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sweet-lemon · 2 years ago

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Little Vixen Pt.7

Pt. 6, Pt. 8

This took longer than I expected, but I kept going back and changing it. I finally got it to a point that I like. I hope you like it!

Reader POV

The man before you grinned as his eyes followed Emily’s running form. Before he had the chance to chase after her you were already shifting and charging at him.

As soon as he saw your form coming at him, he turned towards the woods. Almost like chasing after him was all a game. Not this time, you would make sure this was his last day in Forks. That thought alone seemed to make you faster and more focused.

It felt as if seconds had passed as you closed the distance. He was about to jump into the branches above until you crashed into him. Slamming your whole body into his side.

This caught him off guard and made him forget about trying to run. Instead he turned all of his attention on you. It was a stale mate as you both circled each other, waiting for the other to make the first move.

This gave you time to really look at him. His skin was somehow paler than the other vampires you had seen. His red eyes more manic than the deep burgundy of the older ones. He didn’t look newborn but the erratic energy you were getting from him confused you.

“Who are you?” You asked.

“Branislav.” He said as he held his hand over his chest and tipped his head down. His accent and name sounding foreign and antiquated at the same time.

“What are you doing here?” You tried again, not liking his one-word answer.

“Enjoying the festivities as you were.” The grin on his face spread wider.

“For someone who’s sure to have seen many festivals in their lifetime a small town like this must seem boring.”

“Not at all, the food is particularly good.”

“Well I’m afraid the food is no longer available. I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”

“I’m sorry my dear, a friend has requested my services. Thus, I must extend my stay.”

“And who would this friend be?”

“A beautiful woman with red hair as lively as your fur.”

You immediately knew he was talking about the vampire you had seen before. Her red curls descending the cliff flashed through you mind. If Paul hadn’t stopped you, you would have jumped after her.

“What kind of services do you provide?” You asked.

The chuckle that reverberated from his chest seemed to expand out of his body and surround you. You closed your eyes to try and shake that echo in your head, but when you opened them a second later he vanished right in front of you.

Quickly looking around the trees you tried to spot him. You thought he must have run off again until you felt a shiver run through your body. You felt his breath ghost over your right ear before his voice followed.

“My services…” His soft whisper somehow making your body freeze in place. “..could be compared to a psychiatrist.” He chuckled once again, though this time you felt it reverberate through your head until it was pounding against your brain.

“Except, I can do whatever I want with your mind.” The dull pounding against your brain seemed to shatter a barrier at his last word.

Suddenly your eyes were blurring, and your hearing was dulling. In seconds all of your senses were shutting down and the world around you had disappeared.

In a panic you didn’t know what to do but call out for help. There was only one person you had started to look up to, started to trust, started to see as your alpha.

“Sam!”

______

Wolf pack POV

They managed to snatch two picnic tables that were placed by one another. They would be able to seat everyone and eat in peace. Sam, Paul and Jared took a seat while everyone else went to get everyone something to eat.

“So did you ask her out yet?” Jared asked.

“What?” Paul asked a bit bothered by the question.

“You guys looked like you were having a lot of fun back there. I just figured you asked her out already.” Jared replied nonchalant.

Sam just nodded his head in agreement. He had seen how close Paul and [Y/n] were getting. Even if [Y/n] didn’t know about the imprint it still meant that they were bound to be close. Be that as friends or something more, they were supposed to be in each other’s lives.

“No, I didn’t ask her out.” Paul grumbled out.

“Aww, why not?” Jared continued.

Sam was ready to step in and stop Jared’s teasing. It was one thing to get Paul riled up in the privacy of his cabin, but out in public was a dangerous line to cross. He was about to ask Jared to calm it down until he notices Paul’s frustration fade and his shoulders sag.

“I just… I don’t know. You guys heard her talk about how she imprinted with her old pack. What if…” Paul seemed to be thinking if he should voice his concern out loud.

“What is it Paul?” Sam asked trying to understand his friends’ feelings.

“What if she imprints on someone else? What if I’m not her soul mate?” He answered quietly almost like he was ashamed about his worries.

“Paul, imprinting is a hard thing to understand. I loved Leah, I thought she was going to be the girl I would marry and spend the rest of my life with. We don’t get to choose who we love or what our imprint means to that person. All we can do is hope for the best and try to do right by that person.” Sam answered the best he could.

He knew it was a hard subject to get into. He still hated how much he had hurt Leah, but he wouldn’t change it for the world. Emily was everything to him. He would do anything for her.

Just as he was deep in thought about his imprint he caught sight of her running towards him. He instantly got up and met her halfway, Jared and Paul close behind them. The look on her face alerting him to danger.

“Emily, what’s wrong?” He asked as soon as he reached her.

“The vampire is here… [Y/n]’s with them.” She managed to breath out.

Jared went to alert the others as Paul and Sam ran out to the parking lot. The farther out towards the parking lot they went the heavier the stench of death became. It wasn’t long before they found the dead body behind the cars.

Sam took one look at the body and immediately began scanning the trees lining the woods nearby. He saw a dent in the bushes and new they had gone in that direction. With Paul behind him and the others not far behind he shifted as soon as he entered the darkness of the woods.

As soon as his paws landed on the leaf covered ground a voice he had only heard in human form rang through his mind.

“Sam!”

He instantly sprinted into action. It seemed like his body knew where he was going before he did. Paul followed him without question. The clear worry written all over his face.

It wasn’t long before they spotted bright red fur shining through the trees. Sam was racing towards her until Paul blocked his path.

“Wait! Something’s not right.” Paul said looking back at the fox shifter.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked looking at her as well.

“I don’t know something just doesn’t feel right.” She was standing still and blankly staring out into the woods. Almost like she was in a trance.

“Paul I heard her; she needs our help.” Sam didn’t understand Paul’s hesitation.

“You heard her?” He asked, confusion lacing his every word.

Sam was about to answer him when he heard the others running towards them. Leah came up to them puzzled at their stance away from [Y/n].

“Why are you just standing here?” She asked.

“Something’s off.” Paul rushed to say. Though he was too late as he saw Embry almost crash into the fox.

“Hey are you okay?” Embry asked taking a step back from her.

The way she slowly turned to face him sent a chill down everyone’s spine. Her eyes had lost their [y/e/c] hue and instead a smoky white peered out towards them. She gave out a warning growl, but in Embry’s confusion he just stood in front of her.

“Embry get back!” Sam called out to him. Paul was right something was wrong with her.

Embry jerked his head to the side to look at Sam. The sudden movement had set her off. The snarl that took over her face was more animalistic than they’d ever seen her. It was like her human side was gone and the animal had taken over.

Her snarl grew pulling her ears back and finally lowering her body into a crouch. She was ready to attack at any second.

Sam took a risk and slowly approached her. Once she spotted him her snarl deepened and she growled his way. He lowered himself to her level and kept his eyes locked on hers as he moved in front of Embry.

“[Y/n]” He called out to her. There was a jerk of familiarity in her face before it quickly disappeared.

“She can’t really hear you my friend.” A voice called out from above them.

Sam dared to take his eyes off her form to look up. In the trees a blond man wearing all black glanced down at them.

“What did you do to her?” Paul growled positioning himself under the man.

“Nothing yet.” He called out jumping onto another branch. “It’s not your pack that I’m after.”

“Who then?” Sam asked.

“That small brunette. Apparently she is the reason for the death of my friend’s mate.” He replied in a cool manner. “With you all here Victoria has nothing to worry about.”

Sam knew Jacob was still with Bella, but he wouldn’t be able to catch the vampire if she tried running again. He jerked his head towards Leah and Seth wordlessly asking them to catch up to Jacob and Bella.

“Tsk tsk, bad choice. You won’t be able to get both of us if your pack is separated.”

“Then we’ll just have to kill you before we kill your friend.” Paul growled still positioned to attack.

The blond man chuckled before jumping onto the next tree branch and began making his way through the tree branches. Paul sprang into action to chase after him but was shoved out of the way by a mass of red fur.

“What are you doing?” Sam called out to her. It looked like she heard him but that only made her charge in his direction.

“Don’t lose him, I’ll take care of her.” He called out to them. The others ran out to follow the order, but Paul hesitated.

“I won’t hurt her.” Sam called out to him. With a jerky nod Paul began running in the direction of the vampire.

“[Y/n], I know you can hear me.” He tried talking to her. They were circling each other now waiting for the other to slip up. “You called out my name, I heard you.”

Her eyes that were tracking his every move suddenly looked lost. The look vanished instantly just like before. The small moment of hesitation seemed to frustrate her to the point of lunging in his direction.

He dodged away from her as much as he could. She was focused on his every move and began to notice what he was doing. When he went to dodge her next attack she moved to tackle him from the other side.

Once she was on top of him it was hard to get away. His arms were much longer and were the only thing keeping her from biting into his flesh. Her fangs were sharp and dripping saliva onto the fur of his neck.

When she tried pushing her weight down to chomp at his flesh he used the momentum to flip them over and pin her down. It didn’t matter to her in her feral state. She was still snarling and trying to bite at anything near her.

“[Y/n]!” He growled using his alpha tone. That managed to grab her attention.

For just a split second the white covering her eyes appeared to fade. Suddenly she used strength he didn’t know she had to shove him off. She began to charge at him again, the feral look back on her face.

______

The vampire must have thought they were a joke because it didn’t take long for them to catch up to him. He would stop every once in a while to mock them.

“I’m gonna kill him.” Paul grunted as he jumped from the boulders the vampire had just passed.

“We need to catch him first.” Jared called out.

“We could split up and corner him.” Quil said running beside them.

Jared nodded as he split off to run further north. Quil and Embry veered south, and Paul stayed on course to make sure he didn’t lose sight of him.

“What’s wrong little volk, did your friends leave you?” He taunted from a cliff side.

Paul growled and started to climb the slope of the cliff. He began running alongside the leech on a lower ridge. Paul was growling and snarling anything to keep his attention on him.

He could hear the vampire laughing all the while. It was when the laughing was abruptly cut short that Paul knew Jared had caught up.

The vampire jumped over him towards the trees below the ridge. Before he could make it to the branches Embry and Quil sprang out of the woods each one biting onto an arm.

Paul jumped down from the ridge with Jared right behind him. The vampire was cursing in his native tongue as he struggled between the two wolves.

Paul walked up to him and pressed his weight down on the pale man’s chest. The rough cracking of his arms being ripped off rang through the air. The man’s yell thundered even louder as he started writhing on the ground. Paul leaned forward snarling in his face.

“Stop! If you kill me now your friend will never return to normal.” He cried out trying to save his pathetic life.

It was Paul’s turn to laugh at the man. “We know that your powers stop working as soon as you die.” He said as he held him down with all his weight.

Jared positioned himself in front of them and easily tore the head off his body. The stiff body, discarded arms, and emotionless head looked like every other vampire they had killed before.

They were about to gather the pieces together to move on to the next step of disposing the leech. As soon as the pieces were close though a weird smoke began rising from the body. The smell that lifted into the air was worse than death.

The four boys took a step back wrinkling their noses from the stench. Confused and disgusted they watched as the smoke started bubbling on the crystal skin that peeked out from his tattered clothes.

“What the fuck is going on?” Embry asked.

“I’ve never seen this before.” Jared replied.

Before anything else could happen the smoke around the body thickened. It quickly enveloped them in a thick fog blinding them from their surroundings.

“Jared?” Paul called out. The only response he got from the fog was a rumbling chuckle.

“Did you really think it would be that easy to kill me?” A dark silhouette asked from the gray mist. It stepped closer but the only thing that became visible was a wide grin. The sharp white teeth taunting him.

Paul lunged at the figure, but it seemed like he didn’t move an inch. The figure was the same distance it had been a second ago.

“Uh-uh little volk, it doesn’t work like that.” It said wagging a dark finger in the mist. “Tell that little foxy I will see her soon.” It said as it stepped back disappearing into the gray nothingness.

At the mention of a fox Paul felt his anger rise. He chased after the figure in the fog determined to sink his teeth into him.

It felt like he ran a mile until he saw a figure close in front of him. Without thinking he rammed his whole weight into the figure.

“Wow Paul calm down.” He heard Jared’s voice call out.

The fog around him began to evaporate as the figure began to turn into a chocolate-colored wolf.

“Shit, are you okay?” He asked stepping off Quil.

“Yeah, are you?” Quil asked back.

_____

Reader POV

You could see everything you were doing. The way Sam was avoiding your attacks and holding you back when you managed to pin him down, made you upset. You tried to stop, tried to get control of your body.

The muscles on your body tightened before you sprang towards a tree. The bark scraped against your paws as you used it ricochet your body towards Sam. He wasn’t able to move out of the way, instead he twisted his body using your own weight against you. You could feel the sting of rocks and exposed roots digging into your side. Sam’s weight settling over you.

You were so tired. You didn’t want to move, but your body jerked against him. You mouth snarling and biting in his direction.

“[Y/n]!” He called out your name again. Every time he called out to you an invisible force in your chest lurched towards him.

Your fox wanted to submit to the alpha and follow his orders. Yet the sensation was quickly yanked back by another force. It felt like an invisible hand had a hold on your soul and yanked it in the opposite direction.

Another surge of energy rushed through you like a zap of lightning. You were about to push him off when your body suddenly went limp.

You didn’t care that Sam was still on top of you. You used the control you regained over your body to take a deep breath. It was almost like you were hyperventilating as you tried to calm your body down from the unusual adrenaline that still coursed through you.

“[Y/n]?” Sam asked as he slowly began to move away from you.

“Yeah.” You said in between breaths.

“Jared,” You heard him call out. “What’s going on?”

All you heard was silence, but Sam seemed to hear a reply as he kept talking to Jared. You ignored the one-sided conversation in favor of standing up and trying to ease your tight and cramping muscles.

“Are you coming?” Sam asked close beside you.

“Huh?”

“The guys are close; we’re heading over to Bella’s house.” He explained. The look he was giving you was still wary with a hint of concern. You could feel a familiar sense running through your body as you looked back at him.

Mentally smiling you nodded your head and followed after your new alpha.

@ooreikeoo-blog @nickangel13 @oi-itse @thesuicidalflower @holl2712 @r-rose08 @smileykiddie08 @buckysjuicyplums @callie-bear15 @oopsiedoopsie23 @cherrywinepoison @sarcasticnovah @unicornicopia1 @rottenstyx @awesomeowlbook @sunsetevergreen @kool-kat-slider

#twilight #twilight imagine #twilight saga imagine #paul lahote #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote x you #little vixen

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loloisloco · 1 month ago

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his eyes burnt from lack of sleep

THIS SENTENCE I KNEW IT WAS GONNA BE AMAZING WHEN I READ THIS. Its silly but the choice of vocabulary, even though it is sorta simple is so good. Thomas is burning. And througtout tmr fire has always had disaster coming afterwards. After the ending was triggered and the grievers came, after Teresas betrayal, and after Newts death. When theres fire its never good, so the burning, as well as being the best way to describe that he does not care the pain its causing him, he has to keep working is amazing because of fire in the rest of the maze runner.

so calming he doesn't question the source as his eyelids grow heavy.

THE AMOUNT OF TRUST THIS REQUIRES. There's no way after all the shit he's been through, that he doesn't have trust issues. BUT HE DOESN'T EVEN CONSIOUSLY REGISTER ITS NEWT. His brain just trusts him and knows he's safe. Newt rests a hand on the back of Thomas’s neck, his touch soft and gentle, coaxing Thomas’s head to come up.

AGAIN WITH THE TRUST. He's hiding, perhaps from himself, but only Newt would be able to coax him up when he's that exhausted. Thomas can't pull the memory from his brain where Newt would have said that, his chest throbs at the words either way.

and then i started sobbing. Throbbing with hurt and love. his neck feeling much colder

Cold without Newts touch, Newts his light, his warmth. The only thing that will ever keep him steady.

He's defieantly not steady any longer then omd Thomas wished to meet him halfway his body seemed to be frozen, he felt frozen.

Without Newt, he's cold, he's frozen. THE PARALYSING FEELING HES EXPERINECING AND THE FACT HES LITERALLY COLD i want your writing injected into my blood. He pulled the pillow closer to his chest

He can't hold Newt anymore, so he holds a pillow. becoming as small as possible as he wept

Newt cant hide him anymore, can't hold him. So he tries to hide himself. his bones chipped deeper and deeper until it felt as if he would never move again

ITS DESTROYING HIM. It's eating away at his bones until he's not able to stand anymore, can't move, can't carry on. any amount of discomfort would be worth it to wake up to the scent of mint and the feeling of Newt’s warm body against him.

My favourite line throughout the whole story. I think Thomas, at least in this moment would rather still be with WCKED and running from them than be safe here. He feels he doesn't deserve to have comfort anymore. But he also would give anything, to wake up next to Newt again.

I LOVED THIS AND IT WAS BEAUTIFUL AMD SOUL SHATTERING AND BONE CRUMBLING AND BLOOD FREEZING BUT IT WAS THE BEST THING. I love reading your writing, and you are defiantly gonna go far because a drabble should not destroy me as much as this did. Thank you so much for sharing this with me, and the rest of us lucky people 💚

I sleep so I can see you 'cause I hate to wait so long

story summary: Thomas struggles with heart wrenching loneliness. this manifests in this dreams through blonde hair and touches that never happened. (this drabble is inspired by this post!)

TW LIST: depictions of grief. (if you are struggling with grief please reach out.)

genre: canon compliance, hurt/no comfort. (seriously this is just sad sad sad. no happiness here. you have been warned!)

word count: 971

Thomas found himself in the map room as he did on many days, his hand cramping from writing while his eyes burnt from lack of sleep. If his gaze could burn the maps before him, they would have been in an uproar of fire 3 hours ago. The thought of resting his head, just for a moment, even though he knows the outcome, comes to him and he gives into the impulsive urge as he has many times before. Knowing his future self will scold him for the pain in his neck come daylight.

He doesn't hear the uneven footsteps enter the room, or the presence behind him. A quiet chuckle fills the room that sounds so distant, yet so calming he doesn't question the source as his eyelids grow heavy. Just as his vision grows dark he feels lean hands rest on his shoulders, he mumbles incoherently as familiar fingers find their way into his hair, rubbing and scratching his scalp softly.

“How many times do I gotta drag you outta this room, hmm tommy?” Newt’s voice is so far away yet so close, as if the sound came from his own brain instead of the boy's pale lips. The brunette merely hums in response, in his dazed state wishing for the fingers to never leave his tangled hair. A warmth washes over his body, a smile playing on his lips comfortably at the blonde's presence.

As if that single thought brought the action to life, lean fingers slip away from his head, a grumble of annoyance making Thomas’s throat wobble. He distantly listens as Newt presumably grabs a chair, the chair coming to his left, Newt places himself in said chair and must be facing him, because even as Thomas's arms cover his face he can feel a sad gaze on him. A moment passes in complete silence, Thomas’s gut clenches for some odd reason, somehow knows once the silence is lifted.. Something will happen.

He lifts his head, Newt in his peripheral vision as he faces forward, Newt resting his head on his arms facing thomas. His cheek squished against his forearm. He sees Newt raise his head, now resting his chin against the palm of his hand. Thomas presses his face back in his own arms, his inside of his arms almost shielding him from whatever near future makes him so sick. Newt rests a hand on the back of Thomas’s neck, his touch soft and gentle, coaxing Thomas’s head to come up.

Thomas sits with his shoulders slumped, his eyes on the incoherent writing in front of him. “I told you to take care of yourself.” Newt says almost as kind as his touch, his scolding light. Thomas can't pull the memory from his brain where Newt would have said that, his chest throbs at the words either way.

Newt’s hand slips away from Thomas’s nape, his neck feeling much colder as the touch ends. Much to Thomas's delight, Newt cups Thomas's cheek and pulls his face to make Thomas face his gaze. “You need to leave me.” Newt’s words sound drowned, as if they were underwater. Thomas opens his mouth to speak, the words he wishes so desperately to say unable to be vocalized.

im sorry im sorry im sorry im sorry he thought. He doesn't practically know what he's sorry for.

Newt’s other hand makes its way to the other side of Thomas’s face, the brunette leans into the touch desperately, trying to soak in the feeling. Before he knows it tears spill from his eyes which the blonde wipes away without a second thought, the only thing holding Thomas steady is hands on his face. The only thing that will ever keep him steady.

Newt came closer, despite the fact how badly Thomas wished to meet him halfway his body seemed to be frozen, he felt frozen. The only thing not impossibly cold being Newt’s hands. Newt brought his lips in between Thomas’s furrowed brows, a shaky sigh escapes Thomas. The kiss is impossibly gentle and lingers for an impossible amount of time, Thomas feels himself slipping from the moment, being pulled away from the oh so lovely feeling of Newt’s hands and lips.

Newt pulls away, once he does the blonde presses his forehead against Thomas's. “So much guilt, even while you sleep?”

Thomas opens his eyes and doesn't find blonde hair and freckled skin, he finds darkness and a damp pillow.

His heart is racing, hammering into his ribs, his breathing no slower. Thomas realizes in his sleep he brought a pillow in between his arms, he stretches his arm out instinctively, reaching out for the warmth of Newt’s body.

…

Oh.

Right.

It's been almost two weeks since arriving at the safe haven, he almost always wakes up strangling onto something. Whether that be pillows, sheets or his own waist in a quite pathetic manner. He remembers when he used to wake up to a sore back or neck from sleeping in cars and up against walls, even now, in his bed he would give anything to go back because any amount of discomfort would be worth it to wake up to the scent of mint and the feeling of Newt’s warm body against him.

His chest shakes, his lip wobbles as he tries to fight back a sob. He pulled the pillow closer to his chest and the thought of Newt’s head resting in his lap, smiling up at him with a slightly crooked tooth smile broke the dam. He clenched his eyes shut bringing his legs to his chest, becoming as small as possible as he wept. The forever now carved into his bones chipped deeper and deeper until it felt as if he would never move again, he was forever stuck with stinging eyes and wobbly cries.

Authors Note: yeah i told you this was sad. this was supposed to be a warm up for a night time writing sesh then i got distracted.. ate.. watched youtube.. and suddenly it was 10 o'clock. sorry guys 😭 im sorry i haven't updated any of my wips in weeks.. please take this as a formal apology I'm tryna get back into my writing game :( anyways tell me what you think (if your not sobbing to hard like our boy thomas here. bro cannot catch a break.)

(anyone interested in my compass IT IS NOT ABANDONED. I PROMISE. also expect rage filled Newt next chapter hehehehe)

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henry-and-the-seven-lords · 3 years ago

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I have had this song stuck in my head for DAYS and I think about the Brothers everytime I hear it... so here is some little song blurbs.

I Don't Miss You at All

Inspiration ~ I Don't Miss You at All by FINNEAS

Find the full Lyrics Here.

Brothers Masterlist | Dateables Masterlist

💙 Lucifer

But I think our song is comin' on

And now I wanna crash the car

But I won't

Make that mistake again and fall

Lucifer sits in his office after another long day listening to his favorite record with a cup of Demonus in his hand. He swirls the liquid as the song he was listening to comes to an end. Slowly the next one begins. He closes his eyes and takes in the harmonic sound. Opening his eyes, he realizes why this song is so important to him.

Lucifer guided the human in the waltz for what felt like the hundredth time.

"Can we please have one more dance, Lucifer?"

He sighs staring at their big pleading eyes. It almost makes him want to say yes, "I have work, MC. Maybe after."

They rush to him grabbing his sleeve before quietly speaking, "Please?"

His eyes prick with hot tears at the memory. Without a thought he stands up, making his way over to the machine before snapping the record in half.

Upon realization of his actions, Lucifer collapses. Hot tears streaming down his face at what he has lost.

💛 Mammon

I don't get distracted by your smile

And miss the green lights drivin' home

No sign of stoppin'

The house isn't far

Mammon had gone out driving to blow off some steam after Lucifer threatened him. He was going pretty fast until he saw the light turn yellow and began to stop.

As he stopped at the red light, he his attention to the passenger seat out of habit expecting to find an awaiting MC.

"How about we play a game. At every red light, I ask you a question and you have to answer." MC smiled at him as the car slowed to a stop.

He turned his gaze to them, gently putting his hand on the side of their seat, "Sure, ask away."

A small smile crossed his face as he watched them think of a question.

"What was your favorite birthday and why?" MC turned to him with a smile as they awaited his answer.

"Hmm," Mammon thought hard before finally remembering, "Probably my 1,500th. We were still in the Celestial Realm at the time and all the angels sang happy birthday to me. It was really nice." A blush filled his face at the thought of all that attention.

MC gently touched his arm pulling him out of his thoughts, "It sounds amazing."

Mammon is pulled out of his memory by incessant honking behind him. With a quick glance he sees that about ten cars have gotten in line behind him.

He looks up at the light and sees it's green. He puts his foot on the gas, speeding through red lights, going as fast as he can back to the House of Lamentations as hot tears fly off his face in the cold wind.

🧡 Leviathan

But I won't

Break down at 2 AM and call

'Cause I don't

Miss you at all

Levi stares at the computer screen at it flashes the words "Two Player" at him.

His brain slowly rakes through all his friends u til he glances over at his D.D.D.

Levi looks down at his phone to see a message from MC.

MC: I can't finish this mission unless I have a player two... are you busy?

Levi smiles. Before sending his own response.

Levi: Are you sure it isn't just to use me for my levels?

MC responds with a shocked reaction before sending another message.

MC: Of course not! If I am being honest, I can't sleep and I wanted a distraction.

Another smile spreads across his face at the thought of MC coming to him for help over his brothers.

Levi: My door is open, but you better know the password!

Levi begins to reach for his phone, but hesitates before pulling his hand away.

His hand slowly travels back to his controller as he exits out of the game with tears in his eyes.

💚 Satan

All but forgotten

About those eyes

The shade of green that if he'd seen

Would make F. Scott Fitzgerald cry

Satan splashes water on his faces quickly before looking up into the mirror. The demon stares back at himself before he meets his striking green eyes and freezing.

"Satan, your eyes are so vibrant." He chuckles at the human's comment as they stand behind him in the mirror.

His eyes trail their body before focusing on their eyes in the mirror.

"Well I think yours are just as striking." He smirks at them as he watches them blush and chuckle.

"Sure. But mine aren't as amazing as yours. I could see authors writing using thousands of words to describe just how beautiful they are." Their eyes are dreamy as they stare deep into his eyes.

Satan's face contorts into one of frustration and anger as he stares into his own green irises.

His hand moves without warning as it balls into a fist and moves towards the mirror with all his force. A scream emerges from his throat as well as his knuckles make contact with the reflective glass causing it to shatter.

He stares again at the now broken mirror, a fraction of its former self. In one swift movement, he washes his now cut hands of blood before pushing his hair back and leaving the mess behind him as his eyes begin to sting.

💖 Asmodeus

'Cause, no, I can't

Recall your scent

Jasmine, tuberose, and lily

Or your silly French accent

Asmo was taking inventory of his perfumes and colognes as he does every month. As he makes his way through each scent he comes across one that is all too familiar to him.

"Asmo! This one smells amazing! How did you know I love jasmine, lily and tuberose?" MC gently held the glass bottle in their hand as they sprayed it on their wrists again.

"I have my ways. I even bought one for myself so when people on the street see us, they know we are together." Asmo smiled as he stared at them happily gazing at the bottle.

"I really do love it Asmo. Thank you." Their eyes sparkled with adoration as they looked deeply into his.

Asmo narrows his eyes at the bottle before spraying it on his wrists and putting it away.

He walks away with a scowl on his face, giving up his previous need to inventory his scents. But for the rest of his night, he smells his wrists and let's out a small sob after.

❤ Beelzebub

And I barely still remember

Who's in the pictures on my wall...

...And it feels so good

Eating alone

Beel pulls out his instant Ramen from the microwave. Carefully he makes his way to the table with the delicacy in his hands.

He begins to prepare to eat as the intoxicating aroma hits his nostrils and sends him deep into a memory.

MC carried their own bowl of Ramen up to their room as Beel followed slowly behind them, "Come on Beel I want to show you my new photos while we eat!"

When the two finally get to MC's room the sit on the floor. Beel begins to slurp his noodles as MC grabs photos and thrusts them into Beel's face.

"Don't they look great?" Their voice was filled with excitement as Beel stared at himself during a Fangol game.

He slowly nods as he takes a sip of the broth.

"I am glad you like it. I want to take pictures of all seven of you every week and then put them on my wall."

He looked up to see past pictures as he began to hear them slurp next to him.

Beel takes a quickly look around the room only to find himself alone before he looks down at his Ramen. He sighs.

He still digs in with just as much fervor, bit it tastes saltier than he remembers as his cascading tears mix with the noodles.

💜 Belphegor

And I'm sleepin' fine

I don't mean to boast

But I only dream about you

Once or twice a night at most

Belphie squeezes the warm mass in his arm before opening his eyes and seeing MC's back. He smiles at the human in his arm.

"Is my little human still sleepy?" His voice is hoarse from the lack of use.

MC giggles as they roll over and stare him in the eyes, "Nope!" After they finished speaking, MC bolts from his arms with a smile on their face.

Belphie lurches awake with a start. Frantically he looks around the dark attic for the figure he just saw in his dream before he starts patting the bed.

"MC!? MC!?"

After a minute or so of frantic searching, he is confident he is alone.

Tears prick the corners of his eyes and he turns his gaze to the ceiling.

Loud screams fill the room as Belphie begins to pound the bed with his fists. And just as fast as it began, it stops. Belphie falls back onto the plush pillows and returns to his slumber.

403 notes · View notes

highlifeboat · 3 years ago

Note

A concept: Bela overhears her sisters talking to her mother about how clingy she is.

Cassandra and Daniela really don’t mean it personally, but their words sound so harsh in Bela’s sensitive ears. Her sisters are just discussing the things they’ve seen with Bela’s neediness, expressing that it’s concerning, and when Alcina reluctantly agrees that, yes, it can be a bit much at times, Bela shatters. Her sisters were one thing, but her mother...

Realizing she had to do something, Bela starts to pull herself away. She doesn’t eat or sleep; she only showers or bathes in frigid water, leaving her skin sore, ashy, and riddled with blisters; she barely leaves her room; and worst of all: she starts talking back to Alcina.

That last thing is what REALLY concerns everyone. And Bela hates doing it, but she feels the need to distance herself from her mother, and this is the only way. It’s better for everyone if she loosened her ties with them.

Eventually, Bela’s attitude gets so bad that Alcina finally snaps at her, and it hurts Bela more than she was expecting. She had been trying to prepare herself for the pain, but it still came to her like a knife in her stomach.

(Hurt no comfort)

She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. It wasn’t something she would normally do. After all, she’d never want her sisters to listen in on one of her private conversations, especially with their mother, and in truth she hadn’t planned to stick around. But when she heard her name mentioned it seemed to make her pause. They were talking about her. Why? What had she done? Was she in trouble? Bela’s mind raced with possibilities, and pressed her ear against the door so she could hear a little better.

“You don’t think it’s weird?” Cassandra’s voice asked. “How… clingy she is?” Bela swallowed. Clingy? She wasn’t clingy. Well, maybe she could be. A little. “How she always wants to be around you? How much she seems to care what you think about her?”

“Yeah, and the lengths she goes just for a pat on the head.” Daniela’s voice agreed. “I’ve seen her go days without sleep trying to impress you with something. It’s not normal.” Not normal? Bela shifted. “And she’s been like this forever! It’s really weird.”

“And a little creepy.” Cassandra added. “Like, I know we were all attention seekers at first but even you have to think this is out of control, right? We aren’t crazy for thinking that.”

Bela heard her mother sigh, her teeth starting to grind together. “Bela can be… overbearing at times, yes….” The blonde sunk her claws into the door as her heart seemed to stop. “And it is a little odd.” Odd? “If I knew how to help her I would.” Help? Mama thinks you need help? That you’re odd? Overbearing? Not normal?

Bela felt tears in her eyes and rushed as quietly as she could away from the door and the conversation on the other side. Her sisters were one thing. Their complaints still tugged at her heart, of course, but they had been teasing her for years. But her mother? Her own mother thought she was overbearing? She didn’t understand, she thought she was doing everything right. Did Mother not like when she went the extra mile for her? Did she not like that she followed everything she said? Bela pulled her hair. No, she had to do something. She would gain her mother’s love back, and show her sisters she wasn’t “clingy”. She could change. Or, at the very least, try to.

That was probably where the downward spiral started.

She started off small. Putting no more into her work than necessary, and slowly lessening the time she spent around her mother and sisters. At first they had seemed a little impressed with her new found ability to say “no” to them, even if it was eating away at her internally. But her sisters were happy with her, and even their mother seemed content with her new attitude. That was all she wanted. But it was keeping her up at night.

When she sat alone in her room, the wind howling outside her window, it felt like torture. Her mind raced, some parts telling her how useless she was becoming, and others reminding her this was for the best. It was nothing but a constant whirlwind of conflicting ideals that rang in her ears no matter how hard she tried to make them stop. She’d even started losing her appetite, the stress of it all twisting her stomach into a terrible knot that refused to keep food anymore. She did eat in front of her family when they were gathered at the dinner table, if just to act like everything was fine, but she always purged it afterwards as if her body was rejecting it. Every part of her body was blistered, and ashen, and terribly raw from freezing showers, even the usually soft fabric of her dress was beginning to feel like sandpaper. Headaches came often, and felt like they lasted for days, and in private she would writhe and cry on her bed from the bouts of pain that were plaguing her being. It was becoming unbearable. But her sisters were happy, and her mother was happy. And that was all that mattered, wasn’t it?

Or, they had seemed happy up until Bela started back talking to her mother.

She didn’t know if it was the constant pain, the hunger, or the fact she always felt on edge, but her mother’s voice was starting to grate on her ears. It had gone from simply saying “No” to certain requests, to sarcastic comments she’d picked up from Cassandra, to down right snapping back at her mother for making comments to her. And it was killing her more than any of the pain she put on herself. The way her mother looked at her. The sadness that turned to concern. It twisted her heart with guilt. But this is what they wanted right? No more clinging to mommy? Bela wanted nothing more than to apologize and hug her mother, but she kept holding herself back. You don’t want to be overbearing. Mother wouldn’t like that. Walk away. Walk away. There didn’t seem to be any way for her to win this internal battle with herself.

And then they had a fight.

She couldn’t remember what had started it. If her mother had simply asked her something, or if she’d made another comment on her recent behaviour, or if she had just looked at her the wrong way. All she knew was that she’d stood from her seat and sparked the argument. She told her mother to stop trying to pry into her life. That she didn’t want her help. That she just wanted to be left alone. That they were all stressing her out. That she hated her sisters. That she hated her.

Bela said she hated her mother. To her face.

Her sisters froze, having come to see what the yelling was about, and the look on their mother’s face made Bela want to dissolve into the floor.

“I-I didn’t-” She jumped when her mother interrupted her.

“That is enough!” She snapped, and Bela’s entire body went rigid. “Young lady, I don’t know what has gotten into you these past weeks, but the way you have been acting is completely unacceptable! I have had enough of your attitude, and I will not be spoken to in such a manner by my own child!” She raised her hand to make a gesture, and Bela thought she was going to be struck. And you would deserve it, wouldn’t you? “I would expect this from Cassandra, maybe even Daniela, but not you!” She crossed her arms. “I’m very disappointed in you, Bela!”

The words cut into her so much worse than she thought they would. Bela had prepared herself for this, knowing her mother wouldn’t put up with her act forever, but to have it actually happen made it feel like her guts were getting ripped out. To be called a disappointment, it took the air from her lungs and strangled her with it. She couldn’t breathe properly, her heart was pounding in her ears. She hates you. Doesn’t want you here. She hates you! HATES YOU! HATE HATE HATE! Bela’s vision started to blur with tears, and, at a loss for what to do, she did the only thing she could think of.

She ran.

"BELA!"

Her mother called for her to come back, but she only ran faster. Through the castle halls, down the stairs, past a group of surprised and frightened maidens, and finally out of the castle’s main entrance and into the cool night air. It burned her skin, but she just kept going, out past the Duke’s cart and into the Vineyard, until her foot caught on loose rock and she fell face first into the hard ground. After that she couldn’t push herself up. Too sore, too tired, too hungry, too cold. So she did the only thing left she could do. She cried.

She cried, and screamed, and pulled at her hair. She curled in on herself, claws sunk into her scalp as if she were trying to rip out her brain. Her mother hated her. Her sisters probably hated her, too. She hated herself. Everything hurt. She just wanted it to stop.

She wanted her mother.

“MAMAA!” The wail tore from her throat before she had a chance to stop it. She certainly had the audacity, didn’t she? Mother wouldn’t rescue her. Not after that horrid display. “Mama….” It felt like her skull was splitting open. She didn’t deserve to see mother. To be held in her arms and cradled. Not after the way she’d acted. “I’m s-sorry….” It was far too late for apologies wasn’t it? Bela choked on her tears as her vision blurred and distorted. She felt terribly light headed. “M-M-Mommy, please… Please help me….”

#bela gets angst and only angst from me for this one #i struggled with a feel good ending so i just didn't give it one T~T #i'm sorry #asks #deepestfathomss #alcina dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #drabbles

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lacharcutiere · 3 years ago

Text

ur my favorite drug & my worst hangover [nsfw 18+, terushima yūji]

5,9k words

✯haikyuu!! masterlist✯

winter sem break brings the new year, & a few other new developments too.

smut, tiny bit of angst, fwb, fluff // quit - lil aaron & travis barker. god this song goes so hard

the way all i talk abt is how much i love teru but have nothing to show for it— yeah we’re gonna fix that. man i love him

☾𓆙𓂻

— SOBER

the soft hum of the tv in the background slowly fades into your awareness as you blink blearily awake, almost forgetting where you are for a second.

you’re in yūji’s living room, duh. your semestral break has not been nearly as interesting as either of you’d hoped: instead, you’ve both succumbed to alternating between each other’s childhood homes, binging netflix and random youtube videos and eating chips and tubs of ice cream late into the night, as has been your custom for years.

it’s dim but for the glow of the screen, and it’s kind of chilly in here now, even with you wrapped up in a hoodie. (yours, not yūji’s. you only borrow his in emergencies.)

he’s not next to you now, but his footsteps—you know them by now: quick and kind of heavy but not overbearingly loud—are entering the room again, and you feel the sofa cushions dip a little as he retakes his seat next to you.

“hey,” he says, smiling, “you’re awake.”

“hmmph,” you mumble, sitting upright to stretch your back. “what time is it?”

“uh.” he squints at the digital clock next to the tv. “like one?”

“‘m cold.”

“me too.”

“‘nd tired.”

“you just woke up?”

“i’m tired,” you whine.

yūji groans. “you’re really gonna make me go to sleep this early?”

“you don’t have to sleep, but i will.”

“yeah,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “but who’s gonna keep me company then?”

“i dunno,” you shoot back, “text tetsu or something. he’s probably still up.”

he rolls his eyes but relents, standing from the sofa. “fine.” and he holds out a hand to help you up, which you don’t take.

“i can do shit for myself,” you joke, rolling your eyes.

“right.”

—

it’s not much warmer in his room despite the thermostat supposedly being set to an acceptable temperature, but at least the sleeping bag on the floor next to yūji’s bed is insulated, and he’s given you a couple extra blankets for which you’re grateful. the biting chill of january does not fuck around.

so you nestle yourself into a little cocoon of linens and pillows and pull your hood up, curling into a ball in an effort to conserve your body heat. you hear him laugh a little as he watches you.

“what?”

“nothing.”

there’s the light hum of a phone ringing a few times, and that little beep as tetsu picks up the facetime call.

sleep clouds your senses to the background music of stifled laughter and loud whispers and the occasional static of yūji’s phone speaker.

— BUT U PULLED ME CLOSER

the next few minutes, hour—you have no idea—pass just like that, with you drifting languidly in and out of sleep and the sounds of yūji and tetsurō’s voices audible but incomprehensible in the background.

last you remember, you’re slipping back under again, hearing tetsu through the staticky iphone speaker.

and then you wake up again because you’re fucking freezing and it’s quiet and the lights are off, except for the little reading light mounted to the headboard of yūji’s bed. you sit up on your elbows, craning your neck, and see that he’s still up, lying on his stomach with his phone dimly illuminating his face.

“what time’s it?” you mumble.

“uh... 2:38.” he pauses. “y’alright?”

“cold,” you say.

he locks his phone then, and he just looks at you kind of blankly and maybe a little mockingly? except it must not be mocking; it must be something else, because he’s just kind of... studying you.

you look back up at him expectantly. “what?” you say.

he sighs, kind of rolls his eyes, turns away from the light to hide the little smile playing on his lips. “come on up here.” he scoots over and pats the spot next to him.

thankful for an extra source of body heat and blankets and pillows, you shove yourself up off the ground and shuffle over to the bed.

it’s kind of funny, the way you’re basically adults now and yet your relationship’s still fundamentally the same as it was when you met years ago.

—

duh, yūji hates that. it’s true, that whole thing about how “every one of your guy friends has thought about fucking you at some point.” it’s true, at least for him.

and there’s something electric in how you haven’t slept next to him in months because you’ve both been busy with school, and now you’re back here. back here, where it feels like you belong.

there’s something deep in his chest that’s set aflame by the way you laugh and let him tuck the comforter over you; the way your sweatpant-covered legs brush against his own underneath it.

he wants to touch you.

he wants to wrap his hand around your thigh and pull it over his own; to run his fingertips up the length of your arm and make you shiver; to snake his around your waist and pull your head into his chest.

maybe he will once you’re asleep, he figures. once his pride can’t be hurt because you don’t have to know.

except... except he’d let it be hurt for you. without a moment’s hesitation. he would shatter it himself for you, would let you take him in your fingers and rip him to pieces too small to be puzzled back together.

because maybe he doesn’t just want you. maybe he loves you.

but even he, completely truthfully, doesn’t know.

he’s got a sneaking suspicion that he does, though, because he’s rarely confused and this is an enigma he can’t quite seem to decipher, no matter what he tries.

it’s absurd, too, he realizes laying on his back next to you, how suddenly he’s afraid to touch you. because the two of you have always been touchy, that’s just you. you’re two halves; you’re so similar. you’ve been attached at the hip since childhood—why is it different now, now that he wants that more than anything?

so here he is, spiraling in this conundrum of feelings, when it’s cut short by you, tiredly whining, “yūji.”

“what?” he sort of feigns annoyance.

“‘m cold.”

“and?”

and. and his breath catches because you roll over and latch onto him. and he brings his arms around your shoulders and holds you to his chest.

so close, and yet so far away.

and he shudders as you lay one hand flat on his chest. it belongs there forever.

you nuzzle your nose into his shoulder and inhale his scent and his brain short-circuits.

has she done this before?

and mostly unconscious, you mumble, “—warm. y’re pretty’.” his eyes go wide.

“what?”

your arms tighten around him, and he’d hate to admit it, but it’s setting him off. he’s... a little hard.

a hand settles itself on your thigh, the one that’s draped over his legs, and he pushes it downward a little, so that it’s not resting next to the rising erection in his pajama pants.

god, he wants to fuck you so badly right now, he wants for you to feel him throbbing between your legs as you whimper against his skin. but he also wants you to want him.

miraculously, a little sigh escapes your lips at the touch. so he doesn’t move his hand.

“feels nice,” you whisper.

so he decides to test the waters, and squeezes gently. you giggle sleepily.

inhibitions dissipating for a moment, his stomach leaps to his chest and he snakes that hand up over your hip, consciously avoiding your ass just in case, and rests it on your back, rubbing up and down slowly.

his chest constricts as you snuggle even closer to him. and then your leg moves back up and your thigh nudges his crotch.

your eyes snap open and he inhales sharply.

and then you’re propped up on your elbow, leaning over him.

he curses himself for forgetting to turn off the light; the flush in his cheeks is obvious.

half terrified and half excited, he watches as your face breaks into a wide, shit-eating grin.

“what?” he breathes.

your eyes narrow; a look of mischief he’s so familiar with, one that’s often mirrored on his own features. (it’s not now.)

“yūji,” you say, singsong and bright, “what’s this?”

and—oh, god, oh, fuck—you bring a hand down to rest on his dick, tenting in his pajamas.

he doesn’t know what to say to you.

“i— uhm—”

“hmm,” you hum. “y’ alright?”

he clears his throat, nods. “are— uh, are you?”

“mhm,” you laugh, wide awake now. “yūji...” you pause. he can’t stand it; he needs to know what happens next, needs to know what’s fanning the flames behind your eyes.

oh god. oh god, all he leaves is a breath in between and then you’re throwing your leg over him again and, fuck, you’re straddling him. he lets out a shaky breath, voice tight as he chokes out, “what are you doing?”

the smile is gone from your face now, replaced with something softer, something lustful. your hands move to his shoulders to balance yourself as you grind your hips down, and a low ahh slips out of him.

it’s just like that, just your clothed bodies rubbing together. he comes embarrassingly quickly in his boxers, but he lets you ride his thigh until you finish as recompense.

afterward, he excuses himself and cleans himself off in the bathroom. when he comes back, you’re sound asleep again.

that’s all that happens.

— UR GONNA FUCK ME UP

following that, everything proceeds as it had before. neither of you bother to speak of it, but nothing even seems off between you at all. it’s as if it never happened.

or maybe, yūji sometimes allows himself to think as he touches himself to the memory in the middle of nights when you’re not together, it’s like it was meant to happen.

what a wonderful illusion that is.

because he knows it won’t work, and if you ever thought about him like that, you would know, too.

the two of you have watched each other fall in love—get dumped, ghost people, whatever—several times over the past few years. he remembers your first boyfriend, your last year of middle school: the guy had been a mutual friend that you’d been crushing on for months. and yet, when you’d finally become a thing, it had taken no more than a couple of weeks for you to grow uninterested and dump him.

it’s not like he hasn’t done similar things in the past.

and it’s not like some people who’ve dated either of you haven’t had better luck; there have been several who have been the ones to break your hearts.

but both of you have yet to have maintained a long-term relationship, and neither of you have kept in contact with many of your exes.

he doesn’t want to be another one of those, and he certainly doesn’t want you to be, either.

—

it’s maybe a week after that night when you pick him up to go get takeout and ice cream.

that, in itself, is a pretty normal thing.

but then you’re sitting in your car, and between spoonfuls of mocha chip and hot caramel, you say, “so i saw this thing.”

“hm?” he responds, his mouth still full.

“your aura is striking, dude,” you quote. there’s a pause as you try to suppress a giggle. and then: “can i kiss you deeply, bro?”

he snorts and jokes, “anytime you want.” and he really hopes that you take his tone at face value, but he also knows you way better than that.

so he’s only half surprised when you actually do. half surprised, and wholly in awe.

your hands are in each other’s hair. it’s quick—feverish, but quick—and the first thing you say when you pull back is, “tastes like sugar.”

he laughs again, unsure of what move to make next. “yeah?”

and then you’re... shy? because you look away from him, back down to the cup of ice cream in your lap, and you say, “you feel good.” it’s so low that it’s almost unintelligible. but he hears you.

both your faces are burning when you look back up at him. “should we talk about that?”

“‘bout what? kissing? ‘s not the first time.”

it isn’t—he kissed you once in middle school, because there was this other girl that he’d thought was pretty, and he wanted to make her jealous. it hadn’t worked; she’d just thought the two of you were together, and a teacher had scolded you for pda. but at least it had been a fun story to laugh at for a while after.

this is obviously different, though, and you both know that. this kiss wasn’t to make anyone jealous. this one was for yourselves.

and anyway, that’s not what you meant by that.

“no,” you say. “the um... last week. at your place.”

“oh, yeah.”

“should we, um, do you wanna talk about it?”

“d’you?”

you shrug.

“alright,” he says. pauses. “so... what was that about?”

and you almost laugh incredulously. “you’re asking me?”

he stares blankly.

“you’re the one who got a boner when we were cuddling, yūji. as if we’ve never done that before.” you notice the mortified look on his face, and your expression softens and your voice lowers. “you wanna tell me what that was about? you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

and he laughs nervously and says, “no, no, ‘s fine. i was just kinda horny, that’s all. i haven’t hooked up with anyone in a while, y’know?”

you give him a sardonic grin. “and that’s why it only took you, like, three minutes to come?”

“yeah... yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

a moment passes where you stop and think for a little, and then you turn back to look at him. “it was, uh, good, though. like, objectively. it was good.”

it’s his turn to flash a grin at you: “‘course it was. it’s me.”

“and me.”

“shoulda won the sex gods superlative in last year’s yearbook.”

“ha.” another thing crosses your mind: “and now look at us. too busy with school to even have time to fuck anyone.”

yūji doesn’t say anything, so you do it for him.

you start out carefully. “but...”

“but?”

“do you— i mean. we’ve got, like, what? three weeks left before we go back? and we’re stuck here. and— and we already hang out like every single day anyway, and. uh. and it was objectively good.”

“are you—”

“and i’ve known you for years. come on. there’s, like, nothing i could do to embarrass myself around you anymore.”

friends with benefits. you’re suggesting that you temporarily be friends with benefits.

“and it wasn’t weird after last time,” you add. “i think.”

“hm,” he says, “yeah, no, it wasn’t.”

his first instinct is to say no, to tell you it’s a bad idea. but as he thinks about it more, he realizes that you’re kind of right. and anyway, what is the worst that could happen? because he’s pretty sure he’s far gone enough for you that falling a little further wouldn’t change a thing. even if he weren’t, he’d never think of hurting you intentionally.

and, he figures, he’d hardly mind being hurt by you.

—

that is how you end up back in his bed an hour later—his parents are out on a date this evening; you’ve got until a few hours past sundown to fuck and clean yourselves off and make it look like you’ve been eating and talking and watching tv the whole time.

outside of the guise of midnight impulses, it is a strange—but also strangely pleasant—thing to be having sex with your best friend.

there’s no pretense, hardly any need to keep up appearances (at least, for you). you’re not strangers only concerned with your own pleasure; you know each other. despite never actually having done this before, he already knows what you like, and vice versa.

it’s nice.

it’s nice to hear him laugh when you whine for him to stop being so gentle, vanilla-ass bitch, only to have him call you a “horny little—” (to which you respond, no, you.)

and it’s nice to sleep with someone who reads all the cues you give him without you even needing to say anything.

it is possibly the best sex you’ve ever had in your life.

it is possibly the best sex you’ve ever had in your life, and... it might not be just because of the dynamic between you two, or the fact that you don’t have to be afraid to tell him what you like and what you don’t—the fact that you don’t even have to tell him at all.

it’s nice. for you. and it’s hell for him.

it’s hell for him to have to hold back all the sweet nothings he wants to whisper in your ear—he’s restricted to you like that, huh, baby? and fuuuck and god, you’re so fucking tight, and he knows you’re into it, but he wants to be treating you like a princess right now. he wants to call you his, wants to whisper, tell me you’re all mine against your bare shoulders, wants to tell you he loves you.

so... he does love you.

but he can’t say that. he knows he can keep you around, but you’re not his to keep.

—

it continues like that for the next several days: you fuck, it’s good sex, and he’ll touch himself to the memories if you’re not there: memories of how you taste, of the softness of your skin, of you with your legs around his waist and your bare chests pressed together, damp and warm with sweat.

it is so gratifying, and even more painful.

and then, one day, as he’s fucking you in your childhood bedroom—all white walls covered in sketches and colorful postcards you’ve accumulated over the years—something is slightly off.

there’s something about it that feels more intimate than the other times, and it goes slower than before. it’s not all lust and clothes tossed haphazardly on the floor and bodies shoved hurriedly into mattresses.

you kiss him for a long time before any clothing comes off, and you keep pulling him back to your lips as he thrusts into you. you’re not urging him faster, more, harder; you let him keep a steady pace and arch your back into the sheets as you lie underneath him.

it hits him as you come down from your orgasm and writhe in his arms, softly moaning, “god, yūji, i l—”

he stops.

“don’t say that,” he says.

still shaking and catching your breath, you respond, “what?”

“just don’t.” but his tone is casual, and so you don’t think much of it.

—

you don’t hook up every time you hang out, and yeah. you were right. it’s hardly different than before. except, isn’t it?

you’re sitting on opposite sides of your sofa one morning after your parents have left for work—he slept over the previous night, but you didn’t have sex. you’d spent it laughing over the dumbest things and blasting music as you drove around without a destination.

your��re sitting with your knees pulled against your chest, scrolling lazily on your phone while you and yūji eat handfuls of cereal straight from the box between you.

it’s mostly quiet for once; comfortably silent. neither of you have ever really been a morning person.

— BUT U KNOW I LIKE IT

the ice cracks a little when he stops shoving your hand away to grab himself another handful of cereal. you notice, and then you wonder if you always noticed little things like that, because it feels kind of weird to. not that you mind.

meanwhile, yūji watches you, studying the way your hair falls messily around your face, the way one sleeve of your sweatshirt is rolled halfway up your forearm and the other is pulled all the way over your hand.

the living room is bright, surrounded by windows, and you’re illuminated by light yellow late-morning sunlight all around and he feels safe looking at you.

the ice cracks a little more when he says your name softly.

“hm?” you say, confusedly looking up at him.

“nothing,” he answers, too quickly. “i’m just... happy right now.”

you smile, radiant. “i’m glad you are.”

—

in the afternoon, you’ve grown bored and are wandering the streets of your neighborhood, voicing thoughts and pointing out people you pass by.

it’s still early, but it’s january, so the sun is already beginning to set.

when you’re a couple minutes out from your house, yūji goes quiet, and it stays like that for the rest of the walk.

and then, as he stands next to you while you unlock the door, he blurts, “i have to tell you something.”

you freeze. “what?”

it’s silent for a bit. “never mind.”

“yūji—”

“it’s okay,” he says softly.

he wants to shrink away from your gaze as you study him. he knows you know there’s something amiss, and second thoughts have almost always been his own personal hell.

graciously, though, you don’t ask. and it’s like stepping through a portal when you’re back inside; it’s all forgotten and back to how it was before.

—

but: a little while later, you’re lying side-by-side on your bed watching netflix again, and for whatever reason you turn to look at him for a moment and it’s just—

you can’t look away. and you don’t know why.

he can feel your eyes on him and it burns, and he wonders how much longer he can keep this up before he loses his mind.

when he doesn’t turn to face you, you call his name softly.

“hm?”

after an uncomfortable moment of hesitation, you say, “something’s up.”

“what?”

“yūji,” you repeat, and he forgets to breathe for a second. “are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

the mattress shifts under his weight as he sits up, resting his head in his hands. he takes a deep breath and can’t bring himself to meet your eyes.

“what’s wrong?” it sounds less like a question and more like a plea.

“i—” he starts, and then stops himself. “i can’t, i can’t do this to you.”

“can’t do what?”

there’s a painful silence, heavy with anticipation and maybe a little bit of dread.

“i don’t wanna keep hooking up with you.”

you sit up, too.

“did i...? do something wrong?”

he shakes his head and sighs, and he sounds exasperated. “it’s... no, it’s— i think...” and he seems to grow more frustrated as he fails to verbalize whatever it is, this strange cold fire stinging in the pit of his stomach.

“what do you think?” you whisper.

and he stands and walks to the door. his hand rests on the knob and he whispers back, in a voice that sounds precariously close to breaking, “you, when i... y’know. ’m sorry.”

and he’s gone.

and you have no idea what to think, both of what he just said and the fact that it sends an excited buzz through your nerves, even though it probably shouldn’t.

— IT'S HARD N IT'S HARDER TO ADMIT

his words are stuck in your head all night, have you caught somewhere in between laughing and crying.

you want to call him, ask him what the fuck is going on and why you think you kind of like it, but you don’t.

but when you look over at your alarm clock to see that it’s 2:00 a.m. and sleep refuses to let you succumb to it and you relent to the warm emptiness between your legs, it’s yūji whom you imagine is there to fill it.

you think of the way his tongue trails down the expanse of your neck, the way he feels inside you, as you whine into your pillow and desperately try to make yourself come.

it doesn’t even occur to you until later, when you’re waking up to sunlight slicing through your half-open blinds. and then it does, and you text him: i do that too.

he doesn’t text back, but ten minutes later, your phone rings. he sounds breathless.

“be here in ten,” he says.

you pause. “okay.”

and you are. he throws open the door as he hears your car pull up and jogs out to meet you, and all he gives you is a quick, “hey,” before dragging you inside.

there’s no one else home, so he motions for you to have a seat at the kitchen table and takes the one next to you.

“do what too?”

“what?”

“what you texted me.”

you look down, studying the seams of your sleeve and feeling your breathing go shallow.

“do what too?” he repeats.

and softly, you say, “want you.”

yūji stands, pulling you to your feet with him. “want me how?”

your eyes are wide and a little bit sad as you stare up at him. “i don’t know.”

then he cracks a tiny smile. “good,” he says, “i don’t either.

except he does.

he wants you every way, your presence, your time, your body, your fucking soul, all of it. but he doesn’t say that.

when you kiss him, he implodes, melts into your arms as if he’s trying to fuse your bodies together. but he says nothing of it.

the feeling of your wrist in his hand, the sound of your giddy giggles as he leads you to his bedroom—for now, that’s enough.

he takes it slow.

when he’s shut the door and ensured it’s locked, he turns to find you’ve already tossed your top on the floor.

a smile meets yours, gentle fingertips on your cheek, a soft whisper against your hair: “put it back on; i wanna do it myself.”

and you laugh and oblige, shivering at the now-familiar sensation of the warm metal bead on his tongue against your lip as his hand finds its way to your ass and squeezes gently.

“yūji,” you whisper.

“i like it when you say my name like that,” he murmurs into your shoulder, rubbing gently up and down your back underneath your shirt.

“hmm,” comes your contented response.

and then his fingers are rubbing gently against the hem of your shirt, easing it up to reveal your body inch by inch, and you shiver a little under his feather-light touch.

lifting your arms up, you allow him to slip your shirt back over your head, and then his hands are all over you again, squeezing your breasts through your bra and tracing lines up and down the center of your back. the little metal ball on his tongue presses against your lower lip. you tug at the hem of his hoodie, and he pulls it off.

the feeling of his skin on yours is nothing new now, and yet this time, there’s a certain nuance to it that he can’t place.

he wonders how you want him again; can’t stop wondering as you lead his hand down to the button on your jeans, laughing a little as he kneels at your feet to unzip them.

as he pulls them slowly down your legs he lines your thighs with little, butterfly-soft kisses, murmuring unintelligible praises.

when you’re left in only your bra and panties, he wraps his arms around your waist and falls backward onto the mattress, taking you down with him. you sit up a little, so that you’re straddling him, and he lets out a low sigh.

“you are fucking incredible,” he breathes as you suck gently at his neck, leaving light marks that will have faded by tomorrow.

your fingers trace the dips between his abs, tantalizingly, eventually making their way all the way down his stomach to the waistband of his sweats, and then a little further, palming his dick through them and feeling how fucking hard he is.

he groans a little, says, “please don’t tease me,” as you continue to do exactly that, but he doesn’t stop you.

when you shift a little so that you’re positioned right over him, soaking panties rubbing a tiny little wet spot into the tent of his erection, he sits up and gathers your body into his arms, lips and tongue moving against yours as one hand unclips your bra while the other settles itself on your hip, grinding you down against him. you press your thighs together at this feeling of pure need you’re experiencing and he pulls his mouth away and looks you in the eye.

“may i?” he whispers, and you smile and nod, laughing as he rolls you off of him to rid himself of the rest of his clothes and dig a condom out of his bedside table, which he hands to you.

you’re impatient as you tear it open but force yourself to roll it onto him slowly, studying his face as he revels in the feeling of your fingers grazing lightly against his dick.

once it’s on, he flips you over again, laughing, and exhales slowly as he slides your panties down your legs and tosses them somewhere on the floor to be found later. his fingertips ghost gently down the sides of your thighs as he bends down to lick a long stripe between your legs and across your clit.

“fuck,” you breathe as he groans softly against your skin, the vibrations sending an electrifying buzz up your spine.

he presses his tongue flat against you, metal bar circling your clit teasingly, and then he pulls away and groans, “sit on my face,” his words hurried and slurred with lust.

so you let him move to lie on his back and straddle his face, giggling as he wraps his hands around your thighs to pull you closer.

“aw, don’t be shy, i thought that’s the whole point of this,” he says.

and then his mouth is back on you again, tongue flicking slowly and carefully, taking in your every response, and soon he’s got you shaking on top of him, grasping at the headboard and his shoulders and tangling your fingers in his hair.

he keeps going after you’ve already finished, making you writhe and whimper, only letting go of you once he’s satisfied.

he pushes you backward so that you’re still sitting with your knees on either side of him and he sits up, leaning back against the headboard. his lips are on yours, then, and he’s pulling your hips to his, the head of his cock nudging ever-so-lightly against your entrance.

“quit teasing me,” you whine when he grips your waist, refusing to let you sit yourself on his dick.

“i’m not.”

“yes you are!”

“‘m not,” he mumbles, smiling, as he draws his lips down the curve of your left shoulder and back up again. “i’m savoring the moment.”

you huff. “you can savor it with your cock in me.” and yūji does his best not to show it, but the high he gets from those words alone, from knowing how desperate you are for him, even if it’s just for his body, sends him straight to heaven. because regardless of how much of him you want, it’s still only him that you want in this moment, and right now that’s enough.

you allow him to move at his own pace, his movements slow, languid as he holds you to his chest, one hand around your waist and the other reaching up to tangle his fingers in your hair. he lets himself say the things he wants now.

“kiss me?” he whispers, and you oblige happily. you taste like him, and he’s so content he could lose his mind.

instead he loses himself to you, shaky breaths between “god, you’re so good,” and “you have no idea… how long i’ve waited… for you to want me like this.” there’s a single thing he holds back from saying, but he still plans on saying it. he’s just saving it for the right moment.

you’re drunk off of him, your body shuddering against him with every touch of his skin to yours, not knowing what to say and yet feeling as if you know everything you’ve ever needed to. and you say it for him.

“i love you.”

the words are barely there, just a breath against his lips as you kiss him, and it’s too much for him. he finishes with something akin to a sob, taking your face into his hands. “i love you,” he responds. and then, “say it again? please?”

you close your eyes and smile, leaning into him and brushing your lips against his. “i love you, yūji.”

his hand’s on the back of your head, then, pushing you back to his mouth, wanting you closer, wanting more. and you want more, too, fingers tracing lines down his back and arms and stomach, sending waves of light through his skin. this is it, he thinks as you press your body tight against his, this is all there is.

you are everything to him.

— SOMETHING ABT U I CAN’T QUIT

in each other’s arms later that evening, you feel yūji’s chest move slowly up and down with each inhale and exhale, contented in sharing this silent moment with you, and then you know. you know how you want him. you open your mouth to speak, and he does at the exact same time. the two of you share a laugh, just like you always have.

“you first,” you say, propping yourself up on your elbow so that you can look at him properly.

he reaches up and rests a hand flat against your face and runs his thumb lightly over your bottom lip. “i am…” the words are slow and quiet and purposeful. “i am so in love with you.”

your smile widens against his hand. “i want you. everything… about you, with you. i want it all.”

and he mirrors your grin, just like he always has. “i’m yours to take.” his eyes flit down to your lips, his thumb still pressed against them, afraid to look you in the eye as he speaks his next words. his face flushes pink; it’s adorable. “say you’re mine, too?” it’s a request, a plea—not a command.

you reach up to your face and place your hand over his. “all yours,” you say. “don’t even have to ask.”

it’s silent for a bit again, and then he sits up, going a little more serious.

“what?”

“what happens if this doesn’t last?”

you sit up, too, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and gently pulling his head to rest against yours. “after all these years?”

“hmm.”

you think for a moment: after all these years. your whole lives, spent together, maybe not as lovers but always as two halves of a whole. it’s him you always gossip to first, whom you always went to after heartbreaks and fights with your parents. he’s the first one you told when you lost your virginity, crashed your car, got into one of your top universities. he’s held your hand through everything.

so finally you say, “i don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

he pulls away to look you in the eye. “why not?”

his nose brushes against yours as you lean your forehead against his and laugh a little. “are you dumb, yūji?”

“i don’t think so?” when you say nothing, just continuing to look at him with that shit-eating grin on your face, he goes, “am i missing something?”

you press your lips to his for a second and pull away, still smiling at him. “it’s us, yūji. always has been.”

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monodipita · 3 years ago

Text

Security (Yandere!Satoru Gojo x Non-Sorcerer Reader

Part 2 of the Yandere Satoru Gojo Reader-Insert Series!

Word Count: 1,954

Warnings: YANDERE CONTENT. GORE WARNING.

"When will you see that what I'm doing is good for you, [Y/N]? The world isn't safe for you anymore. I've told you this many times, and yet, you won't listen to me." His voice used to be as smooth as butter, now scratchy and raw from the screaming he'd done. Yours was completely gone. It'd given out by the second day of being in this hellhole.

Still, your eyes glared at him through the cage's bars like you had plenty to say to him.

"Don't look at me like that, please. I love you too much for you to be upset with me," his brows crumpled as his expression did behind those black optics of his. He reached up to grab your hand through the bars, but you only slapped it away from him. He recoiled from the bars and glared at you silently for a few moments.

"FUCK!" His outburst was sudden. You flinched at it, just in time to miss him use one of the many powers at his arsenal to flip the couch over in his apartment. A loud clang, followed by the sound of glass breaking, however, spared you any details you might've missed. The couch had been flipped over and it destroyed the coffee table.

You gasped and pressed your back against the cold, metal bars of the cage. Any distance mattered with him. "Y-you're a monster-!!" You sputtered through the pain of your throat begging you to stop speaking. You coughed, squeezing your eyes shut from the pain. "No, n-no, no no no," Gojo stormed over to the bars again, gripping them taut in his hands and looking at you intently. "[Y/N], no, please. It's not what it looks like, please-"

"-Leave me alone," your mouth worded. Your hands went over your face.

"...you'll come around again. You'll love me again, I know you will." Gojo removed himself from the bars. "All you need is time, I know it, and we'll go back to having dates every Friday... we'll go back to holding each other under the moonlight while Law & Order plays on the TV, I know it. I-I'll be back, okay? I'll give you some time to yourself. I'll get some medicine for that nasty cough while I'm out, okay?"

There were some sounds likely concerning the flipped-over couch, followed by the sounds of footsteps and the door opening, then closing. Another day to yourself... maybe. He might just drop off the medicine and leave. You sighed with relief. You could go back to focusing on how to get out of the cage in peace.

But it was hopeless. Some hours later, you were stuck with staring at the TV that faintly played anime on it. The door opening caused you to flinch and swallow thickly. Who was it?

It was none other than him. Two bags were in his hands. One was small, while the other... smelled good, like food. Your favorite food. "...[Y/N]," he addressed you as he walked up to the cage. "I got you something to eat to take with these meds, alright? A friend of mine hooked me up with something." He reached into the small bag to produce a pill bottle for you to see. He reached into the cage and gently set it down on the blanketed ground. "...would you like to come out here and eat it with me..."

He swallowed thickly.

"W-would you like to go outside... and we eat it together..."

You glared at him through the bars. Your stomach audibly growled, but you were stalwart. Eat? With him? He was just tempting you. There was no way he was going to let you out of this cage willingly. But that food... how long could you willingly ignore him until he left the food behind?

"Please," Gojo bowed his head, "I know you can't speak right now, but I know you're ignoring me... I-I can't take it."

"No, I can't take it anymore..."

He was careful to put the food down elsewhere and out of the way. You clambered to scramble away from the middle of the cage, to the back, where you would've been safe from his arms. But no... he was doing something different around this time. You looked on in awe and horror as his hands unlocked the cage. The door slowly crept open to reveal a world that you'd been deprived of for far too long. But you stayed put. Your eyes never left Gojo's figure, even if your heart beat at the anticipation of freedom. There was no freedom with this man, he was only unlocking his cage to restrict you further.

His arms climbed into the opened cage, soon, his body followed. His arms wrapped around your frozen body and pulled it close to his. The warmth of another human being was comforting, it almost made you close your eyes and nuzzle into his form.

But this was no man that you could live comfortably around any longer.

You struggled against his grasp, your hands went to his cheeks, your fingers dug their nails into his skin and pulled down. You could feel the skin underneath tearing, enough so to draw blood. "I won't let go," Gojo hissed through clenched teeth. With your body now taut against his, he pulled you out of the cage. He felt so much stronger than you... because he was. He picked your body up like it was nothing. He grabbed onto the pill bottle he left inside the cage, he grabbed the food, and he began to carry you out of the apartment.

It was uncomfortable at first... you didn't want to be anywhere within the proximity of this man, but to be out on the street, enjoying, bathing and basking in the sunlight that touched your skin for the first time in days... weeks, maybe, it felt all too good. You were frozen by simply enjoying the outside. You ate your food like it was nothing and scarfed down every last bit of it. Your drink felt nice running down your throat. Being outside was nice. No one around but the two of you, it would've been an ideal date.

"Are you enjoying yourself, [Y/N]? Isn't this nice?" Gojo's voice threatened to shatter your grandeur illusions. You nodded quickly to dismiss him, and returned to eating your food.

Until you felt Gojo's hand violently push your body down onto the ground.

You let out a coarse scream as your body collapsed on the sidewalk. Your arms did little to absorb the blow, in fact, it just made things worse, you could feel how skinned-up they were after only a moment of being in contact with the cement. You turned your head in horror to see Gojo lifting himself off of the bench and turning to face away from you, as if you weren't even there anymore... like he didn't know you existed.

"You're pretty perceptive, aren't you? I thought slaughtering your friend was enough of a hint for you to leave me alone," he spoke. It seemed like he was speaking into the air at nothing for all you knew. Your eyes widened with bewilderment, and they watched as Gojo walked up to whatever it was, or whoever it was that he was talking to... and wrapped his hand around it. You audibly gasped when you heard something audibly choking while Gojo raised it into the air... but what was it?! Nothing was there!!

You scrambled to your feet. This might've been the chance to escape!

"Get down, [Y/N]! NOW!" Gojo roared, "don't you EVER walk away from me!" His head flung in your direction and made you freeze with those deep, impossibly blue eyes of his. You swallowed thickly and dropped back to your knees by command, grimacing in pain from the feeling. How... how were you still responding to his commands? You had every chance to be free...

...instead, you watched, your eyes glued to the scene before you. Gojo had resorted to taking his anger out on whatever it was that he held in his hands by now, you could see every little piece of gore splattering all over the place. Blood coated his fists as his punches became progressively aggressive, until he resorted to bashing. Brain matter flew where it could.

The smell of iron began to flood the air, making you feel almost nauseous. What was he doing? What was he hitting that could actually cause all of this blood to come out of it? Was that... was that brain matter?

"I'm not going to listen to them, do you understand me?" He hissed to the corpse underneath them, "I love [Y/N] with all of my heart. I won't listen to anyone... who tells me that I cannot experience love in my life, no one!" His voice broke out into a yell, making you flinch again. It was horrifying to see something like this. The blood on him was real, the brain matter on the ground was real. You hysterically sobbed; you needed to get out of here, and fast. You felt that your life was in danger.

You tried to bring yourself to stand, but your knee pain was unbearable. You hissed and sat back on your ass to examine the wound, light scratch marks mingled with blood, dirt, and loose cement like you'd fallen off a scooter. "Ugh!" You sobbed out. Keep trying, keep trying, keep—

"Did you hurt yourself? I'm so sorry for not paying attention, but something important grabbed mine,"

Gojo lifted himself from the ground. You glanced up at him through bleary eyes... no, you couldn't let him touch you, at any cost. So you did what you thought was best: and began to backwards crawl into the street behind you, to reach the other side of the sidewalk. He wouldn't dare walk into the street, would he? It was hypocritical of you to think that way of course, but you felt safer being in the street than anywhere near him.

"[Y/N], no! Please," Gojo stumbled forward, clenching the bench tightly in order to balance himself while his free hand extended for you. "Please, come back. I can't bear the idea of losing you!"

"St-stay away from me!" You screamed at him, your voice clearly scratchy. That was enough speaking for now, your voice couldn't handle anything else. You could feel your hands touch the hot bitumen under you. You were on the street now. As quickly as you could, you attempted to pass. But he was quicker.

"Don't you understand? The world doesn't want us to be together," he sounded delirious. The blood coated his face and hands, his shirt. His glasses were gone. Those blue eyes that you'd never seen before stared at you. "But I'm willing to do whatever it takes to keep us together, even if it means resorting to drastic measures." A wary smile spread across his lips. "I need you for my sanity, I need you for my serotonin. I can't envision a world without you, I don't want to, don't you see that?"

Your hands gave underneath you and made you fall flat. You rolled over into the fetal position and squeezed your eyes shut. You didn't have the strength to resist his arms as they wrapped around you so carefully. He lifted you off the ground and pulled you into his arms, hugging you taut to his chest as he forced you to stand. He kissed your temple sweetly as he began to drag you back into the house.

Back to the cage.

"The world doesn't want us to be together, but I won't let that stop me."

#yandere #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #yandere satoru gojo #reader insert #gender neutral insert

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sleepy-penmarks · 3 years ago

Text

head space

(photo source) (edited by my best friend y.m.)

I’ve learned to ignore the dripping. When it lands in the kitchen sink and stops my hands for just a moment, as if a question hung in the air. When it hits the page I’m writing as the clock tick tick ticks and blinds me, shining across the paper in a constellation of uncertainty. When it hovers and I can feel it behind me like someone tall or quiet or dangerous.

Sometimes I glance at it - this mass of stars and moons and planets that always looms in the corners of my eyes. It would dot my vision throughout the day with Ursa Major and Minor if I haven’t slept. Or if someone’s voice had struck my eardrums and reverberated and shook my brain into a frenzy ‘till I’d forgotten what they’d even said. Or if my own voice had leapt from my throat before I could pass it through the conveyor belt of filters, an industrial discord built on social order and manufactured sense. Or if I’d met eyes with the moon at 1 A.M. and felt just reckless enough to turn around, demand that the mess give an answer for itself.

I get stuck then. I’m the character in the horror film who’d just found the monster leering back. I’m a freeze frame. It’s been a long time coming. It’s without a cure.

It’s everything I haven’t been or learned to be yet. It’s beyond the day and its schedule. It’s less-than-content to be here. It’s the skeptic. It’s the future. It’s the past. It’s I wish it was or I miss them or Okay, now what. It’s a moment to change the lens and hating what I find.

I have friends who describe these kinds of feelings as 'icky,’ and that’s pretty accurate. It just gets everywhere and messes things up, painting the solid sidewalks and traceable lines with constellations in the form of question marks.

It’s only been watered down since I’ve started therapy. “I’m not used to this,” I told my therapist.

“Used to what?” she asked.

“Thinking too much about it. I don’t feel good when it happens this often.”

“Well, that’s how you fix it,” she told me, as if this was completely obvious from the maddening depths of this strange outer space. “You gotta look at it and take it apart, and then you can work on how to solve these things.”

But unlike the kitchen each night, this isn’t as easy as cleaner and elbow grease. This is a bedroom marred up by the mess, droplets of stars everywhere, until the dust bunnies outnumber the hours of sleep. Solve it? It hadn’t been a thing to solve for 15 years. Even when it was growing—this huge icky mess really was 17 years in the making—it was nothing. It never crested like a wave about to eat everything in sight, never once, not until—

“I wish I never found out.”

“Found out what?”

“I don’t know. That’s just the feeling. Like, now that I know, I can’t really go back.”

“But just because you didn’t know about it, does that mean it wasn’t there?”

Sometimes, I act like seeing is believing.

Sometimes, it’s something to get out of sight. The relatives who would only see the bottle if it was shattered, stars and planets and a stretched-out daughter leaking onto the floor. The peers that deserve better than to hear about the newest astral body I found, or where I am when I’ve checked out of Earth at 1 A.M. The inanimate things that lock eyes with me when I take the occasional detour to space, seeing all but saying nothing.

This kind of outer space isn’t the common night sky. It isn’t just the blues and purples and sleepy, momentary relief. It isn’t just the heroic escape from UFO abductions told time and time again. It is the freezing cold and the lack of oxygen, a lone astronaut’s nights at 1 A.M. not knowing where they are. A freeze frame, a scribbled sheet of paper, a full kitchen sink.

And there’s the solitude. That the things that chase you are yours in the end. Your feet need to move for you to turn around.

It’s mentioned time and time again how vast space is, and how little we are against it, but you never really know about it until you feel it on your shoulders. But you can’t go through life thinking everything revolves around the Earth.

“What do I do now?”

“Well, I think you’re in the middle of it all now. If you stopped addressing this all of a sudden, you would know all these problems are there and have nothing to solve them with.”

I said something to agree with her. To get rid of this thing was to keep flushing it out. It felt so wrong to let it run thinner, swell bigger and bigger - but I knew she was right.

“Would you like to keep seeing me?”

“Yeah…I mean, I know that I have to. I’ll see you next week?”

“See you next week.”

#writeblr #writing #writers on tumblr #prose #abstract prose #prose writing #teen author #indie author #queer author #mental health art #mental health writing #traumacore #trauma writing #spacecore #totally not influenced by omori or anything #nonono #extended metaphor #sarah's writing #writers

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bwbatta · 4 years ago

Text

four - believable

Abstract: Draco and you are just friends so doing him a favour and pretending to be his girlfriend wouldn’t effect your friendship right?

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader

Warnings: this is super fluffy beware

Word count: 3944

A/N: well, I’m back and BOY do I have a good one for you! Christmasy vibes are at 100% as I’m struggling to believe Christmas has actually been and gone, hopefully this will fulfil your Christmas Draco cravings!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Part 3

If you thought people gossiped too much about the rumour of Draco and you being in a relationship before it was even confirmed, the gossip that was instigated from your kiss in the middle of the Great Hall was on another level.

No one said it to your face but everyone thought the chemistry between the two of you surely couldn’t have been faked.

Little did they know though, right?!

Whispers died down after a couple weeks of seeing the two of you walk around holding hands or with Draco’s arm over your shoulder pulling you close in his grip.

In fact the two of you touching in some way became such a constant that it almost felt odd when his hand wasn’t resting on your leg while you were together.

The one thing that wasn’t so weird to come from the game you two had going on, was how Pansy had dialled down her desperate attempts to seduce the blonde Malfoy heir.

Sure she still tried when you weren’t around, but it was a lot less than before and all her attempts were rebuffed and ignored by Draco.

After about a month, her attempts had dwindled and come to a halt.

Not that the two of you noticed that much.

You both had to admit, you enjoyed how things were with each other right now, not that you’d tell the other.

“Hey Sweetheart”

Broken out of your thoughts you looked up to see the familiar blonde approaching you with a grin on his face.

The two of you saw each other earlier that day for breakfast and then later for Potions, but since you both chose different courses, you didn’t have the time to cross paths again until later that evening.

You had been flicking through an astronomy textbook, attempting to finally finish your essay in the Library. Christmas was fast approaching which meant so were final deadlines for the term. Mostly you were fine with the workload you had, thanks to a specific muggleborn Gryffindor who had kept you on track, yet astronomy was kicking your arse.

As hard as you tried, you couldn’t tell your constellations apart from your galaxies.

“Hi” you sighed in reply causing the boy to frown

“That doesn’t sound very happy”

“That’s because this Astronomy essay is making me want to knock myself out with a telescope” you rested your head on your arms dejectedly. “It would be less painful.”

Draco didn’t stop the snort escaping his lips as he rolled his eyes at your dramatics and grabbed your excuse of an essay. With a snicker he shot you an amused look at the last line you’d written on the parchment, aka when you’d really given up all hope.

“’The Sirius constellation looks like a dog but you can’t really tell which breed’?! You’re honestly going to give this in?!” he laughed

“You can’t tell though!”

“Well first, Sirius is a star not a constellation and second the constellation it’s in is obviously a terrier.”

“How helpful”

His grey eyes shot you an amused look before gathering up your books and papers and put them away in your bag. Grabbing your hand he pulled you up and out of the Library which you groaned at, complaining you needed to finish your essay.

“I know” he just responded, pulling you close to him by your hands before detaching them and dropping his arm around your shoulder, pressing a kiss to your forehead in the process as he saw a gaggle of Ravenclaws pass you on their way to the Library. “Let’s grab some dinner and then I’ll help you with your essay.”

The kitchens weren’t as busy as usual as dinner was already happening, but still busy enough to have three house elves approach the two of you asking what they could get you.

“Two plates of roast beef, one with extra roast potatoes, the other with extra yorkshire puddings.”

Immediately your stomach growled at the thought of the food to your embarrassment. You really hadn’t realised how hungry you’d gotten.

Almost in no time at all, two steaming hot plates of food were given to you and the two of you made your way to the astronomy tower, taking a seat on the floor so you could take in the view of the setting sun.

“Why are we here? I thought we’d go back to the Library or common room to finish the essay?”

“How else am I gonna teach you the constellations if you can’t see them?!”

You were taken aback a little.

“You’re teaching me by pointing them out? How do you know astronomy?”

“The entirety of my family are named after stars and constellations on my mother’s side. It was something I just knew growing up because she taught me from when I was young.”

“So there’s a star called Draco?”

“A constellation actually” he mused, “it’s suppose to look like a dragon.”

“Suppose to?”

“Looks more like a snake if I’m honest”

The subject changed over dinner to other things you’d each thought of or heard throughout the day, when you hadn’t seen each other. Apparently the head boy and head girl had been caught by McGonagall in a broom closet getting frisky.

There had also been a fight which had broken out in the Herbology greenhouses which resulted in a mandrake pot being shattered and everyone fainting because of the screams from the young plant.

The real highlight of the day however, was the rumour of the Ancient Runes professor showing an interest in one of the sixth year Hufflepuffs.

“Contrary to popular belief, those Hufflepuffs aren’t as innocent as everyone might be led to believe” Draco snickered as you slapped his arm jokingly.

“I can’t believe a professor here would do that thought!”

“We’ve had worse teachers, lets be honest” he laughed. “Lets recall our last five years shall we?!”

“First one was killed by Harry after having You-Know-Who on the back of his head, the second was a complete moron and obliviated himself- one was a werewolf! Then lets not forget the disguised death eater and then finally this year we’ve been delighted to have the pink toad as a teacher.”

“I feel like we’ve really lucked out if I’m honest” Draco snorted as you snickered at the humoured sarcasm you shared.

A cold breeze shifted through the open tower when the sun finally set, causing you to shiver involuntarily. Deciding to only wear a thin jumper, forgoing your robes whilst you studied earlier may not have been the smartest idea once the two of you decided to eat at that destination.

Draco noticed and immediately leaned back against the wall, holding his arms out to you.

“Come here”

With a shuffle, you were under his arm, pressed against him as you settled into his side, his body heat being a welcoming factor.

“Merlin, you’re freezing” he frowned pulling you closer before conjuring up an emerald green blanket.

“Winter doesn’t really agree with me,” you joked “now tell me about these bloody constellations.”

“Well you’ve got the northern constellations and the southern ones. The northern include some such as Andromeda, Cassiopeia, Lyra and Pegasus. The southern have ones like Ara, Orion, and Canis’ Major and Minor.”

“Which one is Draco in?”

“Northern” he grinned down at you as you reciprocated his smile. “You then also have the zodiac constellations which are the 12 most commonly known ones.”

“Like Sagittarius, Aquarius and all that?”

“Yep. Within all those constellations, you’ve then got your stars.”

The blonde boy explained the basics of the stars to you almost effortlessly as your gaze flicked back and forth from him to the sky, when he pointed out which section he was talking about.

He talked non stop about the stars and you couldn’t help but admire the Slytherin as he spoke of the subject. Draco wasn’t arrogantly top of the class like Hermione was, but he was in no way lacking in knowledge when it came to subjects he knew about like it was second nature.

Time passed you both by like the cool breeze that surrounded you, and before you knew it, hours had passed just being in each others company as he easily gave you enough clarity to finish off your essay, without even having to resort to drastic measures.

You also learnt so much more than any astronomy professor had taught you in all your years at Hogwarts.

Maybe that was just because they weren’t as captivating as the blonde beside you.

You wouldn’t say it out loud, but you knew exactly what your favourite constellation was after that evening, and it just so happened to look like a dragon.

Christmas drew closer and Draco was adamant on sticking to his side of the deal, so with a sigh he set off to Hogsmeade in search of the extensive list of Christmas gifts he had promised to get you.

He had to appear like the perfect boyfriend after all.

Something was nagging at him though and it was constantly circling his mind as he trudged down in the frost to the village.

It had been that evening when the two of you were in the astronomy tower and he was teaching you about the stars, when it had happened.

In the midst of his talking, he pointed out the Orion constellation before glancing down at you and pausing a second to catch his breath, not because he was chatting too much, but because in the vivid light of the moon, you were ethereal.

He had whole heartedly planned to carry on talking, but the sight of you, curled up against him, with the moonlight highlighting your features, his breath was stolen from him.

Almost in a trance he brushed the back of his fingers against your cheekbone causing you to snap your gaze to him, eyes wide at the delicate gesture.

Your wide eyes shocked him out of his state and immediately he paused awkwardly, racking his brain for some kind of excuse.

“Um... eyelash” he murmured, grey eyes not breaking from your own.

“...thanks.”

His mind was screaming at him to just carry on talking, yet no words came out of his mouth.

Instead, almost like his body had a mind of it’s own, his fingers continued to move to brush away the lock of hair which had fallen out of it’s place.

Finally gaining control of his actions again, he dropped his hand and pulled you closer to him, effectively breaking your line of sight. Draco began to talk about Orion again but his mind wasn’t 100% paying attention to the facts that came out his mouth.

What the hell was that?

Shaking those questions from his head, he pressed his lips to your temple and continued his rambling about stars.

It had been quick, fleeting, but Draco hadn’t missed it and he really hoped you had. The affection which was suppose to be scripted for everyone else’s belief had reared it’s head like it was second nature to the pair.

You hadn’t said anything or brought it up so Draco definitely wasn’t going to.

He agreed with himself it was probably best left unspoken about. It was a slip up, something which felt right to do at the time but it wouldn’t happen again.

Attempting to convince himself, he muttered about how you probably didn’t even notice. It was nothing.

After all, whatever was happening affectionately between the two of you wasn’t real.

In short, you’d noticed.

Draco showing you affection was nothing new, yet Draco showing it when no one else was around, okay, that was new.

The kiss he left on your temple could of course be in a friendly manner, right? The brush against your cheek? The way he looked at you?

Friends are affectionate to each other, it was probably nothing more than a friendly endearment. Like a hug.

So why did it feel like there was so much more unsaid?

With a groan of annoyance, you shut it from your mind. There was no use in overthinking something as small as a simple affection. You were smarter than that.

The truth was, the two of you were so hellbent on making everyone around you believe you were in a relationship, you failed to noticed how neither of you denied how believable it was to each other.

Your stomach grumbled loudly, catching the attention of the witch opposite you who eyed you with annoyance.

“Are you just going to sit there, starve yourself and annoy me, or are you going to get some food and leave so I can work in peace?”

“Merlin, Hermione, it’s almost like you don’t want me around.”

“I don’t when you’re distracting me”

“Charming as ever, I see”

With a huff, the bookworm turned her attention back to her books.

Completely bored with your homework, you fidgeted with your quill between your fingers.

“Hey, Hermione? Are you going home for Christmas?”

“You couldn’t ask me this later?” she sighed as she paused in her writing and shot you an irritated look. At the shake of your head, she rolled her eyes. “Yes, My family and I are planning on going skiing again. Are you heading back?”

“Not this year, my parents are off visiting my cousins in America so I said I’d stay at Hogwarts.”

“You’re staying here for Christmas?”

A new voice entered your conversation from behind you and at the look of Hermione’s scowl, you knew immediately it was your blonde boyfriend.

Turning in your seat, you greeted him with a smile. Pecking a kiss to your lips, more for Hermione’s purpose than your own, he took the seat next to you, placing his own stack of books on the table next to you.

“Yeah, like I said, parents are going to America, it’s just easier if I stay.”

“Not many others are planning on staying though, not even the Weasleys” Draco frowned.

You shrugged at his insinuation, knowing exactly what he was getting at.

“I’ll be fine, might actually get some peace and quiet to be honest.”

He didn’t look convinced.

“I’ll write to my parents and tell them I’m staying for Christmas”

“Draco-”

“Nope, I’m not going to let you spend Christmas alone,” he was adamant, “Can I borrow a piece of parchment, I’ll write to them now.”

“Go ahead, I’m not using it” you replied which earned you an exasperated look from the Gryffindor opposite you, which you ignored.

Hermione took the time to observe the two of you and how effortlessly you interacted around each other. It was like a cleverly choreographed piece.

You looked down at your work, Draco looked up at you. Draco looked down at the letter he was now writing, you looked up at Draco. You rested your hand on his arm when you were talking, he leans into your touch.

The Granger witch couldn’t help but almost admire the chemistry between the two of you and how easy it seemed it was to be with the other. Sure, she had doubts at the very start when you’d just begun dating, yet getting a front row seat to seeing the two of you bounce off each other, Hermione Granger believed wholeheartedly the two of you loved each other.

Even if you didn’t know it yourselves yet.

Draco had followed through with his promise and as it seemed every other student had journeyed down to the train a couple days ago. The two of you were sat happily in the Astronomy tower, basking in the silence of the castle and embracing how relaxing it was.

Since the first time the two of you had sat around the tower before, it seemed like this was the place you both chose to come every time when it was just the two of you.

Neither of you had brought up the small affection from the previous time, but acting like it didn’t happen seemed like it was working for the two of you.

“What’s the best Christmas gift you’ve ever gotten?” Draco asked you after a few moments of silence.

You had to think for a moment before a grin rapidly grew across your face at the exact present you knew you loved.

“Snitch socks,” you chuckled “I was given a pair by my grandma when I was like 10 or something and they were the fluffiest, comfiest pair of socks I ever owned where there was a little charm with made the snitches fly around the design. They must’ve cost a knut or something as they fell apart after I only wore them for a few days! Young me was so heartbroken about her socks, she cried for three days!”

“You cried over socks?!”

“The best socks! I don’t think I’ve even known real joy since”

Draco snorted out a laugh into your hair as he wrapped an arm round your shoulders.

“That’s so stupid”

“Don’t be such a jerk, I was 10” you scowled at him playfully “besides, my grandma passed away a couple years later and I have no idea where she got them, so I’ve made my peace with it.”

“Would you still wear them now if you got another pair?”

“Oh 100%, but either way, like I said, I’ve made my peace with it.” You shrugged nonchalantly before turning to the boy next to you, “go on then, what’s been your favourite Christmas present ever?!”

“A pocket watch” he grinned reaching into his pocket and pulling one out, passing it over to you to look at. “It’s a Black family heirloom - my Mother’s side of the family, and it’s suppose to keep you on time for everything. It used to belong to one of my great uncles or someone but I’ve never been late to anything when I have this on me.”

“Really?” you asked sceptically

“Really”

“What about that time you were late to potions?!”

“Left it in my dorm accidentally. Actually that whole day was kind of a disaster. Bloody Pansy and her love potion.”

You snorted as you admired the watch and flipped it over in your palm to examine the back. Cursive words were engraved in the back in another language- probably latin, which had something to do with keeping the owner on time, all the time.

It was silver and about the size of a large golf ball in diameter, yet surprisingly light as you played with it between your fingers.

“It’s pretty”

Draco hummed in agreement as he watched you trace the intricate details with your fingers before smiling and handing it back to him. With a fond look at the watch, then you, he slipped it back into his pocket.

“I just pray I don’t lose it, wouldn’t hear the end of it from my Mother”

“For good reason probably” you snorted, “if it’s a family heirloom it probably means a lot to her.”

Draco hummed once again and pinned his warm gaze on you. He wouldn’t say it out loud but he rarely let the things that meant a lot to him out of his sight.

“God rest ye merry hippogriffs-”

“I’m begging you to stop”

“-ye are A BIRD OF PREY!”

“Y/N-”

“We come in all our splendour, to lead ye ast--”

A hand covered your mouth as you laughed heavily at Draco’s attempt to quieten your singing. You had purposefully tried to make it the worst edition of the Christmas carol possible to annoy the blonde that Christmas morning, yet you hadn’t planned on being tackled into the Slytherin sofa as an attempt to be shut up.

“Did you just lick my hand?!”

You shook your head innocently, not fooling Draco for a second.

The two of you had gathered in the Slytherin common room, as most of the house had gone back for the holiday.

Only a couple of students remained, but after the wizard had glared at the couple of second years, they scattered somewhere else for the time being.

“Okay, presents!”

You almost dived under the tree as you caught sight of a carefully wrapped gift with your name on it. However, finding the label attached to a rather large bundle of Honeydukes chocolates, the smile you shot Draco was almost blinding.

“You did get me the chocolates!!”

“I promised, didn’t it?!”

Draco watched you with a fond grin as you rifled through the basket picking out a couple of chocolate frogs and chucked one to him. He caught the small packet quickly, thanking his seeker reflexes as he did, and looked at you questioningly.

“What, you didn’t think I’d be able to get through all these myself?! Plus I know chocolate frogs are your favourite.”

Draco felt his smile grow wider.

“I got something for you too” you matched his smile

“You did?”

“Of course!”

Pulling out a long rectangular box from under the tree, he kneeled down next to you as he pushed it along the floor so it wasn’t obstructed by anything.With a wary look towards you, he paused slightly.

“It’s not anything that will bite, right?”

“Oh shut up, of course not, now open it!”

With a roll of his eyes, the Malfoy ripped off the wrapping paper and pried open the cardboard box to see the broom he had been envying Harry Potter over for the last year.

“You got me a Firebolt?!”

“Couldn’t have you whining about Harry’s broom any longer, could I?!”

“Merlin, Y/N! This is fantastic, thank you!” He grinned at you before his eyes snapped to the tree and back. “There’s some other things for you still under the tree.”

It was your turn to pin him with a questioning look, eyebrows pulled together in a frown.

Turning back to the tree, you pulled up a few branches and spotted another large box at the back. With great effort, to which the Malfoy just found great entertainment in, you managed to retrieve the box. Pulling open the top flap, the boots and jacket he had also promised you, sat inside.

With a laugh you pulled the boots out first and then the jacket, before spotting a smaller bundle at the bottom. Reaching in, your fingers came in contact with something soft which you pulled out, only to gasp at what it was.

A pair of fluffy green socks sat in your hand as golden snitches whizzed round the design. Not being able to find your words, you looked up at Draco with the softest look you were sure you’d ever looked at him with.

“Draco... you got me snitch socks?!”

“I may have mentioned about the socks to my Mother and she just so happened to know where they were sold. I picked the green ones because I couldn’t have you wearing red ones now, could I?”

“Merlin, they’re perfect! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Pretty much launching yourself at him, you pulled Draco into a warm hug, arms around his neck, as he instinctively wrapped his own arms around your waist in return.

“You are the best boyfriend ever, oh Merlin!”

“If I knew it was this easy to please you, I would’ve bought you them ages ago” he snickered.

You pulled away, only to move to put the socks on as you chatted non stop about how great they were, and in turn, how great he was. Seeing your entire face light up because of a pair of socks made Draco smile even more.

Again, he wouldn’t admit it out loud, but seeing that smile on your face, which he had 100% been responsible for, made his entire Christmas so much better.

#Draco Malfoy #dating Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy series #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #Draco Malfoy Headcanon #draco malfoy imagine #draco imagine #Harry Potter #harry potter series #harry potter headcanon #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader

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maatryoshkaa · 4 years ago

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merry christmas, kiss my a** | lee minho [teaser]

✒︎ in which both you and minho get dumped by your partners on christmas eve, run into each other on christmas day, and begin to find yourselves grudgingly confronting all the reasons that made you enemies in the first place.

ryu says: i can explain the title—i wrote out the plot while listening to “merry christmas, kiss my ass” by all time low 🤡

genre: enemies to lovers, college!au, holiday!au, fluff, drama, romcom, all that good stuff--and a pinch of angst if you move your bang to read it again.

tags/warnings: fratboy!minho is your typical playboy asshole, perfect student!reader is all business and no-nonsense, mild profanity, mentions of drugs/marijuana/alcohol and addiction, unsafe frat parties (never let go of your drinks, guys), slightly (?) suggestive, but more chaotic than anything, some unhealthy relationships, reader and minho have bad blood, a long history paved with misunderstandings, and lots of unpacking to do.

length of excerpt: 1.6k

With the remnants of a ruthless migraine still wrenching your skull, you pried your eyes open. A weak groan left your dry lips, muffled by a mouthful of fabric. As you came to—brain feeling like jelly sloshing around in your head—you realised you were lying nearly face-down on a queen-sized bed, white comforters tangled around your very sore body. Bright sunlight was filtering in from a window somewhere, and you vaguely registered a green velvet couch sitting in the corner. Frowning, you tried to roll onto your side—and came face-to-face with the yellow eyes of a ginger cat.

You didn’t own a cat. Or a green couch, for that matter. Blinking in confused unison with the feline, you looked around the room—just as the bathroom door swung open, and a very naked Minho stepped out from the wisps of steam.

You screamed, scrambling back on the bed, and grabbed for the first solid object your hands could find—a rusted candelabra on the nightstand. Brandishing it at Minho in horror, you stammered, “Did I—did you—did we—”

Minho looked just as bewildered as you, one hand shooting up as if in surrender. With a yowl, the ginger cat leapt onto the green couch, but neither of you spared it a glance. Minho’s other hand, you realised, was gripping the towel wrapped around his waist as if his life depended on it. Okay, so he wasn’t naked—thank heavens—but that did nothing to stop the sour panic steadily rising in your throat. His gesture sent a vague memory rippling through your muddled mind. That’s right. Last night—the Christmas party at Changbin’s fraternity. You had bumped into Minho, just your rotten luck—the boy you’d despised since high school, and under the mistletoe, to boot. Your mind flashed back to how you’d furiously chugged the drink a frat boy had handed you to fill in the awkwardness, and had desperately tried to eject yourself from the conversation.

Then police sirens had sounded throughout the frat house, students scrambling like cockroaches and hurriedly hiding their marijuana—and that was the last thing you remembered before you had blacked out entirely.

You turned back towards Minho, one hand clamped over your eyes and the other around the candelabra. Two more cats had slinked out from under the bed—a tabby, and another ginger—and were joining the first one in watching the commotion. You put two and two together, voice growing shrill. “Did you—drug my drink, Lee Minho?”

He sputtered, and you could almost imagine his eyes bugging out. “Did I—” he raked a hand through his wet hair, composing himself. “I thought you took something—you were out cold the second you finished your drink.”

Fragments of the night before were slowly returning to you, and with increasing dread you recalled the solo cup you had taken without looking twice, the frat boy who had winked at you with a greasy smile.

“I think you got roofied, princess,” came Minho’s voice, surprisingly gentle.

“Don’t call me princess,” you snapped back automatically, but grudgingly lowered the candelabra. Cautious, you peered through your fingers, and immediately regretted it when you were met with Minho’s shit-eating smirk agaain.

“Not gonna lie, it took me by surprise. Since when did you become a party girl, showing up to Changbin’s parties?” He reached back into the bathroom, ruffling his damp hair with a smaller towel. “Here I was, thinking you’ve changed.”

“Yeah, well, you clearly haven’t,” you shot back coldly, counting off your fingers with a biting laugh. “Treating people like your personal toys or stepping stones. Messing around with multiple girls a night. Drinking like there’s no tomorrow.”

If your words stung Minho, he certainly didn’t show it—only raising his eyebrows in that way that had infuriated you for as long as you’d known. The typical Lee Minho look of nonchalant contempt, spiked with a shot of amusement to give the impression that he didn’t give a single damn. You hadn’t run into him since—well, since that incident back in high school, and the memories his mere expressions could still rouse made your skin crawl.

Minho watched you curiously—sheets still wrapped around you like makeshift battle armour, your hand wielding the candelabra he’d thrifted from a garage sale, Rapunzel-style—and he had to fight the genuine smile tugging at his sneer. His chest felt...funny, fluttery, even, and not in the gut-wrenching, hangover way he had grown so used to. He almost wished it was, because this new feeling made it seem as though the ground had suddenly been ripped out from under his feet, and that terrified him.

The party. Some snitch had called the cops on them, and that had promptly shut the party down. The flood of panicked students evacuating had shoved Minho flush against the wall, and you flush against his chest. When he hadn’t felt you shoving him away immediately, Minho had almost felt his heart swell with a strange, terrifying shred of hope—until, upon closer look, he had noticed that your entire body had gone limp, glass empty and eyes fluttering shut.

Panicking, Minho had carried you out of the house, clawing out of the sea of elbows and overheated limbs until he had reached the main road. Mind racing, he had fished his phone from his pocket and called the only mutual acquaintance the two of you had—your boyfriend.

But when Minho had explained what had happened—hey, uh, your girlfriend’s out cold at Changbin’s party, so you might want to come pick her up—Taehyun had scoffed, a harsh bark of laughter that had made Minho’s ears hurt.

“Yeah? The hell’s it to me? That bitch’s your problem now.”

Before Minho could choke out a surprised reply, Taehyun had hung up.

Trouble in paradise? He had thought to himself amusedly, before remembering his own situation. Then, the fact that he had no idea where you lived, and he couldn’t very well leave you, unconscious, out on the street. In the end, he had brought you to his last resort—his apartment.

Carefully stepping over the trail of shattered ornaments his ex-girlfriend had left behind during their fight, Minho had lowered you onto the couch—then, with a second thought and a deep sigh, he’d lifted you onto the bed, tucking the white comforter over your slack body. Sipping a hangover concoction, he’d stood over your sleeping figure contemplatively, a mix of bemusement and worry churning in his gut, before deciding he was probably being mildly creepy and collapsing for the night on the velvet couch.

“Look,” Minho began, shaking his head as though clearing his thoughts and turning his attention back on you, “I know what you’re probably thinking, but I—we—didn’t—do anything. You were out cold last night.”

Hands shaking, you peeled back the covers—and the smallest sigh of relief left your tightened chest when you saw that you were still wearing the same jeans and top as last night—albeit creased, stained, and reeking of marijuana and booze, but completely intact. The next moment, though, a wave of anxiety washed over you and you clutched the sheets closer, fingers trembling. Someone had still slipped something into your drink at that party. And if the party hadn’t come to a screeching halt—no, you realised, with an inward groan of frustration, if your sworn enemy hadn’t been there, there was no telling how much worse things could have gone.

The thought made you shudder, panicked tears pricking at your sore eyes. Damn it ll. Here you were, sitting in Lee Minho’s bed, of all people—about to cry in front of him while he watched. Your humiliation—a belated Christmas present for him, no doubt.

But when you glanced at his face, you were startled at the expression on his face. It was unfamiliar—not exactly condescending, or vicious, or even mildly smug. His lips—rosy from the hot shower—were pressed together slightly, eyebrows almost knitting together in a frown.

Maybe he was holding back laughter?

Minho’s eyes had caught the way your lips had begun to tremble as you curled in on yourself, and had instinctively moved forward before freezing. What could he do? Give you a hug? He was sure he would end up with a candlestick in his eye if he tried. Comfort you? The words seemed to dissolve to sand on his tongue. He cursed himself silently. Words and actions came so easily with all the other girls—endless sweet talk and flirting, until he had them wrapped around his finger. With you—even after all these years—he was left frozen, mind blank, and only that damned feeling in his chest.

“She’s not yours,” came Changbin’s voice from the previous night, ringing in his ears.

“I know,” he had replied. But why did acknowledging it feel like ripping a Band-Aid off of a nearly-healed wound? Like he had reopened the scar, along with all its pain once again?

Maybe it was because after all these years, Minho still clung onto the hope that you would hear him out, just once.

Gesturing helplessly, he found himself offering the only sort of comfort he seemed to know how to. “Do you want—uh...some wine? The fridge’s empty, and maybe it’ll calm your nerves a bit.” He tilted his head when you didn’t reply, trying to get a glimpse of your face. “Do we need wine?”

Forgetting momentarily that he was nearly naked, you lifted a withering, exasperated gaze at him, getting an eyeful of his bare chest before yelping and burying your face in the covers again. “No. You know what—I need wine—you need to put some damn pants on.”

You could hear his devilish grin return to his voice then, even through the covers. “But life is so freeing without them.”

“Pants. On. Now.”

to be continued

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luckychild · 4 years ago

Note

Hey, I’d love to hear your thoughts on the boys responding to hearing “I love you” for the first time - only if you want, of course - you’re blog is awesome :)

I love this prompt (pun intended)! Super cute ask just in time for Valentine’s Day. This turned out to be an x-Reader piece; hope you don’t mind!

(Confession: The Kuwabara scenario is pretty close to how me and my boyfriend confessed to each other. He said ‘I love you’ really early and I came around slower. So that section really means a lot to me.♥ Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy! Happy Valentine’s Day!

Warnings/Tags: Some light cursing. SFW. Gender neutral reader. There’s some Yukina/Kuwabara in Hiei’s section.

Hit “Keep Reading” to dive in!

KURAMA

So… Kurama knows how you feel before you drop the L-word.

He’s perceptive! And you keep looking at him askance and biting your lip all cutely, demurring from answering when he asks what’s up.

You’ve been dating for a long time, so it would make sense you’re finally about to say those three little words aloud.

He has a hunch you’re about to admit your feelings, and his hunches are usually right.

So, smarmy fox-boy that he is, he teases you about it a bit before the weeks leading up to your confession.

He’ll sort of murmur your name to get your attention, look deeply into your eyes, then say:

“I love…” [dramatic pause while you hold your breath and your eyes go wide] “... this food we’re eating right now, don’t you?”

And then he’ll act all innocent and pretend not to understand why you just choked on the food he said he loves so much.

He thinks it’s hilarious to watch your face go supernova.

Kurama is low-key an asshole, but that’s why you love him.

But when you actually do work up the nerve to tell him how you feel?

He’s not laughing anymore.

He knows this is serious for you.

He knows that saying ‘I love you’ makes you feel vulnerable, and he won’t devalue this moment by not taking it seriously.

So he doesn’t make any jokes after you say it and stand there looking at him, shaking like a leaf.

He just smiles, pulls you to him, and presses a kiss against your forehead.

“I love you too,” he murmurs, lips ghosting over your skin—and he only lets you go once he feels you relax against him, relieved to have your affections returned.

HIEI

You know that meme about “alternative responses to ‘I love you’”?

Hiei falls into multiple categories of that meme, cycling through them one by one until he lands on his final reaction.

After you say ‘I love you, he just sort of looks at you. Like, really looks at you with a blank expression on his face, like he can’t quite grasp what he just heard.

And then Hiei laughs.

It’s not a nice laugh.

It’s a throw-back-his head laugh, a harsh bark of sound that makes the hair on your neck stand up.

“You fool,” he spits. “Attachments make you vulnerable. If you’re too blinded by emotion to see that, then you’re not who I thought you were.”

And then Hiei… just kind of vanishes.

You don’t hear from him for a few days, and the hurt you feel is the kind of hurt only someone you truly care for can inflict. It’s proof of your feelings, sure, but…

You spend a lot of time in a glum or agitated mood, because while you knew Hiei wasn’t the most emotional, this wasn’t what you thought would happen when you confessed your love.

Meanwhile?

Hiei’s off training in the woods and attacking trees with 900% more ferocity than usual.

He isn’t sure why he’s in such a foul, vengeful mood at first, but the fact that he can’t get your shattered expression out of his head?

That’s... a hint, he supposes, as to the source of his ire.

Eventually he emerges from the woods and wanders around until he reaches Genkai’s temple, where he spends a good deal of his time when not in the city with you.

Yukina is there (this is part of the reason he goes there a lot, predictably).

So is Kuwabara (this is part of the reason he doesn’t go there all the time, also predictably).

They welcome Hiei into the temple like they usually do, and while Hiei normally leaves as soon as he spots Kuwabara, he allows his sister and her boyfriend to lead him inside for once.

He watches the pair of them cook dinner in silence, observing the way Yukina and Kuwabara talk and laugh with each other, and the way they wordlessly communicate as they work.

It’s… not the worst, he thinks, seeing them together. His opinion on Kuwabara has changed over the years (mostly thanks to you poking him to give Kuwabara a chance) and he knows Kuwabara would give his life for Yukina.

Kuwabara demonstrates exactly this when he opens a cabinet and a heavy pot falls out of the cupboard; Kuwabara leans over Yukina to take the brunt of the blow, sheltering her from harm.

Yukina gasps and grab’s Kuwabara’s arm, inspecting him for damage and fussing over his injury.

But Kuwabara just grins, takes her hand, and asks her if she’s OK.

“I love you,” he tells her when she scolds him for being reckless. “I didn’t want you to get hurt!”

That scene replays in Hiei’s head for a few days afterwards, looping through his head along with the image of your sweet, earnest face when you told him that you loved him.

The image of your shattered heartbreak makes a few appearances, too.

It takes a few more days after that for him to realize something.

Love hadn’t made Kuwabara weak (or any weaker, at least). In fact, love often powered Kuwabara up in fights. It gave him things to protect, a reason for fighting, a purpose for his power—

Hiei goes cold at the realization.

Attachments aren't always signs of weakness.

Attachments can be powerful.

Was he the fool, not you, for rejecting an attachment so quickly?

Hiei suspects he made a terrible error, and the moment he has this realization, he breaks into a run and rushes to your side.

He’s not sure what he’s going to do or say to you to fix things, but he is determined to do exactly that.

Only you can say whether you forgive him or not, though.

KUWABARA

So Kuwabara hasn’t been shy about his feelings for you.

Like… he hasn’t been shy AT ALL.

He sings your praises to anyone who’ll listen.

He tells you you’re gorgeous every single day.

He says he loves everything about you all the time!

It was basically love at first sight for him. (Because that’s just who he is!)

But as for you? It took you a little longer to come around.

It’s not that you disliked Kuwabara or anything.

It’s just that he came on strong and you were a little more cautious about jumping into a relationship than he was, that's all.

And he was totally cool with that!

“Hey, you don’t have to reciprocate!” he tells you when you indicate you don’t feel the same way. “I’d wait for you forever, but if you never like me back, that’s OK, too. I just want you in my life; if it’s as friends, that’s fine, too!”

Your friendship is just as valuable to him as your romantic feelings.

He’s not pushy at all despite his declarations; he’s a gentleman to the extreme, content to love you on your terms and never push for reciprocity.

But after a while, you start to look forward to seeing him.

You start to search for him in crowds, hoping to spot his shock of orange hair.

You start to miss him when he isn’t around, craving his bone-crushing hugs and booming, exuberant voice.

And then one day you see something on TV and it reminds you of him, and you start smiling to yourself as you think about him—and it hits you.

OH NO.

YOU’RE IN LOVE WITH HIM, AREN’T YOU?

But he’s been saying he loves you for AGES… is it awkward that you’re just now ready to say it back?

You argue with yourself for days and days about what to do… but eventually you’re hanging out, and you’re listening to him be his boisterous and enthusiastic self, and it just spills out.

“KUWABARA-I-LOVE-YOU-OK!?” you blurt when he pauses for breath.

But… he doesn't react the way you think he will.

He just stares at you in silence, stunned, and you take that as a bad thing.

You get up to leave, muttering an apology as your cheeks burn, saying you’ll see him later—

His hand darts out and closes around yours.

His face is on FIRE, but he stares up at you in wonder. In awe, even. Like the clouds parted and angels started singing.

“Y-you do?!” he says, voice pitched up quite high, eyes as wide as they can go. “D-do you really? Do you mean it? Do you really love me back?!”

And you start smiling, and you start laughing and nodding, and he laughs too, and then you’re both in a puddle on the floor, arms around each other, just laughing together for the joy of it.

YUSUKE

Yusuke has been wanting to tell you how he feels about you for, uh..

Well. It’s been a long time.

You’ve been dating for a long time, and you’ve been through a lot together, and he can barely even look at you without blushing these days.

He’s been in love with you for a long while, but like hell if he’ll actually admit it.

Yusuke is NOT a mushy person, nor is he very in-touch with his feelings.

In fact, he’d rather take a sharp stick to the eye than ever admit how he feels about anyone.

But when YOU end up saying you love him FIRST, it does something to him.

He freezes. Stares at you. Blue-screens for a second.

And then he falls back on the one thing that has consistently aided him throughout his life:

Snark.

“Well damn, babe,” he drawls with a lazy grin (one that does NOT reflect how rapidly his heart is beating). “I knew I was irresistible, but if you really wanted to get laid, all you had to do was ask.”

You shriek and huff and walk off (and probably swat at his arm, though of course he dodges).

It’s only when you’ve stalked a good dozen meters away that his brain catches up with his mouth and he realizes that he’s fucked up.

Like, really fucked up.

So Yusuke curses and lurches after you and shouts, “Hey, hey, wait a freakin’ second!”

But you don’t stop walking.

You get halfway down the block with him trotting at your heels, telling you to just cool down and let him talk.

Eventually he gets in front of you and holds up his hands.

“Now, now,” he says (nervously; very nervously). “Just give me a chance to—”

NOPE. He ruined what could’ve been a cute moment and you aren’t having it, so you dart around him and keep walking with your head held high (and a tear in your eye).

His arms are around you before you get far, though.

He buries his head in your shoulder and just holds you, and finally you feel it—the way his heart is racing, thudding against your back.

“Look, I… I love you too, OK?” he mutters. “So please don’t go…”

It almost makes you giggle, seeing him blush like this.

Almost, but not quite.

You know how big of a deal it is for him to say those words, so you just hold him right back.

Headcanon & Imagine Masterlist | Tip Jar

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thefatedthoughtofyou · 4 years ago

Note

Okay so I’ve just binged through all your Sam&Bucky series and I love them all!

So prompt idea, some bad guy follows Bucky to the docks for revenge (over whatever you can decide) and Sarah gets to see how protective Bucky really is over Sam when he gets in the line of fire

{{{ I cannot even begin to tell you how excited i was when i got this prompt!!! like this is.... some of my favorite stuff to write!!! sorry it took me a little bit but i had other idea intruding on my brain and then inspiration struck me this morning at work and i came home and started this immediately! thank you so much! i hope you enjoy it!!!!! AND THANK YOU FOR READING MY SERIES YOU ARE SO SWEEEEETTTT!!!!!! }}}

Ao3

Word Count: 4,989

Static in the Dark

His phone buzzing on his nightstand wakes him. Sam reaches out blindly in the dark, knocking over a water bottle and groaning to himself, he pats around, making a small noise when his fingers connect with the vibrating phone. He turns it in his hand, finger pressing down and lighting up the screen, his eyes are blurry but he can read the name clear enough, BUCKY. Sam smiles at the grumpy picture of Bucky he’d set as his contact picture and then his eyes fall on the time in the corner of the screen.

1:27am.

Sam’s heart pounds in his ears. Bucky doesn’t call in the middle of the night. Not even when he should. When he has nightmares. He always waits until morning to call Sam. Or he brings him breakfast and they eat on the boat, sometimes talking about it, sometimes not. But he never calls when he knows Sam is sleeping. Never. Sam slides his finger over the screen and lifts it to his ear swiftly, his hands shaking.

“Buck? You okay?” it’s natural, he asks on instinct. The line crackles and he hears bits and pieces of Bucky’s words.

“Sam get-“

“They coming for you and-“

“Don’t – who they are but-“

“I’m stuck- be there –“

“can’t get loose. Sam, get Sarah and the boys-“

“Run.”

The line goes dead. Sam’s breathing is heavy. He tries to call Bucky back, he doesn’t answer. Sam jumps out of bed, grabs a shirt and a pair of sweatpants, pulling them on as he runs out the door to his truck. He didn’t know what was happening, or where Bucky was, or if he was safe. But he’d said to get Sarah and the boys, and he’d said to run, his voice sounding strained between the crackling on the phone. He’d never lied to Sam before, and he’d do anything to keep Sam’s family safe. So Sam starts his truck, backs into the yard to turn it around, and puts his foot down, grass flying from beneath his tires as he goes.

Sarah wakes to Sam’s hands shaking her shoulders. He’s trying to whisper her name but his voice is loud to her sleep heavy ears.

“What? What’s happening?” she mumbles, letting him pull her out of bed, stumbling in the dark when he presses her shoes into her hands.

“We have to go. We have to get the boys and leave.” He says, his eyes intense in the dark. She can see him now, the fog of sleep evaporating at the mention of her boys.

“Why? Sam what’s going on?” she asks, pulling her shoes on and immediately heading down the hall to her boys’ room.

“I don’t know. Bucky called me. The line was full of static. He sounded-“ Sam cut off, looking at her in the dimly lit hall. She moved her hand to his arm, comforting.

“What?” she asked, giving his arm a squeeze, worried about what he might have heard, seeing the worry in her brothers’ eyes wasn’t helping.

“I don’t know he sounded, in pain maybe? Or like he was struggling? He said he was stuck. I don’t know Sarah, I don’t know.” He was shaking his head at her, her heart pounded in her chest, he looked lost. Like a ship out at sea that had lost its anchor. She moved her hand to his shoulder, and then to cup his cheek.

“Bucky’s strong. He’ll be okay. And he called to warn us, so he’s okay. He’ll be okay.” She nodded, looking him in the eye, making sure he was seeing her. Hearing her. He nodded back, swallowed hard. Sarah watched him push his worry away, and they both went into the boy’s room and woke them. There was a chorus of questions from the boys, both of them growing more frantic as neither she, nor Sam, gave them any answers. She shoved jackets on them both and then her and Sam each grabbed an out stretched hand and ran out the door.

They were half way to his truck when Sam stopped them, his arm reaching out, holding them back as he looked around. Sarah knew that look, he’d heard something, or felt something. His instincts had always been wound so tightly. He tilted his head to the side, closing his eyes, listening, and then.

“MOVE!” he shouted, grabbed Sarah’s hand and pushing them all back, nearly tackling them out of the way. Sarah hears what are unmistakably gunshots, and then sees sparks on the ground as the bullets hit where they’d just been standing. She grabs the boys, both of them screaming, as Sam herds them to the side of one of the buildings. He kneels in front her as she holds the boys close.

“I need you stay here. Get to the truck when I give you the signal.” Sam says, he’s holding her head in his hands and her only thought is that his hands are so cold, he must be freezing, he’s not even wearing a jacket.

“What’s the signal?” she asks, breathless, her heart is pounding, her grip on the boys will no doubt leave bruises on their skin.

“When I tell you to run.” He looks at her, brows rising, making sure she’s with him. She nods for him to continue.

“You run.” He says,

“You get to the truck. And you get out of here. You hear me. You go.” He leans forward, kissing her forehead roughly, a long press of lips. He looks at the boys.

“You stay with your mom. Do not let go of her. Right?” he asks, they both nod frantically in unison, and Sarah can feel them shaking where they’re pressing against her.

“Good boys.” He kisses them too, hands curled around the backs of their heads briefly as he pulls them all close. And then he’s gone. And the night comes alive with sound.

Time seems to slow and speed up all at once. There’s more gun fire. And sounds of things Sarah has never heard before. All of them loud, making Sarah’s ears ring, she holds her boys close, pressing their heads up under her arms, trying to keep them from the noises, knowing it won’t help. The sounds move away, not far, but they aren’t right on top of them anymore. And then she hears Sam yell. The signal.

She grabs the boys and yanks them forward, all of them stumbling as they run through the dark to Sam’s truck. They make it to the door and she fumbles with the keys, trying to find the right button in her panic. She drops the keys and then hears footsteps, running, coming toward her, toward her boys. She turns, grabbing the boys and tossing herself, and them, to the side, just as a body slams into the door of Sam’s truck. She looks up at the man, dressed in black, his face covered. She and the boys scramble back across the ground, her hand hitting something hard as she crawled backward. Her fingers wrap around it and pull it forward, a crowbar, the metal is cold in her hand as she stands, a shield between this man and her children. The man laughs at her, she raises the bar over her head, ready to fight, to the death if she has to. He will not touch her boys.

He never gets the chance.

He’s slammed sideways, into the truck, the dent he’d already put there widening and spreading along the side of the truck. The body that had slammed into him, coming out of the dark silently, but fast, faster than should have been possible. Sarah feels relief flood through her as she sees a small glint of light. The man who had been threatening her slides sickeningly to the ground, not moving. The body that had slammed into his stands up, grunting a little before looking at her.

“Bucky.” She breathes, that relief almost buckling her knees as her boys dash forward and grab at her. Bucky is at her side in seconds.

“Hey. You okay? You all alright?” his hands are on her face, they’re cold like Sam’s, they move from her to the boys, checking them all for injury.

“We’re fine. We’re okay.” He nods and then stops, his eyes moving over her and the boys and the empty space behind them.

“Where’s Sam?” his voice is tight. Sarah feels a pang in her chest. The look in his eyes. She can’t place it. But it’s familiar.

“He ran that way.” She looks over his shoulder.

“To give us time.” She says, and it sounds like an apology, but if Bucky hears the plea in her voice he doesn’t say anything, just nods.

“Alright I got him. You stay here. And hold onto that.” He eyes the crowbar and gives her a little smile, always so cheeky. She smiles at him, nods, and watches him run off to find her brother, a glint of hellfire in his eyes.

She grabs the boys and shoves them into the bed of Sam’s truck, climbing in after them and standing over them, looking over the top of the truck, looking for her brother. She sees a shadow run toward Bucky, it crashes into him and sends him flying through one of the large store front windows nearby. She hears the glass shatter and grimaces. But he jumps back through the window and tackles the man that had hit him, a yell going through the air as he collides with him. She watched him raise his fist, and bring it down, twice. The man stops moving and doesn’t get up. Bucky stumbles away from the body on the ground and walks toward the gun fire she can see, muzzle flashes burning images onto her eyes in the dark.

The gunfire moves from Sam, to Bucky. He holds his hand up in front of him, blocking bullets with his hand and then curling his arm as he moves closer. The way he moves sending a shiver down Sarah’s spine. He’s so calculated, walking straight into gunfire, and taking the attention away from Sam. Making himself the only target they can see. Sarah watched Sam get up, and run to stand behind Bucky. She heard their voices, barely audible over the gunfire shattering the quiet night, but she can hear the tell tail teasing tones, and she smiles, looking down at her boys. They’re huddled against her legs, holding onto her thighs for dear life, little fingers digging into her skin.

She looks back up to see Bucky grab the gun that’s being fired at him. He breaks it in half and throws the pieces at the man who’d been shooting, they slam into his face and send him flying backwards. Bucky follows him, once again bring his fist down with terrifying precision until the man stops moving. Sarah gasps when another shadow moves and tackles her brother. Bucky turns quickly, his eyes on Sam immediately. He moves so fast Sarah barely sees him, tackling the man off of Sam with a feral growl that sounds like it rips its way out of him.

Sarah watched the two bodies roll away from Sam as he lay on the ground, not moving. They’re both on their feet in seconds, Bucky standing between the man and Sam.

“Touch him again and I’ll kill you.” Bucky’s voice carries on the wind from the bay, it’s deep, and threatening, and full of promise. Sarah’s heart is beating so hard in her chest she moves her hand up to her throat. The man laughs at Bucky, taking a step forward. He dodges quickly to the side, clearly trying to fake him out, Bucky catches him easily. He spins the man around, metal arm wrapping around his neck and pulling. The man goes limp in his arms. Sarah looks away, swearing she heard a sickening pop, but knowing it was probably just in her head. Probably.

The night is quiet again. The gunfire stopped. No more flashes of light. Sarah looks up and sees Bucky on his knees at her brothers’ side, his hands on Sam’s face until he sits upright abruptly. Bucky nearly tumbles backwards, Sam grabs his arm, and she hears them both laughing. Her heart warming as she watches them smile in the dark. Bucky pulls Sam to his feet with a grunt, as sirens and flashing lights fill the air behind her. She turns to see police and what look like black FBI vehicles, the ones you always see on tv. They pull in quickly and round up the men littered on the ground. Sam and Bucky walk over slowly. Sarah hops down out of the truck, helping the boys down after her.

Sam’s lip is split, and his eye brow is bleeding. His knuckles are bleeding and bruised too when he reaches for her hand. She grabs it quickly and squeezes. He pulls her close and kisses her temple, the boys rushing to his side and squeezing them both.

“You alright?” Sam breathes into her hair. Sarah nods.

“You?” she asks, pulling back and looking at him. He smiles, looking tired, and nods. She looks over to Bucky, his eye is swelling, a purple glint to the skin there, and there’s a large gash across his nose, and a few smaller cuts on his forehead.

“How bout you tough guy?” She asks, teasing. He laughs, a quick breath through his nose.

“I’m good.” He nods.

“Better then that window you broke.” Sam mumbles, slapping his hand into Bucky’s arm gently.

“The window I broke? He threw me into it, I didn’t exactly have a choice.” Bucky retorted, glaring at Sam.

“Uh huh sure, a likely story.” Sam shook his head.

“I’ll fix it.” Bucky said, his voice quiet. Sam looked at him for a moment, his face soft.

“I’m just kiddin man. It’s fine. You’re okay though?” he asked, clapping a hand to his shoulder.

“Yeah I’m good. I’m-“

“Bucky…?”

They all looked down at the same time, to see AJ pointing at Bucky’s side with a shaking finger, tears in his eyes. Sarah watched Bucky frown at him. Watched him lift his arm to look at his own side. And gasped when she saw the jagged piece of glass lodged in his side. The glass was thin but the line in Bucky’s side was almost three inches across. Sarah moved her hand to her mouth as Sam turned Bucky toward him, she could see the blood on his skin now. Her eyes moved down and saw a small pool of blood growing around his foot. She watched Bucky blink slowly, as he looked up at Sam, brow furrowed.

“Oh look… I’ve been impaled.” He mumbled, his voice trailing off as he swayed sideways, a small smile on his lips. Sam caught him as his knees buckled, yelling for a medic as he held Bucky to his chest.

“I knew shouldn’t have let you watch that stupid fucking movie.” Sam whispers, his voice sounding tight, his free hand hovering over Bucky’s side, wanting to stop the bleeding but not able to without pushing the glass in further.

Sarah watched them load him into the ambulance. Tears in her eyes as she held onto the boys. Sam looked at her, a question in his eyes.

“You go with him. We’ll meet you there.” She said, nodding to him and watching him climb into the ambulance quickly. The boys were running to the car before she even turned to tell them. She ran back into the house, grabbed her own keys, and followed the ambulance to the hospital.

Sam’s leg hadn’t stopped bouncing since Sarah sat down next to him in the waiting room. Sam had watched as the boys had sat and slowly fallen asleep next to their mother, both of them holding hands. He smiled when Sarah reached out, putting her hand on his knee.

“They said he’d be fine. He’s already out of surgery. He’s just gotta wake up a bit and we can go see him.” She reassured him. Sam nodded, taking a deep breath, and trying to relax a little in his chair. They still had no idea who the men that attacked them were. As far as Sam had heard, they’d shown up at Bucky’s apartment, snuck in in the dark and attacked him. Lucky for him, and Sam and his family, Bucky was very light sleeper, if he was sleeping at all. They’d managed to trap him with something. But not for long. Sam had never been so glad that Bucky had all that freakish strength.

“Can I ask you something?” Sarah’s voice swam through the fog in his head, he looked at her, her eyes were on him, studying him.

“Yeah. What?” he asked. She looked at him for a moment, thinking, he waited.

“Is he always so…” she trailed off, clearly not sure what word to use.

“Aggressive?” Sam supplied, a small smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

“I was gonna say protective.” Sarah said, giving him that knowing look that he always hated.

“Protective?” Sam asks, tilting his head.

“I mean yeah. He’s protective of the people he cares about. Who isn’t?” Sam said, closing his eyes and leaning back to rest his head against the wall.

“I meant protective… of you.”

Sam could hear the smirk, he groaned and did not look at her.

“He protected all of us Sarah. He cares about all, of us.” Sam sighed.

“No I know that. I know he cares about all of us. I know, he protected all of us. That’s not what I was talking about.” She slapped Sam’s leg, he grunted and looked at her finally.

“What then? What are you talking about?” he asked, his voice verging on annoyed now.

Sarah looked at him. Really looked at him. He almost rolled his eyes at her but then she spoke.

“He said, ‘touch him again, and I’ll kill you’.” She said, still giving him that look. Sam frowned.

“He said them, touch ‘them’ again.” Sam said, his fist clenching against his leg, knuckles throbbing under the bandage one of the nurses had wrapped around his hand. Sarah gave him a look that was close to pity. One he wasn’t used to, not from her.

“No Sam. He said ‘him’. And the look in his eyes. When I told him where you were and he saw you being shot at.” She trailed off, looked over at the boys sleeping crookedly in the hospital chairs, and then slowly looked back.

“I’ve never seen anyone so determined and pissed off all at once. I mean, you’re a stubborn asshole, and you get that look in your eyes sometimes Sam, but this.” She shook her head and took a deep breath, looking down the hall, and then back to Sam again.

“That man. I think he’d burn the world down to protect you. The fire in his eyes when he saw you were in danger.” She moved her thumb against his knee gently.

“I know he’s lost a lot of things in his life. And I know you… we, have given him a little something back. But that look, that was all for you. He’d die, before he let anything happen to you. And it goes beyond just you two being partners so don’t you give me that look Sam Wilson.” She poked him in the chest, and he moved his hand to the spot, pretending to rub away the pain, but really trying to see if she could have felt how hard his heart was beating under his ribs. She smiled at him, softly, she looked so much like their mother, and she had that same knowing look in her eyes.

“He loves you.” She said. Like it was simple. Like it was obvious. Sam swallowed hard around nothing, finding it hard to breathe.

“And?” he asked, knowing she could say it. That she would say it. Because he needed her too. She smiled at him, big and bright, her round cheeks moving up, pressing her eyes closed a bit. She moved her hand to his shoulder.

“And you love him.” She said, sounding giddy, her nose scrunching as she exaggerated her smile further. Sam took a deep breath, his hands shaking.

“I see the way you look at him. He looks at you the same way. I mean hell Sam, you look at each other, that way. You’re both just… I don’t know.” She trailed off, shaking her head.

“Idiots?” Sam supplied. She laughed, dropping her head onto his shoulder before looking back up.

“Yeah. That’s probably accurate. Idiots in love.” She bit her lip and laughed again, singing that last word, teasing. Sam laughed too. His fast-beating heart calming in his chest at her words. She was right. She usually was, though Sam would never admit that out loud. He’d known it. For awhile now. Since Bucky helped them fix the boat, maybe before. He didn’t know exactly when. Things had been so… complicated, for such a long time. And then they’d been gone. And then they were back and the world was in a panic and there was no time… for anything. But he’d known, watching him so relaxed around Sarah and the boys, and all the people at the docks, he’d known. It had been pulsing under his ribs every time Bucky had smiled at him with that toothy grin.

He looked at his sister. She nodded, her smile fading a bit, but still hovering in her eyes.

“I love him.” Sam said, breathing it out like a prayer.

“I know.” Sarah said, giving him a short squeeze and then pulling back as the doctor walked into the waiting room.

“He’s awake. Still groggy. He may be in and out a bit. But you can come see him.” The man smiled at them, nodding at Sam when he nodded his thanks.

He and Sarah woke AJ and Cass and they all followed the doctor to Bucky’s room. He was watching the door when they walked up, and he smiled softly and lifted his hand in a small wave. AJ and Cass looked at their mom, she nodded at them and they rushed into the room, both of them pouncing carefully on Bucky, he groaned exaggeratedly but pulled them close. Smiling when they both jumped off the bed to reenact the way he’d come out of the dark to save them, slamming the villain into Sam’s truck so hard the truck nearly bent in half.

“You can stay as long you like. We’d like to keep a few days. If he’ll let us.” The doctor said, giving Sam a look, Sam laughed and nodded.

“You might get him over night.” Sam said, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame.

“That’s about what I expected. Have a good night Mr. Wilson.” He looked toward Sarah.

“Ms. Wilson.” He nodded and strode down the hall, disappearing around the corner. Sam and Sarah both looked into the room, watching the boys chat with Bucky, Cass was running his fingers gently over the scaring on Bucky’s shoulder when Bucky made a growling noise and grabbed at him, Cass shrieked and leapt backward. Bucky and AJ laughing, Cass joining them after his initial fright. Sam saw Bucky grimace, his fingers moving to his side, but he hid it well, forcing a smile as the boys kept laughing. Sarah nudged Sam, her elbow digging into his ribs.

“Ow.” Sam huffed, looking at her.

“He’s good with them.” She said, smiling. Sam smiled too, watching them some more.

“Yeah. Kids love him.” He said, shaking his head.

“They’re not the only ones.” She muttered, looking smug.

“I swear to god.” Sam sighed, looking at her. She smiled at him, wiggled her eyebrows, and then headed into the room herself. Sam hung back, letting her have a moment.

“Hey you.” She said, leaning close to Bucky, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.

“Hey.” He smiled groggily up her, looking tired.

“How you feelin sunshine?” she asked, brushing her fingers over the cuts on his head.

“Yeah good. I’m good. Tired.” He nodded, his eyes drooping.

“Yeah. We’ll let you sleep. I’m gonna take these boys home, see if I can get them to sleep. But we’ll see you soon.” She pressed her hand firmly into his shoulder, eliciting another tired smile.

“And Bucky?” she pressed on his shoulder again, his eyes fluttered open, he looked up her with wide eyes.

“Thank you. For helping us. For saving us. Saving them.” She looked over at AJ and Cass, both of them standing at the end of his bed, looking tired but happy. Bucky smiled at them and then looked back to Sarah.

“It was my pleasure.” He moved his hand up, giving her wrist a gentle squeeze, his eyes shining. She smiled brighter, gave him a wink, and then herded the boys out the door. They both gave Sam hugs as they passed him, Sarah did as well.

“Good luck.” She whispered as she pulled away, patting his cheek, her hands going to the boys’ shoulders as she turned to walk down the hall. Sam smiled at her, watching her walk away and rolling his eyes when she winked at him. He turned back to Bucky’s room, his eyes were closed, his head resting on his pillow. Sam smiled to himself, a small thing, soft and barely there, and walked into the room, closing the door behind him.

He sleeps for a few hours, Sam sits by his side, watching old cartoons on tv, the volume turned down. It doesn’t matter what they’re saying, he’s not paying attention. He watched Bucky sleep off an on, watching his chest rise and fall, the pale skin there littered with small scratches and cuts from the glass he’d been tossed through. His fingers itched to reach out and touch, he fisted his hands, and then ran his palms over his thighs, moving his eyes back to the television.

He hears Bucky stir about an hour later, Sam holds the smile back, watching Bucky nuzzle into the pillow beneath his head before his eyes flutter open. He blinks a few times, eyes settling on Sam eventually. The corner of his mouth twitches, and Sam gives him a little wave.

“I killed your truck. I’m sorry.” Bucky groans, his hand moving over the bandage on his side.

“It’s just a dent Buck, a big dent, but it’s fixable.” Sam said, his hand moving to the inside of his thigh, curling into the meat of his leg, keeping his hand occupied. Bucky moved his head slowly, disagreeing the best he could.

“Nuh uh, I felt it Sam. That trucks broken.” His words were a little slurred from sleep, and Sam couldn’t help but laugh. He was always so goddamn argumentative.

“Well, better the truck, than Sarah and the boys.” Sam said, serious now. The small smile on Bucky’s lips faded as he looked at Sam.

“I tried to call you. I couldn’t get out. They had me chained to the pipes in my bathroom and I-“

“Bucky.” Sam cut him off, Bucky’s eyes were shining again, Sam could see his chin trembling.

“If you hadn’t called. They’d be gone. I’d probably be gone too. You saved us Buck. You did. We’re okay.” Sam reached out then, his hand moving over Bucky’s arm, pulling it away from where he’d wrapped it around himself. Bucky watched Sam’s hand move down his arm. Watched Sam press his fingers between Bucky’s, threading them together, and leaving them there. Sam heard the quick intake of breath before he looked back up. A tear had fall down Bucky’s cheek.

“We’re all okay.” Sam raised their joined hands and pressed his lips to the back of Bucky’s hand.

“We’re okay.” He breathed, pressing his lips to Bucky’s pale skin over and over. He watched Bucky relax into the bed again, his eyes moving to the ceiling as he let out a shaky breath, another tear falling as Sam watched him trying to control his emotions.

“You saved me.” Sam said, reaching out with his free hand and wiping the tears away from Bucky’s face gently. Bucky leaned into the touch, his lip trembling again as his eyes fell back to Sam. Sam brushed his thumb over Bucky’s cheek, moving his hand down, fingers pressing into his neck as his thumb bushed across Bucky’s lip, stilling the tremble.

“I guess that makes us even.” Bucky said, smiling that toothy grin that Sam had become so fond of, pressing his head further into Sam’s touch as another tear fell. Sam brushed it away, knuckles moving over Bucky’s skin slowly. Bucky moved his metal hand, grabbing at Sam’s hand, pressing their fingers together as he moved Sam’s hand down ever so slightly. He turned Sam’s hand slowly, watching Sam for any sign that he should stop, and received none. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips to Sam’s palm, kissing him sweetly. Sam felt his heart flutter in his chest, Bucky’s lips were soft, and warm, and his. Bucky tangled his metal fingers with Sam’s and lowered their hands to his chest, his head falling back onto his pillow. He smiled softly at Sam, his eyes fluttering from exhaustion again, he snapped them open, his body jerking slightly as he forced himself awake.

“Go to sleep Buck. I’ll be right here when you wake up. I’m not going anywhere.” Sam said, moving his thumb in slow circles over Bucky’s hand. Bucky’s eyes were closed before Sam finished speaking, his breathing slowing as he fell into sleep, the smile on his lips fading as he drifted deeper.

Sam watched him sleep, for hours, keeping watch. The television in the corner completely forgotten.

#abc-easy-as-123 #sambucky #sambucky fic #ficlet #sambucky ficlet #winter falcon #winter falcon fic #winter falcon ficlet #my writing #request #requests #asks

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jordanstrophe · 3 years ago

Note

Hope you don't mind but what if basement whumper’s partner decided to pay another visit to whumpee? While whumper is out? And whumper comes back mid torture session and stops it?

(I don’t mind at all! Sorry if it’s taken me some time, but I really wanted to do this one right. In fact, I’m going to have to cut this into a part 1/2. This one is the hurt, next one is going to be the comfort.) (Update: I need comfort myself after writing this) Masterlist

CW: Torture, knife cuts, salt water, restraining, held captive, hair pulling, dragging, escape attempt, protective whumper, hurt. It’s a whole lotta hurt.

Whumpee heard the front door open from above as they perked up against the pole. They watched stairs, waiting for the familiar socks that would descend, usually with a hint of clumsiness to them.

Instead, it was the stomp of heavy boots, confident with pride. Whumpee's heart dropped to their stomach when they saw Whumper's partner... A heartless, ruthless being who lacked any sense of humanity.

The larger of two evils.

"There you are! How's our little hostage today? Whumper keeps you well I see." They watched as Whumpee recoiling with fear in their eyes, slowly shaking their head with disbelief.

"Why are y-you here? Where's Whumper?" Whumpee failed to hide the nervous wreck behind their voice. "Not here, little bird. They're far far away doing me a favor. Thought I would drop by and see the goods." They belted a laugh. "Y-you... You shouldn't be h-here. Does Whumper even know?"

They slowly cranking their head back with cold eyes, digging a handful of Whumpee's hair, slamming their head against the pole as they let out a gasp.

"Little birdies been in the basement for so long they think they run the little corner, hmm? Now, when did Whumper let that happen." They hissed. Whumpee tried to pull themselves from the grasp, but every tug pulled at their scalp.

"It's just... Whumper's quite... Possessive." Whumpee whimpered.

"Possessive?" An amused smirk painted their face. "No no, darling. I think the correct word is protective, don't you think? Now I know they went soft and all, but you're nothing but their property." They spat, throwing their head to the side. They followed the wall, their eyes tracing every shiny tool until they fixated on a knife innocently dangling from a nail.

Whumpee wrangled their wrist against the ropes, desperately trying to pop an arm out, or even a thumb. Each breath became more jagged than the next as panic built in their chest.

A cold tip of a blade touched underneath their chin as they instantly flinched up, only to come face to face with its wielder. The knife dug into their throat, just enough to break skin as they winced.

“Wh-why... Why are you doing this? You took me from my own home... What more could you p-possibly take from me?” Their glossy eyes didn't hold back as they stared at their attacker. If they were going to get an answer, it was going to be to their face.

“Simple. It's to keep you in your place, little bargaining chip.” They rose the knife, slicing a line along their cheekbone. Whumpee’s breath hitched as they jolted away, feeling blood trickle down their cheek.

They didn’t get a moment before another cut was struck, right above their collarbone as they fell back against the pole. “Aah-! Stop! Please stop!” Whumpee begged, their shirt collar was torn as a long slash was made from their neck to the end of their shoulder. Whumpee gasped as their head fell forwards, thrashing against the pole from their bound wrists.

“Y-your... You're insane!” Whumpee hissed, gasping for air.

“Am I?” They whispered, holding the blade up to their arm. They hardly pushed it in, letting Whumpee’s own flinching movements cut themselves against it. After each dreaded minute that passed, Whumpee had dozens of cuts painting their body as they sobbed hysterically.

“You know, I was really against Whumper keeping you. But now, I think you’re just fun.” They flicked the blade to let the blood drip off. “Why don’t I make this a little more interesting? Be a dear and wait for me a minute, won’t you?” They smiled almost sweetly before spinning on their heel back up stairs.

Whumpee’s wrists were rubbed raw, but something had loosened. They pulled and pulled with a desperate cry until they ripped their wrist out. They inhaled with unbelievable relief, adrenalin pulsed through their body as they stumbled to their feet. They wiped the blood from their face, as they shakily climbed the steps.

They could hear haunted humming and running water from the other side of the door. Whumpee glanced down at their bleeding hands, forcing themselves to grab the handle despite the cut down each one.

The partner was on the far side in the kitchen, their expression instantly turning pale. “HEY!” They hollered, leaving the sink running as they sprinted after them. Whumpee managed to get the front door open, but it slammed shut before they could make it out. Their arm was grabbed as they were thrown back against the floor, shuffling away in panic.

The partner stood between them and the door almost tauntingly. “Well well! Looks like I was right after all! Little birdie couldn’t sit in their cage like a good little thing.” They spat. Whumpee scrambled back until they were behind the couch.

They advanced closer, but Whumpee would then run behind another piece of furniture further away. “How long are you going to keep this up for?”

“As long as i-it t-takes!” Whumpee barked, ducking a swipe as they tried to each across. “Takes till what? Till Whumper comes and saves you?” They mocked.

“Y-yeah! Yeah I guess I am!” Tears instantly poured down their face. The partner finally grabbed the chair, shoving it on its side with a bang. There was nothing left between them and Whumpee, they gulped as they took a step, their back hitting the wall hopelessly. They cried when their arm was taken and drug to the kitchen, the sink long overflowed as the tiled floor was soaked in water.

They used their foot to pin Whumpee to the ground as they took a box of salt and poured it into the overfilled pot. “Get off of me! Ple-ase! What are you doing!?” They cried, fighting to get out from underneath their boot. Their eyes went wide when they saw the pot hovering over their head, their expression freezing as they shook their head pleadingly.

“No... No no no.. Please don’t.” They quietly begged.

The door slammed open, Whumper about breaking the door from its hinges. Both of them stared guiltily at them wide eyed, their partner still holding the pot, Whumpee still covered an uncountable amount of cuts.

“Don’t you dare, you bastard.” Whumper hissed, their face seething red, they clutched their car keys in hand like a weapon. There was silence for a moment, you could almost see the gears turning in their brain as they weighed the consequences.

“... You’ll thank me later.”

“PARTNER NO-

There was a splash of water, then a shattering scream filling the room. Whumper dropped the keys in shock, watching Whumpee’s body convulse. Their partner smirked with satisfaction as they stepped over them, shaking their hands dry from the salty water.

As if they thought they could slip out the door unharmed, Whumper instantly grabbed their collar as their fist hammered their cheek with such force they slammed into the wall. They even flinched when they opened their eyes, expecting another blow to the head, but instead, they found Whumper crouching over Whumpee trying to sooth them.

“Weak...” They spat out blood before slipping out the door, listening to Whumpee’s screams getting quieter and softer the further they went.

Masterlist

(we’re coming back with a part 2 if you like comfort)

o(^∀^*)o Thank you for reading! @grizzlie70 @alien-octopus @lave-whump @amethysts-sideblog @whump-it-like-its-hot @thingsthatgowhumpinthenight @yet-another-heathen @princessofonward @whatwhumpcomments @ill-eat-you-if-you-cross-me @mascmasochist @hamiltonwhumpdump @as-a-matter-of-whump @whumpasaurus101 @starnight-whump @lonesome--hunter @chartreusephoenix

#tw torture #tw knives #tortured whumpee #knife whump #salt water whump #restrained whumpee #whumpee held captive #whump #whumpee #whumper #Ehhhh #I've never written an actual torture scene #probably won't for a good long while #comfort commence!

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paperpocalypse · 4 years ago

Text

neodymium.

50 Cliché Tropes and Prompts: 49. You caught me doing something dangerous and flipped out + 50. I’m scared but won’t admit it so you take my hand

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Word Count: 1,572 words

Warning: Swearing, science applications that would probably shame your physics teacher

It’s starting to snow.

You keep your hand on the cold, metal cross bar, pressing down but unwilling to open the door. The thin, plastic bag in your other hand rustles as you twist it up in your fingers, pills rattling around in their bottles as you swing it back and forth. A frown tugs at the corners of your mouth.

Winter is here, and you don’t like it. You used to. But that was back then, when you were allowed to wear winter jackets and gloves and scarves and thick, fluffy hats to protect your ears from the biting cold. The snowflakes were a lot prettier when you didn’t have to feel them melt through your hoodie, cold and wet, every time you had to go outside.

Now you have to toughen up because heroes deal with the cold.

“Warm thoughts,” you mumble to yourself, gritting your teeth and pushing the door open. The bell jingles as a freezing slap of air greets your face. “Warm thoughts.”

You step out of the drugstore and into the night, pulling your hood on and tugging the drawstrings taut. The streetlamps light a path across the road and down the sidewalk towards home. At least it’s just a fifteen-minute walk.

For the past few years, on account of you attending the Umbrella Academy, you’ve never felt unsafe walking through the City alone. One of the pros of being trained as a hero, though you’re not quite sure if it outweighs the cons of Mom selling your warmest clothes and the grueling, rigid routine of training and missions during the week. The crime rate in this part of the city isn’t that high, anyway, on account of it being one of the nicer, richer areas. Mom had been delighted when the two of you moved here to be closer to the Hargreeves mansion. (The fact that your stipend’s now enough to fully cover it this year is even better.)

Arms crossed tightly over your chest, you press the crosswalk button with your elbow. Cars screech to a stop and honk at you to hurry up as the traffic lights turn red. You scurry across, legs stiff.

(Halfway there.)

But just because you feel safe walking alone doesn’t mean you like it. Being alone means that you have to deal with your thoughts without being able to share them, and it stinks. You prefer the nights when you sneak out with Klaus, buying a tub of ice cream from the drugstore and eating it outside the 24-hour café nearby until the owners shoo you away, or going to the movie theater with everyone when Sir Hargreeves is gone on a trip. You like walking home with Five or Klaus after your Mom started getting too tired to pick you up for the weekends.

Somberly, you step out into the street towards your apartment complex.

You like being part of the Umbrella Academy when you don’t have to think about being a hero …

BEEEEEEEEEEEP

As if in a dream, you turn your head toward the sound. Your bag falls gently to the ground.

It’s a car horn. Loud, deafening. Distorting, blurring. A car.

It’s not slowing down.

You should move.

You raise your hands instead.

The force hits you like a giant fist. Your blood burns hot as you push, and push, and push, jaw clenched so tight you think your teeth might shatter. The air is getting squeezed out of your lungs. The tires screech. The horn screams. They’re all you can hear.

Push! PUSH!

The pressure rises and rises –

And then it’s too much.

The fist shoves you back. Your back hits the ground.

You don’t even have time for last thoughts. But before you can catch one last glimpse of the tires that would dash your brains across the road, something grabs you, and the next thing you know, you’re somewhere else.

The engine roars, and the car speeds away. What’s left of your lunch promptly ends up on the ground next to you, and that’s when you start crying, nauseous and cold.

“Am I dead,” you choke out, eyes screwed shut. Whatever had grabbed you is still there; you can feel their weight on your shoulders. Your mouth tastes awful and sour and bloody. “Am I …”

“You’re not dead.” A breathless voice pierces through the fog in your head. It’s familiar, and close, and you pry your eyelids open to see –

You see Five.

His face is stiff and pale, his voice even, but as you blink away your tears, you see unbridled panic just beneath the surface.

“Shit. Shit,” he hisses as you close your eyes again, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Why is Five here? How did he – “[Y/n], don’t close your – don’t go to sleep, for fuck’s sake …”

You do your best to listen as he shakes you a bit. Don’t cry. You’re okay, you’re fine … your … “My pills,” you slur out, hand feeling around for his arm so you can sit up. Looking at the road, you see the limp plastic bag, ghostly white against the dark asphalt. Your stomach roils again. “Ugh, I feel so sick …”

“I wonder why.” Five looks at you, mouth pressed into a thin, grave line, before blinking to the middle of the road to grab your things. He blinks back immediately. “Can you stand?” he asks tightly.

You swallow, wincing, and nod gingerly. You’re fine. “Yeah.”

The snow is falling harder now. Five helps you stand, and after a few minutes of regaining your bearings, the two of you slowly make your way up to your apartment. When you fumble with your key, Five takes it and unlocks the door himself.

“Couch or bed.”

“Bed,” you mumble as you scrape off your shoes. Thankfully, Mom isn’t home. You’d hate to have to explain all of this – she’s been so stressed lately …

The nausea is pretty much gone now, but the prickling fuzziness in your every limb remains. A little steadier on your feet, all you have to do is hold onto Five’s arm as you shuffle towards your bedroom.

“Get changed and wait here.” He fixes you with a steely gaze before disappearing. A few moments later, you hear the sink run, followed by the sound of the microwave opening and closing.

Is he mad at you? Biting the inside of your cheek, you take off your wet hoodie, putting it in your laundry hamper. Then you peel off your socks, and after closing the door, everything else that the snow had soaked through.

A few minutes after you change into your pajamas and settle onto your bed, Five knocks on the door, and you tell him to come in.

He hands you one of two mugs, this one filled with water. You take it. The other, filled with hot chocolate, is set on your nightstand.

“Are you mad?” Your voice is small.

Scoffing, Five glances away from you, a bitter smile on his lips. “I’m wondering what the fuck you were thinking,” he mutters.

“I almost did it,” you say. “That was the most I’ve ever done.”

“And you almost died.”

You look down into your mug. “It’s not that much different from a mission.”

“Actually, it is,” Five replies, his smile spreading – it doesn’t take a genius to know that he’s beyond ticked off – “because there are people looking after you during a mission. Who would’ve saved your ass if I hadn’t happened to be there? Nobody.”

“Maybe that’s what I needed,” you mumble, taking a sip of water.

Five narrows his eyes at you.

“What?”

You speak louder, a little indignant. “Maybe I needed to know that nobody could bail me out so I’d actually try.”

“You’re always trying!” he snaps. “Wanting to improve your ability doesn’t warrant a goddamn near-death experience, because as I’ve said before, you almost died!”

His chest is heaving when he finishes, and as you gape at him, startled by his loss of composure, you realize.

“I scared you,” you say, voice soft and wondering. “Didn’t I?”

Five just stares back at you. That is answer enough, but you set your water down anyway, stand up, and take his hand.

“Five?”

“I almost didn’t make it.” All the anger from before trickles out of his tone, and all that’s left is something quiet and uncharacteristically desperate. He clutches your hand until it’s almost painful. “That split second before I blinked, I thought …”

You step closer. “I’m okay now.”

“Don’t do that again.”

“Okay.”

“Please,” he says.

“Okay,” you murmur, a lump in your throat. “I won’t.”

Five looks at you, searching. Then he closes his eyes and sighs a very old-sounding sigh, and as he does so, you lift your free hand to brush his cheek.

“Sorry,” he eventually murmurs, and you can tell, by the way he looks down and says it quietly, that he’s not quite used to using the word, “for shouting.”

You smile. “I forgive you. Sorry for scaring you.”

“You should be.”

“Aw. Hey.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Five.” Feeling very warm, you take his other hand, chuckling at the awkward look on his face. (Honestly, the two of you are a mess, aren’t you?) “I love you a lot. You know that, right?”

At your words, his eyes soften. You wonder if he knows.

“I know.”

“Okay. Good.”

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