hair framing her face. Any other time the sight would have sent him sputtering, but the various angry red spots and lines marring her body only sent a dull chill down his spine. "Are you okay? You spaced out there for a minute."

He shook his head harshly, scooting a bit away from her, the sight of her wounds digging a pit in his gut. "I'm okay just…still a bit out of it."

Ochako frowned, raising a hand to brush away some of the hair stuck to his forehead, revealing a bruise that traveled up into his hairline. "Are you sure that hit didn't…do anything bad?" Her face scrunched up in worry. "Maybe we should call Recovery Girl-"

"I'm fine." He snapped between clenched teeth, moving his head away from her touch (doesn't deserve it-this-her-never deserved anything especially not tonight) and letting out a harsh breath. "The paramedics already cleared me to go home…I'm…fine."

"O-oh…" Her hand wilted to her side as she looked away, eyes down cast. "S…I'm sorry."

(She shouldn't sound like that she shouldn't not Ochako not her she should be smiling and happy what's wrong with him-!?)

"No." He ground out past his screeching head. "No don't be I shouldn't have…" He loses what he means to say before he finishes his eyes wondering back to her, head still down cast and eyes hidden under her wet brown locks. "Do you…" He looks at her wounds, every angry red mark a tally mark of guilt stabbing into him. "Do you want help…patching up I mean?"

She runs a hand over one bruise on her shoulder and winces, which brings out a broken chuckle out of her. "Yeah." She looks up with a sad smile. "I'd like that."

He reaches into the medicine cabinet for another bottle iodine and rubbing alcohol along with a few more rolls of bandages, sets them on the sink and gets to work. They spend a good half hour like this, Ochako quiet and pliant under his hands as he covers her wounds one at a time, only making a sound when disinfectant touches a particularly sore burn.

He walks around to reach her back, and the sight of the long, jagged red marks on her back makes him want to jump out of his skin.

(Ochako screaming, a large woodan beam engulfed in flame fell right on top of her. She doesn't fall, a crying bundle in her hands as she simply shrugs off the burning wood off of her and runs full tilt to the window to jump.)

"It looks worse than it feels." She mumbles lamely, hugging herself mutely as he finally sucks it up and takes another cotton swap into the iodine. That takes a good five minutes, partly because Ochako asks for half a second to catch her breath from the pain every few swipes, and half because Izuku needs to make an effort to keep his cool and not crush the bottle in his hands.

He finished wrapping the last bandage on her back over her shoulder, hands shaking slightly as he put them against his knees. "We'll…go to Recovery Girl in the morning." He said, unsteady. "Just to make sure everything's okay."

Ochako nodded. "Okay." She went to the laundry room and picked up a random shirt to pull over her head. She went to the hallway connecting the bedroom and living room and found Izuku standing stock still while looking at the door to the bedroom. "…Ya know…" The sound of her mutter caused him to look over his shoulder at her, eyes unfocused. "I…don't think either of us are going to be sleeping tonight.

Izuku could only nod bleakly, barely responding as Ochako took his hand and led him to the couch in front of the TV. The both of them sat heavily on the cushion, staring straight ahead at the black screen, hands stiff at their sides.

Izuku lost track of time staring into the TV, mind blank and unresponsive, before he felt Ochako lean her head on his shoulder and wrap her hands around his forearm. Taking in a shuddering breath before he leaned his forehead on the crown of her head, taking in a lungful of her shampoo.

(Vanilla and green tea, typical Ochako. Stronger than usual…must have used half the bottle washing her hair…couldn't blame her.)

Another long stretch of silence went by, nothing but the sound of cicadas crying in the night air coming into their apartment through an open window in the kitchen. Izuku feels one of Ochako's hands leave their grip on his hands and sees it reach across the couch…and come back with the remote.

Izuku's eyes nearly bulge out of his skull. "Ochako we don't-"

"I need to hear it Izuku." She says her voice raw and impossibly fragile (not fragile never fragile never how why didn't help-) as she grips the remote. "I need to see if sh-if everyone made it out okay…I just need to."

He opened and closed his mouth, struggling to find some way to stop her, afraid (cowardcowardcoward- ) of what the news would do to her…to him.

"Please."

Every single half argument he had shriveled up and died. He reaches with his hand to clasp it around hers and squeezes, but doesn't say a word.

She presses the ON button, and a picture of a news anchor flickers to life.

"-and continuing on from there, we have an update on the fire that broke out in midtown Musutafu a mere two hours ago."

Ochako nearly crushed his hand in hers.

"For those just tuning in, a villain with a fire quirk escaping capture by local heroes entered a residential complex, and, in what police say was a desperate last attempt to get away, started a fire that quickly over took both him and the heroes pursuing him when it overheated a gas pipe and caused an explosion." The news anchor adjusted his glasses with a disturbed look on his face. "The fire quickly grew to consume the whole building, leaving fighters with little to no way to enter and rescue whatever survivors remained."

Ochako worried her lower lip with her teeth, Izuku squeezed back.

"Soon enough, several heroes arrived on the scene to assist, among them the veteran pro hero Backdraft, and relative newcomers Uravity and Deku." A video of the fire as it happened appeared on the screen, making Izuku's heart jump to his throat. "Although it seemed the rescue attempts were proceeding smoothly, the building soon began to collapse inwards due to the damage of the fire and gas explosion."

He could feel Ochako shaking and shivering under him, but when he reached for the remote, she yanked it away from him with a firm shake of her head. Her eyes stayed glued to the screen, refusing to budge.

"The heroes on sight were quick to save as many as they could before the building fully collapsed." The picture changed to several still pictures of the heroes carrying out civilians before going back into the flames, including Izuku with a man and a woman on his back and Ochako with a bundle of clothe in her hands that she gave to a nearby paramedic just as the building caved in on itself. "Five people, including the villain and heroes, were killed in the initial blast. Another 10 perished in the flaming building, with at least a further 15 still unaccounted for."

Ochako bit her lip hard enough that she opened a cut and blood trickled thinly down her chin, Izuku could not move, a deep dread settling in the back of his head.

"…And unfortunately," The news anchor continued with a bitter sigh, "not all those rescued survived the ordeal." Ochako froze. "About five had succumbed to smoke inhalation and injuries caused by the fire…including among them five month old toddler Minami Ako, who passed away from smoke inhalation just minutes a-"

The remote flew out of Ochako's hand and embedded itself firmly into the television, sparks and smoke sputtering out of the cavity.

Izuku couldn't think, couldn’t breathe, all he could do was slowly look back to Ochako as she breathed heavily and slowly started to make distressed sounds as she hugged herself and rocking back and forth in a panic.

"O-Ochako…" Izuku pushed back his panic as far as he could manage (help help her HELP HER YOU MORON-) and put his hands on her shoulder to still her, "Ochako please you need to look at me please-"

A soul shattering, spine-freezing scream tore itself out of Ochako's throat, shocking Izuku stiff before she flung herself at him and clung to his form like he was the only thing keeping her from drowning. She sobbed and screamed into his chest almost incoherently, Izuku only barely able to get his bearings enough to hold her close and run his hand through her hair and rock her gently, his panic coming back in full force.

"She was-I had her-" She gasped and sobbed into his shirt, her nails digging into his back as she cried. "I had her! I had her in my arms!" She started screaming in earnest, voice going hoarse. "I saved her! I got her out of there! And it didn't even MATTER!"

"Of-" Izuku mumbled, still in shock himself before he shook himself straighter. "Of course i-it mattered Ochako-"

"NO IT DIDN'T!" She swung her head to look at him, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I HAD SOMEONE IN MY ARMS AND THEY DIED! AGAIN!" She slammed her face back into his chest, shaking from her sobs. "IT'S NIGHTEYE ALL OVER AGAIN! I HAD HER! I HAD-" She collapsed into helpless sobbing again, her words cutting Izuku to his core.

It's been years, over a decade now, since that fateful mission against the 8 Precepts, since the day the great Sir Nighteye perished, but not in a blaze of glory, but attached to dozens of tubes and on a hospital bed as he breathed his last.

Ochako was the one who carried him to safety, who was depened on to get him out of danger fast enough to save his life…and in the end it didn't matter.

Izuku had vague memories of the days following that incident, focused as he was on Eri and Togata, but he could recall Ochako being…quiet, in those first few weeks. She smiled less, laughed less, talked less…he wondered if, when she was alone, she broke down like this…like she did during the sports festival.

He could not stop her tears, not then, not now…but that didn't give him the right to do nothing.

"Nighteye didn't die because of you." He said of a sudden, voice clear and sure despite the tears that have started to gall down his cheeks to match her own. "Ochako that didn't happen because you weren't fast enough."

Ochako only buried her head deeper in his chest, refusing to look at him.

He grasped her shoulder and hauled her up to meet her eye to eye. "Nighteye died protecting his student and a young girl, he died doing his job." His words felt bitter on his tongue, but this is something she needed to hear…that he needed to hear. "There was nothing you could done to save him."

Sniffed miserably. "If I had been faster-"

"You weren't." He stressed, squeezing her shoulders. "You went as fast as you could, pushed yourself to the absolute limit to save him…he was just…too far gone." He looked at the broken TV set for a split second before looking back at her. "…and so were the people in that building."

She sobbed weakly. "Izuku stop-"

"You went at it like you were mad." He shook her so she couldn't ignore him. "You were surrounded by fire and smoke and had a wooden beam fall on top of you and you just kept going." He put her faced between his hands, feeling her wet cheeks on his palms. "You tried, you never gave up, you saved everyone you could reach." Izuku smiled wetly. "Not even All Might…was able to save everyone."

Ochako stilled, Izuku's words getting through. To hear him place trust in her was one thing…but comparing her to All Might?

"You didn't fail." He said, voice warm and cheeks growing wetter as his panic gave way to his own sorrow. "I froze up in there Ochako, people needed me and I froze up…but then I saw you…charging through the fire." He smile shrunk by an inch. "You saved me there too."

Ochako, hiccupped before another sob left her. "All those people they…she died because-"

"Ochako." Izuku exclaimed, resolutely. "This…" He took a deep breath, the tears in his eyes clogging up his throat. "This…wasn't your fault."

Ochako let out a chocked sob, covering her mouth with her hands, looking at Izuku, seeing her pain reflected in his eyes as he held her face in his hands. She reached out for him, running her hands through his hair while minding his bruise, gulping the lump in her throat. "It…wasn't your fault either."

Izuku opened his mouth, to agree, to refute to argue, it didn't matter. Ochako flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she kissed him desperately, the salty bite of their tears where their lips met.

They soon stopped as Ochako hugged him closer, her head next to his as he squeezed closer as he shook, their sorrow melding together in their embrace as it came pouring out.

They spent a while on the couch like that clinging together as their shared sobs quieted and slowed, until they sat silently in a calm embrace, their arms so limp one of them could just get up and leave…which they wouldn't, even if they had the strength.

"Sorry."

Izuku looked at Ochako for a moment, not sure he heard her right an account of her sore her voice sounded, "what was that?"

"I'm…sorry for just…" She gestured vaguely with one hand. "Just…falling apart like this." She shook her head. "I feel kinda…selfish for doing that."

"Don't be." Izuku smiled with a weak chuckle. "I was doing the same as you…after a night like this…I think it was a good thing we both, uh, fell apart like that together." He buried his head in her head again, letting out an easy breath. "I was actually gonna apologize for the same thing so…don't worry."

Ochako was quiet for a while, taking in the smell of him this close and safe, before sagging against him and sighing. "Thank you, by the way, for being here when I…I really needed it, really thank you Izuku." Her head was jarred for its comfortable position by Izuku laughing of all things, which she responded with a quick jab to his stomach. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing." He chocked and laughed, rubbing where Ochako hit him. "It's just…are you going to steal the words from my mouth all night or what?"

He laughed again, and this time Ochako joined him.

She shook her head, and rubbed one of the many bandages covering her form. "We should…probably go find Recovery Girl…we kinda did a lousy job on these."

"You mean I did a lousy job." He hugged her with a tired smirk. "But yeah…we should probably find her sooner rather than later…who knows how she'll react to us just…leaving without getting proper medical attention."

"Not in a fun way…that's for sure."

He laughed again, this time with a bit more strength behind it.

---

Recovery Girl, did not, in fact, react well to them running off. The only reason they didn't get an ear full for running off while having several first degree burns was that she simply had far more people to deal with than them, so she sent them off with a reprimand and a promise this would not be the last they hear of her and the subject.

Ochako felt the spot where the large wound had been, a phantom sensation of where the wooden beam landed on her as she-tried to save the child from the fire. She felt a frown tugging down on her lips before she felt someone hold her hand.

"You okay?" Izuku smiled down at her worriedly, only mollified when she squeezed his hand back. "…I think we had enough excitement for one day…wanna go home?"

Ochako nodded, feeling dead on her feet. "Yeah, I could use a long nap after-" She stopped, the sound of inconsolable sobbing reaching her ears and making her heart drop through the floor.

"Ochako?" Izuku fretted, seeing her look somewhere to her left. "Did something hap-" He stopped, his face falling. "…oh."

Right there, across the hall, were the two people Izuku had managed to get out of the burning building…the parents of Minami Ako.

"Ochako…" Izuku whispered in her ear, they were in civilian clothes so they had not yet been spotted, they could still walk away. "You don't have to-"

"I do." She said firmly, though her voice still shook. She clenched her fists as she saw the mother cry and sob for her lost child, a stab of shame going through her at her own display of grief earlier while the woman had been going through so much pain. "I must do this."

Izuku was quiet for a moment, before he nodded. "Okay, I won't stop you."

"They need someone to be strong for them." Ochako muttered, some doubt in her voice if not her words. "I need to be that strong someone."

"You don't have to be strong alone though."

Ochako looked back at Izuku at those words, a warmth floating through her as she met his brilliant smile. "Do you…" She mumbled quietly, "do you really think I can do this?"

"Of course." He stated confidently. "You're Uravity, the hero who picks people up."

She saw a flash of sadness in his eyes then, and she grabbed his hand. "And you're Deku, the hero who can save anyone."

They shared a scared but determined smile, took a breath, and walked towards the grieving couple.

Tomorrow, they would need to file an official report, coordinate a public announcement towards the victims and their families…but today, tonight, they fulfil their duty towards Minami Ako.

And they do it together.

#My hero academia #Midoriya Izuku #Uraraka Ochako #izuocha #Izuochaweek #Izuochaweek2018 #stuff rex wrote #Strength weakness #okay this is like legit the saddest thing I've written #I'm happy with it!#but damn

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thatsecondsalemboy-a · 6 years ago

Note

five times cried (implicatedbyprophecy- bc i love the angst)

Send “Five Times ______ed” for a Drabble of 5 different times our characters… did that. - Five Times Cried

Leta is seven years old when Corvus is born. She’s not really told much about what’s going on, only that her stepmother (who she doesn’t really know, if truth be told) is having a baby, and that her father is hoping for a boy. She doesn’t understand why. She’s ushered in when the baby is born ( a boy, like father wanted, but he’s early and small and a little frail, and these are apparently bad things) and catches a brief glimpse of him, but it’s not until a few weeks later that she properly meets her baby brother.

Her bedroom is just across the hall from the nursery, so she hears the cries easily one night, just after she’s gone to bed. They’re soft, almost pitiful, and she finds herself pulling on her slippers to pad across the hall and into the nursery. Corvus is crying in the crib, a shock of dark hair already adorning his head, little face screwed up. She doesn’t really know what to do with babies, so she sits by the crib, reaching one small hand through the slats to take her little brothers, lightly rubbing a thumb over the tiny fist.

Corvus stops crying.

Leta stays there all night.

It’s the night before she goes to Hogwarts, and Leta can’t help but feel a wild mash of excitement and worry. The excitement because she’s finally getting to go off to school, and she’s going to learn how to properly do magic and meet lots of other people and not just the occasional child of another rich pureblood family. The worry because leaving for school means leaving Corvus, and it almost makes her feel guilty, even though it shouldn’t. But Corvus is only four, and once she gets on that train, he’s going to be more or less alone until Christmas, save for the house elves and the seldom there nanny that their father had reluctantly hired. What if he hurts himself? What if doesn’t get enough to eat? What if he had more cases of accidental magic and something happened (he’d had several, which Leta thought might be quite early, but thankfully they’d all been harmless and easily dealt with)?

She can’t bear the thought of him shut up all alone in the draughty old manor house, and tears trickle down her cheeks. When she hears the door creak, she rubs her eyes, turning to see her little brother standing in the doorway, the little stuffed dragon she’d gotten him for his birthday hanging from one fist. All it takes is a light jerk of her head and he darts across the room, clambering up on to the bed beside her and worming her way so he’s cuddled up beside her. He also notices her tears though, a tiny frown working across his little face.

“Sad?” he asks. He’s going through a phase lately where he seems to aim to say as little as possible, and she’s one of the few who can interpret it most of the time. Their father doesn’t even try. She gives a short nod, wrapping an arm around him.

“I’m gonna miss you,” she whispers, in case Corvus Lestrange IV is still awake and wandering the corridors. Her baby brother doesn’t quite understand. Of course he doesn’t, he’s still only little and doesn’t realise that they’re going to be parted just yet. But in his childish innocence he plants a slightly sloppy kiss on her cheek before holding the little dragon out, “You take Scaly?”

The offer causes fresh tears and she hugs him close. She ends up bringing the little stuffed dragon with her too, and it takes pride of place in her belongings.

She can’t help but feel a little out of place here. Of course, Clarisse had been her step mother, but she couldn’t really say that she knew the woman, other than that ever since Corvus had been born, she had seemed to catch one illness after another, her body frail, and as such she rarely left her bedroom. She had been a kindly enough woman, she supposes, but there wasn’t really enough of a relationship there for her to grieve too much when, a few days after she comes home for the Christmas break in her second year, the woman passes away.

Her little brother, however, is devastated. She’s his mother, after all, and Leta knows that even with her illnesses, Corvus had spent quite a lot of time curled up beside his mother, listening to her tell stories, or even just getting an occasional cuddle. It wasn’t as if their father was the type for affection. So naturally, Corvus is upset. He’s six, and he’s shot up a little over the few months she’s been at school, but he still has the same almost frail frame.

It’s the funeral, and she can see the tears streaming down his face that he keeps rubbing with the sleeve of his robes, trying not to make a scene. Their father keeps shooting him silent glares, and Leta wants to reach across to comfort her little brother, but she doesn’t even need to look at her father to know that would not be a wise decision.

When they get back to the manor later, Corvus races off up the stairs two at a time, and she can hear the bedroom door slam from the entranceway. Slowly she follows, knocking softly on the bedroom door before slipping in, padding over to the bed where her brother’s face is buried in his pillow, thin shoulders shaking. He’s trying to be stubborn, but it takes little effort to pick him and pull him into her lap, letting him cry into her shoulder.

Not for the first time, she wishes she could spare him pain.

She’s at work when she receives the owl, and as her eyes scan over the details of the letter, her knees nearly give out, and it’s only Theseus that stops her from dropping entirely, her heart in her mouth as she reads and rereads the words, as if that might change what’s actually happening.

She needs to get home.

It’s Corvus. He’s in his last year now at Hogwarts, a top student, prefect and everything, and she couldn’t be prouder of that. Except now, the letter tells her, Corvus has collapsed in transfiguration class, having complained of feeling unwell and intending to go to the hospital wing. He’s been immediately sent home, under a quarantine.

Dragon pox. A serious case.

Frankly, she doesn’t give a damn about the quarantine. She’d had a mild case as a child, so all she cares about right now is seeing her brother. It’s the fastest she’s ever gotten home, getting through all the wards on the manor with a speed never before seen and up the stairs. She pauses in the doorway though, hand clapped over her mouth.

Corvus looks terrible, his skin tinged a horrible clash between a faint green and an ashen grey, and there’s a thin sheen of sweat clearly visible on his forehead. Even from her she can see his eyes twitching behind closed lid, and it’s clear to her that he’s in pain. So she does all she can think of to do, crosses the room towards him and takes the damp cloth from a healer, gently wiping at his brow and squeezing his hand lightly, not giving a damn about contagion. She’ll take off work, she certainly has enough holiday saved up. Right now, her brother is her priority.

For a while, it seems like his case might be looking up, but then one night, everything takes a turn for the worse. His fever rages, climbing higher and higher, and now he’s audibly making noises of pain, thrashing and convulsing slightly in the bed, to the point where they’ve had to restrain him in case he does himself any harm. They can only wait and hope that his fever will break. And Leta sits with him, clutching his hand tightly to her and making quiet pleas to no one in particular that they will spare her brother. Tears roll thick and fast down her face, desperation overtaking, and at some point, without meaning to, she falls asleep.

His fever breaks.

This isn’t supposed to happen.

The last time, they had said it was the last. The Great War, the war to end all wars. There shouldn’t be another war. Not another period of time when the whole country is on edge, both magical and muggle, saying goodbye to members of family, unsure on when a reunion may be possible, the fear that permeates through every household.

Theseus is spared this time, on account of an injury sustained while on an auror mission. Newt is…somewhere, but he’s doing something with creatures, and as much as she worries, she knows that Newt can look after himself more than most people would believe.

But her baby brother.

And really, he’s not a baby anymore. They’re both full grown adults now, and she has a family of her own. He doesn’t. He’s never really settled with anyone in particular, and especially since their father had died a few years back, he no longer had any pressure on him to do so. He was content to just work, and if he found someone he liked…well that would be an added benefit, wouldn’t it?

Except now there is another war, and this time, she has to say goodbye to her brother as he goes off to fight. He’s a far cry from the tiny little baby in the crib, or the little boy who would clamber in beside her after a nightmare. Even from the occasionally moody teen who had sometimes taken to skulking in the family manor. No, he was a man now, still the same lean frame, but with a maturity in his eyes.

And she wraps her arms around his chest and sobs. It won’t change anything. He still has to go and take an international floo to France, no matter how much she sobs. But she takes this moment for what she can, and he holds her just as tight, his own tears damp in her hair, but she doesn’t care. She wants this moment to just go on forever. She doesn’t want things to go this way.

Still, after several minutes, they eventually pull apart, red eyed and shaky, but not at all embarrassed of their own behaviour. He’ll write her as often as he can, he promises, so much she’ll be annoyed. She doesn’t chastise the exaggeration, just smiles and nod, sniffles a little. And as he moves off to get on the train, he looks back, and she gets a brief flash of memory, a younger Corvus getting on the Hogwarts express, flushed face and excited expression. There’s no excitement this time, only anticipation and their own tears.

He keeps his promise, and he does write, as often as he can manage it.

Until he doesn’t.

Until the official looking letter is dropped in her lap, and she knows what it is before she even opens it, and Theseus holds her as she weeps, as she screams and shouts at the injustice of it all.

His last letter she reads over and over, but there is no sign of what is to come, of course. Divination is not especially provident in their family after all, how could he have known?

Tracing a hand over the familiar signature….she can only hope it was quick.

@implicatedbyprophecy

#implicatedbyprophecy #drabble #my writing #ooc #meme answer

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backtothestart02 · 7 years ago

Text

Drabbles - Prompt 13

A/N: This one is super cute, you guys! I think you will love it! <3

*Many thanks to @valeriemperez for beta’ing. :)

PROMPT : Original timeline (if Eobard hadn't killed Nora) - Barry and Iris come home passed curfew from their first date in high school and have to face Nora Allen, Henry Allen, and Joe West. -Guest and sendtherain

Iris West was quite possibly the prettiest girl Barry Allen had ever seen.

No. Scratch that. Scratch that. The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and known and grown up with.

You haven’t grown up with any other female besides your mother, Barry. Who is also very beautiful, remember.

He frowned, frustrated by his thoughts and how there seemed to be multiple personalities attacking each other inside of his head.

The giggle sounding across from him easily snapped him out of it. He blinked and looked at the beautiful girl sitting across from him, pointing her spoon at the likely ridiculous look on his face.

“What’s that frown for, Barry Allen?” She stuck the spoon in her mouth and sucked the remaining ice cream off it. “Not having a good time?”

He was dazzled and smiling like a love-struck idiot.

“I’m having a great time,” he said, reaching across the table to take her free hand in one of his own and run his thumb over her fingers.

Her quiet gasp nearly made him panic, but when she made no effort to untangle from his grasp, he let himself relax.

“Me, too.” She smiled timidly, looking up at him beneath her lashes.

She licked her lips, lifting her thumb up to play with his too, and all he could think was oh my God, I want to kiss her.

Bzz. Bzz.

“What’s that sound?”

Bzz. Bzz.

“Barry?”

“Huh?” he asked lazily, not really paying attention.

“Barry, your phone!”

He blinked. “Wha-”

She nodded towards his pocket where the device was moving about and vibrating madly.

“Oh my God!” He released her instantly, a feeling of dread causing sweat to trickle down the back of his neck.

“Have her home by nine, Bartholomew, and not a minute later!” Mr. West had barked earlier when they had left the house.

The order had both confused and terrified him because Iris’ father had always been extremely fond of him until he found out he was taking his daughter out on a date. What was even more troubling was when he mildly complained about the early curfew time and Iris informed him that her normal curfew was eight.

It suddenly made so much sense why most of their nighttime activities were talking on the phone and their in-person hang-outs happened during the day.

“Shit, shit, shit!”

“What?” Iris demanded, slamming her hand on the table. “What does it say? Is it my dad? Is he gonna kill us?”

“Not us.” He shook his head rapidly as he looked at the message. “Me.” He turned the phone around to show her the text.

BRING MY DAUGHTER HOME, NOW.

Iris gulped.

“We better go.” She was already pulling her legs out from under the picnic table outside Big Belly Burger.

“Yeah, I think so.”

He grabbed her hand quickly after she rounded the table and they both ran as fast as they could till they made it to their bikes parked nearby and then sped to the West house.

…

Standing in front of the house on the street, fourteen-year-old Iris and fifteen-year-old Barry took a simultaneous deep breath.

“You don’t have to come in, Barry.”

He laughed nervously. “No, I think I have to.”

She turned to look at him. “My dad has a gun.”

Barry turned to look at her, eyes wide.

“He’s a cop, remember?”

Some more nervous laughter. “Right.”

She grabbed her hands and laced her fingers between his.

“I had a great time tonight, Barry. You don’t need to walk me to my door.”

He thought about his life, the possibility of being grounded, and what kind of impression he’d make on Joe West after tonight.

“No.” He nodded once. “I have to do this.”

“You’re sure.”

“I can’t keep you out late and take the coward’s way out when I bring you back, Iris.”

She smiled. “You’re no coward, Barry Allen.”

She went up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. He blushed fiercely. She tugged on his hand.

“Let’s go.”

His stride longer than hers, he quickly caught up to her. He was just about to turn and kiss her – might as well get one in – when the front door opened suddenly, and there stood a glaring Mr. West…and concerned Mr. and Mrs. Allen.

Barry dropped Iris’ hand instantly.

“Mom? Dad?”

Iris fumed beside him.

“What is going on here? A search party? We’re not even that late!”

Joe refused to look Barry in the eye.

“When your date here neglected to text me, I got worried.”

“He called us to ask if we knew where you were,” Nora intervened.

“They didn’t know either,” Joe growled.

Barry started to rethink running to his own house.

“But,” Henry interjected, “I told him you probably weren’t far since you’d taken your bikes and that we’d come over and wait with him.”

“Apparently your father thinks highly of you, Bartholomew.” Joe finally met his eyes.

Barry’s heart sank. He knew Iris was Mr. West’s number one priority, but the glaring disappointment in his eyes when he’d been so friendly for him for years stung worse than the impending grounding and talking-to he’d no doubt receive from his parents before going to bed that night.

“We were just at Big Belly Burger, Mr. West,” he said, shifting his foot against the flooring. “I’m sorry we’re late. We just lost track of time.”

Joe folded his arms against his chest.

“And how did that happen?” He narrowed his eyes.

“Because we weren’t watching our phones the whole time!” Iris snapped.

Joe’s eyes blazed as he turned to look at her. “You watch your tone, young lady.”

“We were talking!” she shot back, unthwarted. “Sitting at a picnic table, eating ice cream, holding hands.” She took Barry’s hand in her own and held them up so her father could see. “And what time is it really?”

Nora hesitated but managed to answer before the boiling Joe West.

“Ten o’clock.”

Barry paled.

Oh my God. I’m never going to get another date with her again. I won’t even be let into the house.

“That’s fifty-nine minutes past curfew, Iris Ann West,” Joe informed her.

She sighed. “Well, I’m sorry, Dad.” She looked away and lowered her hand to her side, but she absolutely refused to let go of Barry’s.

Henry cleared his throat.

“Well. Now that we know you’re both okay and haven’t been up to no good, we should…go home. Right, Barry?” He looked pointedly at his son.

Barry lifted his eyes to his father and instantly untangled his hand from Iris’.

“Right. Yes. Definitely.” He turned to Iris, started to lean in to hug her, but the glare from Joe was enough to stop even that. “Goodnight, Iris.”

He went down the steps, not looking back. Iris’ bottom lip trembled and tears filled her eyes.

“I hope you’re happy, Dad,” she spat before pushing passed her father to go up the stairs.

Henry and Nora watched the heartbroken girl dash away and their dejected son slowly make his way down the street and then looked at Joe pointedly.

“What? They broke curfew. That’s a punishable offense in this house.”

“After tonight maybe, but…” Nora let the sentence hang.

Joe connected the dots. “You’re not suggesting I actually let them kiss.”

“It is their first date,” Henry pointed out.

“Exactly,” Joe said. “Their first date. And as far as I’m concerned, their last one.”

Nora’s brows narrowed, and she folded her own arms against her.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard what I said.”

“There is nothing wrong with our boy. In fact, you loved him like your own before tonight. What’s more, you know your daughter is telling the truth, and that those two are absolutely infatuated with each other and have been for the last couple years at least.”

“Honey-” Henry tried, but it was no use.

“I’ll be damned if you refuse to let my beautiful boy take your daughter on another date just because they were a little late the first time.”

“Nora!” Henry said, shocked.

“An hour is hardly-”

“Mr. West,” Barry interjected, suddenly before them again.

Joe turned to face him. His parents remained silent.

“If it’s all right with you…” He counted to three and then took the plunge. “I’d really like to kiss your daughter goodnight.”

Nora and Henry were as blindsided as Joe. They could only turn and look at him to see how he would respond.

Maybe it was the bold choice, maybe it was the permission he was seeking, or maybe it was because Joe realized this was the same kid who came over almost every day since he and Iris were in kindergarten and that he’d hoped would one day sweep her off her feet, but his face softened.

“Iris!” he called up to her, not turning around, not looking away from the young man in front of him. “Come say goodnight to your boyfriend.”

All three individuals were as shocked as Joe that the b-word had passed by his lips, but they didn’t say a word to him. Henry and Nora walked out onto the porch and quietly told their son they’d start walking down the block and he could catch up with them. Barry nodded subtly.

Then Iris was coming down the stairs, her cheeks stained with tears. Joe left them be, walking further into the house. He held up his hand – all five fingers – signaling the sign to Barry of how long this could last. He nodded to him too.

Then Iris was in front of him and they were on the porch alone and their hands were laced together again.

“I must look like such a mess to you,” she laughed nervously, her eyes red from tears.

“Not a mess,” he assured her, and she looked up at him. “Beautiful.”

“This is a terrible end to a first date. I don’t even know if we’ll get a second.”

Her bottom lip trembled, and he didn’t think he could love her more.

“I think we will,” he said softly, starting to lean in.

“Yeah?” she whispered.

“Yeah,” he whispered back, covering her lips with his own in a single, sweet kiss.

When he pulled back there were stars in her eyes, and he grinned like the sappy, lovestruck fool he was.

“Call me tomorrow?” she asked, barely restraining herself from bouncing up on her toes.

“If I still have my phone,” he said, and then added, “Or I’ll conveniently walk by and you can wave to me from the window.”

She giggled. “Goodnight, Barry Allen.”

He smiled and kissed her again, lingering a few moments before pulling away.

“Goodnight, Iris West.”

He nearly fell down the stairs, but he managed to make it down the stairs, waving to Iris once his feet hit the sidewalk. He ran to catch up with his parents who weren’t too far ahead and had no doubt caught sight of their son’s first kiss.

It didn’t matter.

He was still grounded. His phone was taken away to prevent any late-night texting.

The landline was free game.

So was Iris’.

*Also posted on AO3 and FFnet.

#westallen #fanfiction #backtothestart02 fanfiction #drabbles #prompt 13

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