#he’s so silly i would take a bullet for him (he wouldn’t let me <3) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

igotanidea · 1 year ago

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Tease: Jason Todd x fem!reader

graphic credit goes to @stariver00 - <3

A/N: I can't even find the words to describe how relieved I am that I finally finished this one! :D

Summary: taking care of Jason's wounds and being a tease sounds so innocent. What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: SMUT MDNI!! dumbifications, oral (fem receiving), my poor medical knowledge, mentions of wounds, teasing and bickering, a bit of rough play if you squint.

***

The view in front of her eyes was not she was expecting to see, however she should have seen that coming. After all it wasn’t the first time her boyfriend climbed up her window in the middle of the night, bloodied and wounded with a broken dog face expression, searching for a safe place where he could get back to shape.

“Patching.” he muttered sitting cross legged on the floor, with medical supplies splattered all over, his helmet and body armor discarded a few steps beyond.

She knew the drill, they did this dance hundreds of times now. With a deep sigh Y/N threw her bag on the floor, kicked her shoes and moved to sit on the floor next to him reaching for the gauze he had in his hands and retrieving it swiftly.

“What kind of wound? Stab? Bullet? Punch? Hit?” she asked, immediately getting into this specific, factual tone, keeping her emotions at bay, focusing on the task of helping him out.

“Bullet” he muttered mimicking her pitch.

“Exit or…?”

“Entry.”

“But no exit?” her voice faltered only slightly. Anyone else wouldn’t even notice that subtle change, but Jason knew her for too long to let it slip. He was fully aware she was terrified of what was expected of her to do.

“It stayed in.” he muttered

“You really couldn’t let me have one good night, could you? “she sighed deeply reaching for the tweezers, disinfecting them, desperately trying to control her shaky hands and putting them inside his wound. “I’m not a freaking doctor you know!”

“Just get it out already!” he hissed in pain.

“Stop squirming! It’s not helping!”

Jason clenched his jaw, wincing at every movement of the tweezers in his body but followed her orders, his fingers digging into his palms to prevent himself for hurting her in crazy fight or flight instinct.

“I got it….” She whispers finally pulling the bullet out and throwing it away, her heart beating frantically from the emotions yet her face blank and calm. It was crazy how they were both terrified and yet were dead set not to show it to the other to not amplify any of those negative feelings.

“Told you” he smirked

“Told me what exactly Todd? That you’re a selfish, reckless, stupid bastard who’s gonna give me heart attack?. I’m not professional. I could have hurt you and yet I always take care of you…..”

“Told you a silly bullet wound won’t kill me.” Jason grinned and moved to lay on the couch. “Now, get those stiches and put them to use Y/N.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome….” She rolled her eyes, reaching for the needle and swiftly mending the damage done to his shoulder. “You’re lucky it didn’t shatter any bones, cause that would be way beyond my pay grade.”

“Yeah, whatever….” He muttered waiting patiently for her to be done and finish helping him by putting on a dressing, her soft, nimble fingers dancing on his skin, sending shivers down his spine. “Thanks doc.” He chuckled to diffuse the tension. It was weird that he got so many different sensations from her touch now. She did this so many times before and only now…. she shook his head not wanting to pursue that thought.

“Might as well use that title. Not of education by definitely from experience.” She hissed standing up, moving to kitchen and pouring herself a glass of wine “by the way, did you know that experiments on living organism are forbidden?”

‘You meant me?” he raised an eyebrow watching her sip her drink.

“Obviously.”

“And yet you always stich me up. Every. time.” Jason raised from the couch, moving to stand in front of her.

„What if one day I refuse?” she teased, swirling the wine and looking straight into his eyes, almost daring him to play back.

„I’ll take care of my wounds and you take care of your liver” Jason pulled the glass from her hand putting it up away from her reach, making her pout and stuck the tongue at him.

“You gotta die from something. I’d rather go down doing something fun not fighting on the streets of Gotham.”

“Not on my watch. You can drop patching me up, but you’re not drinking. You’re gonna sit with me and watch some Netflix instead.”

“Shall I remind you it’s still my apartment?”

“Ekhem…. Our apartment.” He corrected.

“Mhm… sure… I work and pay the bills and you bleed on the floor from time to time. You’re right, you marked this place quite literally.”

„No one here is getting drunk.” He said with a stern tone.

“I’m sorry? Do I look drunk?” she scoffs “that’s offending.”

“After a bottle of wine?”

“Who said anything about a bottle?” she brushed him off, but his gaze travelled to the open, almost empty bottle standing on the kitchen counter. “Yesterday’s?” she made an innocent face at him.

“That’s your third glass, Y/N.” there was no way to hide the evidence of crime now. Damn his vigilante instincts and observational skills. Of course she could have kept the play going, but it was no point now.

“Yeah, maybe I have a reason to. And you’re the last person on earth who can preach me on recklessness.” she mutters, snatching the glass from his hand, putting it to the sink and plumping on the couch putting on some TV.

“Bad day, huh?”

“More less so….” she switch through the channels finding nothing worth keeping an eye on, and finally setting on reruns of Friends, hoping this would cheer her up even if only a little.

“Care to share?” Jason sat beside her, pulling her into his embrace, resting his head on hers.

“I don’t think I want to talk now….” Y/N snuggled into his arms, enjoying the warmth coming from his body. “Hi…..” she murmured softly, a bit calmer now. He was all right, he was safe and next to her, not bleeding, not dying, not hurting.

“Hi yourself...”Jason smiled kissing her forehead and tightening the grip on her.

“You gave me a scare, you know.”

“Sorry baby…… But you’re better now, right?” his hand moved from her waist to her back, caressing softly in a calming manner.

‘yeah… I’m better….” She sighed, feeling the stress coming off her in waves. “you feel like home”

“that’s because I am your home, princess.”

“Yeah…. Yeah… you are….”

“And you’re mine….” He added, brushing her hair and cheek softly putting finger under her chin and making her look into his eyes. ”You understand that, don’t you? That you are mine and my everything.”

“I love you….” She whispered connecting their foreheads in an intimate gesture, hoping he’ll understand all those unspoken words dying in her throat and impossible to sound.

“I love you more.” He brushed his lips over hers briefly, only to ignite her nerves and make her break.

“I could argue on that.” Y/N chuckles softly in return.

“Oh really?” his eyebrows travelled up as he pulled back looking into her eyes with a slight smirk “Try me.”

“I. am. Infinitely falling for you.” Her words were like a balm on his heart and soul making him feel like he finally found that one person he belonged to. Whatever she said to him, whenever and wherever, it never failed to set him on fire, make his nerves and his whole body burn with the passion he never knew before.

“Y/N……baby…..”

“Yeah?”

“I think you’ve won this competition……” Jason’s leaned forward, leaving inches of space between them.

“I’m gonna take my prize now.” she murmured capturing his lips in hers and immediately, out of instincts wrapping arms around his neck. She wanted, needed to feel him, just to make sure it was all real and he was really with her, not just a friction of her imagination.

Jason was with her…… Safe, loved, all for her, matching every movement of her lips with passion, pulling her on his lap, caressing her hair, touching her back and waist, doing it all at once.

"Take everything you want, love. I'm all yours."

“Mine……” a few tears fell down her cheeks when she snuggled even closer to his touch, never getting enough of it. Of him, of his love, of his affection and care. Even though those were the sign of happiness, not pain of hurt, he noticed those little droplets in an instant.

"Hey, no crying on my shoulder." He chuckled wiping them away. “I got you…. You’re safe with me….”

“I can't lose you.....” she whispered, her right hand travelling to his shoulder, tracing over the wound she patched up a few moments later. “Every time you go out there ….” Her voice broke.

„Hey…. Hey….baby look at me….” Jason grabbed her chin and forced her eyes up on him “you’re not losing me. I’m right here…..” he guided her hand to his heart, letting her feel his heartbeat “feel that?” she nodded “it beats only for you. You won’t lose me…I promise you.” He kissed her temple nuzzling nose in her hair.

“I love you Jay....”

"I love you too, honey." He replied, wrapping his arms around Y/N tightly, like he was afraid she might disappear, keeping her in the safe, strong embrace, rocking back and forth slightly.

“Does it hurt?” she asked her soft, quiet voice breaking through the silence of the apartment.

“What?” Jason asked, slightly confused by her question.

“The wound.”

"Oh... yeah, it stings a little." He replied, glancing at his bandaged shoulder.

“Want me to kiss it better?”

His eyes grew wide, tiniest blush creeping on his face. Even if it was barely visible in the dark room she knew him well enough to recognise when he got flustered.,

"Baby…..that's the best offer I've gotten all week." He grinned.

“That's not a yes though.”

“You’re taking the conscious consent to a completely new level, princess. Do you see me objecting?”

“Jason Todd…..” she warned with the slightest chuckle

“I could never say no to you, my pretty girl.” he pulled her closer “yes.”

That one little word was all she needed connecting their lips again, relinquishing in the taste of his lips, taste of him. When her mouth were busy showing her love moving all over his face, brushing his cheek, jaw and neck, her hands, simultaneously moved down to his chest, her nimble fingers tracing his skin, moving over each of his scars, reminder of his past. Of the part of his life where she wasn’t with him.

She did it so many times already, focusing on the stab wound on his thigh, tiniest dents in the rib area, multiple cuts on his chest, slashes on his arms, bullet wounds, burn wounds, all kinds of those.

So many intimate times and yet, every single one of them was so different from the other.

"You sure you wanna do this right now...? I'm all for it but I don't want you to get my blood all over you." He chuckled

„It's just a kiss Jason....” she teased, moving to kiss over the sensitive, freshly patched shoulder with her soft, warm lips, causing Goosebumps all over him and smiling at the effect of him not stopping her ministrations

“Y/N…..” he groaned, his head falling back slightly. “God…..” his grip on her tightened and he pulled her closer, his mind (and not only mind) running wild and completely out of his control.

„Shhhh...” she mumbled against his skin, keeping on her ministrations, smiling even more upon feeling his hand tangling in her hear pressing her closer to the wounded shoulder. “Let me take care of you….” Her hot breath brushed over his neck when she started nibbling there getting a few more groans of pleasure.

“Do you feel better, Jaybaby?”

“Uh…uh-huh….” He gasped slightly still trying to keep his composure “don’t want you to stop…..”

“I’m not, my love…..” she nibbled on his neck, biting gently. “Mmmh…. You taste delicious…”

“Y/N…..” his hands found a way under her shirt, tugging at the material. “you’re a devil…..”

“No, Jace….”

“But Y/N....” he whined desperately “I want you… I want to kiss you, touch you, let me love you…..”

“You’re hurt, Jason….”

“So what? I still want to have you….”

“You can kiss me, but the clothes stays on.”

“You’re such a tease, turning me all hot and then denying!” he pouted “how unfair is that?!” he shivered at her words, but even though not giving up just yet.

“Yeah, I can feel how excited you got…” she smirks, shifting to sit on his lap, purposefully brushing over his hard on.

“Come on!” he cried out, burning at the sensation. Even if it was through material he could tell himself the rest, imagination and memories doing the job. “It’s torture! Pleeeeasseeee….”

“Hmmm.. on second thought….” She pulled back stopping the kissing.

“Y/N!”

“What?”

“You promised you won’t stop!” he grabbed her hip harder, making her squeal in surprise

“I did not!” she exclaimed “I hit pause.”

“Resume it now….” He warned, his voice hoarse, his body desperate for her. “Or else….”

“Or else what, honey? What will you possibly do?” he whispered in his ear, tangling fingers in his hair, tugging and scratching gently, her eyes full of desire and love and playfulness combined. “From what I see and it’s a nice view from the top….” Y/N smirked “you’re at my mercy. How does that feel?”

“Terrible.” He pouted “I’m injured and need to be taken care of and my girlfriend is all cruel and heartless…..”

“Oh…. Am I really?” she pushed him down on the bed, forcing him to lay on his back. “Is it really so terrible? How’s the view from down there?”

“covered….”

“Covered view?” she chuckled.

“Come on!!!” he cried out, his impatient hands moving to her hips.

“Behave, Jason…..” she straddled his hips, laying on top of him, pinning his hands to the mattress, looking straight into his eyes, before moving to kiss down his chest.

“You’re playing with fire, princess….”

“Yeah, Kori has been giving me some … lessons. And let me tell you, that girl…. She’s really good. I mean she bedded Dick and all those tricks she showed me…..” she smirked, letting go of his hands and tracing over his scars, but unlike before this time it was far from sweet, gentle and innocent. This time, her single purpose was to spur him on, tease him, make him burn at her touch and at the single feeling of her body on his.

“I hate you…..” he groaned

“We both know….” She brushed over his crotch “It’s not true.”

“Enough!” he yelled and before she could do as much as let out a single cry he pinned her to the mattress, kissing her with urgency and desire, not stopping to take a break, a breath, nothing. Now he was claiming her, her body, her soul, her mind. She wanted teasing, she should have known it comes with the price and Jason was not going to give up something that was rightfully his.

“Jason!” she moaned, but he was not going to stop for the world, tearing her shirt open, sending the buttons flying all over the room, sucking her skin up, biting, licking and kissing all over her stomach, finally, finally being able to teach her a lesson.

“You brought this on yourself….” He hissed, his mind too consumed by lust to even hear her crying out his name. “you brought this on yourself, princess”.

He was so fucking hungry, starved, deprived of her body, her skin, the taste of her. And his little, pathetic, helpless girlfriend really thought she could keep him on leash.

“poor little stupid girl….” he muttered, scratching her waist and moving hands up, cupping her clothed chest, feeling her body arch and squirm underneath him “I’m not your pet, baby….” He pulled the material of the bra away, revealing her right breast and smirking vindictively at the view of her pebbled nipple. “You planned this, didn’t you?” he muttered, brushing thumb over the sensitive part eliciting a moan and desperate cry of pleasure

“please…..” she begged

“not so nice when you’re the one pleading, is it?” he chuckled cruelly, taking it in his mouth and sucking for a second.

“Jay…..!” she grabbed his head, wanting more, more, more……

“Oh no, princess….” He pulled back, her half exposed, reddened chest abused and neglected “It’s not gonna be that easy…” his eyes glistened in the dark room. In that moment he looked less like a Jason Todd and way more like a Red Hood. Like a predator looking at the helpless prey, baring his teeth and sharpening his claws, getting ready to pounce mercilessly, getting his payback and whatever else he wanted.

“shit….!” She squealedwondering how was it possible that she went from patching him up and getting all scared of hurting him, through absolutely innocent teasing to ending up pinned to the bed in the form of desperate mess, strangely turned on by his fury.

“Yeah, princess…shit, indeed….” Jason repeated, scratching the skin just above the hem of her jeans, one fingers diving down, grabbing the elastic of her panties pulling it up just to let it go and make it snap her skin with a sting.

“Ah..!” she gasped

“Such a naughty, little stupid ungrateful brat….” He climbed on top of her, kissing up her stomach, her chest, her neck, jaw, cheek in a crazy pace, not allowing her to enjoy it, stopping at her lips. “I’ll make you beg for me. How about that? How do you like switching places…..” his mouth hung a few inches above hers, his thumb pressing at her bottom lip, forcing her to open those pretty mouth he was imagining somewhere else doing something different. “How about that, princess?” he asked again, his breath enveloping her face, clouding her senses, causing her to close her eyes. “Answer me, baby or might have to punish you….”

“Jason….” She moaned, not sure if she was enjoying this side of him or not. It was the first time in their relationship when he pushed him so far to actually make him this… vicious… this dominant.

“Answer me, princess…..” he muttered, grabbing both her hands and pinning them above her head “How do you like that?” he bit her neck. Once, twice, three times, each time harder than before.

“I…..ah… shit… Jace….!” At this point she knew – she was definitely enjoying him like this.

“Cat got your tongue, baby?”

“You’re so mean to me….” she moaned at another bite, this time on her shoulder.

“And yet….” One of his hands left her wrist, travelling down her body, tracing over each of her curved and digging inside her pants, moving the material of the panties away “you’re so wet…..” he whispered into her ear “what were you thinking, beautiful? What sort of crazy fantasies are there in your head, little one? Do you wish me to touch you….?” his finger brushed over hersensitive, swollen clit. “you want me touch you like that?”

“Yes,….shit… yes, yes…..” poor Y/N thought she was a begging mess before but Jason was clearly just beginning to have his fun with her. “please…..” she struggled against his grip.

“funny how the tables turned, isn’t it?” he muttered, nuzzling nose into her neck.

“Todd…..” she tried her best to make her voice stern and serious, but it came as desperate and whiny.

“Yeah, baby….? Is there something you want?” he asked calmly, his tone a contract to the way he was rubbing her clit faster and more intensely, enjoying the sounds coming from her mouth, becoming less human by a second turning into a desperate wail of tortured animal.

“please, please… please….!” Her hips buckled off the bed, her body begging for more.

“Nah…. I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet, love.” He retrieved his hand from her pants.

“Jason….!” She looked into his eyes, her gaze broken, hair a mess, lips chapped, cheeks reddened.

“God, your such a mess…..” Jason smirked, but the way she was looking at him with so much love, trust and vulnerability got him crumbling a bit. “Beg for me…..”

“I need you….” She whimpered “I need you, only you, just you. Please……?”

“Y/N…… my love……. You were a brat……. Admit it now…..” her voice, her eyes, her whispering, her begging…. He was slipping back into her, getting lost in her. He enjoyed having her under his control, but it was never his intention to push her further than she could take. Y/N had a little less experience than him and Jason was just trying to show her different way of things. To educate her, if you may.

But.

No matter how much he tried to dominate her, to punish and take what he wanted he just…. couldn’t.

He couldn’t be forceful on Y/N. His love, his one and only, his sweet, pretty girl. He wanted to protect her, love her, cherish her. Give her all the sweet loving she was missing through her entire life. Never hurt her. Never.

Unless she asked him too.

Spicing things up was good sometimes, but the tears in her eyes told him clearly enough she was on the verge. And Jason was not going to make her break and burst out crying during sex. Not with him. Not on his watch.

Never.

“Y/N…… baby…..” he let go of both of her wrists, reddened and swollen from the tight grip. “I love you….. I love you…..”

“I love you too, Jace,…. Please… please…..”

“Shhhh…. “ he caressed her head kissing her softly, reassuringly “I got you baby…. I got you… I’ll take care of you… Just promise….” He bit on her bottom lip “promise you won’t tease me again…..”

“Promise….” She whimpered, wrapping arms around his back, scratching his shoulder blades, dragging her nails down his body.

“I’m gonna pretend I believe you……” Jason whispered, too lost in his craving to say anything else and to control himself anymore.

It only took him a second to unclasp her bra, exposing her breast fully, licking, sucking, grazing his teeth over it, letting himself enjoy her hands in his hair, tugging, pulling, scratching, but not stopping there. His mouth moved lower, swiftly and capably sliding her jeans down, removing her soaked panties, spreading her legs and licking his lips at the view.

“Y/N……” his tongue moved to the place where she needed him ‘mmhmh… god….my favourite meal of the day…….”

“No…..” she whispered, pulling him back up by his healthy shoulder.

“what do you mean no?” he kept on lapping and sucking, swirling his tongue “your words don’t match your body movements….”

“I need you….”

“You have me baby…..” he licked all the way from her slit to clit making her moan and squirm again, more desperately than ever before “can’t stop me now…..”

“I want you….ah… ah…” her voice became desperate when those long, thick fingers complemented tongue movements, pumping in and out, doing it with ease with the amount of juices she already produces for him. “I want you… in….in…fuck…!”

“Inside?” he smirked, picking up the pace, knowing exactly what she was begging for. She nodded her body tensing and sweating like crazy. Yes, she wanted him inside but with the way he was making her feel at the moment, bringing her closer and closer to release, she was slowly starting to not give a fuck how he would make her come. The only thing she cared about was to come at all, fingers, tongue, dick, whatever. And she was silently praying he wouldn’t fall back into that sadistic attitude and keep on edging her endlessly.

“Jace…. “ she spread her legs wider, opening herself to him fully, her body acting on its own.

He looked up from between her legs, his gaze hazy, desperate, filled with so much lust, passion and craving it made her shudder. In this state he was definitely notgoing to edge her and they both knew it. Their eyes met only for a second before he got back to eating her up in that way only he knew how, fast, hard, hitting all the right places in the perfect pace.

“Yes….!” She cried out, when her climax started to build, his fingers digging into her hips causing pain and pleasure and confirming her belief she would sport bruises next day. “Yes… yes…!” she moaned more and more, grabbing his hands and putting them on her breasts again, allowing him to touch, squeeze, scratch and twist the flesh to his liking. “Yes….Jason…!”

He groaned and his voice reverberated through her whole body, making her scream his name , her body arching, hips moving off her bed as she was practically fucking herself on his face. Greedy, selfish little girl, craving the pleasure, the release, being so close, so fucking close she could almost touch it.

“Yes…. Yes… yes….!” Jason heard her sounds in the very core of his soul and body, picking up the pace more and more and more and more, not stopping. He could suffocate like this, die like this if it meant tasting her for the last time in his life. He grabbed her breast harder, digging his tongue deeper. It was not about her anymore, it was about satiating his hunger, his craving, his desire.

And then….

It felt like someone turned off the world that stopped existing.

It was only him.

And her.

Nothing more.

Her brain shut down when she came as intensely as never before, squirting hard, body tensing, releasing, bursting into sweat, shivering and shaking in no more than ten seconds. Oh, he prepped her so good and apparently a bit of roughness only added to the pleasure and the sensation.

“Jason…..” she breathed out heavily, her eyes closed as she tried to reach for his face blindly.

“I’m here, baby….” His voice came somewhere from above her, but before she could open her eyes and look at him, Jason pressed his lips to her, helping her to calm down and come back to reality, but also allowing her to taste herself. “I got you…. I got you, princess. It’s okay.. You’re safe. You’re mine, I’m here.”

“Mhmhm…..”was all she could reply, too lost in the sensation.

“How you feel?” he asked softly, pulling her to him, holding and caressing her back. He was going to clean her up in a second but for now she needed cuddles. She needed his warm embrace. And he was going to shower her with the aftercare. “I wasn’t too rough right?”

“At first.. maybe a little…..” she sighed, finally opening her eyes and meeting his gaze. His chin was glistening. “but it was worth it….” She smiled, wiping her own juices from his face “apparently….” They both chuckled.

“Do you remember what you promised me, though?” Jason smirked pulling her closer and ruffling her hair affectionately.

“are you serious?” she snickered “I’ve just barely recollected my last name! Of course I don’t remember what I said while being desperate for you!”

“Desperate, huh?” he raised an eyebrow. “Can you repeat that so I can record for my spank bank? Y/N Y/L/N was desperate for me….”

“Shut up!” she blushed punching his healthy arm.

“Make me, princess.” Jason grabbed her hand and looked into her eyes. “You promised not to tease me, let me refresh your memory.”

“Did I really?” she frowned

“Yeah, really…..”

“What if I crossed my fingers?” she sat on the bed, wriggling out of his embrace, looking down at him with a smirk, her naked body so close to his. “What if I lied?”

“then we need another lesson to eradicate that terrible habit of yours….” he grabbed her waist and pulled her on top of him “I’m not in a hurry and that means you’re not going anywhere….” He bit her lip, his eyes glistening with the same greedy glow as before.

Round two.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd smut #red hood smut #jason todd fluff #red hood fluff #jason todd x y/n #red hood x y/n #jason todd x you #red hood x you #jason todd x oc #red hood x oc #jason todd fanfiction #red hood fanfiction

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softsnzstuff · 2 years ago

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Taking a Sick Day

Fandom: Stranger Things, Doctor Office AU (pre-Steddie)

Summary: Doctor Eddie finally takes a sick day, but keeps heckling Steve and Robin about whether or not Billy is messing up his charts.

Word count: ~740

Notes: Lol didn’t mean to post two Doctor AU fics back to back but I’m not mad about it.

*******************************************************

Robin and Eddie had a unique friendship. Though she’d only met him through work, he was humorous, teased Steve with her, and answered her silly medical questions in their down time. Today, however, he was getting on her last nerve.

***

It started yesterday morning as a tickle, an incessant need to clear his throat, before building quickly into an irritable mood and achy body. Everyone in the office saw it coming from miles away… everyone except Eddie who refused to admit defeat.

By the afternoon, he was face down on his desk, that Steve decided to bite the bullet. The two of them had been much flirtier lately and if anyone could get through to Eddie it would be Steve.

The younger man came up behind him, rubbing his shoulders. “Hey Doc, you’re looking a little worse for wear. You should take the day off tomorrow.”

“Can’t.” Came a murmur from the motionless form at the desk.

“Why not?”

The older man sat up and swiveled his hair to face Steve. His face was much paler than normal. “Because doctors don’t get sick.”

Steve made a long skeptical noise.

“I just mean- patients are sick. I can’t get sick because who’s gonna take care of them??” He elaborated.

“We’ll call in Hargrove. I mean he’ll be pissed but when is he not?” He continued, “Plus if you’ve got the flu going around, you’ll only be putting them at risk.”

Eddie sighed and ran a hand through his hair, nodding. “Okay. If you can get Hargrove in, I’ll take a day. But I’m coming back Monday!”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

***

Robins phone was vibrating nonstop since 7:30am. She opened it quickly to see no less than 6 text messages from Eddie.

Can you make sure Hargrove gives the medicine instructions to both Mr AND Mrs.Norris? Hell forget if you only tell him.

Also don’t let Billy touch my charts.

Or mess up my desk.

I think I saw Mrs.Gregory on the schedule too, she likes to be in exam room 3 if possible…

Lollipops are in the top left cupboard of my desk but don’t tell Steve

Oh and also can you make sure to forward me any scans from the patients?”

She sighed and clicked the phone off only for the desk phone to ring.

“Thanks for calling Hawkins Medical, Robin speaking-”

“Robin I need you to listen very closely okay?”

“Eddie is that you?”

“Yeah, you weren’t answering my texts. I’m going to tell you something important, you might want paper to write it down so HNG’tsschiEW! G’tsch’IEW!”

Robin pulled the phone away from her ear, wincing. “Geez doc, warn me next time you’re about to blow out my ear drums.” She joked.

“That’s…ndot medically possible. Listen okay this is imbportant.”

“Eddie. We got it okay? I have all your notes. I’m not letting Billy close to my charts. Your patients are my patients, I know what they need, remember?”

There was silence on the other line as Eddie seemed to be thinking, “yeah okay. snFF But can you ask Steve to send me the-”

“Hold on.” Robin covered the mic end of the phone, “Hey Dingus! There’s a call for you at my desk!”

Steve padded over in his light blue scrubs, looking more confused than anything. “Make it fast or Hargrove is gonna kill me.” He mumbled.

She handed him the phone and he held it to his ear, “hello?”

“Steve-o! It’s Eddie. I need you to-”

“You’re at home for a reason you know. It’s so you can rest. So you know… do that. I’m sure Robin will protect your charts with her life - yes, she told me.”

Robin elbowed him as she typed at her computer, getting ready to verify insurance for Monday’s patients. She couldn’t hear Eddie, but could only guess by what Steve was saying.

“It’s called taking a sick day for a reason, Eds…. I know you want to be here…. Just. Try and get some rest okay? For me? …. Yes I’ll still bring you soup after work. Okay. Bye.”

Robin raised her eyebrows at Steve as he hung up her desk phone. “What?” He asked.

“Nothing…you’re bringing Doctor Rockstar some soup later?” she smirked.

Steve smirked back and went to call in the next patient for Doctor Hargrove, “wouldn’t you like to know.”

#sicktember 2022 #s/tranger t/hings #e/ddie m/unson #s/teve h/arrington #kb au’s #doctors office au #doctor!eddie #doctor!billy #pa!nancy #receptionist!robin #nurse!steve #snzblr #steddiesnz #fruity 4 #sickfic

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zodiakuroo · 4 years ago

Text

Cupid’s Bullet

Dabi comes home with a very special Valentine’s Day surprise for you.

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

Contains: dubcon/noncon, mentions of death, unhealthy relationship, gun play, fear play, forced orgasms, squirting, mindbreak, angst (if you squint?), quirk usage, one slap but it’s a hard one :3, overstimulation, creampie

Word count: 5.3k

Notes: pls this title is so cringe but it's like bullet instead of arrow cause... ya know but anyways happy valentine’s day from scumbag boyfie!dabi

Dating a villain meant that your relationship was unconventional to say the least. For one, public dates were out of the question, unless you wanted it to end in destruction of public property and some scorched heroes. You also always had to have some kind of flimsy excuse for your family and friends when they asked to meet your elusive boyfriend. In addition, you had to accept the fact that he would have to disappear sometimes for weeks on end to do his boss’ bidding.

There was also the small matter of arson, murder and theft and a multitude of other crimes that you’d prefer not to know about. And while you weren’t necessarily okay with a lot of what Dabi did, you loved him. You loved him so much that turning a blind eye was so easy it made you question your own morality. He didn’t scare you either. Not in the slightest, because you knew in his own special way, he loved you too.

In fact it ran much deeper than that. On his worst days, Dabi could set the world ablaze until nothing was left because in the end he didn’t care about anyone or anything, not even himself. Until he met you, he says. He tells you that in you, he’s found something to tether him to this existence.

Ok so maybe he didn’t use those words exactly, but he doesn’t have to. You know that’s what he means when he spoils you with expensive, stolen clothes and jewellery, when he offers to burn alive any person who makes you even the tiniest bit upset and when he comes home to you bloodied and beaten, trusting you to take care of him.

In summary, your relationship forced you to give up on having any “normal couple” experiences. That included, celebrating anniversaries and silly holidays like Valentine’s Day so you never bothered to keep track of them. It could hardly be considered a sacrifice when you compared those things to what you actually got from your relationship.

Dabi had been gone for close to a month now and you didn’t expect him back anytime soon, not knowing where he was or what he was doing. In fact the very last thing you expected was for him to creep into your bedroom in the middle of night and rouse you from your peaceful sleep with a soft kiss on your temple.

You don’t jump out of bed in a panic, like any sane person would. Instead you let out a satisfied hum, surrounded by the scent of burnt flesh, ash and menthol, feeling warmth bloom in your chest. It should be unpleasant but its Dabi’s scent and you’ve missed it. You’ve missed him. You pick your phone up from your night stand, squinting your eyes at the bright light that makes them sting.

Sunday 14 February, 2:43am

“Welcome home.” You mumble groggily, trying your best to fight off your tired body urging you to go back to sleep.

Instead of replying, he greets you by pressing his mouth to yours. You let out a quiet gasp, startled by the sudden display of affection. His lips are chapped but that doesn’t matter, your tongue darts out to moisten them before your lips lock into a gentle kiss.

You reach up, weaving your hands through his dark hair in an attempt to draw him closer but he retreats, opting instead to turn on the bedside lamp but keeping his other hand behind his back. “Sit up doll. Got a surprise for ya.”

Any thoughts of sleep were long forgotten as soon as his lips met yours but now he’s really piqued your interest. You push yourself up against the headboard and sit cross-legged. You look up at Dabi expectantly. Your boyfriend is smiling wide, skin pulled so taut you think one of his staples might give out. He reveals to you what he has hidden behind his back. A square black box, wrapped in a cobalt satin ribbon.

It’s so cliché you can’t help but let out a small snort. “What is it?”

“It’s a gift. You know… for Valentine’s Day?” He says as though it should be obvious to you.

Your heart swells at the gesture. It really was a surprise. Not in a bad way, you just knew he wasn’t your average boyfriend and that was okay. You didn’t want him to be.

“Well now I feel awful. I didn’t get you anything.” You pout as he props the box onto your lap.

“’S like a toy… so it’s technically for you but kinda for both of us.” It’s unusual to see Dabi this excited. The way he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, eyes filled with mirth makes you all the more curious.

“Like a sex toy?” A giggle escapes you as you undo the bow.

“Are we playing fuckin’ 20 questions? Just open it.” He presses you.

You huff at his impatience but you don’t comment, not wanting to wait any longer either. You remove the lid of the box only to find something wildly unexpected.

A revolver?

You look up at your boyfriend with confusion etched on your face but his gleeful grin doesn’t falter. You’ve never seen a sex toy like this so you pick up the article to test its weight. It’s definitely the real deal.

“Dabi, this isn’t a toy.” You state matter-of-factly.

He merely rolls his eyes and says “Doll, when you can incinerate someone with a flick of your wrist, that little thing is definitely considered a toy?”

“O-okay? What do you want to do with it?” You ask, placing offending object onto your nightstand, not really wanting to hold on to it anymore, the metallic smell making you feel queasy.

“Ever heard of Russian Roulette?” Dabi, picks up the abandoned item, looking down at it with pride.

“What?” You furrow your eyebrows as nervousness starts to creep into your system and you instinctively move to back away from him but Dabi is quick to pull you back.

“It’s real easy doll. No need to look so scared.” He crawls on top of you, caging you in with his limbs. “6 chambers. 1 bullet. All you have to do is be a good girl for me. If not, I pull the trigger and we see what happens.”

The look on his face is positively demented. Azure eyes wide and bright, patchwork face contorted into a a sinister smile, white teeth and silver staples gleaming in the dim light.

“Baby,” you hope the pet name will placate him. It usually does. “I don’t know about thi-“

CLICK

You let out a shriek as your body jolts in fear but you’re unable to move with his weight pressing on top of you.

“You see now doll?” He clicks his tongue behind his teeth. “You’ve gone and wasted a shot.”

Dabi climbs off of you and you’re left lying there with your heart hammering violently in your chest, body trembling, still reeling from the shock of what just happened. Reeling from the shock of what is happening

“You gonna listen now? Gonna be good?” Dabi prompts, rolling the gun around in his hand.

All you can do is nod as your eyes being to water. The uneasy feeling in your stomach only grows worse as your mind races with the possible things Dabi has in store for you.

“Good. Now strip.” He command and like a good girl, you obey.

Your arms feel like they’re made of lead, moving rigidly to take off your shirt (one of Dabi’s old ones). You can’t stop the tears from falling as you pull down your panties, fat droplets roll down your cheeks, desperately trying to swallow the sounds of your sobbing.

This can’t be happening. It’s Dabi. He wouldn’t hurt you. He promised you that.

“Oh cut the fuckin’ waterworks.” He snaps. “As long as you listen, you’ll be fine.”

You try to calm yourself with deep breaths, not wanting to irritate him any further.

When you turn to face him, he’s leaning back on his haunches, one hand resting on his thigh, the other lazily gripping the revolver. “Fair warning, I’m more of a ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ kinda guy. But you know that already.” He thumbs the cylinder, making it spin. “Now, touch yourself for me.”

Breathing is difficult. No matter how much you try, it’s like you can’t get enough air into your lungs. Thinking only of gun in your boyfriend’s hand, you still you bring your own hand between your legs, but you can’t concentrate, what with the dread taking over your body making it tough to have any control of your body. Your movements are stiff and apparently not up to Dabi’s standards.

He only scoffs before-

CLICK

You scream again, body nearly flying off the bed before you curl yourself up into a ball. The fright is enough to stop your heart. For a second you believe it has.

“Doll,” Dabi’s gruff voice brings you back to earth, reminding you that you’re very much alive and whether or not you stay that way is entirely up to him. “You’re ruining my surprise. Got it ‘specially for you and now you’re being a brat.” He quirks an eyebrow at you, almost like a challenge.

“So-sorry.-“ your voice breaks. “I’ll be good.”

You’re still struggling to comprehend how any of this is real. You thought you knew him. You thought he loved you. And here he is, treating your life like it’s a game. You can’t help but think that this is your own fault. You thought you were above everyone else, the exception to your boyfriend’s villain behaviour.

“Yeah?” His voice drops to a whisper. “Then show me.” He challenges you. Dabi slips off his t-shirt and moves between your legs to get a better view, pressing on your knees to split them apart.

Self-preservation kicks in. There is one way out of this alive and that’s doing what he says. You spread yourself even wider, showing him all of you. Your hands, glide over your smooth thighs, kneading the pudgy flesh as you get closer and closer your sex, teasing yourself the way he would. Your fingers find your clit and just a little pressure makes your eyes melt shut. Probably for best anyway. It makes it easier to imagine anything but this. You drag those fingers through your delicate folds, letting out breathy sighs as heat begins to bloom between your thighs.

You pretend, its Dabi’s touch. In your mind’s eye you see the two of you, limbs tangled with Dabi on top, resting his forehead against yours. It’s one of those nights where he wants to go slow. So slow that the sensation of his cock dragging in and out of is you bordering on torturous. It’s one of those nights where he wants to lay his head on your chest, mouthing at your breasts, laving your nipples with his wet tongue while you tell him, in that sensual voice that you love him, that he’s perfect, that he’s yours. Because it’s one of those nights, where everything feels like too much for him and the only person that he really has on his side is you.

It’s not long before you’re leaking. Somewhere, deep in the back of your mind, there’s a voice chastising you for being so easy for him… even now. There’s almost no resistance as two of your fingers, press into your entrance. Your fingers are no match for Dabi’s, they never hit all those deep, hidden spots that make you see stars but still, you start to move them slowly, brushing your thumb over your clit every so often.

“Look at me.” You feel his breath waft over your pussy.

Eyelids fluttering open and you meet his gaze. It stuns you a little and your hands come to a standstill. He is handsome, breathtakingly so, even though he thinks you’re lying whenever you when you tell him that. The way he stares at you, with love and adoration in his eyes, it’s almost like the fantasy you were just imagining. Almost like the fantasy you’ve been living in this whole time. It’s enough to make you forget the situation you’re in. Then the muzzle of the gun is pressed to your clit, snapping you back to reality fast enough to give you whiplash.

“Fucking slut.” He growls and smacks your hand away from your pussy.

You jerk as he starts to move it the gun circles over your sensitive nub and then dipping down to your tight slit to gather up your juices.

“All those fuckin’ tears but look how wet you are.” He says more to himself than you as he admires the way your slick leaves a sheen on the barrel. With his eyes trained directly on yours, his perfectly pink tongue pokes out to lick it clean, groaning at the taste.

The next thing you know his arms are wrapped around your legs, guiding them over his broad shoulders. He kisses you on your mons before his tongue begins greedily lapping at your hole. “Tastes so good doll.” He mutters with his nose pressed against your clit. He slips the wet muscle inside of you making you whine. You reflexively grab onto his black hair, tugging on the stands and he lets out a groan of approval. He moves up to your clit, circling it with his tongue before suckling on it. While he brushes just the tip of a finger over your cunt, making it clench around nothing while you desperately buck your hips, in an attempt to have it inside you.

The way he’s eating you out is almost romantic?

Or it would be, if it weren’t for the metal digging into your flesh.

“Doll,” He places a sloppy kiss on your clit, lighting dragging his teeth over the hood. “Want you to squirt for me.”

A lump forms in your throat. You can count on one hand the amount of times that has happened. You’re not sure of the odds that you’d be able to right now and it’s not a gamble you’re willing to take. “Dabi, I don’t think I can….”

CLICK

You thrash, screaming so loud it makes your throat burn.

Dabi still holds you open, keeping you in place. “I wasn’t asking.” He makes sure to maintain eye contact as he drops a fat glob of spit right on to your clit before diving face first into your cunt once again.

He pushes 2 of his long, lithe fingers into your tight entrance. It’s unexpected and you wince. He drags his right hand (the one holding the gun) up your torso, resting the muzzle underneath your breast, right over your racing heart. A reminder of what’s at stake. He envelopes your sensitive clit with his lips, moving his fingers in tandem with the suction. You’re consumed by desire as Dabi brings you so close to the edge.

“Dee-Deeper please.” Your pant out.

He smiles against your mound before complying with your request. “Right here?” His fingers press against that squishy patch deep inside you and your eyes roll back.

“Nnnggg yeah.” You’re barely able to mewl out. You dig your heels into his back and grind against his face, chasing your high. Dabi keeps hitting that spot with astonishing precision but you hold off for as long as you can, letting the pleasurable sensation build until the pressure in your core becomes unbearable. When it finally snaps because you can’t hold it anymore, your eyes squeeze shut, hands flying to his biceps and you dig your nails into the sinewy muscle. You gush around his fingers and all over his face. Dabi doesn’t move though, flicking your clit with his tongue repeatedly until you’re trembling and whimpering, pushing him away from your pussy. He finally relents, a pop echoing around the room as he lets go of you.

He gives you a predatory look, scared face and chest wet with the remnants of your orgasm. “You made such a mess baby but I’m glad you’re finally having fun.” He’s just as out of breath as you are but far more composed.

Your head is still fuzzy and limbs are still twitching but your boyfriend doesn’t let you recover. “C’mon, doll. My turn.” He begins to undo his belt, silver buckle clinking as he rushes to drag it through the loops of his jeans

You pull yourself on to all fours, now eye level with his crotch. He pulls down his pants and boxers in one go, his erection almost hitting you in the face.

“You’ve been lucky so far.” He taps the bulbous head of his cock on your lips, smearing your lips with the pre that dribbles out of it. “But I wouldn’t test it if I were you. Open.”

Your mouth is already watering at the sight of him. So long, thick and veiny. It’s disgusting actually, this Pavlovian response. He fucks you deeper, stretches you wider and makes you feel better than anyone ever had. You wonder briefly, if anyone ever could fuck you as good as Dabi.

You stick out your tongue and he slides himself between your lips, groaning as he pushes into your mouth, slowly, inch by inch. He fills your mouth completely and you shut your eyes, savouring the salty taste of him but you feel the muzzle press against your temple and making them shoot open. “Atta girl. Lemme see those pretty eyes.” He grunts as he plunges into your throat. You bob your head up and down his shaft, the hand at the back of your head setting a brutal pace. The room is filled with the sounds of you gagging and his hefty sac smacking against your chin.

“So good to me baby.” He tilts his head back, losing himself in the pleasure. The wet heat of your mouth surrounding him while your saliva leaks out, dripping down his balls. Dabi is big and heavy, stretching you so wide and making you jaw ache from the weight of him. You’re already lightheaded from the lack of air, no matter how much you try breathing through your nose. You don’t dare to complain though.

He pulls out of your mouth slowly, stretching a string of saliva from the head of his dick to your tongue that’s hanging out of your mouth. You pant like a bitch attempting to catch your breath. He doesn’t give you much time before he’s in your throat again, back to fucking your face.

“I love you so much. You love me?” He sounds so sweet, totally blissed out.

He stops thrusting and tilts your head up to look at him, blinking tear-clumped lashes. You try utter a ‘Yes, I love you.’ but with his shaft gagging you, it comes out all garbled. The muscles in your throat convulse around the deep intrusion. “You’d do anything for me right?” He asks, jabbing the muzzle even harder into your temple, finger resting lightly on the trigger. You nod, watching Dabi lose his composure bit by bit. “Yeah. That’s why you’re my girl.” He pushes himself even deeper inside you, making you finally take all of him, until your nose meets his pubic hair and holding you there. “Fuck.”

CLICK

“Hmmhhhhngggh” You squeal around him but you can’t pull off because of the grip he has on your scalp. When he lets you go you’re choking and coughing up a lewd mixture of spit and pre-cum.

“Wh- Why” You blubber, voice hoarse. You don’t understand. You were doing exactly what he asked. You were being good.

“Sorry baby. Felt so good, my finger slipped.” He doesn’t even try to hide his mischievous smirk. The fucker is definitely not sorry.

You want to beg him to stop this ridiculous game because you see now there’s no way you can win because Dabi doesn’t play fair.

He doesn’t give you the chance though, already shuffling off his bottoms all the way and propping himself up against the headboard. “C’mon pretty baby.” He tugs on your ankle. Wanna see you bounce on my dick.”

You clumsily position yourself atop his lap quickly, before you can even think about it. You know he doesn’t need a reason to pull that trigger but still, you don’t want to give him one.

He grinds his tip along your heat, piercings dragging across your clit over and over again. It’s something he does whenever you have sex, to rile you up. And just like all those other times, it’s working. Circumstances be damned. “Needa feel this hot little pussy. Give it to me doll.” He murmurs against the shell of your ear.

You nod as you lift yourself off of him to hover your dripping wet hole over his hard dick. You slowly squat down on onto him, the fat head stretching you out, burning with every inch you take. You mewl, making futile attempts to blink away tears. You get halfway before you have to stop, resting your hands on his shoulders trying to gain leverage. You’re outright crying now, wet droplets landing on Dabi’s chest.

“’S matter doll.”

I’m terrified. You yell in your head but stay silent, choosing to focus on relaxing your ever-tightening hole in order to take more of him.

“Oh, I know.” He coos, voice dripping with condescension. “’S too big for your tiny cunny.” He leans forward to kiss away the salty tears. “But you can take it. I know you can.” He cups your jaw, stroking your cheek with a calloused thumb. “You can do it for me”

You start to move slowly up and down, using gravity to force more of his monstrous cock inside you with shallow movements. You really are trying your best but that’s apparently not good enough for Dabi and he lets you know that by pressing the barrel of the gun into your stomach. You freeze, horrified, more tears start falling from your eyes. You open your mouth to beg him to just give you a little time. You’re trying.

“Quit being a baby and just take it.” He says before you even get the chance.

“I’m trying Dabi, please just-“

CLICK

He cuts off your plea. He’s not interested in your excuses.

The rotation of the cylinder sends vibrations through your abdomen. Amidst the shock, you release your grip on his shoulders and impale yourself on his shaft by mistake. The combination of the searing stretch and the blunt head of his cock kissing your cervix is so overwhelming that you collapse forward, head falling on to your boyfriend’s chest. You feel the rumbles of his chuckles while he’s quite literally splitting you open.

“See? Knew you could. Just needed a little scare. Isn’t that right.” He rubs your back as if to comfort you. He lets out a low whistle. “But looks like you’re all out of chances doll. Now bounce.” He gives you a spank with an inhumanly warm hand, making you squeal and leaving your cheek tender.

Your hands find purchase on his shoulders again. Dabi’s sapphire eyes are practically glowing, daring you to be stupid enough to defy him one more time.

You pull off almost entirely, keeping just his tip inside of you, before spearing his shaft into you again.

“Good girl.” When he praises you with that raspy voice makes you keen and desperate for more of it.

His hand snakes its way up your torso to cup one of your breasts. Your back arches, pushing into his scorching hot touch, forgetting momentarily about his other hand and what he’s holding in it. He gropes your chest, tweaks and twists at your nipples, leaving red, inflamed hand prints in his wake. You’re practically delirious with pleasure, babbling out incoherent streams of his name along with “yes” and “more”. All the while, he murmurs praises about how good you are and how much he loves you. It’s confusing and you can’t process any of it.

“Who owns this perfect pussy?”

“Dabi. Fuck. Dabi.” Your tongue lolls out of your mouth in the most obscene way, drooling down your chin. Your plush walls pulse around him as he hits that sensitive spot every time you sink down on him.

“That’s right it’s all fuckin mine. My pretty baby.” Dabi’s eyes are focus on where your two bodies are connected watching the translucent ring of your cream appear and disappear as you ride him.

“Preeeettyyy.” You slur and he laughs at how fucked out you are, brain completely jumbled between the fear, the pain and the bliss all combined into ecstasy.

“Doll.” He groans. “I feel ya squeezin’ me. You gonna cum?”

He’s right. You nod as you feel that coil tightening again, threatening to snap at any second. The man finally starts putting in work, pounding into you every time you pull off of him. Dabi abandons the gun in favour of playing with your clit, rubbing quick sloppy circles. “Yeah? Gonna cream and gush around me? Want you to baby.” He buries his head in the crook of your neck, sucking, biting and licking while he assaults your sopping wet pussy. “C’mon doll, please.”

With that you orgasm. He grabs your hips pulling you flush against his thighs, fucking you through your orgasm, rolling his hips up into you until your high finally subsides.

He doesn’t let you catch your breath before he’s got the revolver pressed hard underneath your chin. “Now make me cum.” You almost collapse but the harsh grip he has on your hair suspends you upright.

Your mind is so foggy and Dabi gives you a small smile, appreciating the perplexed look in your droopy eyes. But he’s not done with you yet.

“Hey.” You’re ripped from your daze, when he slaps you across the face, sending your head swinging to the side. “Don’t pass out on me now.”

“So-sorry! ‘M sorry!” You grovel as you slam your tired body down on his dick once again, trying to ignore the throbbing on your cheek, the ringing in your ears, and the ache in your battered cunt. You’re so sensitive from your last orgasm but you don’t have a choice and you don’t dare deny him anything. Your thighs are quaking and burning with every movement but your boyfriend is unimpressed.

“You can do better than that doll.” He lets out a bitter laugh, enjoying every second of tormenting you. “It’s like you want your brains splattered on the ceiling.”

You start crying again, shaking your head frantically. In the time that you’ve been with Dabi, you’ve learned certain tricks, you know he likes it, but in this panic/lust induced frenzy, you can’t remember any of them. Instead, you bounce, mindlessly on him while your gummy walls clench tighter around him every time he nudges at your a-spot. Your legs are going numb from all the effort and you plop down, limp onto his lap, taking him to the hilt.

Dabi tsks at you, reminding you that you can’t rest just yet. You swivel your hips, grinding your pelvis against his while he’s buried deep in your wet heat. You pray to whatever deity is listening that he’s getting close, you’re not sure how much more you can take.

“If I don’t bust in the next 5 seconds.” His hand finds your clit again, you grind across his fingers has you rock against him. “Bang!” He emphasises the word by bringing a heated palm down on your ass.

A choked sob bubbles at the back of your throat, making him snicker

Hands pressed to his chest, you ride him like a woman possessed, the last bits of adrenaline kicking in. Your sloppy cunt squelches every time you drive yourself down on his cock just motivating you to fuck him harder.

“Five.” He grits out.

“Dabi, please!” But you’re met with icy, apathetic eyes staring back at you, feeling the terror that the rest of the city does when they so much as hear his name.

“Four.” He rubs your already raw clit, faster and you can feel another orgasm building, much quicker than your last two.

Your body feels so heavy but you can’t stop moving, not unless you want him to- “Please cum!” You beg. “Need your cum.”

“Three.”

He starts to fuck up into you again with unforgiving force.

“Wh-Why?!” is all you can manage as your mind starts to fog up again, the need to come becoming all the more urgent.

“Two.” He ignores your question, transfixed on your tits bounce in his face. You’re getting close to your third orgasm of the night and it seems Dabi is determined to get you there.

You still can’t believe this is real. You never thought that Dabi would treat you like this. You were supposed to be special.

Or at least that’s what he told you.

Moreover, you can’t believe how your own body is betraying you. You can’t believe you’re actually going to cum. Again.

“One.”

You cry out his name one last time, unsure if it’s out of fear or pleasure. You dig your nails into his arms again, in a feeble attempt to ground yourself as you cum around him. The orgasm that rips through you makes it difficult for you to be sure of anything.

What you are sure of is the fact that there was no bang or bullet.

Just one last CLICK (practically drowned out by your screaming) and the sensation of Dabi’s hot cum flooding your womb. He has a bruising grip on your hips, gun now discarded, and he ruts up into to making sure to stuff your cunt absolutely full of him. He begins to laugh as he softens inside you.

Your head is still spinning but once you’re able to push yourself off of him, you can finally make sense of what just happened.

He was fucking with you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You yell, using weak and quivering arms to throw pillows at him while you cry so hard it makes you dry heave.

Your asshole of a boyfriend starts cackling, clutching his abdomen as if he just pulled the world’s funniest prank while your heart is beating so hard and fast you think it might break through your ribcage.

“You should have seen your face. You were so fuckin’ scared.”

You become nauseous, feeling bile rising in your throat as you come to a sickening realisation.

This is not your Dabi. This is the Dabi that the rest of the world gets to see.

Evil, sadistic, merciless. This is the real Dabi.

You attempt to scramble off of the bed to get away from him, feeling overwhelmed by the humiliation. But Dabi grabs your wrist and yanks you into his chest, wrapping you up in his arms. A gesture you used to treasure but now it just made your skin crawl. “C’mon Doll you didn’t think I was being serious did you?”

You writhe in his hold, hitting against his hard, toned chest with pathetic fists. “Don’t be such a crybaby. It was just a joke.” He strokes your hair oh so tenderly. But you won’t fall for that again. Dabi is a villain through and through. You know that now.

It’s no use fighting him off though, all the fight in you is used up. You don’t know what else to do. So you do the easy thing: nuzzle your head into his chest, tremors rocking your body as you hiccup, while he holds you. That way you can pretend that you feel safe with him, just like you used to.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, doll. I love you.”

#dabi is just the worst huh #sorry about the angst i honestly don’t know how that happened #dark content #dark fic #mha smut #tw dubcon #bnha imagines #bnha smut #dabi imagine #dabi smut #dabi x reader #mha x reader #tw slapping #tw noncon #tw unhealthy relationship #tw gunplay #tw death mention

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inspector-montoya-fox · 3 years ago

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hi happy new year, how are you? to start off 2022 i’m gonna rank my top 10 favourite guards from the Sly trilogy. let’s take a look:

10. Card-dealing Dalmatian: honestly made the list mainly because of the outfit - it’s a look - but overall just a funny lil boi, a jokester

9. Basset Hound Pirate: this guy wants to take a nap but he can’t because LeFwee will probably cut his dick off idk. he’s not groundbreaking by any means, but i love the vest and the eye-patch as well as the fact that he has his own little mini cannon

8. Japanese Culture Aficionado Walrus: ok this guy... when Sir Frogger told his guards to wear overalls, this guy didn’t listen. fuck overalls he said. he prolly watches hentai and reads Naruto, and owns a scooter like Furio Tigre. god knows his income isn’t enough to buy a proper motorcycle, so he chose to settle. also, he feels really uncomfortable around his squid coworker

7. Janitor Rat: so imagine it’s late in Paris and you’re stuck cleaning the disgusting club floor, trying to get muddy footprints and gum out of the carpet (great choice Dimitri) while all your friends are out clubbing, and this cane-wielding dude in blue who doesn’t wear pants comes in and trashes the place. i mean, i’d be mad too tf ?? honestly, props to the janitor rat for standing up. you go, janitor rat.

6. Wolves: a silly lil guy, a cutie. why would you want to pick a fight with him? for shame.

5. Gays: listen. if it wasn’t for Tony de Killer B, these guys wouldn’t have made it on the list. but he paved the way, he put in the work. the outfit... mama mia ! 100% absolutely, he’s ready to vogue, he’s ready to death drop, it’s very John Galliano. the mask? it’s giving camp. skipped leg day for the past 8 years? that too. what’s there not to love exactly?

4. Y2K Monke Gurl: is she good at her job? no, she’s actually abysmal at it. but did she slay with her fit? i think she deserves a raise, Mr Panda. from the bandana to the blush, the braid, the gloves, the flame detailing on the sides, the sandal. GIVE US EVERYTHING, we stan. we have no choice but to stan. also, very good at finding excellent hiding spots, i’ll give her that too

3. Bomb Cock: i love these guys honestly. they’re just here to have a good time even though it might be their last. they’re doing the most and it’s ok, no judgement. very much Looney Tunes rejects with their comically huge bombs. they want to protect the hens in the coop but they’re way too destructive for that, it’s hilarious. if they were a lyric, they’d be When other bitches tryna get with my dude and when other chickens tryna get in my coop from Streets by Doja Cat

2. Moose Dude: ok hear me out on this one. very controversial choice but i couldn’t place them lower, i’m sorry. they’re lovable idiots/ jocks. they wear jock straps because they’re comfy, they probably smell like sweaty balls, they drink beer all the time. it’s the type of oblivious, dumbfounded straighty you see in gay porn. they’re pea-brained, they wanna play RC battles all day because they never finished high school despite being the best at PE. the poor things had no other option but to become guards. absolute goons. the way Murray just waltzed into their man-cave with a moose head on and they didn’t even bat an eye is so charming, these dudes drive me nuts. i’m a furry

Honorable Mention: Carmelita: she’s not a guard, but her patrolling the hubs always puts a smile on my face. what an absolute legend, what a ki. the mega threat herself, not letting anyone out of her sight, no matter the weather condition, the hub architecture, the surroundings. nothing.

1. Doberman Flashlight Guards: this is elite tier guard, no questions asked. these guys understood the assignment. they don’t care that their coworkers are wearing jailbird attire or that some of them even come to work nude; they’re gonna wear that fucking tuxedo and rock it. the way they walk is so funny, the way they run too, and if they catch you they’ll just waste an entire round of bullets because they’ll howl and shoot at the sky. that’s a good doggy !! they’ve been working hard and they’ve been cashing Muggshot’s cheques, because they’ve always got that cigar in their mouths. i love them, 10/10

#i'm in a silly goofy mood can you tell?#my name is Tony de Killer B and i've been afraid of insects my whole life. stop stop stop where? where's the bee? THERE'S A BEE !?#how have the two first days of 2022 been for you? good or bad?#lmk and tell me your thoughts on my ranking #i wanna do more of these. i'm thinking i'm gonna rank the racers from the first game next or secondary characters #or maybe villain bossfight locations or missions idk #sly cooper #ranking

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astheroid · 4 years ago

Note

hi hi could i please request any sort of hurt/comfort with oikawa?? maybe reader and oikawa fight and then makeup idk lol :) can be a one shot or bullet points, whichever one ur feeling :3 thank you!!

“I’m sorry.”

⚠️Yelling, angst to fluff

You sighed, rubbing the crease between your eyebrows. “Tooru, you need to go home. It’s not safe to practice for this long.”

He turned around, eyes brimming with an emotion you didn’t quite recognize. “I don’t need you to tell me what’s safe, Y/N. I’m not some child you need to take care of.”

“I know that, but we’re getting worried about you, baby. It was Makki, Mattsun, and Iwa that asked me to come pick you up.”

“They don’t get it,” he spat, “none of you get it!”

“Get wha-”

“Get that I’m not talented like everyone else! You guys can’t understand that I NEED to work this hard. I’ll be leagues behind everyone else if I don’t!” He was shouting now, his volleyball discarded.

“Tooru, please calm down.” You said, reaching for his arm.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” He snarled, slapping your hand away.

You were starting to get annoyed now, your patience wearing thin.

“We’re just trying to help. There’s no reason for you to be so pissy.”

He scoffed. “If this is your version of help, I sure as hell don’t need it. Now leave me alone, I need to practice my serves.”

That stung. You knew he probably didn’t mean it, but your eyes were starting to water and your hands clenched at your sides.

“Fine. If you don’t need my help, then I’m leaving. Find one of your fangirls to encourage your unhealthy habits, because I’m not going to.” You hissed as you exited the gym.

You regretted your words as soon as your face hit the crisp night air. Even though he had said some hurtful things, you shouldn’t have said them back. On the way home, you pulled out your phone to send him a quick text.

-Sorry

-Get home soon, ok? Stay safe <3

Read

Arriving at your house, you unlocked the door and jumped onto your bed, falling asleep with your clothes still on.

School was quickly becoming awkward. Oikawa was avoiding you. He chose to sit with his volleyball team instead of his usual spot and pretended not to hear you when you talked to him. Frustrated and guilty, you decided to leave him alone.

When you returned home that day, all you could think about was how much you wanted to make it up to him.

You decided to buy some snacks and visit him, hoping he wouldn’t turn you away at his doorstep. You practiced what you would say the whole way there.

He opened the door to your hopeful expression.

“Tooru! Here, I-” He shut the door in your face. Your stomach dropped. As you slid down to sit next to his door, all you could think about was him hating you.

It was about fifteen minutes before his front door cracked open again, but you didn’t notice until you heard a soft gasp. Oikawa had poked his head out and was now staring at your crumpled form, arms hugging your knees.

“Y/N?” He asked hesitantly, “Are you okay?” Your head shot up.

“Tooru.” You breathed.

His smile was shaky. “You didn’t answer my question, silly.”

“I don’t know.”

Let’s go inside and talk about it, ok?” Oikawa said, opening the door fully.

You sat on his bed in silence as he played with his fingers.

After a little while, he cleared his throat.

“So… um. I’m sorry.”

“I’m the one who should be sorry, ‘Ru.” You said softly. “I didn’t mean it. I should’ve stayed and tried to help.”

He turned his head away from you, not offering a reply. You assumed he was mad until you heard quiet sniffles.

“‘Ru?”

“‘M sorry.”

You quietly put your arms around him. “What’s wrong, baby?” This time he turned around and buried his tear-filled face in your chest.

“I’m so sorry. I tho- I thought you were going to break up with me, so I av- avoided you so you couldn’t.” He choked out. “An’ now I feel terrible cuz you were just trying to apologize.” You could feel wet spots forming in the fabric of your shirt, but you couldn’t care less.

“It’s ok, Tooru. I’m not gonna break up with you.” You said, rubbing his back soothingly.

He pulled his head up and gave you a watery smile. “Good, because I don’t think my mom wants more flowers.”

“What?”

He stood up and grabbed a small vase filled with your favorite flowers. “I was going to give you these and say sorry, but I chickened out when I saw you.” He said, still wiping away his tears. You smiled widely. “That being said, I, Tooru Oikawa, humbly apologize for being incredibly rude to my wonderful, kind S/O.” He joked, getting down on one knee and presenting the flowers to you.

“Aw, thank you.”

“Seriously though,” He admitted, “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. Or hit you. Or told you to go away. I’ll listen next time, alright?”

You nodded. “Apology accepted, Trashykawa.”

“HEY!” He yelled, pulling you down onto his bed with a giggle.

“I’m just kidding,” You laughed against his shoulder. “I mean Prettykawa.”

“That’s better.” Oikawa crowed. “Y’know what I think would be best, though?”

“Hm?”

“Calling you Prettykawa, cuz that’s gonna be your name in a few years.”

“Cheeky bastard.” You muttered, but you couldn’t stop your cheeks from growing warm.

“It’s true, Y/N. You’re just too prideful to admit you love me.” He teased, raising his eyebrows.

“Nah, I’d tell you I love you anyday.”

“Say it now?”

“I love you, Tooru.”

“That’s better.” He said, and you pushed your face deeper into his chest. He placed a small kiss on the top of your head before whispering “I love you too, Y/N.”

You fell asleep wrapped in your boyfriend’s arms. You could talk about the argument more another day, but for now it was going to be alright.

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weelittleweasley · 4 years ago

Text

masquerade (part 3) (d.m.)

prompt: draco malfoy was your rival in slytherin house. both of you ambitious, bold, and daring. as one of the few pureblood slytherin families left, you promised yourself that you would continue your lineage, but not with scum like malfoy. instead, you would meet a suitor at the annual masquerade ball hosted by the malfoys each year. but what if your prospective suitor is someone you didn’t expect…

pairing: draco malfoy x fem! pureblood reader

warnings: language, 18+ sexual content, yelling and fighting, underage drinking, talks of nightmares, anxiety

word count: 6.7k

author note: if you would like to be added to the masquerade taglist, fill out this form please!

Pressed against the brick wall of the staircase, lips pressed to each other, frantically stealing kisses, jagged breathing as hands roam up and down your body, your fingers laced in his hair. His lip detach from yours to press hot kisses down your neck and jawline as you pant, trying to catch your breath, desperate for air. Your eyes are sealed shut as you relish in the feeling of his skin against yours.

You sigh as his lips reattach to yours, picking back where he left off. Draco’s hands trail up your sides and to your chest, groping your breasts outside of your shirt. You whine when he stops as you can feel his lips turn into a smirk. “I thought you hated me,” he mumbles against your lips.

He continues to kiss you down your jawline, leaving sloppy kiss. Your chest rises and falls heavily as you think to yourself. You wanted him. This felt so good, so right. But it went against everything you stood for. It went against everything you taught yourself when you first laid eyes on him. Draco was the enemy. The saboteur. Pretentious, evil, vile, loathsome, despicable. And yet, here you were, underneath him as he pressed heavy kisses against your delicate skin, leaving marks against your skin that claimed you as his.

For as long as you could remember, you hated Draco. If you told yourself months ago that this was the situation you found yourself in, you wouldn’t believe it. But you couldn’t deny that you loved every minute of it. Maybe you didn’t hate Draco? Maybe things were changing for the both of you? Was there more to him than just the side he let you see?

Breathlessly, you speak as he looks deep into your eyes, his pooled with lust, his hands firmly placed on your hips as he pressed his body close to yours. “I thought you found me intolerable,” you retort as he smirks.

The two of you just stand there, chests rising and falling heavily as you stare at each other. You don’t kiss again. You just look at each other like you did that night at the ball. His hands on your hips as yours rested on his chest. This was never supposed to happen. But you couldn’t change the past now. It was too late. What is done is done. There was no turning back. But the future was unclear. What did this mean for your rivalry? Was there one anymore?

As you stare into Draco’s eyes, you notice a shift. His eyes stop staring into yours with adoration. Something changes. He nervously gulps and his hands pull away from your body and he gently pushes your hands down from his chest. You’re confused by his sudden change in demeanor. “I’m sorry,” Draco tells you as he looks around, making sure that the coast was clear and no one saw what just happened. “This was a mistake.”

Your heart stops. “Sorry for what?” you ask, scoffing a little bit. You sure weren’t sorry for what just happened and you knew he wasn’t either.

Draco backs himself away from you and take a few steps down the stairs as you watch him in utter confusion. “It was heat of the moment,” he tells you as your smile fades. “There’s nothing between us, (Y/N). And there never will be,” he simply states as fact rather than a question. You look at him in disbelief and scoff, shaking your head. He sighs and turns towards you, a little annoyed. “You know nothing can happen between us. The ball was a fluke! What happened just then,” he points to the stairs where you had just kissed, “was a stupid mistake. We both got caught up and it was a slip on both our parts.”

You take a few steps down from the stairs and challenge him. “So you mean to tell me that you feel nothing towards me? Not ever?” you fold your arms across your chest in defense. There was no way he could stand there and deny everything that happened between you two. The progression of events and the things Draco were saying were not lining up. He was trying to protect himself at the expense of your integrity. Draco sighs and turns away from you, not bearing to look at you anymore. “Well, now that makes you something I never thought you were, Draco. A liar.”

Draco takes a step towards you, “You know it to be true, (Y/N). We are getting our feelings for each other confused after that night. We need to go our separate ways and go back to how things used to be. That’s what’s best for us.”

In pure fury now, without even registering it, you push his chest. “You do not get to decide what is best for me,” you point at him. “You have no right to tell me what I can and can’t do and what I can and can’t feel.” Draco looks at you, almost apologetically, but wipes it off quickly to replace it with a disgruntled look. “But you know what,” you sigh. “Maybe you’re right.” Draco furrows his brows. “Better to keep someone as self-absorbed and righteous as you at an arm’s distance,” you speak, surrendering yourself to the reality of the situation. The illusion that you conjured up of you and Draco maybe being together after the history you’ve had was childish and foolish. “Best for us to do what we do best. Compete against each other,” you speak softly as he gulps. “Best of luck, Malfoy. It’s a race to the top now. More than ever.”

And with that, you push past him and back to the party. A part of you wishes that Draco called out for your name like they did in those romantic movies, but this wasn't a romantic movie. This was real for you. This was a horrifying truth that you had to get past and move on with. It was showtime now and you weren’t going to miss your shot.

Putting the stairwell incident behind you, you make your way back to the party and walk directly to the drinks table and pour yourself a cup full of fire whiskey, drinking it in a few goes, the sensation burning your throat, warming your chest, and making your stomach churn. You’d come to regret it in the morning, but now you needed something to distract you.

You watch as people still happily mind their own business, dancing and chatting away, smiles on everyone’s faces. You wished that you were carefree as that, but it wasn’t in your nature to let go so easily. Letting go was hard. Especially when it is linked to your past and how you were raised. You were taught letting go meant putting your guard down and that was a sign of weakness. You needed to protect yourself because if you didn’t, who else will?

Shaking your head, you push aside your thoughts. You have no motivation to go dance and pretend like nothing was wrong. But you didn’t want to be alone in your dormitory after what happened.

Walking over to Daphne who chats to a few people in the corner of the party, you place a hand on her shoulder. “Hey,” you quietly interject. “Would you mind getting some fresh air with me?” you ask her.

Daphne immediately notices the look in your eyes. “Absolutely,” she tells you as she excuses herself. The two of you link arms and walk out of the common room. “Be careful, prefects are monitoring the halls since it’s past curfew.”

You give her a smile, “You’re forgetting who you’re talking to.” As a prefect yourself, other prefects weren’t going to question your motives. “Besides, if they give me shit for it, we can just cast an enchantment on them and poof, it’s like it never happened.”

Daphne shakes her head as you walk through the halls and eventually find yourself outside. The air is cold against your hot face, but it’s refreshing and revitalizing. You sigh as the wind blows against your cheeks as you across your arms for warmth. You remain quiet with just your thoughts, silently analyzing what just happened. It all happened so quickly, giving you little to no time to process any of what just happened.

Placing a hand on yours, Daphne gives you a sad smile. “Is everything alright?” she asks, genuinely concerned for you. If there was one thing she hated, it was seeing someone she loved in pain.

You turn to Daphne with tears in your eyes that threaten to fall out, but before they can, you wipe them away. “It won’t ever work between us. And I was silly for thinking it could,” you confess. You didn’t need to give context. Daph knew exactly what this was about. “I was right in the first place. It’s illogical. We’re oil and water. Fire and ice. When one of us prevails, the other gets hurt.”

“You weren’t silly for thinking that, (Y/N),” Daphne stands in front of you to look you in the eyes, focusing on you. “In fact, you were brave for trying. You know I love Draco, but that boy is a coward. You are quite the opposite,” she says as you let out a light chuckle. “Consider it a bullet dodged.”

Shaking your head, you sigh, “You’re right. Thank you.” She nods and squeezes your hands. “I just wanna stand here for a little while before going back in. Is that okay?”

Daphne smiles, “Of course. Take as much time as you need.”

The two of you stand outside the castle, enjoying the cool winter breeze on your skin, the light of the moon illuminating your faces as Daphne rubs your back comfortingly. You rest your head on her shoulder as you exhale a shaky breath. Things just got a lot more complicated.

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

Avoiding Draco was virtually impossible. The two of you had the same duties, same study schedule, same classes. So instead of trying to meander your way around seeing him, you approached the situation like you did for years. With vitriol and no compassion. You didn’t talk to him, you didn’t make eye contact with him, you just pretended he didn’t exist. And him the same to you.

It made for awkward encounters that people definitely picked up on, but no one wanted to ask you the reason why and you didn’t want to explain the reason why.

Prefect duties with Draco became something you dreaded. Before any of this mess happened, the two of you would make a competition out of it. Who helped more first years? Who finished patrolling first? Who completed all tasks first? Who got the the prefect bathroom first? But now, you remained silent and minded your own business, but still snuck glances at each other, making sure that the other was still on task.

Tonight’s prefect duties were almost all complete. You had finished patrolling your hallways and rotated your shift with a Ravenclaw prefect. You loosened the Slytherin tie around your neck and let your hair down from the ponytail it was being held up in. Letting out a sigh of relief, you fluff your hair and rub your face. Today was exhausting and all you wanted to do was go into your room and go to bed.

You walked into the Slytherin common room, fully prepared to do so, but you stop in your tracks when you see a first year student sat on the couch, sniffing to themselves. “Hello,” you gently greet the student. “Why are you up at this hour? It’s quite late,” you slowly approach the small boy who looks up at you, tear stained cheeks and red eyes signifying he’s been crying for a while. “Can I sit down next to you?” you ask.

He nods gently and scoots over for you to sit next to him. Carefully, you sit next to him and give him a soft smile. “What’s your name?” you ask him.

“Phillip,” he gently replies, wiping his eyes on the cuffs of his pajamas.

You give him a friendly smile and extend a hand to him. “Hi Phillip, I’m (Y/N). I’m the Slytherin prefect,” you tell him, letting him know that you were here to help him. He could trust you. He gives you a small smile and shakes your hand delicately, still hesitant. “Would you like to talk about what is making you upset? Or would you prefer me to sit here and listen? Or we don’t have to talk at all,” you offer him options, letting him chose what will make him the most comfortable.

Phillip sniffles. “I had a bad dream. But I don’t want to talk about it.”

You nod your head, “We don’t have to talk about it. That’s alright.” Phillip nods his head and plays with the hem of his pajamas, kicking his feet back and forth. “Bad dreams happen sometimes. But that’s all they are. Dreams. It’s not real,” you tell him. “You know what makes me feel better?” you tell him as he looks up at you, wondering what you were going to say. “I think about all of the exciting things I’m going to do in the morning. Do you have any fun things planned?”

A small smile forms on the small boy’s face which is soon replaced with tiny giggles. “Professor McGonagall is taking us all to Hogsmeade tomorrow morning,” he beams.

You give him an excited gasp. “You see! That sounds like loads of fun!” He laughs at your excitement for him. “There’s going to be so much to do! You can buy sweets, browse shoppes, play with your friends in the snow! That’s going to be a lot of fun, Phillip. Man, I wish I was you!”

Phillip giggles, “I guess you’re right.”

“’Course I am!” you tease him as he smiles. “But in order to have the most fun you possibly can, you need to get a good night’s rest,” you tell him as he nods his head. “Do you think you’ll be able to do that, Phillip?”

He takes a deep breath in and sighs with a smile, “I think so.”

Giving him a smile, you speak, “Sounds like a plan.” You offer him a high five that he gladly accepts. “Alright, my friend, go run off and have the sweetest dreams,” you tell him.

Phillip springs to his feet and runs off to his dormitory with a smile. “Goodnight, (Y/N)!” he calls as he disappears up the stairs.

You smile to yourself, looking off in his direction. Your heart swells. You loved helping out others when you could. It made you feel like you were destined to do this.

“I didn't realize how good you were with kids,” a voice speaks.

Letting out a gentle squeal, you place a hand over your heart and turn around, surprised by the sudden voice. Your eyes land on Draco who stands before you, hands tucked into his pockets. He stood and looked at you with kind eyes. You just stared at him blankly, not giving into him this time. Not again. You couldn’t bare it. “You scared me,” you simply state as you rise from the couch, ready to leave.

Draco speaks as you walk in the opposite direction towards the girls’ dormitories, “You would make a great Healer.”

You stop in your tracks. He remembered? From that conversation you had in the gardens. You tell your heart to stop fluttering in your chest as you close your eyes. Now was not the time for flattery. You were exhausted and you needed to go back to sleep. Turning towards him, you look at him, “What are you trying to do?”

This was a genuine question. Was he trying to make amends? Nights before he told you to stick to doing what you both did best. Hating each other. And now he wanted to put that one pause? That’s not how things worked.

Draco sighed, “I’m just trying to have a conversation rather than ignoring each other. Merlin, (Y/N), before the ball even happened we would talk to each other during prefect duties.”

You laughed, “We didn’t talk, we argued.” Which was true. The two of you arguing or challenging each other during prefect duties, taking turns taking a stab at the other’s pride or ego. “You wanted the relationship we had before the ball and I’m trying to do that. You on the other hand are standing in my way, Malfoy. So get out of my way and move on.”

But neither of you move. Again, you just stand there completely enraged at him, and he just staring at you with guilt in his eyes. A sight you’ve never seen before, but you don’t show any sympathy for him. He did this. He did this to you. You couldn’t bother feeling sorry for him.

“I didn’t mean for things to end up like this,” he says quietly. You scoff. “Genuinely, I mean it.”

“You should have said that a long time ago, Malfoy. You’re seven years too late. The damage is done,” you spit at him. “The ball was stupid and us coming together over it was stupid. The ball was my chance to find someone who I could have a partnership with. We ruined it for each other and now we’ll have to wait another year until it rolls around again. And next year, I will be actively avoiding you.”

Draco opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. He tries again, but this time is interrupted. The common room door opens and in the doorway stands Tracy Davis. “Draco, are we still meeting in the astronomy tower?” she asks with a stupid girlish grin on her face.

Draco looks at her and then back at you and then back at Tracy. He gulps. “I’ll be there soon, darling. Go on without me and I’ll meet you up there,” he smiles as she giggles and closes the door. “I have to go,” he looks at the floor, too embarrassed to look at you.

With a scoff, you speak, “You work quickly, Malfoy.” He looks up at you through his eyelashes, still embarrassed. “It’s fine. No need to wait up for me. If this date of yours goes well, maybe you won’t need to be in attendance to next year’s ball. Enjoy yourself,” you speak before walking up to the girl’s dormitory.

“(Y/N)!” he calls after you, like in those romantic movies you would watch with your mother, but you don’t turn around. You continue to walk away from him. And you don’t let yourself cry this time. Instead, you walk away faster.

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

Weeks have past since you and Draco last spoke in the common room. You had made it very clear to him that you had no intention of wanting to even talk to him, even if it was competitive banter like you used to. Things were different now and there was no going back to the way things once were. And you had to be okay with that.

You had spent more time surrounding yourself with your studies and your friends, maintaining your good grades and good standing with your friends. Daphne knew that this drastic change was affecting you and she tried her best to be as supportive as she possibly could. Pansy on the other hand, clueless to your situation, simply kept to herself about your change in behavior around Draco, focusing on you and your friendship, which you always thanked her for.

Like always, you found yourself in the library again, returning books that you were finished studying from and reading, walking through the stacks and returning them to their rightful shelves. As you walked through the library, you thought to yourself of your upcoming assignments. Potions exam coming up which you needed to receive an excellent grade on in order for your average to rise another point so you could surpass Draco in Potions. Defense Against the Dark Arts exam coming up which meant you needed to maintain your average, seeing that you and Draco had the same average. Divinations class you knew you had to participate more in in order to get in Trelawney’s good graces so you could gently ask her to bump up your previous exam grade two points to beat Draco’s average.

As you walked around returning your books, you can’t help but have your ears perk up when you hear a certain girlish giggle coming from the back of the library. You told yourself to ignore it, but when you heard the words, “Stop it, Draco, I’m trying to concentrate!” your curiosity got the best of you.

Not to draw attention to yourself, you slithered through the stacks quietly, pretending to put away books, when in reality, you peaked through the cracks of the stacks in order to catch a glimpse of what was going on at that back table.

You knew it was wrong of you to be eavesdropping on a conversation that wasn’t yours, but honestly, after everything Draco had put you through, you didn’t give a damn at this point.

Peaking through the stacks, you see Tracy Davis hovered over her notebook, scribbling away as Draco teasingly plucked the book from underneath her. She squealed with glee and clawed back for her notebook. “Give it back, Draco!” she whined at him with a smirk on her cherry red lips as you rolled your eyes. Her voice rippled through you like nails on a chalkboard. So shrill, so...annoying.

Draco held the notebook over his head like he once did with you that time in the stacks, making sure it was just out of her reach. “Make me, Davis,” he teased her as she giggled throwing her head back in exaggerated laughter.

“Oh, please,” you whispered to yourself as you hastily threw a book back in the stacks.

Their banter loudly continued on, making surrounding students roll their eyes and groan in frustration. This whole act that they were putting on was so childish. You knew that Draco was not like this around girls; this was simple an act. A facade. A ploy to make you jealous. And even though you hated to admit it, it was working.

With another shrill laugh, Tracy squealed, “Stop it, Draco!” as he tickled her sides.

You groaned, “That’s it.” Walking out of the stacks and right up to their table with confidence, you spoke, “Last time I checked, this was a library. People are working. This isn’t a place to squeal and giggle and have a tickle fight,” you say with disgust laced in every word. “So, pipe down or leave.”

Tracy’s cheeks flash bright red as she looks away from you and slowly turns back to her work. Draco on the other hand just stares at you, eyes raking you up and down, tongue pressed against his cheek. “Last time I checked you weren’t the librarian,” he hissed.

Your blood was boiling with fury as you snapped back at him, “Shouldn’t you be ass-kissing Professor Snape right now? Or is that appointment in another hour?” You could see the utter anger in Draco’s clenched jaw as you smirked in contentment. “That’s what I thought. So on behalf of the rest of the entire library, shut it.” You flash them both a sarcastic smile and walk away, rolling your eyes.

People watch you walk away in awe of your little fit of rage, but you don’t care. You just let the smirk on your face do all the talking as you walk through the library to the back towards the restricted area. You had a note from your professor to return the book you had took from there as you slid past the rope and through the stacks.

Your eyes scanned over the spines of the books as you looked to place the book you had borrowed in its proper place.

As you place the book back, you hear a voice speak, “Could you leave your fits of rage for somewhere private rather than doing them in front of the entirety of the Hogwarts library?”

A smile comes onto your lips as you turn your head to see Draco standing beside you, hands buried in his pockets and icy eyes freezing you. “You’re not supposed to be here without a note from a professor,” you simply state.

He scoffs, “Oh, fuck off. Since when have you followed any rules.”

“Since I got to this damned school. At least I know I can win fair and square without cheating my way through or without the help of my father,” you mimic him as he takes a daring step near you. “Since when have you cared about people seeing us argue? We’ve done it for seven years and just now you have a problem with it?” you spit at him as you walk away from him, deeper to the back of the restricted section.

Draco follows you deeper into the restricted section, walking and talking, “I would rather keep our conversations private from now on rather than making them public. Especially when I’m in front of a girl that I’m interested in.”

Your mouth goes dry when he says that. Tracy Davis and Draco Malfoy? Yeah, right. That would never work out. For starters, Tracy wasn’t even a pureblood, so if any relationship developed out of that, Lucius Malfoy would stop it from going any further. Not to mention, Tracy Davis was a stage nine clinger, something Draco couldn’t stand. For Merlin’s sake, when Pansy fancied Draco and she merely looked at him, he would get sick to his stomach.

Without looking at him, you speak plainly, “Poor Tracy. Stuck with a foul fool like you.”

You disappear behind a stack of books as Draco follows, grabbing your arm and spinning you around to face him. “Just because you’re jealous of Tracy doesn’t mean you have to take it out on either of us. Surely, you’re more mature than that or is that another thing I am mistaken of?” he sneers.

The adrenaline pumping through your veins was unlike anything else. You wanted to rip his head off. Draco’s words were cruel and hurtful and you were so close to hexing him and getting it over with. “For Merlin’s sake, can you just leave me be!” you pull at your roots. “You simply cannot just leave me the fuck alone ever! You can’t just let sleeping dogs lie. No. You have to have the last word, you have to be right, you have to always pour salt in the wound. And it’s always my wound. So how about this, Malfoy? I fucking hate you. I really do. Nothing excites me more than the thought of you never being in my life again after we leave this school. I can’t wait to live a life when I never have to look upon your fucking face again and feel the way I do about you!”

Draco stands there, arms across and a shit eating grin on his face. He was loving this meltdown that you were having. It was a performance for him. “Yeah? And how do you feel about me?” he eggs you on.

“I just told you! I fucking hate you,” you yell. “I hate that way you look at me with your blue eyes that stare into mine, I hate the way you smile after every nasty thing you say, I hate the way you touch me and pretend that nothing happened, I hate the way you simply brush me off and pretend like I mean nothing to you when I fucking know I do, Draco! I know I mean something to you, but you are just too pathetic to admit it!” you confess, your voice cracking.

You never meant for all of those words to come out of your mouth, but they just spilled out and couldn’t stop. You are breathing heavy as you feel a lump in your throat, but you don’t dare cry in front of him.

Draco on the other hand was just standing there, taking it all in. He didn’t realize how much you observed him. How you carefully analyzed his every move. How brilliant you were when you spoke. It was like poetry the way you talked, even if it was talking down to him. “What do you mean....that you mean something to me?” he asks for clarification.

With a deep inhalation, you take a step closer to him, with each step a warning. “I know that you are just too egotistical and prideful to admit that I mean something more to than just a school rival. Because you are scared to admit that you felt something at the ball. You are scared to admit that you wanted me at that stupid party. You are too scared to admit that even though we’re just eighteen you feel something for me. You are too scared to confess that you are falling in love with me like I am with you,” you reveal and as you say it your eyes widen and your mouth falls agape. Draco’s eyes widen and he stares at you in complete and utter shock.

A confession. A declaration of love. In the most warped sense of the phrase. But it was a declaration nonetheless.

You stutter, trying to find the right words to defend yourself, back peddling now. Mouth agape, “I-I-I didn’t mean that, um, I, uh,” you stutter. “I don’t know what I just said, I-I blurted out something I don’t know.”

Draco speaks, “You’re falling in love with me?” His eyes search yours, but you refuse to look at him. He gently grabs your face in his hands and forces your gaze up to his. His blue eyes melt under your fiery ones. “Do you truly mean that?”

You are panicking. What were you supposed to say? Tell a lie? Tell him that all of it meant nothing to you when on the contrary, what happened at the ball was everything you could have wanted? “Draco, I...” you trail off.

“I need to know, (Y/N),” he states, eyes digging into yours, prying the truth from you. “I need to know if you’re falling in love with me, now more than ever.”

Your breath hitches in your throat and your heart stops. “Do you love me, Draco?” you retort, hoping he would say something, anything. “Please.”

Without wasting another moment, Draco’s lips crash onto yours and you immediately kiss him back. His hands cup your face as your hands rest on his forearms, pulling him in closer. The kiss is gentle, but desperate and passionate. It wasn’t quite the answer you were looking for, but in a way it was better. His lips were warm and soft, tasting of peppermint as he pulled you close. Mumbling against his lips, you speak, “Draco, I-”

He shakes his head, “Don’t say another word.”

His lips find yours again, this time more desperate than the last. You wrap your arms around his neck as his slither around your waist. Your lips are pressed firmly against each others before his hands squeeze your bottom, making you gasp, allowing him to slide his tongue into your mouth. His tongue massages yours as you moan softly into his mouth, your fingers tangling themselves into his white blonde hair. His lips press hot kisses down your jawline and neck as you lean back, allowing your flesh to be exposed to his lips.

Frustratedly, he undoes the first few buttons of your shirt before groaning and ripping the last four buttons off. Too distracted to care, you chuckle at his eagerness. Draco stares at your chest, looking at how your breasts spill out of your bra. He places a kiss to either one of them before pushing your shirt off of you and onto the floor, your bra following shortly after.

Mimicking his previous actions, you peel Draco’s shirt off his body to reveal his surprisingly chiseled abdomen. Quidditch really worked wonders on him, huh? Your painted fingernails trace his torso as he smirks before he starts unbuckling his belt as you hastily peel off your underwear. The two of you understood that you didn’t have much time before someone would wonder where you two went or what you were doing. This needed to be quick.

Draco pulls you close to him as you breathily giggle, him smirking. “Jump,” he commands as you do so, him hoisting you up as you wrap your legs around his torso. He grabs a condom from his pants pocket as rips it open before pulling his boxers down and rolling the latex onto his hard member. “You’re going to have to be quiet for me, darling. Can you do that for me?” he huskily whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You nod your head eagerly. Draco presses you up against the bookcase as you hold onto his shoulders. “Good. Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks, looking you in your eyes deeply, making sure that you really wanted this.

You nod again, “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my whole life,” you pant as he smiles. He lines himself up to your entrance, but before he can push himself in you grab his chin and force his gaze up to yours. “Before you do,” you tease. “I don’t want you calling me darling,” you demand as he furrows his brows. “You called her darling. I want a nickname that’s just for me and me only.”

Draco smirks and leans over into your ear. He hums, “Alright then. How’s princess?” he slowly pushes himself into you as you sigh in pleasure, digging your fingernails into his shoulder blades. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Slowly, Draco rocks in and out of you, letting you adjust to his size before picking up his speed. His hard cock rolling in and out of your wetness makes your eyes screw shut and lean your head against the bookcase. You were in complete euphoria as you feel him move in and out. You wanted to moan out his name in pleasure, but at risk of getting caught you bite down on your bottom lip and whimper. “Shit,” you whisper as Draco breathes heavily as he pumps in and out of you. “Fucking hell.”

Draco holds onto your hips tightly as he fucks you, hips rolling against yours as he fucks you against the bookcase. The books around you shake from his thrusting motions, but neither of you could care less. “Fuck, princess, you feel fucking incredible,” he breathes out as he presses kisses into your collarbones.

You hold onto his shoulders as he continues to rock in and out, his speed increasing with each thrust, driving you mad. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing slow circles into it, sending you over the edge. “Right there, baby,” you encourage him. He continues at that speed, rubbing your clit and fucking you. “Don’t stop, don’t stop.”

Draco buries his face in your neck as you tangle your fingers into his hair, pulling gently. “You’re gonna make me come, princess,” he whispers in your ear as you whimper underneath him. “I want you to finish all over me.”

With a few more strokes, you feel a familiar sensation of a knot in the pit of your stomach and your walls tighten around his throbbing dick. “I’m close, Draco,” you whisper.

“Come, princess,” he nibbles on your delicate flesh. “Come all over my dick.”

And there you were, a writhing mess against the bookcase in the library, holding onto his shoulder for dear life as your head rolls back and mouth falls agape. Draco’s hand flies over your mouth to prevent moans from escaping your mouth, even though he wished he could hear you scream out his name in euphoria. He watches your eyes flutter close as you finish, the sight unlike anything he has ever seen before. Moments later, Draco finishes, still pumping in and out of you, riding out both of your highs as you let out muffled moans.

The two of you are panting, breathless messes as you come down from your climaxes. Draco gently puts you down, holding onto your waist as you try to stand, legs still shaking. He chuckles and pecks your lips gently. “Merlin, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he breathes as you look up at him with a soft smile. “I don’t know how I didn’t recognize those eyes when I first saw you at the ball. You have the most captivating eyes.”

You peck his lips gently before the two of you quickly toss your clothes on again and fix your appearances to look somewhat normal, even though both of your faces were flushed.

The two of you stay in silence for a little while before you speak up. “You didn’t answer my question, Malfoy,” you nudge him as he fixes his tie. He furrows his brows, confused. “I asked you if you were falling in love with me.” Draco looks into your eyes and he breathes out an uncomfortable laugh before buckling his belt. You look at him, searching his face for an answer. “Draco...” you trail off, your worries starting to bubble in your chest. “Draco, I need to know if you do.”

You didn’t want to force him into saying yes, but Merlin, you need to know if you just had sex with a man that you confessed your love to but didn’t feel the same. Draco refuses to make eye contact with you as he runs his fingers through his hair, fixing it as anxiety pools in your stomach and chest. “I told you that I was falling in love with you...and you haven’t told me how you feel yet. All you did was have sex with me,” you speak. “Look at me.”

Draco looks at you with anxiety and guilt in his eyes as your heart sinks. “Please tell me the truth,” you say.

He sighs, “Was what we did not an answer?”

“You’re avoiding the question, Malfoy,” you speak now growing frustrated.

Draco notices the name change and he gulps. “(Y/N)...I don’t know.” You inhale a shaky breath. “I really don’t know.”

You are in disbelief. In shock, you start laughing a little bit, unable to fathom the series of events that just unfolded. “But you know enough to have sex with me, no if, ands, or buts.”

“It’s not like that-”

“No, it’s exactly like that,” you hold your place. Draco lets out a defeated sigh and looks at you sadly. “So, that’s it? You...you wanted to get a confession out of me, that’s it? You wanted me to admit my feelings, fuck me, and then leave me high and dry. This whole charade...this was a part of your grand plan, wasn’t it?” you start to work yourself up.

Draco shakes his head, “Not at all, (Y/N). It’s not like that at all.”

“Well, it seems like it, Draco!” you exclaim, tossing your hands in the air, surrendering. “This whole facade you put on. That’s all it was. A facade. It was a whole lie. And I’m a fool for thinking that it was real.” Draco’s face drops and he reaches out for you as you take a step back. “Well, you know what. You win, Draco. I accept defeat. You win. Congratulations, Draco Malfoy. You’ve beat me at your own game. I hope you’re happy,” you tell him.

“(Y/N), stop please.”

“This is the last time you get to hurt me, Malfoy. But now I see you for who you truly are. Your mask has finally come off and now I see you for the coward you truly are.”

Without staying any longer, you run out of the restricted section, abandoning everything. Tears pool in your eyes as you leave, walking out of the library. You don’t even given him the chance to call out your name. You didn’t want to know that there was hope for the two of you. You shook your head, shame on you for not knowing better. He won. Game over.

But this time, you had ripped off his mask and saw his true colors. The masquerade was over.

------

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queenxxxsupreme · 4 years ago

Note

Arthur Morgan request where just the reader being there when Arthur comes back after being tortured and caring for him?

A/N: I know I already did one like this (Goodbye Kisses) but I really love this whole mission/scene in the game so I did another one :) I hope you like it babe!

Warnings: nothing out of game canon, mentions of Arthur’s wound, potential spoilers for chapter 3, spoilers for Blessed Are the Peacemakers

***

“How long are you gonna stand out here?”

You turned your head to see Hosea approaching you. You stood where the hitching posts for the horses were, your eyes scanning the trail commonly used to enter camp. Your arms were crossed and your shoulders were tense. Your jaw had been locked until Hosea spoke to you.

You let out a small breath through your mouth.

“Until he comes back.”

“You know him, Y/N. Always out and traveling.” Hosea came to stand beside you.

“But he didn’t tell me he would be going anywhere after meeting with Colm, Hosea. He would’ve told me if he had plans to go somewhere else.”

“Oh I’m sure Morgan don’t tell you everything, sweetheart.”

You looked over your shoulder at Micah.

“He’s a grown man. He doesn’t need a woman breathing down his neck the way you do.”

“This is none of your concern, Micah.” Hosea told him, glaring at the man.

“I’m just trying to calm Miss Y/N’s nerves, Hosea.” Micah put his hands up as he came to stand next to you. “We don’t want her worryin’ her pretty little self to death now, do we?”

You cringed at his words, your stomach churning.

“Come get something to eat, Y/N.” Hosea turned his attention back to you. “It’s been a long day. In the morning if he’s not back, I’ll send Charles and John out for him.”

“I will in a minute.” You nodded, giving him a little smile.

“I’ll get you a bowl. Better not let it get cold.”

He walked away, leaving you alone with Micah Bell.

“You know, I don’t think he’s coming back.” Micah took a swig out of the liquor bottle in his hand.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s a dangerous world out there, sweetheart. Wouldn’t expect a little filly like you to understand.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Moving on is probably what’s best for you.”

You gritted your teeth together, your eyes falling on the trailhead. Your nails dug into your bicep as your mind raced with endless scenarios.

“Arthur would want that for you. He’d want you to be happy.” Micah reached out to brush his fingers over your hair.

You swatted his hand away, turning to face him in the same instant.

“Don’t put your goddamn hands on me, Micah Bell.”

“You’re a feisty one.” He smirked. “I like that.”

“What’s that in the woods?” Mary-Beth’s voice caught your attention.

Your head snapped in the direction of the woods, eyes almost frantically finding the trailhead.

Arthur’s horse moved along the trail at a walking pace. Something- or someone -was on its back hunched over. The horse stopped and Arthur’s body slipped off, hitting the ground with a thud.

Time slowed down. Your heartbeat echoed in your ears. You could barely hear Mary-Beth and Karen shout Arthur’s name. You weren’t sure when Dutch had come to stand next to you, but even his voice sounded distant when he yelled.

Soon, there was a small crowd of people gathered around Arthur.

You couldn’t move, too afraid to find the man dead on the ground. Your heart was in your throat and you felt light headed. But then Arthur spoke and you could suddenly breathe again.

“I told you it was a setup, Dutch.”

You found yourself sprinting to him, roughly shoving Bill to the side.

“Move! Move!” Your voice was weak at first but then it became more demanding and almost hostile. “Back up! Give him some space!”

“Do what the woman said!” Dutch’s voice resonated better than yours and the crowd listened better to his words rather than your aggressive pushes and shoves.

You finally got to the center of the circle, finding Mrs. Grimshaw looking down at him.Your eyes met Arthur’s and tears blurred your vision. You forced them back. You didn’t even get a chance to say anything to Arthur before Dutch was shouting orders at Grimshaw, Pearson, and Swanson.

You were still trying to process what you had just seen, to process the state that you had seen Arthur in.

Pearson and Dutch took Arthur to his tent while Swanson and Grimshaw followed.

Once again, you were stuck in place, left alone, and unable to move.

The lump in your chest was expanding, pushing its way into your throat. Your hands hurt so bad from how tight you were curling your fingers into fists.

A hand on your shoulder made you jolt. It was Charles.

“Are you okay?”

You couldn’t find your voice immediately.

“I-I’m…. He’s- Arthur-He’s-,”

“He’s here now.” Charles cut you off, his quiet baritone soothing. “Go see him. I’m sure he’d rather see your face than Swanson’s.”

You nodded, forcing your legs into motion.

Swanson was just stepping out of Arthur’s tent when you arrived. He whispered something incoherent to Dutch and Hosea. Then their eyes fell on you.

“Y/N.” Hosea said your name as if to announce your presence to everyone else.

“Can I go in?” You gestured to the tent.

“Of course, of course. You need anything at all, give us a holler.”

As they left the tent to go to a nearby fire, you slipped into the tent.

Mrs. Grimshaw looked at you, offering you a little smile.

“How-How is he?” You made sure to keep your eyes on her. You couldn’t look at Arthur, not yet. You weren’t ready to look at how hurt he was in the oil lamp light.

“It’s hard to tell right now, darlin.’” She whispered, though Arthur could hear her. “He’s got a bad wound to his shoulder. Needs cleaned. There might be more but he’s stubborn. Didn’t want to talk about what hurt. Just kept askin’ for you.”

You nodded.

“I can clean him up. Just-Just get me what I need.”

“I’ll get it to you right away.”

You watched Grimshaw leave, taking your bottom lip between your teeth. Your stomach was twisting up into knots. Your palms were clammy as you made fists by your sides. The only thing you could hear was the sound of your heart thumping in your chest and ears.

“Pumpkin.” Arthur’s voice was raspy.

Instinctually, you turned your head to look at him. The second your eyes fell on him, the tears you had been so desperately fighting escaped.

“Oh, pumpkin.” He tried to sit up but winced, his face contorted with pain.

“Don’t you dare try to get up, Arthur Morgan.” Though you meant to sound stern, your voice quivered.

“Don’t cry, pumpkin.” Arthur patted the bed next to him.

You moved to his side, carefully sitting down on the mattress next to him. You placed your hand on his chest, needing to feel him, to know for sure that he was okay.

His skin was so pale and his shoulder wound looked awful. He didn’t look like he should’ve been alive.

Arthur took your hand from his chest and kissed your knuckles.

“I-Arthur, I thought-,”

“I know.” He stopped you, giving your hand a little squeeze. “M’sorry for worryin’ ya.”

You shook your head, bringing your free hand up to wipe your cheeks.

“Arthur, I was scared I was never going to see you again.”

“That’s silly talk. Ain’t nothin’ gonna keep me from you. You know that.”

“Y/N?” Grimshaw said your name, wanting to announce her arrival before entering.

“Come in, Susan.” You turned your attention to her.

She walked in with a bowl of water, a few towels over her shoulder, and a couple other bottles tucked under her arm.

“Are you gonna let Miss Y/N help you get cleaned up so you can get better for us, Mr. Morgan?”

“M’gonna try, Mrs. Grimshaw.” He let out a little sigh.

“Well you better try real hard. We need you to get better. This camp can’t operate properly without you.”

“That’s mighty kind of you to say.”

“Only speakin’ the truth.” She placed the items down on the end table and placed her hand on your shoulder. “You let me know if you need a hand with him.”

“Thank you.” You watched her leave.

“Hey, pumpkin?”

“Yes, Arthur?” You looked back at him. His eyes were slowly closing but he seemed to be fighting the urge to fall asleep. “Arthur Morgan, you can’t sleep just yet.”

“I know, I know.” He brought his right hand up to rub his eyes, wincing when he accidentally bumped the cut below his eye. “M’not trying to.”

“Let’s get you cleaned up then so you can get to bed.” You pulled the knife off of your hip and moved to the side of the bed. Arthur watched you, trusting you enough to know you wouldn’t hurt him.

“Just gonna get your union suit off of you.”

“Guess I’m lucky you know how to use a knife.”

“Don’t move and we’ll be fine.” You teased a little.

You unbuttoned the chest of his union suit, then used the knife to cut the arms.

In the dim light provided by the oil lamps, you could see dark blue and purple bruises on his sides and along his ribcage. You’d have to check on those later. For now, you needed to tend to his shoulder wound.

“Already took the bullet out. You don’t gotta dig around in there.”

“Good. You’re still not gonna like this.” You picked up a bottle of liquor that rested on the ground next to the bed.

“Shit.” Arthur mumbled.

“I’m sorry.” You murmured.

“It’s fine, pumpkin. You gotta do it.”

You picked up a towel Grimshaw had brought and began to pour a decent amount of the liquor on to the wound. Arthur tensed up, his fingers curling around the bedding beneath him.

“Ah, fuck!”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, darlin’.” You repeated softly, gently wiping away the excess liquor that spilled down his arm. It broke your heart to know it was hurting him, but this would clean the wound and hopefully keep it from getting infected.

You moved towards the chest at the foot of the bed. Arthur’s eyes followed you.

“You’re awfully quiet.”

You said nothing.

“Usually you’re always askin’ me questions about where I been and who I met on my travels. What animals I ran into.”

“I know what animals you ran into.” You pulled a roll of clean bandages from the chest then returned to his side. “I-I don’t know that I can handle it tonight, Arthur.”

“Pumpkin, everything’s fine-,”

“Everything is not fine, Arthur!” You cut him off, raising your voice as you looked down at him. “You are not fine! You don’t sound fine! You sound half fucking dead and you look worse than that! All because Micah thought there was some sort of rekindling this fucking fued between Dutch and Colm!”

Arthur stayed silent.

You unraveled the bandages, calming down just a little so you no longer yelled at him.

“I swear, Arthur. I’ve never seen Dutch make more stupid decisions than he has since we’ve taken in Micah Bell.”

“Micah’s got that effect on people.”

“It’s funny you think this is some joke, Arthur.” You shook your head, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to him. “You think this is some joke when you almost didn’t make it home-,”

“Hey.” He firmly stopped you, brows drawing together. “Nothin’ was gonna stop me from makin’ it home to you. I already said that. I know you were scared and I know no matter how much I tell you you had no reason to be scared it won’t make a difference. But I’m here now aren’t I?”

“Barely.” You murmured.

“Well I ain’t leavin’ this camp until I’m a hundred and ten percent better. That could be weeks.” He paused for a moment to let the words sink in. “Weeks of me not leavin’ your side for jobs or for travelin’ days away.”

A little smile began to form on your lips.

“Weeks of me followin’ you around like a lost dog.”

“That sounds pleasant.”

Arthur chuckled.

You began to wrap his shoulder, the smile still lingering on your lips.

“I like that idea.”

“Maybe I’ll have to get hurt more often.”

“Arthur.” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Just jokin’ with you, pumpkin.”

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If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #Arthur Morgan fic #Arthur Morgan ask #Arthur Morgan #arthur morgan oneshot #Arthur Morgan x reader #rdr2 fic #kacey answers

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skellebonez · 4 years ago

Note

16 & 26 with Huntsman X Sandy, LET'S GO

I HAD TO WRITE THIS IMMEDIATE AFTER EPISODE 8 I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS. YOU AND @kitkat1003 DID THIS TO ME. I WROTE THIS PAST 3 AM. I finished it in 30 minutes after I got online again. I want to write MORE so consider this just the start of another ongoing series of prompts I guess.

Obvious SPOILERS for S2E8.

I let you win./You don’t hate me.

Huntsman could not believe that he was doing this. But... everything was off. Nothing about what had happened since the Lunar New Year Festival had felt right to him, and after he retrieved the Demon Revealing Mirror his bad feelings about the entire situation was just farther confirmed. Now, however... now he had next to no trust in the person who was pulling all their strings. Not after her non-answer to his questions.

So now he was here. Out in the open. Back at the docks where he first got a good look at the man he had a recent encounter with. On the boat where he saw him and in front of his door. Huntsman knew he was inside because he had watched him come home.

He wish he knew what his name was, at the very least. He'd just been calling him Blue or Big Guy or something similar in his mind. Said as much during their last encounter. Hopefully what he had found after he had returned meant that there was at least still some good will in his direction from the larger man. Enough to make up for the fact he would have to ask for his name at least.

The door was right in front of him. He just... had to knock now. He knew how to knock, he could do it so quickly. He just... had to raise his arm...

And then his vision was a wall of blue and he let out a very unbecoming scream of surprise.

"It's you," Blue said, face a picture of... confusion. Not the immediate anger or suspicion that Huntsman had expected. It came after a moment however, a glower and a crossing of his arms. "It's you."

The spider demon couldn't help himself from tensing up for a moment, despite his best attempts at avoiding that, but it was only for a moment. He instantly stood up straight, clearing his throat before flourishing his arm with a chuckle. It came out shaky, more awkward than he had intended.

"Is that, heh... offer still on the... table?" He reached into his coat, pulling out the single teabag he had found stashed away in his pocket after their last encounter.

It took a hot second for Blue to react, but when he did it was instantaneous. He grabbed Huntsman by the coat collar and pulled him inside without so much as a word. Huntsman's first reaction was to pull back, fight back at the grip on his collar and then at the large muscular arms picking him up like he was as light as a rag doll, but he didn't. Instead he let himself be picked up, carried through the house boat and deposited on the couch before Blue sat across from him with a stern expression with his palm open.

Huntsman sat awkwardly for a moment before he realized what Blue wanted, and he held out his hand slowly. So slowly. He hovered above Blue's hand for a good few seconds, watching his expression before biting the bullet and opening it to let the tea bag fall into the large hand.

Before he knew it Blue was off and back again with a tray that held two cups and a hot kettle of water, and there was no way he boiled water that quickly he couldn’t have so he must have been making some already. He placed the tray down and began pouring water into the cups that held two identical teabags, one tag more torn and worn and dirty than the other so that must have been the one he had on him. Huntsman sat in silence, unsure of what to do aside from what this happen.

There were cats on the boat. Many cats, more than he could count. They didn’t come close to him, barring one. One that matched his owner in both color scheme and hair style, who sat on Blue’s shoulder and hissed at him threateningly.

Huntsman was not threatened by a cat.

“What’s your name?” Blue asked suddenly as he sat back, a wide smile with a hint of suspicion in the very back of his eyes. But the smile, the open expression, the willingness to give him another chance, that was far stronger. “I didn’t have the chance to ask you.”

“Uh... Huntsman,” he answered slowly, watching the steam lift from the slowly brewing tea between them.

“I’m Sandy,” Blue, Sandy, said without missing a beat. “What are you doing here so late at night, Huntsy?”

The spider demon froze, looking at Sandy incredulously. He had half a mind to tell him off then and there, to object to his name being shortened to something so... so... SILLY! But he didn’t. Huntsman was not stupid, he knew he was not a genius like Syntax (but, then again, how smart could the ex-human really be if he had believed that Spider Queen would not double cross him and bring him into the fold eventually), but he wasn’t stupid.

He remembered their fight. How strong this large demon was. He put Goliath to shame despite being of similar stature, there was something about this man that was hidden deep down somewhere that Huntsman could not see and when he admitted it to himself he had been terrified that Sandy would kill him at that time. He could have killed Huntsman. He saw what he did to the scenery around them. But he didn’t.

He let him go.

So Huntsman took a deep breathe and began to talk.

It didn’t take long for his explanation. Just long enough for the tea to finish steeping. He didn’t reveal everything, but he did say enough. Told him about Lady Bone Demon (Lady White Bone, White Bone Spirit, whatever name she was going by these days) and how she had been doing... something. How he had his suspicions for a while. How he was worried for his Queen.

“Do not misunderstand my intentions. I have no stake in your Monkie Kid group and quite frankly if Bone Lady wasn’t in the picture I wouldn’t be here,” Huntsman said firmly, picking up his tea cup as Sandy picked up his. “But I care for my Queen. And I believe she is in danger. I am no fool, I know we are enemies, but they do say ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’..” He paused, looking up at Sandy and maintaining eye contact with him. “And we have a common enemy.”

The cats that were hiding in the shadows had begun to slowly come out. Some were watching him from the shelves and cat trees. How in the world did everything in this house boat stay standing when he drove it?

“That we do,” Sandy agreed, again so fast and so simply. His willingness to listen to the spider demon put him off in a way, but in others... it felt nice to be listened to. As much as he loved his Queen there were times she just did not listen to him at all, Syntax and he did not see eye to eye on much, and Goliath... well, he listened usually. But he was even more loyal to Spider Queen than he was. He put total faith in her working with their extra member so talking to him had not gotten him far. “And after what happened at the festival and Monkey King’s island and all the other stuff? The others are going to take a lot of convincing. But I believe you.”

“You... believe me?” Huntsman asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow. “... You don’t hate me.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. One he could not believe he was saying.

“Nope,” Sandy said as he took a sip of his drink. “I don’t hate you. But that doesn’t mean we’re allies, I know that.”

“... you’re weird,” Huntsman said with a scoff, rolling his many eyes.

“Says the spider guy who let himself be dragged into his enemies home at 1 in the morning to be sat down for ‘a cuppa’,” Sandy shot back with a small smile. There was the smallest bit of amusement behind it. “We’re both weird.”

“Touche,” Huntsman could not help but reply as he looked down at his drink. He couldn’t help but wonder in the back of his mind if it was poisoned. That’s partly what he thought when the last cup was offered in the forest. But Sandy seemed to heartfelt in his offer to have done something like that. He didn’t seem the type to boast about getting alone and not wanting to fight only to poison someone. So Huntsman kept hold his his tea and brought it up to his face. “But that still begs the question. Do we trust each other enough to do anything more after this?”

“Oh, I don’t trust you nearly as far as I could throw you,” Sandy laughed out as he drank the rest of his tea. “But I trust myself. And I trust my own judgement. And I think I can trust myself enough to work with you for the better of both of our friends.”

Huntsman didn’t say anything at that. He sat, staring at the tea for another moment. He... did not trust Sandy, not fully yet. He trusted him enough to not kill him, and so far that trust had been rewarded quite well. But much like Sandy he trusted himself. He trusted his own judgement. And he had chosen to come here of his own volition, by himself, to protect his Queen.

A cat wandered over, a calico, and jumped onto the couch next to him. It stared up at him with bright brown eyes, watching him intently.

“Why did you let me leave?” He asked after a moment. “I let you win, by leaving. But you could have beaten me regardless. Why?”

“I wanted to give you another chance. Everyone deserves that much. Everyone.”

Huntsman gripped his teacup tighter at this, staring at the torn teabag with Sandy’s face on it. It must have been his own special blend. His own special blend that he had given to him as an olive branch. A sign that he would listen. And he had listened.

Huntsman gulped and raised the teacup to his lips and gulped.

It was smooth. Bright. Slightly bitter but not unintentionally.

It was the best tea Huntsman had ever had in his life.

“... How much tea does that second chance get me?”

Sandy smiled, a different kind of something that was brighter and softer and less in his face, and something in Huntsman's chest jumped of it's own accord.

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #fanfic #huntsman #sandy #ship fic #silktea #this possessed me and wrote itself #I WANT TO WRITE SOMETHING MORE OVERTLY SHIPPY ASAP

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pseudofaux · 4 years ago

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hi! i really love your lucien fics <3 can i request lucien x mc with overstimulation and him coming inside her? any plot will be fine hehe thank you!

Hello, thank you! I would love to write this. :} Him overstimulating her is liiiiiiiike... yes. THE EXACT YUMMIEST YUM for me. I hope you will enjoy this! He’s well into Professor Dom mode here and the overstimulation may read as sadistic to readers who are sensitive to that. He loves her (...in a Lucien way) and doesn’t want to hurt her for hurting’s sake, but this is explicitly not gentle, hand-holdy overstim, so if that’s something that doesn’t sound fun to you please protect yourself and skip this one. Otherwise, please enjoy!

(Requests are closed, readers, but there are a lot to be filled in May and likely June, too! Feel free to follow along or just check in and enjoy as many as you like. A masterlist will go up when they are all completed.)

He reads a staggering number of research findings every month. If a single writer on a publication team has any flair at all, it is immediately apparent in the sea of dry reporting and gray charts that come across his desk. The university only has him oversee a handful of students and they are all acceptably bright, but as so many other things... he endures their work, he does not enjoy it.

Reading bullet vibrator reviews has proven a truly singular pleasure. And they were so helpful that he plans to write his own after he gets to use his purchases on her. Lucien hopes he won’t forget to include any useful details. He enjoys her so much she distracts him, sometimes. He’ll have to be careful and make notes in the times he plans to give her to quiver and catch her breath.

“Luciennnnnnnnnnn,” she groans. He’s taken her past pretty sounds (though all her sounds are lovely to him) and into the territory where the shaking of her body makes every syllable a mess of vibrato. An opera just for him. He’s so, so pleased with her, and very pleased with the vibrator. He bought two of the same kind so he could play with her for longer than a single charge but they’re still on the first and she’s already damp-faced and keening for him in that warbling, fucked-out voice.

And he hasn’t even fucked her yet, really. Just played with her and made her take all his playing.

He shuts off the little ergonomic, silicone-covered vibrator with his thumb. He used the travel lock to set both of the devices to the “3 pulses” setting, so she gets a buzz-buzz-buzz in a looping sequence. He messes with her by pushing and pulling it away against the rhythm, so her sweet, needy body chases the little vibe and can’t find its bearings.

That’s exactly what he wants. Her, adrift on his bed, at his tenderest (but not his kindest) mercy, taken past all her silly limits. He hasn’t made a single note and he knows now that he’s not going to. She’ll have his undivided attention. He will have to write his review from memory, or do this again another time.

Thoroughness is his method.

He knows in his soul that whatever comes out of her, he’s going to be delighted by every bit of it. Her cries. Her tears. Her sweat. Her cum. Other fluids. Anything. The whole point is that he wants to push her beauty into an ugly, shaky place, because he knows he’ll only find her more beautiful there. If it is ugly and messy, she will be as luminous as a pearl sliding down seagrass. As creamy and bumpy as...

“Yes?” he finally says.

“I ca-a-an’t,” she sobs. “No more.”

But thoroughness is his method, so he smiles at the intense trembling of her lower lip and presses his thumb onto the silicone again. Buzz-buzzzzz-buzzbuzz.

She shrieks and when he closes his eyes it is truly like being at an opera. The rug he kneels on bedside the bed is as wine-red as the carpet of a theater, she’s the one who helped him pick it out. Without seeing the walls he can ignore them completely and imagine that the two of them are in some cavernous place together. Wouldn’t it be nice to take her somewhere like that? There must be research islands with caves that he can access. Ones with stalactites so all her echoes can shake the dripping water down onto them in a magnificent spray.

Lucien can wait a very, very long time, but when he is done tonight he’s going to cum all over her in a magnificent spray. He wants to see a little puddle of it disturbed by the way she’ll be twitching by then. Maybe a series of little puddles, or a thick streak across her belly. There’s a thought.

When he touches the tip of the vibrator lightly to her clit she squirms away, and he doesn’t think she can hear his tsk but it doesn’t much matter since he puts his other hand on her thigh and reminds her plainly that he told her not to try to get away. This is not a normal night and she’ll be uncomfortable, but he will make her happy. He knows she believes it, and that makes him smile. He hides it beyond the edge of the mattress where she can’t see.

He does move the vibe onto the bed and covers it with his hands, muffling the sound. “If you want, you can put your hand on top of mine,” he tells her graciously. “But I won’t move away, so don’t waste your energy trying to pull me. You’re going to feel it all.” It’s just what he told her earlier, and the reminder seems to settle her.

So he slips his leg off her thigh-- stroking her with his fingers, trying to make the touch like an anenome’s waving-- and fishes the other vibrator out of his back pocket. He pushes the first between the lips of her weeping, beautiful pussy, loving the way her slickness makes the silicone glide against her, and he tucks it there against her slit. Buzz-buzzzzz-buzzbuzz.

He turns on the other with his thumb and puts it to her clit less gently. She sucks in air like it will help her when her ribs and belly go up into the air as though someone just kicked her up and off the mattress. Not that he would ever let them. He’s the only one who gets to make her move like that.

She comes again, fairly quickly. After her first she’s always so sensitive that with the right pressure and timing he can get her into multiple orgasms and, eventually, deepest sleep.

He won’t let her get to sleep like that anytime soon. This is not a normal night. He’ll keep her up until she is stupid with exhaustion, weak in delirium, and then he’ll have her sing while he fucks her until he’s ready to pull out and spurt all over her sweat-slicked belly. Only then will he curl into bed beside her and relish every jerk of her muscles as he finally lets her succumb to sleep as she leaks him and smells so thoroughly of sex it is as though her perfume has been strangled out of existence. Only he can live on her skin.

Thoroughness is his method.

Lucien would not use the word sloppy to describe her at this point, but after her orgasms and all his teasing she is definitely very, very wet. He’s certain he could fist her fairly easily. Her pussy is so sodden and flexible, all slippery and lonely-looking.

“I’ll fill you up soon,” he promises. “I just need you to come for me two more times, I know you can do that.”

She shakes her head and mumbles little no, nos like they’re going to make a bit of difference. Adorable. He lets her go on until she whines a pathetic please, and then he says “Of course,” and presses the button on the toy resting on her mons.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz buzz buzz. Perhaps he is Beelzebub or Mephistopheles or some worse devil, but he really is enjoying himself. He can see so much of the whites of her eyes for a second, and the sound that comes out of her is shrill and then it somehow slides into her throat and comes out so much lower.

“Of course,” he says again when she quiets down. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you, sweetheart.” She is crying out as he pushes the tip of the other vibrator inside to really fuck with that first extra-sensitive centimeter of her and then squeezes the mode button until it is on the strongest sustained buzz.

It will fall out of her if he doesn’t hold it in place, and he can’t have that. He said he would help her. He presses against the other end, fucking her with it with gentle movements that make the strength of the vibrations travel up into his wrist. He expects they register more strongly inside her. He hopes so.

Lucien puts the other vibrator on the same mode and pulls it down to the stiffness of her overworked clit. He taps it against her, matching the microthrusts he is giving her. As he expected, she’s so relieved to be able to access a rhythm at last-- he truly has been fucking with her and making the most of the modes on each of the vibrators, what a delight-- that she actually makes a half-cry, half-coo, a sound of query.

“It’s alright,” he tells her warmly. “This is exactly what I want from you. It’s safe. You need me to press a little harder?”

He thinks she is trying to speak and can’t quite manage to remember the words, but whether it is that or her body is trembling so tightly her shaking limits what words she could say, he’s happy.

“Go ahead and make a mess,” he says sweetly as her body makes its own thrusts to meet his. She’s not so tired, after all, silly girl. “The mattress is protected and I want you to ruin these sheets. Come all over them, come all over me.”

She wails something that sounds like wuh-uhn and does as he says.

“Good girl,” he praises slowly. “Can you still squeeze for me?”

The vibrator partially inside her pushes back against his finger as she tries to expel it. He quickly removes it, turns it off, and throws it away. “That’s perfect,” he tells her. “You’re so strong and lovely.”

Her eyes are closed and she’s sagged against the mattress like limp rag, but her mouth is curved.

“Just one more now,” he tells her, and the curve inverts into a spectacular trembling pout. He wants to bite it, but for now he’s busy slipping two of his fingers inside her (it is, in fact, so easy) and dragging them along her top wall until they find the space that’s just made to be pressed.

So he presses it as he presses the other vibrator down. He can feel the motor’s work in both hands at once. Her body must be tired, but not so tired it doesn’t respond to his stimulation.

She’s panting Lu, lu, lu, so he tells her “It’s Lucien, sweetheart,” and presses his fingers toward each other until one of her lus becomes as guttural and tight as this last orgasm he’s wringing out of her. He rubs his fingers back and forth on her g-spot until she clamps on him and her legs shake without bending, so hard they bounce on the bed, so tense he suspects she will give herself a cramp.

That’s when he pulls his fingers out and puts his cock in, and he uses the flared head of his cock to unerringly rub that same spot, back and forth in concentrated, minute movements. If he were a smaller man she might dislodge him, but she can’t.

She can’t do much at all but take it right now, which is what he tells her to do as he fucks halfway into her body until she nearly loses consciousness. So quickly, his own orgasm is imminent, and he tips the vibrator down so he can pin it with his body when he slides home. The feel of her, heavy and swollen and flexible and fucked up around him is enough to make him spurt into her like he’s been edged this whole time.

In a way, he has. A very pleasant way.

He lets her drift off as he relaxes into the comfort of his own release. After the first gushes it is as sluggish as her breathing.

Lucien murmurs her name to check on her and gets only a tired sound of acknowledgement. He pulls out slowly, watching the way he drags her open and smears his cum backwards and out of her. Her thighs twitch as he goes, so he puts a hand on each of them to catch that glorious feedback. He does not want to take his eyes off the cream oozing out of her.

“Should I leave it on?” he asks.

“No,” she moans. “Please no.”

He presses the buzzzzzzzzzzz against her anyway, but does take it away after that. “Oh, alright,” he tells her. He’s winded but he does not think she will recognize his vulnerability when her own is so terribly overwhelming.

He tells her she can relax but not fall asleep, and he takes himself in hand to work up to painting her belly. There’s so much of her beauty to take in it feels like barely any time at all before he’s breathing harder through his nose and feeling the inevitability at the base of his shaft, the point of no return reached and run past.

“Beautiful,” he breathes before the first spatter even lands. She looks down at her body in a daze as his cum glazes her lowest ribs and pools in her navel.

He allows himself to imagine absolutely covering her one day... it is important to him to be thorough, after all. But for now this will do. His little puddles and the charming stream he painted over her are trembling like she is seismic just underneath. To him, she is.

#mlqc lucien #mlqc fanfic #mlqc fanfiction #MLQC #mister love queens choice #mlqc xu mo #pseu slings #goldenrosefae

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notnctu · 4 years ago

Text

cupid’s arrow - h.rj | 7 days

━ sweet greetings from the 7 days fluff series

genre ❥ slight angst, fluff !! details ❥ college!au, friends to lovers!au, genderneutral!reader ━ where renjun makes a bet to get you to fall in love with him. warnings ❥ explicit language, light banter word count ❥ 7.1k synopsis ❥ The silly boy has no idea what he’s gotten himself into when he makes a bet with his arrogant friend to get you to fall in love with him. Renjun never intends to confess, mainly because his past unrequited loves have demolished his confidence. So a low stakes gamble causes him a great deal of stress and pride, wishing that it was as easy as striking you with Cupid’s Arrow. While he wants your feelings to develop organically, he actually doesn’t know what he’d do if you did end up liking him back. Because to him, you have always been someone unattainable and out of his reach taglist ❥ @yourmagnanimousholiness ; @lovelycharm05 ; @watermelonxes ; @jaehyunsjasmine ; @mjlkau <3

a/n ❥ this is author doie ❀!! uhh this came out a little more angsty than i had planned it to be.. anyways its been a long time coming and we’re still working on the requests hehehe uhh keep an eye out for some blog updates bc we are starting school soon :) thanks for sticking with us so far! lots of love for everyone<3

Huang Renjun catches a glimpse of your enchanting figure across the lecture hall and how you effortlessly slide into your usual seat near the front. The tap against the tiny turnout table with your pen, ruffling your hair to only have it fall back in place beautifully, and aura alone suffocates him.

In a three hundred person lecture, all he sees is you. The only person in the room who has his undivided attention and while it might be entirely infatuation by your attractiveness, the mutual friends you two share describe you having a heart of gold.

A heart that is impenetrable. Strong, sturdy, shining metal that no one has been able to get through, but Renjun thinks that it’s because you can tell someone is undeserving. Keen and observant eyes, it’s a good thing that his stares don’t linger for long.

As he walks down the descending steps to sit in the row behind you, he remembers a very drunk night over the past weekend and an idiotic bet that has him punching himself. He wishes that he never agreed, but the liquid pride in him could not bite his tongue.

“(Y/N)?” His friend scorns and Renjun slaps his forehead at the slip of your name. Truthfully, the alcohol is messing with his head and he’s saying things that are no longer in his control. But how could he have possibly let the one secret he holds to himself out into the small crowd.

He mumbles profanities underneath his breath, trying to limit light from hurting his blurry vision, and rubbing his throbbing temples. “Yes, (Y/N).” There is no confidence in his voice at the whisper of your name.

“Dude, (Y/N) is way out of your league.” The headache just doesn’t have an end. He knows this; there is no way you’d ever bat an eyelash at him first. Renjun just likes things that are impossible to him, a poor habit of his.

“I bet I could get (Y/N) to get with me first before you ever can.” Then, Renjun’s eyes shoot open wide and the view of the arrogance laughing in the dimness slowly boils his blood.

Renjun may seem like the weaker link to pick on, but he is not one to give up a fight. While his friend has an advantage, the last thing Renjun would want is for you to fall for a horrendous two faced personality.

He’ll charm your pants off and when he gets what he wants: the victory and your vulnerability, he’ll hurt you. Would you be able to see past his fake genuineness or actually fall for the person he plays so well? Renjun can’t let anyone hurt you if he can prevent it.

“I bet that I can get (Y/N) to fall in love with me.” Renjun stumbles to stand up proudly, making himself bolder and more intimidating. Nevertheless, the drowsiness intoxicates him and he can barely keep his line of vision focused.

He sees the disgusting smirk on his friend’s face and a hand extends out for Renjun to shake. “Okay. Let’s bet on it. If you can’t get (Y/N) to fall in love with you, they’ll be mine and you can’t speak to them ever again.”

“Nice use of claiming someone who barely knows you exist.” The alcohol didn’t take away Renjun’s sharp sarcasm and the constant rolling of his eyes.

Renjun truly has no confidence at the game he decided to engage in, his only motive is to protect you from a bad guy. He wouldn’t even know how to handle the potential chance that you could like him back, did you have the ability to do so?

He never had the intention to confess to you, his heart has been broken all too much already by unrequited loves from his past. And if he had to be honest with himself, his admiration for you has become so strong that even he’s afraid to be someone to taint it.

What are the odds that the entire row behind you is already filled? Renjun’s throat closes when he sees the empty seat right next to you and the professor starting up his presentation. Other students push past him to hurry into empty seats before lecture begins, and his own feet pick him up toward you.

Like a magnetic pull, you attract him with an inexplicable force so naturally. Clearing his throat, he swallows the anxiousness that blocks him from speaking.

“Is this seat taken?”

This is it. This is the first of many looks you two will share, and Renjun’s heart pounds at his chest to wait for your eyes to meet his own for more than a second.

As if the room falls silent and everything is in slow motion, Renjun captures the very image when you blink up at him with beautiful dazzling gentleness and the utter sugar of your lips curling upwards. And he’s stunned, hoping it doesn’t show on his face.

“No.” It’s a simple reply and nothing worth jumping out of joy about, but he tries so hard to hold back the growing smile of your acknowledgement. You are being polite, but something inside of him feels giddy and like static running through his veins.

“Thanks.” Dropping his bag, he enters the seat carefully and sits with his hands folded together on the tiny table.

You examine the attentive boy, as his focus is trained on the lecture slides and the unprepared professor messing with his mic. Chuckling, “you don’t take notes?”

Renjun is surprised at your sudden interaction, completely blindsided by your friendliness. He wasn’t sure how well that would have worked, but your curiosity speaks for you. “I actually forgot my laptop today.” The heavy device sits in his bag at his feet, but he doesn’t dare take it out after the lie.

The soft ‘oh’ that falls from your mouth is too cute and Renjun clears his throat to bring him back from his daydreams of you. Looking apologetic, he shrugs and pretends to gear his attention back to the professor, who finally starts the long awaited class.

“I can send you my notes for the day, if you’d like.” The kindness in your voice does not go unnoticed, in fact, it causes Renjun to hold onto it for a little longer to fuel his undying crush for you.

“I’d love that—” Perhaps he shouldn’t have used the word love for the strictly friendly gesture. “—you’re a lifesaver. Uh, how should I refer to you as?” Playing dumb is his only way to get to you, for now.

“(Y/N). And you?” You hand your phone toward him with social media popped up to input his user handle.

Renjun introduces himself as his sweaty fingers type, and he wonders if he should have polished up any photos that may have you steering away from him. However when he returns your device, the smile that lights up your face allows him to breathe easily.

“I knew you sounded familiar. You’re friends with Jaemin, right?” Your whisper grows soft as you multitask to make conversation and jot down a few important bullet points from the slides. Renjun tries hard to dissect the information as well, but the boring tone of his professor is nothing compared to his crush finally having conversation with him.

“We’re housemates along with two other people.” His body is able to relax now that he’s broken the wall of introductions. You carry yourself to be more intimidating than you actually are.

When he peeks back over at your concentrated expression, your lip is hidden by your top row of teeth and your quick eyes dart between the monitor and your page. How are you so good at literally everything?

“A small world.” He picks up your every word, “well Renjun, since this class has basically ruined my life, would it be too much to ask if you’re down to study with me?” And despite the fluorescent lights being absolutely dull, they still dust your eyes with an enticing glitter.

He must have been staring for too long because you start your sentence of doubt, but Renjun stammers over his response. The professor isn’t quite happy with the small overlap of chatter and shoots a glare at the two of you.

That’s definitely not a good way to start, but it’s memorable. Renjun motions for your pen, and scribbles in his own font the answer to your offer:

I’d love that :)

Then, his heart soars back into the clouds once again at the grin that settles and your written response:

Me too <3

How does one get someone to fall for them? If Renjun knew, he wouldn’t still be single and infatuated with someone too good for him. He wishes that it’s as simple as the myths make it out to be, where all Cupid had to do was draw his bow and launch a loving arrow that pierces through the heart — an instant love.

But playing Cupid himself is harder than anticipated. He has no handy tools to assist him with his goals. He just has himself, lacks luster and is invisible. Can he be more painfully boring?

And he looks at you with literal hearts in his eyes. An excitement that awaits him, the true meaning of a head turner. That is you. And all he can offer is his mere presence.

“So how did you and Jaemin meet?” Looking up from your blinding laptop screen, Renjun feels the light tap underneath the table from your foot. He chuckles at the subtly adorable affection, and your own way of showing it.

This has to be the third round of study sessions you two shared, and bit by bit, he falls more and more for you despite it needing to be the other way around. The captivating get-to-know you conversation of favorites all down to your aspirations and goals.

The intelligence of you, your wisdom, your perspective. While he did not have this insight before, knowing it now only makes you more alluring. He can’t believe you’re even sitting with him in his shared living room, just the two of you.

“We met at orientation. He’s persistent.” Renjun laughs lightly and you smile in return, nodding along with his statement.

“Wish I met you guys at orientation. I was never the one to reach out to people first until college forced me out of my shell.” He hopes his ears didn’t deceive him, but Renjun had to do a double take: you said you guys, which includes him, right? You wish you had met him earlier?

But the latter shocks him a bit. If he recalls your first meeting, you were the one curious enough to continue speaking to him. “I would have never guessed.”

“Really?” There is a notable light in your eyes as you tilt your head. “I don’t seem shy?”

“Not at all…” He has to stop himself from going on an incredible tangent about how greatly outspoken you are, it gives away too much on how observant he’s been.

“I’m good at hiding it then.” You examine the soft shade of pink on the tips of his ears and his averting shy gazes. “What are you good at hiding?”

Your question leaves him speechless and gripping at any ends of answers. There are a number of ways he can go about it, but the truth is not one of them.

What is he good at hiding? His unconditional affection for you. He’s good at concealing every heavy heart beat at your smallest actions. He’s good at keeping a regretful secret bet.

But as those options pop into his head, he doesn’t want to say any of them. So, he opts for a white lie instead and hopes that the hesitation doesn’t sell him out for being a nervous wreck.

“I’m good at hiding what I fear.” You blink at him, clearly intrigued to want to know more.

“You do seem pretty fearless, Huang Renjun.” There is a brief exchange of eye contact and Renjun swears that his pounding heart can be heard in the silence. A smirk on your lips as you return to your work, he’s warm inside from the usage of his full name. And you don’t even realize the effect you have over him.

“So, you and (Y/N) are close. How did that start?” Jaemin jumps onto Renjun’s neatly made bed. The covers are now ruffled and tossed from the impact.

Jaemin isn’t home very often, but in the rare times he has been, it’s always during the study sessions with you. The first time you came over, Jaemin tried not to talk up a storm from seeing a familiar face. He respects Renjun’s relationships, so he tried his best to keep from prying at the boy.

“You finally want to know?” Renjun scoffs lightheartedly, punching his housemate lightly on the shoulder as he swivels around in his chair. With an excited wide smile, Jaemin tugs at his friend’s arm as an endearing sign of persistence. “Okay, okay. We have the same class.”

“(Y/N) really approached you in a three hundred student lecture?” A tone of disbelief settles in Jaemin’s rhetorical question. He cocks an eyebrow, waiting for Renjun to tell some truth.

“Not exactly. I sat next to them and a conversation just happened.” Renjun shrugs as if it’s nothing big, as if it hadn’t been for your curiosity that started this blossoming relationship.

“Spare me the details.” Jaemin sits up to hold Renjun by his shoulders. The pressure feels oddly crushing, like a whole weight dropping on him. Jaemin stares him dead in the eyes. “What are your motives, Huang Renjun?”

His mouth hangs slightly open from the question. “I can’t be friends with (Y/N)?” Almost defensively, Renjun furrows his eyebrows at his friend, but he can tell Jaemin has caught onto his lie.

“I heard that you made a bet with a certain shithead.” Jaemin rolls his eyes at remembering their horrible mutual, a crime to even consider him as a friend. He drops his heavy hands from Renjun’s shoulders and falls back onto the mattress.

The alarming expression of grave danger, Renjun is screwed. He gulps the gathered saliva in the back of his mouth, searching for a plausible explanation. “I was drunk.” He slaps his forehead at the stupid reasoning as Jaemin shoots upright to begin scolding him.

“Let me explain,” Renjun covers his mouth to halt Jaemin’s excessive nagging. “I like (Y/N), that’s how the bet even came alive. I slipped up and then he was saying all this stuff about (Y/N) being out of my league.”

“Which is true.” Jaemin adds, quite muffled but doesn’t slip past Renjun.

Renjun glares and thanks him sarcastically. “I made the bet to protect (Y/N) from him. He was provoking me by saying that he can get (Y/N) first and since I was heavily intoxicated, I didn’t think before I spoke.”

Jaemin holds Renjun warmly, seeing that his friend needed a hug from the saddened memory. It’s all too obvious how regretful Renjun feels. “So I’m trying my best at carrying the bet because there’s too much at stake.”

A chill runs down his spine remembering the consequences. He just can’t fail. Jaemin pulls away and lightly pats Renjun’s hair. “Cupid has made you into a fool for your crush.”

“He’s made me into a bigger one for thinking I could get my crush to like me back.” Renjun sighs in defeat and groans loudly. Why does this frustrate him so much? Perhaps it’s the lack of ability to actually get someone to like him back.

Renjun has been single for his entire life, not by choice. He’s done the movie cliches of a confession: a bouquet of roses, a poster, a night under the stars. And not one has ever accepted his feelings. He doesn’t blame any of them since he still struggles with finding things to love about himself. What is there to love about him? He can’t seem to find any redeeming qualities worth mentioning.

But you. You, alone, is simply worth an honorable mention. And now that it’s been well over a month of your friendship, he can confirm that you’re everything he’s ever wanted and more.

“Why don’t you start by being (Y/N)’s friend first? Love doesn’t just happen in an instant, no offense to Cupid or anything. I mean.. isn’t it all just a myth anyways?” Jaemin picks Renjun’s falling chin and he can see the glossy eyes of sadness. They swim with frustration and guilt.

Like an epiphany, Jaemin gave Renjun a starting place. For weeks, Renjun racked his brain for an easy solution out of it all. In reality, he didn’t need any wicked form of magic for foul play. He just wants to be by your side for as long as you allow. And a part of him is scared for you to like him back.

You’ve always been too out of his reach. Standing on a pedestal, you’re something unattainable. It’s lucky that you even bat an eyelash at him. He’s admired you all too much, Renjun won’t actually know what to do if you ever did like him back.

This all stems from his inner insecurities, like a recurring thought: what is there to like about him? Or is he even good enough for you?

If someone had warned him that love could become this confusing, he would’ve sacrificed his heart for something less complicated. To feel. To love. Renjun wishes he can remove the love bow that pierced through his chest.

On a random Friday night, Renjun’s phone rings with an unexpected caller ID. He pauses the song he’s been listening to for the past hour to pick up.

“Renjun! I’m sad and drunk right now.” Your voice is incredibly slurred and he can barely hear you with the loud background noise. “Can you come pick me up?”

“Are you over on Third Ave. again?” He despises that place. A house on the corner of Third Avenue right off the interstate from campus that throws weekly parties. These parties are overcrowded with creeps and cheap booze. Unfortunately, you’re favorite place to run away to.

This isn’t his first time coming to get you. Over the past few months of your established friendship, you’ve sent him numerous amounts of drunk texts calling for him. This is the first time you actually called, preluding to a really rough night you’ve been having.

You sigh into the receiver, “you remembered.” like you’re on the verge of tears, he can hear the quiver in your tiny voice.

“I have your location, idiot.” Renjun smiles at your silly drunk reactions, finding you more enduring from the innocence. “I’ll be there in a blink.”

“Okay, I’ll close my eyes so I can open them to you.” You giggle before hanging up and Renjun can’t keep the widest grin off of his face. He’s rushing out his door, not wanting to wait another second to see you.

One thing Renjun realized after finally growing close enough to you is that through all his infatuation, you’re still a human. While he thinks of you in a sparkling cascading glitter waterfall, you’re made of the same softness that Renjun has. You’re not perfect and he needed to stop idolizing you as if you’re some shiny trophy.

No, he’s learned that he needed to love you for who you truly are. And the moment he broke down your layers, the glass tears that fell from your cheeks were real. The pain through your confident façade, Renjun needed to love you at your lowest.

He saw you for you, not the attractive person from his lecture he drooled months over. You are the exact reality that movies are afraid to portray. You’re courageous, chic, charming. But you’re also shy, soft spoken, and silly. You’re like waking up during dawn and marveling in the silence of a sleeping society. You’re also like smiles on a sunny day and living in the moment.

Renjun is lovestruck, wildly in love with all that you are. The only thing that brings down his spirits is the lingering bet he made several months ago and he hates how it’s always gnawing at him. It’s like an echo, bouncing off the walls of his mind. He can’t shake it off. Most of the time, he tries to focus the moment in front of him, but it has him tossing and turning in the middle of the night.

Without much surprise, you stand in front of the overflowing party house with eyes cutely squeezed shut. A friend by your side to wait with you. “Open your eyes.” Renjun yells as windows roll down and he double parks the car.

Your eyes gleam in the darkness and bidding your friend a quick goodbye, you jump into the familiar vehicle and embrace your good friend with a longing hug. Renjun chuckles at your adorable actions, patting your shoulder lightly. Despite the cheerful welcome, the mood immediately shifts when he hears your tiny sniffs and feels the tears on his shirt.

“C’mon, your favorite ice cream flavor is waiting for you at my place.” As he whispers positive affirmations, you can only cry harder into his chest. “You’re not feeling too good tonight, are you?”

It’s way too obvious of a question to ask, he knows. Truthfully, he didn’t know what to say and comforting is not his strongest skill without it turning it into a life lesson. He knows what you need, just someone to acknowledge how you’re feeling and to listen.

“I’m feeling the worst tonight. I don’t want to talk about it. Maybe later?” You pull away from his arms, even if he isn’t ready to let you go. He helps buckle your seatbelt and wipe any remaining wetness on your cheeks.

Your hand briefly touches Renjun’s which causes the boy to freeze at the sudden action. Your hazy smile is unclear, but you lean into him before he can process all the randomness. A kiss on his cheek, the most delicate feeling of lips on skin.

Renjun explodes inside, like hazardous fireworks on a cloudy night. He wants to enjoy it, but his circumstances make it difficult for him to. “Thanks for coming to get me.” Your body slumps back onto the seat, a pout on your lower lip. Renjun shifts awkwardly in his seat, buckling his seatbelt to begin the ride home. He can’t find the words to say.

You’re being too casual about what had just happened, as if you’re ignoring it all. Or you simply have no control over anything that you’re doing. “Let me tell you a secret, Injunie.” The sugarcoated nickname. You’re definitely too drunk at the moment, and whatever you do now will be long forgotten the next morning.

Renjun still doesn’t say anything, relishing in the kiss on the cheek just seconds ago. His fingers lightly touch his face, grazing upon the very part your lips came in contact with. He’s truly through the moon and— “I used to have the biggest crush on Jaemin.” Renjun abruptly steps on the brakes, whipping the both of you in your seats.

His heart is falling, it’s plummeting and he can’t do anything to save it. “I really didn’t expect such a surprised reaction.”

Renjun clears his throat. “I’m just caught off guard.” Not a lie, he really wasn’t expecting a confession and his heart to break right at this moment. “Why Jaemin?”

He knows why Jaemin. He’s a social butterfly with no caution to the wind and a heart made of pure kindness. A welcoming friendly figure that won’t hesitate to feed into someone’s need for words of affirmation. Not to mention, Jaemin has a good few inches above him and looks of a poster kpop idol. Of course, you liked Jaemin.

“He has such a good heart. I guess I just like guys who think of me first, as selfish as that sounds. I don’t prioritize myself, so it would be nice if someone else did.” You fiddle your thumbs and Renjun is impatiently tapping his fingers against the wheel.

The red traffic light before you enacts two different feelings. Renjun wants this ride to end as fast as possible. You want this ride to last forever.

“But, Jaemin is seeing someone.”

Your head ducks down and out the window at the shining streetlamps; you know very well about Jaemin’s love life. “I didn’t expect anything from him. I just liked him for him. He came to pick me up every time I would ask, I guess I have a thing for guys who do that.”

Renjun tightens his grip, heart pounding at your statement. You peer up to look at your friend in the lack of light. His glasses sit low on his nose bridge, a soft cotton shirt hugs his torso, and pajama pants that clad his legs. A mess bed of hair as the cherry on top.

After Jaemin, you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t fall for anyone so easily. All of that was thrown out the window the very first night Renjun came to your saving. Despite contrary belief, your heart is not as impenetrable as people make you out to be. And as tough as you can be, it was too hard not to be the slightest interested in him.

Ever since your first meeting, Renjun has always been cool and collected. He’s a hothead at his best, but too playful for any serious damage. Renjun reminds you of yourself. Like a huge impenetrable wall built against any trouble to enter, he is as guarded as you are. He’s timid, and while you had tried your best to hide your own, Renjun simply embraces that part of him.

Renjun stayed after every tearful night. He’s helped you through every difficult study guide, if anything he saved your failing grade.

Renjun puts you first throughout anything; asking if you want the booth seat at restaurants, strategically walking on the outer side so you can avoid driving cars, always has your favorite snacks without you asking. Every tiny gesture, may you be slightly delusional, seemed as if he loved you. And if he did, you wouldn’t mind one bit because you wanted to love him back.

“What about you? We’ve never really talked about our love lives before.” You speak up in the silence, Rejun being awfully quiet tonight. He hopes you don’t blame him, but everything has been too overwhelming. He is no longer sure on what he wants to do or how to react.

“My love life is too sad to talk about.” He’s never wanted to talk about it with you, in case he’d slip up and say something too revealing. “It’s a long list of unrequited loves. I’ve given up on professing my feelings to someone at this point.”

“What would have to happen to get you to confess?” Your eyes coin a mischievous twinkle.

Renjun feels his palms grow sweaty, a bit nervous with this conversation topic.

“Something catastrophic.”

Something catastrophic did end up happening. Renjun wishes he could disappear, or if he runs away, would anyone notice?

He stands behind your fuming stance. In any other given situation, Renjun would be more than flattered that you’re standing up for him. However in this case, you’re making a fool out of yourself on his behalf.

“Oh, so you haven’t told (Y/N) about the bet?” Of all the nights Renjun decides to accompany you on a Friday evening, he runs until the one person he never wanted to come within ten feet to.

Truthfully, the night was going well. He ran into a few of his other acquaintances from his club, others from his classes. You held onto his arm the moment you two entered the party, afraid to lose this precious boy in the dense crowd. People walked by and expressed how cute you two looked together.

You poured him drinks that will make his head throb and you busted dance moves that made his heart throb. You were the epitome of a fun time, like an explosion of positive endorphins. Your toothy smiles. Your bright electrified eyes. Your sweet laughter. This was the last beautiful image he had of you before everything came falling apart.

“What bet?” You quickly turn around to face Renjun. His hand scratches the back of his neck and his gaze stays staring at his own feet. Your throat grows tight from Renjun’s hesitation.

“He made a bet with me that he could get you to fall in love with him.” Please stop talking, Renjun begs in his thoughts. He tightens his fist, unable to form words to speak. The thumping of the loud music makes it hard to focus.

“He—” Shaky voice and stuttering… even you are having doubts of Renjun’s character. “He wouldn’t do that.” Your eyes bounce between him and Renjun.

“I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you don't know him very well then.” Renjun’s arrogant friend crosses his arms coolly, a smug smirk unfolding on his face.

“It’s true, (Y/N). I did make the bet and I regret it every waking day.” Renjun finally speaks up, but you’re out the door before he can continue.

There isn’t another thought in his head when he’s running after you; you’re already so far down the road. The secret was bound to be revealed, but he wasn’t ready for it. He was never going to be ready for this day because his first mistake was making the bet to begin with.

He should have thought about you. He should have just swallowed his pride and talked his friend out of it. Was that a choice? Could he have just done that instead of letting it fester into such a problem?

Out of breath and out of mind, Renjun calls out your name. When you spin on your heels to walk toward him, his heart reaches for you. However, you push at his chest and he almost falls backwards.

You’re angry, more than angry. You’re upset. You have every right to be. “What were you thinking, Renjun?” There is a small crack in your voice and he can see your tear stained cheeks under the moonlight. “Am I even your friend? All this time… you had an agenda. Were your actions all fake, then? You wanted to manipulate me into falling in love with you?”

Your words are hitting like large bricks. You are questioning the past five months of your friendship and everything Renjun has ever done for you. A false reality, Renjun didn’t actually give a damn about you. He wanted to prove some odd male status. Could you be any more blind?

“Please let me explain… I was drunk out of my mind that night and the bet I made was stupid. It was before proper evaluation. Does it make it okay? No, I understand that.” Renjun speaks with his hands, clearly panicked and frazzled by the way they waved around in the air. “The bet… I did it to protect you from that guy. I didn’t want him to hurt you.”

“So you hurt me instead?” If someone were to listen closely, they would be able to hear the shattering of two hearts tonight. On this late evening, two hearts are broken under the moon and stars.

But it’s pitiful because the arrow that struck Renjun remains intact. He still loves you, which is why it pains him so much to where he can’t breathe. The information in his head is scattered, like an alarm blaring through his empty brain.

All he knows is that he loves you. You are the one thing he’s afraid of losing. From the first words you two exchanged, his fear that he hid all too well is and always will be losing you.

“That was not my intention ever. I never wanted to hurt you.” Renjun takes a step closer, but you take one back.

“Well you did because your little bet… it worked. I love you, Renjun, so congratulations.” There is bitterness and an inexplicable amount of heartbreak that lace your venomous confession.

All of his life, he thought that if one person liked him back, he’d be the happiest person in the world. Possibly confused at how to proceed with the information, but definitely glad that someone could see any redeeming characteristics in him.

But he feels all the opposite. Your confession keeps his heart broken. If anything, it puzzles him more. “How..? Why would you ever like me?” There were no tricks, no attempts at flirtation, nothing out of bounds of being your friend. He just had himself. And if anyone in the universe were to like him, he’d never expect it would be you.

You groan, growing more infuriated at Renjun. “Because you’re everything I wish I could be. You’re level-headed and insightful. You’re calm and cool, without any necessary arrogance. The way you make me feel… I feel important to you, at least, I thought I was.” Your voice continues to drop softer and softer, “how could I not like you?”

The butterflies could not come at a better time. Hearing you compliment him when he found it difficult to look past his own self deprecation, he’s beyond any levels of shock. Nevertheless, he feels apologetic and knew that this is all too good to be true.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N), for making that terrible bet. But, I need you to know one thing: our friendship was genuine. All I’ve ever wanted these past months is to make sure your sweet smile stays resting on your beautiful face.”

“Why? You didn’t know me! You used me for some … pride gamble. I was nothing to you the day you made that bet.” You shout harsh words at him, and Renjun can’t hold back any longer.

This is what he meant by something catastrophic. When he’s pushed to the edge of a cliff, all his buttons are pressed aggressively. Everything falling apart. The loose ends coming undone all too quickly to grapple. He never wanted it to come to this.

“That-That’s not true! I loved you long before that regretful night! You mean every single moment of happiness to me. You’re every ray of sunshine that kisses my skin, every blue sky that reminds me of good days. You mean everything to me.” Genuine words pour from his lips, hoping that you’ll understand what’s left of his heart.

“You’re confessing?” You gasp, practically dazed at the amount of metaphors he compared you to. “Something catastrophic.” A small moment of recollection and a mumble under your breath, you’re understanding what he meant by the phrase he used several nights ago.

“Yes because I can't lose you. I’m a mess of feelings at the moment, but I just know that I’m scared to wake up to days without you in them.” Renjun pleads, the night air causing goosebumps to rise on his arms. His eyes are full of melancholy and fear as he waits for your response.

And you want to forgive him, but would that mean your heart is being too easy? You feel lingering pain, but your eyes reflect Renjun. “To think I thought you were pretty fearless.” Scoffing, you roll your eyes at him and are completely unsure what to do next.

Nevertheless, you’ve wanted someone like Renjun at some point in your life. You hoped for better days and those didn’t start happening until you two met. Renjun went from being your distant study partner to being your number one person to call. He’s wiped more tears than any boy has.

The difference between Renjun and Jaemin is while Jaemin is known to have an extravagantly warm presence, Renjun’s is hidden underneath all the quietness. Like a breakthrough, getting through Renjun felt like getting through to yourself. You needed him to aid in your own self love.

All you’ve ever wanted is to be seen and Renjun saw you.

“I forgive you.” Renjun can finally breathe and rest his tense muscles. But when he reaches for your hand, you take it away. “But it doesn’t mean we are okay. I’ll approach you when I’m ready.”

It’s not easy to love as it’s not easy to pretend that everything can go back to normal after being hurt. You need him to understand that, would he wait for you? The many others before didn’t.

“Okay.” That is all he can say, in the midst of a defeat, he still wishes that you’d stay by his side. But he wrestles that desire with transparency and having organic feelings. Nonetheless, he values the latter. If you did really somehow manage to love him, you’ll come back when you’re ready. He knows. He understands. He sees you through and through.

And he watches you disappear back into the house to find a friend to drive you home. He loves you, but love can also be consequential.

It’s already midway into the school semester and not that Renjun is counting or anything, but it’s been practically a whole month since the night at the party. He’s done nothing, except sigh in despair and reminisce about the memories before they were ruined.

While Jaemin’s efforts to console him are much appreciated, it doesn’t do much for the fact that you haven’t acknowledged Renjun’s existence for a whole thirty days.

And although he’ll wait a lifetime for you, the question of when he should move on ponders his clouded thoughts. His intensively agonizing desire of wanting to be by your side has dwindled down now. Renjun just wants to see you happy.

“Hey Cupid,” It’s a newly despised nickname coined by the one and only person who knows how to push at Renjun’s buttons — Lee Haechan. Haechan knocks obnoxiously at his door and does not wait around to hear an answer, “get your sad face out here.”

“Go away, Haechan. I’m not in the mood.” As Renjun mindlessly skims over his calendar for important dates, he is pained by the reminder of your upcoming birthday. You had marked it yourself a while back and specifically told Renjun that his attendance is entirely mandatory.

Times have changed now, right? You’ve been radio silent for weeks and as much as he hates to say this to himself: you probably don’t remember making such an assertion. Why would you? You’re most likely not thinking about him anymore anyways and maybe that’s for the better.

“Hey! Lovestruck Asshole, I’m not going to tell you again. Get that arrow out of your ass and come outside now.” Just the demand alone in Haechan’s voice irritates Renjun enough to where he’s storming to open his door.

But what it reveals is not the smirk of his annoying housemate, instead, it is the image of the very first time Renjun ever laid eyes on you and the moment Cupid’s Arrow struck right through his heart. It’s a rush of nostalgia that surges through his veins.

You sit with a hand underneath your chin and elbow pressing into a flat surface for support. The dazed stare of daydream as you’re unaware of your surroundings, yet still waiting for something exciting to catch your attention. And just how lovely you look in the softest rose colored shirt and how your lips, still barely glistening from a quick swipe of your tongue, are slightly agape into an expressionless rest.

All before your eyes trail to the distraction of another body entering the room and for a brief second, make eye contact with Renjun as he’s all the more astonished by your grace. Then like a scene that’s imprinted in his head too clearly, your gaze drops back down to the floor and you’re back to your inner thoughts.

As if the pierced arrow in his heart is triggered, Renjun rediscovers the feelings of a newfound infatuation — a crush. Though baseless except in regards to physical attraction, he’s nonetheless amazed by how quickly you take his breath away… again.

Unlike the first memory, you actually speak to him as you’re now familiar with the starry eyed boy. “It’s been a while.”

The color in your voice that he’s missed hearing is pure music. He clears his throat as if he’s afraid of his own vocal chords breaking from nervousness.

“H-Hey, yeah. It’s been a while.” Renjun repeats dumbfounded that you’re even sitting in his shared living room.

“How have you been?” There you are being polite, but the giddiness still runs like static through his veins at being asked about his well being.

“Lost.” He blurts out the first word that comes to mind. Perhaps, he should stop using words with such heavy implications to friendly gestures. Your head immediately pops up and he scrambles to correct himself. “I mean I’ve been distracted lately.”

“Sadness really does take its course.” You tread lightly, testing the waters with a small grin. The atmosphere is oddly comforting, like feeling you can’t quite replace.

Renjun looks rather rough around the edges, but you don’t blame him since you did show up unannounced. However, the glint in his eyes is much of a delight to see. The way his small mouth curves into the tiniest smile and the gentleness in his regular cadence remind you of past long days full of laughter. The best part of them all — you spent them together.

“My birthday is coming up soon.” Jumping straight to the point of your visit, you stand up to approach him. “I plan to host a small party… and I remember saying a while back that your attendance is mandatory.”

Renjun catches his breath in his throat and he could run gleeful laps around the room if it isn’t for the poorly spaced complex. “So are you still down, Huang Renjun?”

“I’d love that.” He smiles greatly at your offer and as simple as that, your arms wrap around his torso into a long awaited embrace.

“Me too.” You mumble into his shirt and take a deep breath of his lavender scented detergent, “I’m ready. I’m ready to have you in my life. I’m ready to laugh with you. I’m ready to lay in your company. I’m ready to give you my heart.”

As you finish your last sentence, his arms wrap around you too and pull you into a tighter hold. “You have always had mine.”

Renjun can finally remove the arrow that unforgivingly stayed stuck in his heart for the longest time. Your reciprocated love fills up the hole that is left behind. He can now love you with a full and whole heart.

#nct-writers #kpopscape #neothestars #nct scenarios #nct #renjun #renjun scenarios #nct dream scenarios #nct dream #huang renjun #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct angst #nct dream imagines #huang renjun scenarios #7days

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katieraven · 4 years ago

Text

SOMEBODY TO DIE FOR

Summary: Elizabeth Jones is a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent frequently on missions with the Avengers. When one mission backfires, she is left to deal with the resulting trauma and some unresolved affections for a certain Sergeant ...

Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes/OC

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, 18+ smut, language, graphic depictions of violence and torture, implication of non-con elements (on the antagonist's side), self-destructive behaviour, so much angst and trauma, eventual fluff and happy ending

Word count: 14638

Notes: Hello there, fellow Bucky simps, it is wonderful to see you.

I started writing this thing shortly after watching episodes 1-3 of The Falcon And The Winter Soldier, although this fic has nothing to do with the series at all, it simply served as inspiration. The story got a little out of hand and was originally meant to be a short, self-indulgent, silly little thing, but well, here we are. I do hope you enjoy it. If you want, you will find this fic on AO3 here.

Love,

Katie

P.S.: @sventeen-daybreak, in case you were wondering, this is the fic I was talking about that I couldn't shut up with.

P.P.S.: Also I am apparently overly motivated, I made a playlist for this, and there is a second moodboard.

~~~

The room is pitch dark. I hate the dark, hate when I can’t see. I can hear Steve in my earpiece, trying to coordinate this mess of a mission.

Boy, did it go wrong. So quickly, too. Civilians cry and scream above me in the upper levels. I hope they get them out before it’s too late.

“Steve, civilians on the second floor, western wing”, Bucky’s voice crackles over comms. I release the air I’ve been holding. They will get them out. I know they will.

“Got it”, Steve answers.

“Top floor’s clear”, Sam notes.

Carefully, I take a step forward. All my senses are heightened in the darkness. Gun out in front of me, I advance further into the room. Back against the wall. Slowly, my eyes are getting used to the dark, dusty room. It smells like old plastic and metal and reminds me of the copy rooms in the library I used to go to as a kid.

I start to make out the shapes of old computers around me. Lines of shelves full of old folders and crates. Jackpot.

“I found something in the basement. Looks like they used the hostages as a distraction, there’s all kinds of data down here.”

Steve’s answer crackles into my earpiece seconds later, “Anything of value?”

I step up to one of the hulking grey computers on the nearest table. My eyes are adjusting more and more to the darkness surrounding me. As dusty and unused the rest of the room looks, the computers are surprisingly clean.

“They’ve been used recently.”

“You alone down there, Jones?”, Bucky asks.

“Seem to be. Can’t hear anything other than the scuffle upstairs.”

“Be careful”, he just huffs, then I hear gunshots cracking in the distance.

It feels wrong. If the hostages really are a distraction, why would the basement be deserted?

“I don’t like this, Steve. It’s too quiet.” I murmur.

“Can you get in there, Jones? Find what they’ve been hiding?”

I hesitate. It’s not that I think I wouldn’t get in, but I’d have to let my guard down. The bad feeling in my stomach builds.

“Sam, can you have Redwing scan the basement for heat signatures? Make sure I really am alone down here?”

“Sure thing, J. Gimme one sec”, I hear him grunt.

I wait, gun in both hands. Then, “All clear.”

The gun placed next to me on the table, I gently lower my fingers on the keyboard. Clean, too. Not unused, though, the letters are fading. I reach into my pocket to pull out a flash drive and shove it into the PC's slot. The machine begins to whizz, then the screen lights up. Within a few seconds, I have a scanner running. Nothing.

“Seems they prepared for this kinda situation; I need more time if I’m to get something outta these things.”

“You have three minutes, then we have to get out of here. Take what you can get. Anything else we’ll have Tony have a look at later at the –“

An explosion shakes the building around me. I instinctually grab the gun. Dust falls around me like snow.

Then everything happens at once.

“This is a distraction, they’ve set the place to blow, Steve!”, Bucky shouts over comms. I curse, sticking the flash drive into my pocket.

“Get out of there, Buck! Jones, you too!”

Gun drawn, I make my way over to the door.

“Shit, Jones, you’ve got company!”, Sam shouts and I freeze.

Down the hall, I can hear the shuffling of boots. Three. Maybe four.

“How many”, I murmur into the earpiece.

“Four, more coming from the other side!”

I’m surrounded. This was a trap the entire time.

“Stay low, I’m coming.” I can hear the strain in Bucky’s voice, a grunt as he fights his way down to me.

“They blew the stairs, Bucky, we will have to find another way-“

“Five more from the east, Jones! Get out of there!”

I flatten my back against the wall. Breathe. You’re not going down like this. This is not the end I tell myself, feeling my pulse quicken. This is a trap. I am trapped.

Comms are silent. The first HYDRA agent steps through the door and I shoot him in the neck. He goes down and the next one follows. Shouting words in a language I only know broken pieces of, he dodges my bullet, going for my legs. One shot misses, I react only on reflex as I kick his legs out from under him and lock him between my thighs, firing at the next one.

“I’m coming, Jones.” Bucky huffs over comms.

“Busy”, I growl as the next guy pulls out a knife and swipes at my arm, narrowly missing the skin.

The door on the other side of the room bursts open and gunfire erupts around me, Bucky, I think, but I am only greeted by more Russian. Scrambling, I duck behind one of the office chairs for any kind of cover, bullets coming from both sides. One of them just misses by mere millimetres and punches a hole through the soft backrest of the chair.

It is then that I pick up what the agents are saying. It’s only bits and pieces, broken sentences, but I hear hostage and leverage and take her alive and then I hear winter soldier. And I understand.

“I can’t get to her, Steve, I can’t – I don’t know how –“ I hear him over comms. I can’t allow him to get down here. They can’t get him.

“We’re gonna get her out of there, Buck, just –“

“Listen to me!”, I grunt as an agent slams me to the ground and I barely roll out of the way of his fist coming down.

“They’re here for Barnes, you can’t come down here, they are only here for you, you need to leave –“

“I am not. Leaving you, Jones.” Bucky growls.

“It’s a fucking trap, Barnes! Quit playing hero and get out of –“ A bullet catches me in the abdomen and all the air leaves my lungs in a pained yelp.

“There’s too many of ‘em, Steve, she can’t take ‘em all!”, I hear Sam’s voice in my ear.

They’re closing in now. I scramble for my gun, but someone kicks it away against the wall. I curse and grab the knife from my belt, slashing at the arms that try to grab me. I lost track of the entire situation, I don’t know how many are in the room with me and the low, thrumming feeling of despair in my stomach tells me what I already know. I am not escaping this. I can’t get out.

“Leave,” I croak over comms again, trying desperately to at least have him not run into this trap like I did.

“Please, you need to leave –“ a second bullet pierces my shoulder and I hiss at the sharp pain erupting in my upper body.

“No fucking way, Jones.”

“Buck she’s right, this is exactly what they want, we have to find another way!”

A fist meets my jaw, my head snaps back against the wall and I taste blood from where I bit my tongue. I try to deflect the next blow but the knife in my hand swings wide, then someone twists it out of my grasp. I look up into cold, green eyes.

“Jones? Jones, do you copy?”, Bucky’s desperate voice shouts into my ear and I pray to anyone who will listen that he stays far away from these people, that Steve has some common sense. He can’t allow them to take him.

Another fist throws my head against the wall and I feel a light, warm trickle of blood tingling in my hairline. My vision is blurry. The faces before me swim and merge into one, then break apart into a million.

“Please”, I whisper.

“Jones? Tell me you’re still there. Please, Jones, I –“

“You need to leave, Bucky, please –“

I feel myself being lifted up from the ground, hands under my arms, my feet dragging on the ground. The wound makes my shoulders scream in pain. I think I’m crying.

“Promise he’ll be safe”, I manage to get out. A slap against my bruised cheek. “Stop talking”, one of the agents commands in broken English.

“Nobody will hurt him, Jones.” Steve answers calmly, but I can hear the fear below.

“No, Jones, no, please, Steve we have to help her –“

Muffled voices around me. Pain shooting through my shoulder and abdomen, my head pounding.

“Jones, please, answer me.”

My throat refuses to work. The agents keep dragging me down the hall. My eyes flutter closed.

“Jones?” Bucky’s desperate voice pierces my heart. But he will be safe. I know Steve will make sure of it.

“Jones, please. Lizzie. Tell me you’re still there.” Tears push past my eyelids. He will be safe, I keep telling myself.

“Baby, please, I’m begging you –“, a muffled sob shoots through comms and my heart breaks for him. There is so much I want to tell him, but I can’t bring my mouth to obey me. The air around me changes, the stuffiness of the basement gives way to something cleaner, more polished. They will take me and hold me hostage for the others to come save me. This is all part of their plan; it must have been from the beginning. I can’t allow them to use me to get to Bucky. He has worked so hard to be free from HYDRA, it can’t all have been for nothing.

I feel myself being placed on the bottom of a van, the motor rumbling through the metal beneath me. My eyes blink open. I can’t let them use me. The man next to me has his gun leisurely dangling from his hand. With all the strength left in me, I push myself up into a kneeling position and grab the weapon.

I repeat the words in my head like a mantra, I can’t let them use me, fear rushes over me as I put the gun against my temple and try to pull the trigger, but my fingers slip, the last bit of strength I had leaving me when I need it the most. The men around start to shout, the nearest one kicks the gun out of my hand. Another one pushes me to the ground. I know they will use me. And I can’t stop them.

“I’m sorry, Bucky”, I whisper before they rip the earpiece out. My last link to him gone. I sink down to the ground and something heavy hits my head, sending me into oblivion.

The first thing I feel is the light. It sticks pinpricks through my lids, no matter how hard I clench them shut. Artificial light piercing my brain.

The second thing I feel is the pain. My whole body aches as if I’ve been run over by a truck. I can feel the place my head hit the wall, the blood now crusty and tugging on single hairs in my neck. I feel the gunshot wounds on my shoulder and my abdomen, searing pain creeping through my body.

The third thing is the cold. They stripped me down to my underwear. I shiver against the freezing metal chair beneath me. Drawing a slow, wheezing breath I dare to open my eyes.

More sharp, artificial light. A tiled room. Someone standing over in the corner across from me, casually leaning against the wall in stark contrast to the environment. Glancing to the left and right, sensing the empty space behind me, I seem to be sitting in the middle of the chamber. I breathe in and out again, coughing as the air hitches in my dry throat.

“Oh, you have awoken”, a voice rasps in broken English and it takes me a few seconds to realise it belongs to the person across from me. The man saunters over to my chair and stops just short of touching my knees. I have to look up at him. He wears a lazy smile and his green eyes glint in the harsh lighting. My mind flashes back to earlier in the basement. The same cold, green eyes. His tac suit has been exchanged for something more put together, a collared shirt and suit pants. He feels overdressed.

He curls a calloused finger around my chin and lifts my face higher until my neck hurts from the unnatural angle. The muscles in my shoulder twitch and a pained whine escapes my lips. It only broadens his smile. I hate myself for it. I want to scream at him, claw his eyes out, punch him, anything. But my body won’t obey me, and I’m strapped to a chair.

His fingers stroke my chin and I turn my head away to somehow try and escape his touch. “Now now, don’t get all pouty on me.”

I keep my eyes locked onto a chipped tile in the wall. It has the tiniest piece broken out of it, in the top right corner.

“Pretty thing”, the agent whispers above me and a chill runs down my spine. I don’t want to know what comes next.

His hand slides over to the back of my head where my hair is still caked in blood.

The crack in the tile almost has the shape of a star if you look at it the right way. Like the star that used to be on Bucky’s arm, my delirious brain thinks. God, I hope he stays as far away from these people as possible.

“They will come get you, pretty girl, and then he will be ours again.” Please god, make him stay away from them.

“Maybe we can have him kill you. Just for fun.”

He told me what they did to him, once. On a balcony at Stark Tower, at three a.m.

“Can’t sleep, huh?” Bucky’s metal fingers clink onto the railing as he steps out to the balcony.

I shake my head. “Nah.”

The sounds of New York at night-time are rushing below us like a river, dampened only by the height we are standing at.

“Tough mission?”, he asks, and I nod absentmindedly. Too much death. Too many casualties. It was supposed to be a stealth mission in an empty warehouse and then suddenly it was outside. Crowded. The screams and looks of terror are still burnt into my brain.

I sigh and turn around, elbows propped up on the railing. I look over to him on my left.

“And you? Tough mission?”, I repeat his question.

He shakes his head. “Nightmare.”

His eyes are underlined in dark purple, his hair a mess, he is standing out here in a pair of sweatpants and a dark shirt. Must have just gotten up. He notices me studying him and looks over. I lift an eyebrow.

“Wanna talk about it?”

I can see him hesitate. His eyes dart over my face. “Intense stuff. Wouldn’t wanna keep you awake with it, too.”

I snort. “Not like I can sleep anyways.”

My eyes fall to the scratch on my arm. “I just …” Sometimes I feel like I don’t suffer enough for all the lives I fail to save. I don’t dare tell him.

“I heard what happened today.” His low rumbling voice smoothes over a rough patch on my heart, and suddenly the lump in my throat is just the tiniest bit smaller.

“There weren’t supposed to be civilians.”

I close my fists and feel the familiar sting of the nails pressing into the soft skin of my palm.

“It was supposed to be a quick mission. In, out. Just the files. No death. And especially no civilians.”

He extends a hand to my left fist and carefully pries it open. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

I look at the red crescent moons my nails left in my skin and can’t help but remember the red hole in a young woman’s forehead. My stomach lurches and I press my hand over my mouth, biting my tongue. Tasting blood.

“It’s not your fault.”

I want to believe him so, so bad.

“How do you know?” My eyes search his face for something, anything to reassure me in the fact that I couldn’t have saved them.

“How do you know I couldn’t have done better?”

His fingers still cradle mine and rub calming circles over my hand.

“Because I know you by now, Jones. And I know you always give your all.”

But it’s not enough.

“You can’t do more than that, Jones. None of us can. All we can do is do our best and save as many people as possible.”

The screams still won’t leave my brain, though.

“I see them when I close my eyes, Barnes. I see their scared faces, their still faces, empty eyes turned upwards and I can’t –“ A violent sob breaks out from my body and I curl my arms around my chest, trying to keep myself from falling apart.

Bucky slowly walks over until he’s standing in front of me, gently placing his hands on my arms.

“Jones. Hey.”

But all I hear is screams of innocent people, all I see is lives cut short. My knees give.

He catches me as I fall and then we’re sitting across from each other on the metal floor.

“Sometimes I wonder if I deserve to have this, Barnes, to live, while all their lives ended before their time”, I manage to push out. I never told anyone this before. But I feel like he would understand.

“Hey, look at me, J.”

I try to steady my breathing and look up into his slate grey eyes, cool and soothing. For a few seconds, we just sit there silently, no words, as the hiccup sobs die down slowly.

“This is our job, Jones, we try to save as many people as we can. Think about how many more had died if you hadn’t been there.”

“None, Barnes. If I hadn’t been there, if there had been no mission, they would have just continued living their lives.”

He sighs.

We don’t talk for a while. Above us the dark night sky of New York, below us the bustling nightlife.

“You still wanna know about my nightmare?”

I look up at him, pulling my arms tightly around myself. And nod.

With a sharp twinge of pain, I get pulled out of my memories.

“You listen when I talk to you, bitch.”

Three other men have moved into the cell, one of them stepping close to the agent in front of me and quietly talking to him. I can’t make out the words, but as the agent steps back, the man before me is smiling a violent smile. I can see a chipped front tooth.

“They will come get you, darling, they just need a little motivation.”

I feel the punch coming. It still hits me unprepared, head flying backwards as pain blooms from my jaw. My ears are ringing.

The agent pushes back his sleeves and pulls a phone out from his pockets.

“Look alive”, he trills as the sharp light of a camera flash hits me. I squint too late, shapes dancing over my closed lids. A second punch hits me, the eye this time. Suit-guy chuckles gleefully as he slowly stalks around me. When he crouches down next to the chair, I shiver, his lips against my ear.

“You know what we will do now, darling?”

I couldn’t answer if I wanted to. Flashes of torture ghost through my head and sickening fear crawls up the walls of my stomach.

“We’re gonna call your friends and see if that doesn’t quicken their pace. I don’t wanna sit around here waiting for Mr. Barnes to show up. We got work to do.”

My stomach lurches. “No”, I cry, and “Please”, but he just grins down at me menacingly, holding the phone out in front of him.

The room is silent except for the beeping of the call. He put the phone on speaker.

“Who is this”, Bucky’s voice shoots out after not more than three seconds and I have to bite my tongue to not cry out.

“I’m sure you figured that out by yourself, Sergeant. We have something you want. Come and get it.”

Biting my lip, I shake my head. Please don’t come. Please.

“Where the fuck is she”, Bucky growls through the speaker, and I can almost see him clench his teeth.

“Oh, don’t worry, she is right here. Darling, won’t you say hello to your friends?”

I press my lips together and glare at him. In the background, I can hear low voices, Steve, and Tony too.

“I’m not going anywhere until I know she is alive.”

One of the agents steps behind me and places both hands on my shoulders, thumb pressing into the wound. I feel the bullet under my skin, wedged deep into the flesh. White-hot pain shoots through my body and I wince, desperately trying to be quiet. I can’t give them what they want.

“Listen to me, Barnes. Here’s what is gonna happen. You will come to a location I will send you shortly, and you will come alone. You won’t put up a fight and then, maybe, we will let her go.”

The cold, thin blade of a knife is placed against my throat and my breath hitches. My nails push into my palms as I try to stay quiet, refusing to make this any easier for them.

But then the agent pushes his thumb back into my shoulder. And I can’t move away because of the blade at my throat, and I try, I try so hard not to make a sound, but the pain is blinding, and I cry out.

“See, she is here. Stubborn though, I see why you like her –“

“I will kill each and every one of you. I will make you suffer until you wish you never set foot on this godforsaken continent.“

“Fine by me. As long as you come alone. We can take you, Barnes. You’re not invincible.”

And with that, he ends the call.

The knife is removed from my throat. The thumb from my shoulder. And I hate myself. I should have pushed against the blade. They would’ve stopped, they need me alive. Instead, I caved. Made him hear me.

Because I know he will come. But I also know he will be blind with fury, and they will take him, and make him their Soldier again. All because of me.

“See, darling, that wasn’t too hard, now, was it?”

Slow, hot tears roll over my cheeks. He has the audacity to wipe them away.

“It’s amazing what love can do to people. Almost too easy to break him, now.”

I scoff. Love. “The fuck do you know about love”, I snarl at him, and he smiles, as he crouches down again.

“Enough to see it in people. Enough to use it to my advantage.”

“He doesn’t love me.”

He downright wheezes with laughter, and I hear the others chuckle underneath their breath.

“Sure he doesn’t. And here I was, thinking you were smart …”

He doesn’t love me. I’m his partner, part of the team, he’d do this for anyone. We stick our heads out for one another, it’s just how this works.

“I guess I should thank you, darling”, he muses as he gets up and saunters off to the door. “You made this almost too easy for us. He’s gonna walk right into our trap, the fool. All heart-eyes and blind.”

He stops before leaving and turns around in the doorway. “The best part of all this is that he thinks he’s saving you.”

I look at him, head pounding.

“He thinks we’ll let you go when he’s here. I don’t see why we should. Two flies with one stone, you know. No, we’re gonna bring the Soldier out, and then he will kill you. Slowly, and painfully. See, that’s the best part. He knows what he’s doing, deep down. He’ll know. He just won’t be able to do anything against it.”

With that, he turns to leave.

“Hey, Viper”, one of the agents calls after him as they begin to leave the room.

“Lemme play with her a bit?”

The “Viper” seems to contemplate, before shrugging.

“Sure, why not. Just don’t break her. We don’t want her dead too early now, do we?”

A shuddering fear runs up my spine. The others leave the room, save the one who asked. As he closes the door behind him, a wicked smile on his face, for the first time I truly understand what HYDRA does to hostages.

My throat is hoarse and dry from screaming. Every single muscle in my body is aching, the sharp pain of the gunshots burnt down to a dull, rolling pain. I can barely keep my eyes open, drifting in and out of consciousness.

The agent before me grins violently, teeth bared. He opens his mouth, but I can’t hear, it feels like my head is wrapped in cotton. He drags a knife along my shoulder, my arms, down to my wrist, just enough to make me feel it. The cut is shallow, a burning line along my body. It barely registers. I feel like I am floating above myself, looking at the scene from a stranger’s perspective. Out of touch. Aloof.

He slaps me. I know my head flies to the side, I know blood spatters onto the ground. I know all this. But I don’t feel it. My wrists are still bound. They’ve gone numb by now.

After the first hour, I couldn’t cry anymore. After the second hour, I couldn’t scream anymore.

He left me then, for a while, leaving me to drift into merciful, dreamless unconsciousness. Then he was back. He looks like a shark in bloodied water, frenzied, thirsty for the pain he greedily drinks out of my voice, my eyes, the way my body reacts without me having any say in it.

I lose track of time. The windowless room, tiled top to bottom, claws at my sense of orientation and slowly pulls the ground from under my feet. It feels like days since I last saw daylight.

This was not how the mission was supposed to go. It was supposed to be a small thing. Minor hostage situation, yes, high stakes, sure, but nothing the four of us couldn’t handle. Nothing HYDRA, just a drug cartel. We went in fully prepared. But then it went tits up, too many opponents, more than there were supposed to be.

My nose registers a sharp smell, something wet touches my nose. My conscience is being dragged back to earth, to this broken room, this broken body. My eyes flutter open.

“Don’t you fall asleep on me, pretty.” He is back. His shark grin broadens as he sees my eyes register him.

“Can’t blame the Soldier for wanting a piece of this.” His fingers slide along my face, curl around my chin to lift it up so I look him in the eyes.

“You know, I been thinkin’, why should we let him kill a pretty thing like you right away? It’s not like we get girls this easy ‘round here often. Gotta use the opportunity.”

My stomach roils and I can taste bile in the back of my throat. Please, no. Not this. Please.

His hands let go of my jaw and glide lower, over the sweat-and-blood-soaked underwear they graciously left me, and he pushes my legs apart. I am shaking, I realise, I can’t even stop myself. Cold terror washes over me at the sight of his hungry eyes. He reaches out to grab my hips.

And then everything happens all at once.

A metal arm wraps around his throat, lifting him up away from me and sending his hands scrambling to free himself.

“Touch her again and I will rip you limb from limb.”

The arm sends him flying against the wall, a sickeningly wet thud as his head impacts.

And then he’s there. I must be hallucinating. He is there, and he is alive, and he is himself. He is there. Bucky’s there.

“Fuck, Lizzie, please tell me you’re still in there. Please.” He sinks to his knees and cups my face gently, so gently. It can’t be real. I can only stare at him, drink him in, some kind of fever dream.

“Baby”, he whispers. His hands reach behind me to cut the rope they bound me with, and the lack of suspense sends me falling. But he catches me. I can feel his hands keep me from crashing to the floor and a tiny piece of me returns. He is real. He is here, Bucky is here, and they didn’t make him the Soldier again and he came. He came to save me.

“We need to hurry, this place will be crawling with agents in a few.” I recognise Steve’s voice and as my eyes blink into focus, I see him guarding the door.

They came for me. I’m still shaking, I realise, as I feel my teeth chatter against each other. Bucky’s eyes look heartbroken.

“Can you stand, Lizzie?”

I don’t trust my knees. I don’t trust my voice, either. Bucky takes that as a no.

“I will have to carry you, baby. Is that okay? We have to get you out of here.”

“Buck”, Steve’s voice is cold with warning.

I nod. I can do that, so I nod, the tiniest movement. But he understands.

Slowly, he stands back up, hands still holding me so I don’t double over, and he ever so carefully picks me up, cradling me against his chest. I feel his steady heartbeat through is tac suit. It feels like it slowly drums the life back into my body, pushing the numbness further and further away. God, my feet are cold. My whole body is cold. No wonder I’m shaking.

He carries me out of the room with Steve walking ahead. I curl up against him, closing my eyes against the bright neon lights above. I am safe now, right?

Right?

Shots echo in front of us. Bucky pulls me against him further.

“It’s okay, Lizzie. Everything will be okay. I got you now.”

“All clear”, Steve comments, catching his shield, and we continue. My head is thrumming. The feeling slowly returns to my body but with it returns the pain.

We round a corner and Bucky curses, ducking back around it and shielding me from the gunfire ahead. His metal arm pushes against my wounded shoulder and I cry out, cold sweat coating my forehead. Then it’s quiet again. Inside, my head feels like it’s about to burst.

We round another corner. Fast footfalls follow, then an impact. We tumble and he pulls me against his chest as we fall, but my head meets the ground with an angry thud. Black dots dance over my cloudy vision and Bucky snarls on top of me. The sounds of fighting ensue. I can only lay there, breathing shallow, feeling warm blood trickle down my head, wound newly torn open.

Then he is above me again, hands cradling my face.

“No, Lizzie, stay with me”, he whispers as my eyes flutter shut.

“You have to stay with me, please. Baby, please. Look at me.”

But the warm darkness is so welcoming, if I could just let myself fall …

“Lizzie, baby … please, I need you to stay with me.”

His hands pick me up so carefully, pulling me close against his chest again.

“I need you to stay awake, Lizzie. Please.”

I want to, so bad. But I can’t will my eyes to open. The darkness is all over me now. And I let go.

Dark, thick boots in front of me, barking voices, a hand grabbing me by the throat and pulling me up, up, up, until I look into a shark-toothed smile again.

“When I’m done with you, pretty, you’re gonna wish we’d let him kill you.”

Tears roll over my cheeks as he grabs my shoulders, knees giving out from under me as I crash onto the ground, the pain, god the pain, I can’t take it anymore, it’s too much, please let it end, please –

I startle awake, hands frantically pushing up until I’m sitting. Breathing heavy, fists curled up into something soft. The room is warm, welcoming even. There’s no sound apart from my breaths. I am alone. That’s good. Nobody can hurt me if I’m alone.

Then the pain registers and my upper body implodes. I gasp and my arms give out from under me, having me fall back down to the bed.

There’s a knock at the door. It startles me, and immediately I am on high alerts again.

But HYDRA wouldn’t knock.

“Yes?”, I try to say, and wince at how quietly and croaky it comes out.

Nevertheless, the door opens, revealing a tousled head of red hair. Natasha.

“Hey, Jones.” She’s quiet as if trying not to spook me. Like a wounded animal. “How are you?”

I look around the room. This must be Stark Tower. The peace is in such harsh contrast to the last … hours? Days? I don’t know. It doesn’t feel real. How am I supposed to know if this is happening? If it’s really, truly happening, or if I’m just hallucinating? But Bucky saved me. Right?

“Is this real?”, I rasp out. Natasha studies me carefully.

“Will you believe me if I say yes?”

I don’t know, will I? But would it be so bad if it was a dream? It’s so quiet.

“Where are the others?”, I ask. Where is Bucky?, I mean.

“Safe.” She understands. “Strewn all over Stark Tower, working to shut that base down they kept you at.” She slowly approaches me, studying my face.

I try and carefully sit up, much to the dismay of my ruined muscles.

“How did – why were – what happened?”, I try to form a coherent sentence.

“Well, for starters, going in alone anywhere in this kind of situation is a no-go, so fuck that.” She wears a half-smile, pulling a chair over so she can sit, far enough from the bed to give me my space.

“I’m not gonna bore you with the details here, but long story short, someone kidnapped our friend, and we kicked their asses.”

I attempt a smile. Not sure if it works, if it doesn’t, Natasha doesn’t let on.

My throat is dry. I can’t remember the last time I drank something, I realise, right before my lungs explode into a coughing fit. The gunshot wounds pulse red-hot pain through my body and I collapse onto the bed again.

“It’s okay, Liz, here. You’ll be okay.” She reaches over and grabs a glass of water from the nightstand, before handing it to me and carefully stabilising my upper body. The cool water runs through my parched mouth and somehow it calms my panicked nerves.

Right as she places the glass back on the nightstand, the door opens again, gently, and a small whimper leaves my throat as I see him. He’s safe. He’s here with me and he is safe.

His eyes widen. “Thank god you’re awake”, he breathes and rushes over, falling to his knees next to the bed.

“I thought I’d lost you.”

My hands reach out to him and he grabs my fingers, carefully pulling them close. Something inside me shatters.

“You’re safe, you’re okay, thank god you’re okay, I –“, my words fail me as I break into sobs, “I failed you, Bucky, it was all my fault, I –“

He looks up into my eyes. “Shh. Don’t say that. I’m just glad you’re here. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

It’s better, now. I don’t question my sanity anymore, my reality. When I wake up at night, drenched in cold sweat, asking FRIDAY who is on my floor and she tells me it’s Steve, or Natasha, or Bucky, I believe her. I know they can’t get to me anymore.

But I have gotten wary. Paranoid, even. Sometimes I ask FRIDAY to list the people in the tower over, and over, and over again. She does. An AI’s patience, I guess. I still wake up in the middle of the night, throat screamed hoarse, seeing monsters in the shadows. Or in the too-bright lights. Feel phantom fingers press into my shoulder and force my legs apart.

The gunshots have healed well, thanks to the skilled hands of the Stark Tower’s med bay. They still hurt, sometimes. It’ll be a wrong movement and a twinge of pain will shoot through my shoulder or my stomach. I’ll grimace and pull through.

There’s new rules, too. Nobody goes in alone. Anywhere. Ever.

And I’ve been avoiding Bucky. He spent the first days keeping vigilant watch, at my bedside or outside the door. His absence hurts somewhere deep inside of me, a deeper pain than the gunshots, something the pain killers can’t reach. But I can’t look him in the eyes. If I hadn’t gone into the basement alone, none of this would have happened. I wouldn’t have endangered him.

There is an empty feeling in my chest that I will start to notice whenever it gets too quiet, whenever my brain has time to roam. I miss him. I miss our late night balcony talks when we both can’t sleep. I miss the bickering at the start and end of successful missions. But I can’t go back on missions yet. And worse than missing him is the guilt.

Everyone, and I mean everyone, told me it wasn’t my fault. Steve got all emotional. Fury short and to the point. Natasha with a sharp look in her eye. She understood. To Sam I almost spilled my heart out, he has that effect on people. And of course, Bucky. Again, and again. In the first days, when he didn’t leave me for longer than two hours, and later on, too. The few times we do meet in a hallway, when my eyes look anywhere but into his. I know he says it to ease my mind. I know that he probably even believes it, but I can’t.

He told me, once, that he remembers every single person he killed while under HYDRA’s influence. Every target, every civilian that got into the crossfire. He told me of the torture they put him through. The cryo. And because of me, he almost fell back into their grasp. And I just can’t make myself not feel guilty about it.

Some days I wordlessly stand on Sam’s doorstep, running shoes in hand, hair in a ponytail. I think he understands the need to run from my thoughts, from my brain writhing and clawing at itself. I know he wants to talk about it. He knows I don’t. And he won’t push.

The gym is empty as I step into it quietly, pulling the door closed behind my back. My eyes roam around the room.

“FRIDAY, anyone in here with me?”

A short pause, then: “You are currently the only person on this floor, Agent Jones.”

I breathe out the air I held in anticipation. I go look for a place slightly out of sight from the door, that still allows me to quickly observe the entire room. Waiting for another few seconds, I ask FRIDAY again. Still alone. Just me.

Mechanically, I go through stretches. Lunges. Sit-ups. I don’t listen to music while working out anymore, too distracting. Too easy to be surprised. Instead, I concentrate on the rhythm of my heartbeat.

Still, my mind wanders. The last couple of missions have not been great. Mostly successful, yes, but too many casualties. Not to mention the last one. I was clumsy. Careless. Not quick enough, not strong enough. Not good enough.

I find a punching bag and let loose on it. Throwing punch after punch, blow after blow, until I’m panting and sweat is dripping off my forehead, plastering strands of hair onto my skin.

Next punch.

Crying hostages.

My fist flies into the bag again.

A young woman running in front of me, staggering in her panic, then a stray bullet hits her in the head. Her vacant eyes come to rest on me as she falls.

My knuckles curl and I punch the bad again.

Bucky’s voice over my earpiece, pleading, begging.

“Jones, please. Lizzie. Tell me you’re still there.”

Skin connecting with fabric.

A green-eyed agent, sneering down at me.

“You made this almost too easy for us. He’s gonna walk right into our trap, the fool.”

I grit my teeth and my fists meet the bag again.

And again.

Dark spots dancing before my eyes.

I continue. It’s all my fault. It wouldn’t have happened if I had been stronger.

One more punch.

If I had been faster.

I feel myself swaying.

I’m not good enough.

I’m not out for long. My first thought when I come to results in a frantic question to FRIDAY.

The AI answers patiently. “You are currently the only person on this floor, Agent Jones.”

Same answer as always. It’s soothing, a sense of normality. Of routine. I take a look at the clock. Nine p.m. Time to take a shower and go to bed, I suppose. Not that I expect to be able to sleep. Walking to the elevator, I contemplate having Natasha knock me out cold so that I can for once experience the benevolent veil of unconsciousness.

Halfway up to my floor, the elevator stops and the doors open. Immediately I step into a defensive stance before I realise it’s just Steve. Just sweet, kind Steve, whose heart I can see break in slow motion when he sees my reaction.

“Hey, Liz.”

I sigh and my shoulders drop.

“You okay?”

I’m not sure if I will ever be the same. I’m not sure if I will ever not flinch anymore when someone I didn’t spot moves too quickly. I’m not sure if I can ever look Bucky in the eyes again. I’m not sure –

“Yeah.” I attempt a smile, but it crumbles before it can become convincing.

The elevator picks up speed and Steve leans against the wall.

“I feel like things between you and Buck have been … strained, lately.”

Putting on my best façade, I throw an innocent look his way.

“What do you mean?”

He sighs, lifting his eyebrows at me, but indulging my little act.

“The two of you were different, before. Partners. Joking around, and I do understand it’s hard to fall back into it after what you went through, but Bucky …”

My eyes snap towards him.

“… I don’t know. It’s not my place to say anything.”

Whatever the hell that is supposed to mean.

“Everything is fine between Barnes and me, Steve. Same as before. I just don’t go on missions yet, so we don’t see each other as often. Right?”

He studies me for a moment, arms crossed.

“Right.” I can tell he doesn’t believe me.

When the elevator stops again, we’re on my floor, and I make my way out of the doors. Just before they slide closed again, Steve puts his foot between them.

“Liz, wait.”

I turn around, back against the wall.

“I just …” He struggles with what to say and what to keep to himself.

“Don’t let this ruin something good. Don’t let them break you, still.”

There is an ache in my chest. Deep-rooted, a few inches below my left shoulder.

“Yeah”, I manage. He studies me for a few more seconds, then he steps back and lets the elevator close between us. As soon as he is out of sight, my shoulders slump forward. Don’t let them break you, he says. They already did.

I wake up with a gasp. Silent terror behind my eyes. My brain making up scenarios.

Bucky came alone in this one. Unarmed. Prepared to offer himself up for me to be let go, but I know they won’t. They told me.

So they take him, and break him, and then they let him loose on me. I don’t have enough strength to run, to fight. Not like I could.

He is upon me quickly, metal arm around my throat, squeezing until there are tears escaping from my eyes.

But his eyes are his own. Tortured look behind the cold façade, eyes wide in terror. I can see he knows what he is doing. The panic of not being able to stop his body from complying.

I shake my head. Brush my hair off my sweaty face. The usual question to FRIDAY. The usual answer.

My gym clothes are still lying in a pile on the ground next to my bed and I slip into them. Need to get the images out of my head. Try to, at least.

The gym is empty. No surprise, if I am honest, it’s the middle of the night. The same time Bucky and I used to meet on a balcony, each fighting our own ghosts.

I find the punching bag again. It feels good to have an impact on something, an ounce of control over something that can’t hurt me. My muscles still burn from the last time I was down here. The bag gets pushed to the left, to the right, and I feel the skin on my knuckles heat up. Then crack open. The sharp pain crawling over my hands feels good, too. It is nothing, compared to the pain I put innocent people through. To the pain I almost put Bucky through.

The familiar dark, dancing spots creep into my vision. They beckon me with honeyed lips to give in, and I grit my teeth through the oncoming dizziness.

Behind me, a door falls shut, and I flinch and whirl around, staggering at the too-quick movement. Dark hair, slate eyes, underlined in violet. Bucky, my brain registers, before my vision blacks out for a second and I feel my knees connect with the mat below me.

He’s there in an instant, hands steadying my shoulders. The touch sends shivers down my arms. My vision clears again, and I attempt a carefree expression. The look on his face tells me he is not convinced.

“It’s fine. I’m fine”, I try to tell him with a reassuring smile.

He is on his knees before me, reluctantly letting my shoulders go. Eyes still studying my face, he huffs out a breath of air.

“So are you gonna tell me what you’re doing down here in the middle of the night?” He sits back onto his heels, still kneeling on the ground. I want to reach for him, touch him, pull him so close to me that nobody will ever get to him. Instead,, I just curl my hands into fists and cock an eyebrow at him.

“What about you?”

“Can’t sleep”, he explains, and I shrug.

“Well, there you have it.”

I can’t look directly into his eyes. He is too good at reading people, something born from trauma and survival instinct.

His hands are resting on his folded legs, metal fingers calm on top of his right hand. He’s wearing his “I woke up in the middle of the night and can’t sleep” outfit, sweatpants and a black shirt. Reminds me of the nights spent talking on the balcony. It’s like HYDRA took this from me, too, this small refuge after a day spent trying and failing to save people. The time he spent putting all the pieces of myself back together.

“So you go down here and punch a bag until you collapse?”

I shrug again, trying to keep the raging storm that is my mind inside for nobody else to see. His shoulders sag a little and he angles his head so that he can look me in the eyes.

“Can you at least look at me, Lizzie?”

Something compels me to do so. Maybe it’s the pet name. He is the only one who ever calls me Lizzie, everyone else says Liz, or J, or Agent Jones. Bucky usually only uses it when we’re alone. My mind races back to a few weeks ago.

“Jones, please. Lizzie. Tell me you’re still there.”

His broken voice replays in my head.

“Baby, please, I’m begging you –“

I only just now realise. He never called me baby before, either. I feel like I’m missing something, like the pieces are there, just out of my reach. It frustrates me.

“You’re not fine, are you?”, his smooth voice is the last straw, gently pushing into the walls I put around my heart in the last few weeks until they burst. There’s a lump the size of a tennis ball in my throat as my breath hitches and my shoulders sag and then hot tears spill out of my eyes and I can’t stop it from happening.

“Lizzie, no, hey, come here.” He holds his arms wide open and waits for me to give him permission to touch me. No pressure, just an offer. I feel my hands reach out and he wraps his arms around me, pulling me closer to his chest. My fists clench into the soft fabric of his shirt and I curl up tighter around my aching chest. He just holds me. Gentle hands stroking soothingly over my back, up, down, up again, down again. And fuck, he feels like home.

The sobs die down into quiet hitching breaths, dull stitches in my sides. Bucky remains where he is, not saying a word, just holding me.

“I feel like they broke me”, I finally gather the air to whisper into his chest. He presses his lips against my hairline, silently waiting for me to continue.

“I’m sorry, Bucky.”

He stirs, then.

“What for?”

“I let you down.”

It’s the first time I am saying this to anyone. I don’t know what it is that makes me tell him, of all people. But it feels right.

“No, Lizzie, you didn’t.”

I look up, blinking the tears away until I can see his eyes.

“I put you in danger. They almost got to you because of me.”

Bucky sighs. “They almost got to me through you. Not because. None of this was your fault, you know?”

I roll my eyes. “Everyone keeps telling me it wasn’t my fault and yet I let them take me, and I was the reason you came to them and for some reason, you got fucking lucky enough to not fall right back into their hands!”

His face is calm, collected, even, but I see the pain in his eyes.

“None of that happened because of you. It happened to you. What were you supposed to do, fight ten of them and get out unscathed? Nobody does that, Lizzie. It was a damn trap.”

I fist my hands into his shirt. “And I walked right fucking into it, didn’t I?”

“We all did. I shouldn’t have let you go alone.”

“You don’t get it, do you? It was my fault. I knew something was wrong and I stayed down there in that goddamn basement!”

“What did you do wrong?”

I pause. He looks directly at me, eyes locked onto mine. “Tell me what you did wrong.”

Something inside me cracks.

“I let them take me even though I knew they would use me to get to you.”

My fingers are still closed into his shirt. “I tried to fight them off, I even tried to –“ My voice breaks and I swallow against the lump in my throat.

“I knew they needed me alive, so I …”

His eyes are studying me carefully and I can see the slow realisation of what I am about to tell him dawn in the back of his mind.

“One of them was careless with his gun. I tried to put a bullet through my head”, I whisper, not daring to look at him.

He inhales sharply. “Lizzie, no …”

“I was too slow.”

“Baby …”, he whispers, in a voice I have never heard from him before. He sounds small. Broken.

His arms wrap around me carefully, as if scared I might shatter if he pushes too hard. His scent envelops me, pines and leather and metal, underlined by clean linen and sweat. It’s strangely soothing.

“Please promise me you won’t do that again. I can’t – I wouldn’t even know what to do without you.”

My hand flattens against his chest, heart pounding underneath.

“It wasn’t your fault”, I whisper against him.

“No, it was. They were there for me. I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

I want to grab him by the shirt and shake him, remind him it’s not his fault, it’s them, that he never did anything wrong. Instead, I just shake my head.

“We weren’t careful enough, Lizzie. We should all have expected it to be a trap. Me, Steve, Sam, too.”

“Don’t say that”, I mutter into his shirt.

“Can I tell you something?”

I nod.

“Can you look at me while I do? Please?”

I sigh, but look up at him, skin itchy from the drying tears.

“You can’t keep putting the blame on yourself whenever something goes wrong.”

My shoulders slump.

“It doesn’t make anything better, you hear me? It doesn’t help anyone. It just makes you sink deeper and deeper into your guilt. And trust me, I know what that’s like.”

He pries my fingers from his shirt and gently folds them open. His thumbs smooth over my palms, circling around the crescent scars in the soft skin.

“There is enough pain in this world, Lizzie. And you’re putting yourself through enough already. Don’t blame yourself for what happens to me, too. It’s not your fault.”

When I fall into bed later, it’s the first time in weeks that I sleep through. Probably just the exhaustion.

I lie awake again, the next day. This time I never even fell asleep. There’s too many faces when I close my eyes. Too many screams. The voice of a green-eyed viper.

A noise outside my room spooks me into sitting up. Slow, sluggish steps on the corridor. They stop right in front of my door, then it’s silent.

“FRIDAY, who else is on this floor?”

The AI answers dutifully. “Currently, you and Sergeant Barnes are on this floor, Agent Jones.”

Bucky? It must be Bucky outside, then, anything else security would have picked up on.

A few seconds later, there is a quiet knock. I rub my eyes and fully sit up in the sheets before I answer. The door opens, just far enough for him to stick his head through.

“Heard that you’re awake. Can I come in?” His eyes look haunted.

“Sure.”

I pull the blanket closer to my body as he kneels down next to the bed.

“You can sit on the bed, you know?”

His chin resting on his left arm, he slightly cocks one eyebrow. “I did not.”

But he doesn’t move. He just looks at me and I at him, until his intense gaze gets too much to hold. My eyes roam over his face, the stubble on his chin, the curve of his jaw, the worried lines on his forehead.

“I’m so glad you’re safe”, he whispers, and my eyes return to his.

Something compels me to reach out and run my fingers through his hair, along his temple. His eyelids flutter closed. My palm comes to rest along his cheek, and he melts into the touch, my thumb caressing his cheekbone.

We just stay like this for a few minutes, for once not battling our inner demons. Savouring the peace we have in this moment, knowing the other is safe here.

It’s me who breaks the silence.

“Why’d you sit outside my door?”

He blinks a few times, adjusting to the soft lighting in my room, too bright after the darkness behind closed eyelids.

“Had a bad dream. Wanted to make sure nobody would hurt you”, he mumbles against my wrist. He lifts his right hand and I reach for it, fingers intertwining.

“I’m okay”, I whisper and he squeezes my hand.

“Sometimes I ask FRIDAY if you’re safe”, he admits and I smile. Seems we both use the AI as a support system. Although that’s what she’s there for, I guess.

He’s still kneeling before me and I shake my head.

“Come on, the ground’s a little cold, don’t you think?” I pat the blanket next to me.

“You sure?”, he mumbles and I nod. He sits up, still holding my hand. “I wouldn’t want to – “

I roll my eyes, “I offered, Bucky”, and shoot him a small smile. He shrugs and smiles back, standing up and crawling across the blanket to where I’m leaning against the headboard. The warmth he emits slowly engulfs me and it feels so safe, so much like home, that I move closer to him almost subconsciously.

“C’mere”, he mumbles and tentatively puts his right arm around my shoulders. He pulls me closer until my head lies on his chest. Intuitively, I inhale his scent, so undeniably Bucky, and sigh. Slowly, we both sink deeper and deeper into the bedding until we’re both lying down, and I curl one leg over his, foot threading between his shins. My arm comes to rest over his stomach and I feel his slow, steady breathing. It feels so right, my body against his. Like we’re made for each other.

I feel tempted to shake my head at myself for that thought. I’m tired. No idea how late it is but considering he had woken up, it has to be at least midnight. Probably past that.

“Can you promise me something?” His low voice rumbles in his ribcage, amplified by my ear pressed against his chest.

“Hm?”, I answer, half asleep.

“Next time you wanna punch a bag until your legs give out, tell me?”

I huff against his shirt. There’s a part of me that wants to scream I’m not worth his time, his concern, but the other part just misses him so fucking bad. And I’m just glad to have him back, so I nod.

“Good. Thank you. Now try and sleep, you need it.”

His steady breathing gently lulls me in.

The bed next to me is empty when I wake up. Immediately, I jump, heart pounding, but then I hear the shower running. He’s still here. I try to calm myself down again. The shower is turned off, and a few moments later Bucky walks through the door, hair still wet, wearing only his sweatpants. He pauses, towel in hand. A few stray droplets of water catch the light, glistening across his bare chest. I can’t help but follow the trail of muscles down, down, until my eyes get caught on the waistband of his sweatpants. I blink.

“’morning”, I rasp, clearing my throat.

A grin ghosts over his face, and I swear there is a smug glint in his eyes. “Good morning to you, too. Sleep well?”

A blush creeps up my cheeks and I avert my eyes, stretching to cover up my embarrassment. “Yup.” Had to get caught ogling my team partner, didn’t I.

“For once”, I add.

His smile turns softer then, and he sits down on the edge of the bed. “I’m glad.”

We just sit there for a while, stealing glances at each other’s faces. After what feels like an eternity, he clears his throat. “Breakfast?”

My fists fly into the punching bag. This time, it’s not being pushed around. Bucky is standing behind it, holding it firmly in his grasp, watching me closely and giving advice when he sees fit. It’s not the first session we share. Over the last few days, we have developed some sort of a routine, one of us showing up at the other’s room wordlessly, silent terrors behind tired eyes.

My time in the gym has become less self-destructive since, with him there to keep a close watch so I don’t push myself until I black out. Instead, he eases me off my adrenaline high, pulls me back out of my spiralling brain into reality. The time spent with him slowly fills the hole left by our nightly meetings on the balcony. It helps me tire myself out, I get to sleep through most of the times I go to bed afterwards.

“I just remembered something", I start one time we take the elevator back up to our respective floors.

He’s leaning against the wall across from me, elbows propped up on the railing. Sweat still glistening on his forehead, his hair a tousled mess, despite its shortness.

His eyes flicker over to mine. “Hm?”

I clear my throat. “When I was … held hostage by HYDRA, their commander said something, I never quite understood why.”

It feels … unsettling, to talk about that day. Bucky just looks at me patiently, without pressure.

“He said it was amazing what love could do to people.”

Bucky cocks an eyebrow.

“He was talking about you. Us. He said that it was easier to get to you because they had me.”

There is something in his eyes that I can’t quite put my finger on. He looks taken aback, almost. He flexes his right hand, still looking right at me.

“And I told him he was wrong. They thought they had you all figured out, you know? Thought they could convince you to come alone just because they had me, of all people. I mean, I guess Steve would’ve been harder to catch, but you know …”

He still hasn’t said a word. I start to squirm under his gaze, slate eyes intently watching me, a muscle in his jaw twitching. It dawns on me, then, that bringing up HYDRA playing mind games is probably not the best thing. Sure, he knows, but did I have to remind him of that? I want to punch myself at the pained expression on his face.

“I’m sorry I brought it up”, I murmur, not daring to meet his eyes. He slowly exhales, and part of the tension seems to leave him.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” He attempts a smile. It fails so miserably it almost hurts.

The elevator doors open with a quiet ring. As if being startled awake, Bucky suddenly straightens up and walks through the door, muttering a “Goodnight” under his breath.

I look after him confused, doors sliding closed. It feels like I lost some small part of him. The elevator picks up speed again and I make for the door as it opens on my floor.

That night, my dreams are haunted by the pained expression on Bucky’s face, mixed with what my brain pieced together from the few things he told me about his time with HYDRA. I wake up shaking and sit up, sweat plastering my hair to my forehead.

“FRIDAY, can you check in with Sergeant Barnes? If he’s safe?”

“Sergeant Barnes shows no sign of physical distress, Agent Jones.”

Seconds later, there is a knock. I get out of bed and walk over, opening the door. Bucky looks at me with tortured eyes that widen with worry as he takes me in. “You okay?”, he asks softly, lifting a hand to brush my hair out of my face. I nod and take a step back, allowing him into the room. He closes the door behind him and I wrap my arms around my torso, still feeling guilty for the conversation we had earlier.

He’s standing in the middle of the room, as if he doesn’t know where to sit – or if to sit at all. I sit down on the bed and study him for a while. We both start talking at the same time.

“I’m sorry that – “

“I shouldn’t have – “

We stop, sheepish smiles ghosting over both our faces. Something flutters in my chest. It’s quiet then, for a while, until he opens his mouth again.

“I’m sorry that I just left like that. Earlier.”

I shake my head. “No, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

He runs a hand through his hair and takes a step towards me, gesturing over at the bed. “May I?”

I nod, making room for him on the blanket next to me and he sits down, his weight shifting the mattress. He looks like he’s debating something in his mind, torn between one thing and another. I gently touch his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

He stills. Then he sighs. It breaks my heart seeing him this way, tense shoulders, eyes lined violet. He draws a slow and deep breath until he looks over at me. “Can I stay with you tonight?”

I blink, startled. He takes my surprise as hesitation and makes to get up.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you – ” Before he can get up entirely, I wrap my hand around his wrist. He pauses, eyes flying to my hand and then to my eyes.

“Bucky.” He slowly breathes out. “Of course you can stay.”

I let go of his wrist and crawl up to the headboard, leaning back against it.

“C’mere.”

He follows, but instead of sitting next to me, he lies down, curling up with his head on the pillow. I extend my left leg and he inches closer, left hand coming to rest on my thigh. My left hand finds its way to his shoulder, tracing soothing circles over it and slowly up his neck until my fingertips are tousling his dark hair. I can’t help but muse over its softness. He sighs against my leg and I can almost see the tension leaving him, shoulders slowly slumping.

“Thank you”, he mumbles, barely audible.

“Any time, Bucky.”

I wake up later, barely, to his hands stroking my shoulders.

“Lizzie, hey.”

I squint and try to open my eyes further.

“Everything is fine, I just … your back is gonna hurt if you stay like that the whole night.”

I’m still leaning against the headboard.

“Mkay”, I mumble, eyes fluttering closed again. I think I hear him chuckle, then he gently picks me up and places me down on the mattress so that I’m in a proper sleeping position. My eyes blink open again when he comes to rest next to me, face inches from mine. “Thank you”, I whisper, and without thinking about it, I place a kiss on his cheek. The surprised look on his face barely registers with me, before I sink back into unconsciousness.

When I wake up again, it’s morning. Bucky has assumed the position I was in last night, leaning against the headboard, a hand softly placed on my shoulder. I look up at him and smile, eyes not yet fully open. He smiles back, the softest look in his eyes.

“Morning, Lizzie.”

I yawn and rub my eyes, rolling onto my back.

“You know, Bucky, I always seem to sleep better when you’re next to me.” My cheeks heat up as soon as the last words leave my mouth and I scramble to say something less embarrassing, I shouldn’t be allowed to talk until I’ve been awake for at least ten minutes, for fucks sake, but then he smiles.

“I do, too.”

The soft morning light makes him look ethereal, his eyes almost silver in the direct sun. He squints down at me, eyes roaming over my face, before settling somewhere below my eye line.

“You’re beautiful”, he says softly and I pause, before I sit up, his eyes following every movement. I can’t help but stare at him, painted in golden light, and yet he tells me I’m beautiful.

I move towards him until my knees almost touch his legs. His right hand slowly reaches out, carefully, as if to not startle me, and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. He cups my cheek, thumb smoothing over my cheekbone and my eyes flutter closed. He moves closer, bedsheets rustling beneath his knees, and then I feel soft lips on mine. The ghost of a kiss pressing against me. My eyes fly open and immediately, he pulls back.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to – I just – I can’t –“

His hand leaves my cheek and it feels strangely cold. Before he can pull back further, I grab his hand. Gathering all the courage I have, I look him in the eyes.

“Kiss me, Bucky.”

He draws a shaky breath and then he is there, lips pressed against mine. I close my eyes, curling my arms around his neck, and he grabs my hips, pulling me closer, closer, onto his lap. His hands slide over my thighs to the small of my back, and then upwards, until they flatten against my shoulder blades, holding me like he needs me to live. Maybe he does. Maybe I need him, too, I wonder, as my hands find their way into his hair, pulling gently.

He pulls me closer, rocking me against his abdomen and a small, breathless sound escapes my throat. Bucky moans in response, teeth nipping at my lower lip. His tongue follows and I melt into him, hands pulling him closer towards me. Almost on instinct, I roll my hips against him again. His fingers curl into my shirt as he groans, sending a rush of blood down into my core.

We pull apart then, panting, dizzy from the lack of oxygen. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide. I shudder when his gaze meets mine. We’re still so close to each other, noses almost touching, breaths mingling between us.

“I can’t tell you how long I’ve been wanting to do this”, he whispers against my lips, and goosebumps trickle down my spine.

“You have?”

He nods, tongue wetting his lips. His right hand slides up around my neck, thumb smoothing over the sensitive spot right below my ear, following the curve of my jaw. I let my head fall to the side, baring my neck, eyes closing. He places a barely-there kiss against the skin, then another, tracing a line down to my collar bone.

“I’m a simple man, Lizzie. Give me a beautiful woman in a tac suit, and I’m done for.”

I chuckle and open my eyes, facing him as he lifts his head to look at me. “Really that easy, hm?”

He nods earnestly, corners of the mouth twitching up. “If she can also handle a gun? Man …” He sighs. “I suppose I’ve been in the military for too long.”

I shrug. “Well, me too, then.”

One eyebrow shoots up, then he grins, “How long you been here, Lizzie?”

I roll my eyes at him. “You know what I mean, Bucky.”

He acts as if contemplating whether or not he needs me to elaborate, then he gets a smug look on his face. “Yeah, I’ve seen how you look at me sometimes.”

I groan, hiding my face in his shoulder. His low chuckle turns into a hum when my lips meet his throat and I work my way up the same way he just did. My hands on both sides of his face. His fingers curl around my wrists and I look into his eyes.

“It’s not like I do much to hide … anything, really.”

“Anything?” He kisses the palms of my hands, holding them against his face.

“You just look good in black, Buck. Don’t tell me you don’t know it.”

He cracks a crooked grin, looking up at me through his lashes and I draw a shaky breath.

“No, I know. I’m old enough to see when a woman looks at me and likes what she sees.”

I roll my eyes at him and he chuckles.

“I’m kidding, Lizzie.”

He pulls me towards him and gently places his lips on mine. I sigh and can’t help but smile into the kiss, fingers playing with his hair. His tongue caresses my lips and I open my mouth to let him in. His hands drop to grab my hips, rocking me against him again and heat shoots through my body, lips suddenly become sloppy and desperate, my hands trying to get a hold of as much of him as possible.

He tips us to the side, keeping me close with his right arm and holding himself up with his left. Then he carefully places me onto the bed, lips never leaving mine. His fingers toy with the hem of my shirt, leaving butterfly touches on the skin below it. His mouth wanders, pressing kisses to the corners of my mouth, the underside of my jaw, underneath my ear, down the curve of my neck.

I bite my lip and my hands curl into his hair, following his movements slowly down my upper body. All the while his hands slowly push up my shirt, exposing the tender skin of my stomach. His fingertips ghost along the underside of my breasts. My breath hitches.

“That okay?”, he mutters into my ear, lips fluttering against my ear. I have to bite back a moan and can only nod. “Talk to me”, he adds.

“Fucking hell, Buck, just take my shirt off.”

He chuckles against my ear and pulls the fabric up, up, over my head. I open my eyes and catch his, roaming over the stretch of skin now exposed to him. He dips his head low to place a kiss on my chest, and then his hands are on my sides, tracing upwards. His thumb rubs over my nipple, cold metal in stark contrast to the fire inside me that he keeps feeding with each touch.

My hands pull on his hair and he moves up to me, lips pressing down and fingers caressing the soft skin. The clash of his cold hands on my chest and his warm lips against mine send a rush of blood into my lower body and I sigh into his mouth, before he leaves again. I complain until his mouth is where his fingers were just seconds before, closing around my hardened nipple, tongue rolling against it. A twinge of pleasure lets the muscles in my stomach contract and I gasp, my back arching up into him, reacting on reflex only.

His hand pushes me back against the bed, his mouth still kissing and nipping on reddened skin. Then he looks up at me and parts my legs with a knee, pushing upwards, gaze fixed on my face. He pushes further and my mouth falls open, making an effort to keep eye contact with him while he moves against me, coaxing a slow moan from deep within me. Still, I am looking directly at him. His lips part. I prop myself up on my elbows and only when my mouth meets his, I close my eyes.

“You’re gonna drive me insane, one day”, he mumbles between kisses and I smile lazily, lowering myself back down.

“Am I, now?”

I like the feeling of having him wrapped around my little finger and he knows it, sees it in the glint in my eyes and the smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. Hands placed on both sides of my body, he moves his knee against me again and I gasp.

“You know exactly what you’re doing, Lizzie.”

Then he dips down, kissing a trail down my stomach until he hits the hem of my sweatpants. He sits back onto his heels and hooks his finger into the waistband, cocking one eyebrow. I nod again, and he pulls them down, off my feet, leaving them to fall somewhere next to the bed. His hands slide up my legs until they meet the line of my panties and my breath hitches when his rough fingers touch the soft skin of my thighs. His lips follow his hands and now I am panting, head falling back when he follows the outline of the fabric against my skin. His hands placed on my thighs, his mouth placing lazy kisses against my stomach, and suddenly his thumbs stroke down my core, my back arching off the bedsheets.

He takes his hands off me, then, and I groan, propping myself up onto my elbows again.

“Quit teasing.”

He hooks his fingers into the band of my panties and cocks an eyebrow, waiting for my reaction.

“Talk to me, Lizzie. What do you want?”

I draw in a shaky breath, looking down at him with heavy eyelids. “Take them off.”

He obeys, pulling the fabric off along my legs and discarding it as well. He looks at me again and I groan, head falling back. He just waits until I’m squirming under him, and even then he doesn’t touch me. I lift my head again and he brings his head down to my thighs, peppering them with small kisses, just enough to make me breathe heavily but not where I actually want him.

“Bucky …”, I whine, and he hums against my skin.

“What do you want, Lizzie?”

“For you to use that snarky tongue of yours.” I get a chuckle from him for that.

“You’re bossy”, he mutters between kisses and I huff, hands closing into the blanket below me. “I like when you’re bossy.”

Before I can complain, he dips his tongue between my legs and licks upwards in one long stroke. I moan loudly before I can bite my tongue, hands flying into his hair. His tongue laps over my clit in a steady rhythm and all the air leaves my lungs, hands scrambling to hold onto something, anything, and clenching into the sheets.

“Bucky …”, I moan his name and he hums against me in response, sending goosebumps down my legs.

“Happy now?”, he teases, before going back to kissing and licking and I chuckle breathlessly.

“Almost.”

This time I don’t have to explain. He understands anyways and slowly slides a finger into me. I almost see stars for a second. Then he curls his finger upwards and I do see stars, the knot inside me coiling tighter and tighter with every lap of his tongue. I press myself against him, relishing in the white-hot pleasure shooting through my body. My back arches off the bed, thighs pressing against his cheeks. His left hand holds me in place and he adds a second finger, following the rhythm set by his tongue. I whisper his name over, and over, and over, like a prayer, and he responds with a hum, tingling against my overly sensitive skin.

He slightly changes the angle of his fingers and I gasp, the rising feeling inside me almost at its peak.

“Bucky, wait –“, I pant, and he stops immediately, lifting his head, concerned eyes meeting mine.

“If you go on like this I can’t promise to keep it together much longer.”

He licks his lips, the sight of him between my legs alone almost enough to send me spiralling. “I don’t mind.” He dips down again and I moan loudly and pull at his hair to get him to look at me again. He looks up at me, continuing to move his fingers and I swear I’m going crazy.

“But I do”, I pant, and he stops. I tug at his hair again and he pulls his fingers out of me, before crawling up to meet me. I sigh into the kiss, butterflies in my stomach at the taste of his tongue. I pull back just enough.

“I do, because I want you, Bucky.” He blinks, inhaling sharply.

“You sure?”

I kiss him in return, not bothering with a vocal answer. He takes it as a yes, kiss deepening as my fingers fumble along the hemline of his black shirt. He leans back, takes it off, and comes back to me again.

“You got a condom?”

I nod and roll over to reach for the nightstand while Bucky takes off his pants, before leaning down and pressing soft feathery kisses along my spine. I allow myself to savour the feeling of his lips against my skin, then I turn back around. He rips the condom open with his teeth. I sit up when he lies down, his hand reaching out.

Our fingers interlace with each other, he tugs and I follow until I feel him hard against my core. I suck in a breath and he places his hands on my hips, pulling me towards him. I lean forward and reach for him, and then he is there, slowly pushing into me. His fingertips press into my skin as I slowly lower myself down. His brows are furrowed and his eyes are watching me intently. I can’t seem to look away, he’s holding me in his gaze and we both moan at the same time.

Then I place my hands on his chest and roll against him, my hair falling into my face. His hands leave my hips and reach for my breasts, pinching and thumbing over my nipples, sending sweet jolts of pleasure down to where our bodies meet. My breath comes heavy, and when he starts moving with me, my mouth falls open. He grabs my hips again and holds me in place, before he suddenly flips us so that I’m below him. My hands fly up to the headboard, trying to find something to hold on to and he grabs them, pinning them above my head. My back arches of the bed and the angle changes slightly, I can almost feel it, he almost hits the spot, just –

His metal hand reaches for my knee and pulls my leg up against his hips, pushing my thigh back against me. It’s the exact change I needed. He hits the spot again, and again, and my head falls back, a string of nonsensical words leaving my mouth. He curses underneath his breath.

“Look at me, baby, please”, he whispers and I can’t help but obey him.

He thrusts into me and my hips roll against him, meeting him halfway.

“Fuck, Bucky, I –“

He groans in response, brows furrowed, sweat on his forehead. Every muscle in my body is tense in anticipation, I feel myself tighten around him. He moves his hand from my thigh to where we’re connected, thumb smoothing over my clit, jaw set as he adjusts the angle of his hips again. He hits the spot. Once. Twice. My hands strain against his grasp and my back arches and then I feel myself explode. My breath catches in my throat and my eyes snap closed.

“Dammit, Lizzie …”, he growls as I contract around him and then he follows me down, hand gripping my waist. His breath leaves him shuddering and his hips buck. One last swipe of his thumb that has me trembling underneath him, before he removes his hand and lets go of my wrists. My hands snake down and I grab both sides of his face. He lowers himself onto his elbows, one on each side of my head, and eases into a long, satisfied kiss. His hands curl into my hair that’s sprawled around my head on the pillow and I melt against him. Then he pulls back. Opens his mouth.

“I love you.”

I pause. Did he really – my eyes open, slowly, to not break the moment. Suddenly I’m staring directly into his eyes, noses mere inches apart. I open my mouth. Close it. He sighs, pulling away to better look at me.

“I’m sorry if that was a bit … forward. But I’m tired of hiding it. And I wanted you to know that this”, he nods his head down at our entwined bodies, “means something to me.”

He loves me. All the small moments I have been repressing for the last weeks come crashing over me like a tidal wave. “I am not. Leaving you, Jones.” Suddenly I understand why he reacted the way he did when I told him about HYDRA’s comment. “It’s amazing what love can do to people.” And I really didn’t see it. Hell, even HYDRA knew. His reaction when I told him I tried to end it. “I can’t – I wouldn’t even know what to do without you.” The times he spent in the gym with me, at night. On the balcony before that. The times he sat outside my room, just keeping watch. “Had a bad dream. Wanted to make sure nobody would hurt you.”

“Can you … say something?”

I blink. Maybe I should react. That would be appropriate, I guess.

“That’s –“, my voice is rough and I clear my throat, “unexpected.” Bullshit, fucking hell, Jones.

He pulls away, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have … goddammit I had to ruin it, didn’t I?” No, you didn’t ruin anything, I just don’t know –

“I’m sorry, Lizzie, I –“

I sit up and grab his arm, pull his hand away from his face. I take his other hand, too.

“I was wondering when you had started calling me ‘baby'.”

He huffs out a breath of air and closes his fingers around my hands.

“It just … slips. I don’t even do it on purpose, I just …”, he shrugs, a pained expression on his face, and I realise what this must be like for him. He sleeps with the woman he loves, tells her, and she freezes. I take a deep breath. Fucking hell, I’m an idiot.

“I love you, too, Bucky.”

The moment I say it, I realise its truth. Its utter, crystal clear truth. His eyes go wide.

“I’m just bad with my emotions. I’m sorry”, I try to salvage some of it.

He lifts a hand up to my cheek, staring at me in utter disbelief. His thumb smoothes over my cheekbone and I close my eyes, leaning into his touch. Of course I fucking love him. I would’ve died for him. Didn’t even hesitate.

The softest of kisses brings me back down to earth. To where I am sitting naked on the bed with the man I love. I melt into it, arms curling around his neck, pulling him towards me.

“Don’t apologise for things like that”, he mumbles against my lips and touches his forehead against mine.

Then he squeezes my hand, “Be right back”, and with a peck on the lips, he gets up in the direction of the bathroom. I sigh and let myself fall back onto the sheets. There is a slight, sweet burn between my legs, a gentle reminder. I yawn, stretching in the sun like a cat that just woke up. When I open my eyes again, there’s a shadow in front of me. I blink up at him as he’s just standing there, watching, a soft smile on his face.

The sun is behind him now, lighting up bits of his hair like a halo. Sunshine suits his eyes, I realise.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re fucking beautiful, Bucky?”, I mutter and he comes crawling over to me. There’s a slight heat to my cheeks but hell, I’m naked in front of him, and after what just happened it’s not like I can’t call him beautiful. He doesn’t seem to mind, at least.

“You’re cute, Lizzie", he responds, kissing my nose. I smile at that and pull him back down to me. We roll over onto our sides and he grabs the blanket, tucking me in and planting a kiss on my forehead. And finally, I feel like I can maybe, someday, be whole again.

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #one shot #smut fic #winter soldier

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lady-une · 3 years ago

Text

They Always Leave

This is something I wrote just to process my feelings about a guy. Nothing fanfic related at all. Honestly probably just a pile of emotions horribly written. But if you read it enjoy. It made me cry.

Trigger warning that this does mention drug use but honestly this stuff isn’t a drug.

Loud laughter and music could easily have been heard by anyone who happened to drive by or park near the crazy looking Toyota. For inside the Toyota held three friends, who were just doing their normal Scooby gang shit of smoking and listening to music. Their bellies were full having just engorged themselves on wings, cheese curds, and waffle fries.

The night was setting up to be a normal night for the trio, nothing to crazy. The only thing out of the ordinary was that a special appearance was to be made by a man who once partook in these normal nights. A man who’s laughter lifted one of the girls spirit. A man who did stupid shit all the time just to make people laugh. A man who’s darkness matched Alice’s. He was everything she wanted all rolled up in one stupid motherfucker.

When Alice had first met Caleb he was just some random guy who had tagged along with another guy her best friend had been seeing. Everyone knew of him as alibi, he was just some stupid redneck man. Not at all what Alice was attracted to. Yet the more time she spent with him the more that stupid redneck grew on her. She told herself it was nothing, chalked her emotions up to him just being a challenge. She knew he didn’t like big girls, he preferred his woman small and red headed. It was fine, everyone had their preference in a mate. Hell Alice had her own and this man didn’t hit any requirement.

But something changed. The playful teasing and remarks changed. She started to see him differently. An attraction started to slowly build deep in her gut. Small little hugs became more. Being so close to him that she could feel his breath on her cheek as they spoke silly things to one another about what they were doing. The urge to kiss him started to grow. The day dreams of him professing his attraction started to become recurring. The way he looked at her, it made her second guess everything. Was that smile different? Did he always follow me with his eyes? She started to ask around to see if anyone else had noticed anything or if it was all in her girly imagination. Some said he was just being friendly and a few said he probably had feelings too.

Alice had a way of showing her affection. Some call it a love language but in all honesty it was just childhood trauma and her way of trying to buy affection. To keep someone from leaving, because Alice knew they all left in the end. She had slowly started to gift him things. It started out small, a sex toy since he had been in a two year dry spell. She had taped it up with two containers of gorilla tape. She had joked saying it was to mimic being at a bar and having to work for that piece of ass. Then she had found out his favorite beer. Of course it would be a seasonal one, just like her who had a love of a hard to find seasonal liquor. She checked daily for the beer to come in stock and finally when it did she bought 3 cases knowing it wouldn’t last long but it would put a smile on his face.

For his birthday she had requested the day off work. The idea had formed to drive the hour long drive to his job and tape his truck up with clear wrap and then attach birthday balloons. Then meet him and his friend Greg at the bar for a birthday lunch. There she would give him his gift, a shirt. Nothing extravagant, just one from his favorite online brands that supported the troops. Yet that whole plan had been lost. Gone in an instant. Lies and deceit had caused her to part ways with her once close friend Greg. Caleb was a causality as her best friend had called it. Alice hated it, she didn’t want to part from Caleb.

The birthday shirt had sat days in her room at the end of her bed. Still in the delivery packaging. Alice would have just dropped it off in the bed of his truck had she known his address. Instead after a night of smoking and drinking she had finally texted him. Letting him know she had his gift, letting him know how much she missed him. With the dawn of the next day came sobriety and realization of how stupid she was. Quickly opening the chat she saw he had not seen the messages, this was her chance to right the wrong. With a click of her finger she unsent the messages to Caleb. It wasn’t until later in the day that Caleb had finally opened the chat up and saw that she had unsent the messages and called her out on it.

Alice confessed that she had texted him some stupid ramblings about the boxing match she had seen. A bold face lie but there was no way in hell she would confess her feelings to him sober. Instead she lied and then asked to meet so she could give him his birthday gift early. He had agreed to meet her while she was out with her friends. A quick drive by and it would be fine. Or that’s what Alice had told herself.

The margarita she had in the restaurant had calmed her nerves. The devils lettuce she was smoking had made her even more calm. This would be fine, she repeated her mantra “it’s fine” over and over in her head. A quick in and out.

It wasn’t long before she received the text that he was pulling up and asked where to park. She told him to look for the Yoda mobile and loud music. He replied back with a simple “LOL” and then she heard his loud truck before she saw it. Looking at her friends she smiled before getting out of the car with the gift. Caleb had parked two spots to the left of car and was climbing out of it by the time she reached him. The man wore his standard wranglers and brown boots with his KORN t-shirt and hat.

Alice laughed before nervously saying, “I should have bet on KORN instead of the fuck your feelings shirt.”

“That shirt was dirty, this was the nearest shirt.” Caleb replied with a half smile on his face.

Alice looked up at him trying to decipher what his eyes were possibly saying behind his dark sunglasses. A memory of a time earlier that summer where she yelled at him to take those damn shades off so she can see that he was looking at her while she talked to him popped in her head. To an outsider it would look like she was being mean to him but that was how they were. They would loudly bicker and cuss one another out with a smile on their faces.

“Well now you have a new shirt. Sorry I didn’t get you those jeans you wanted, you know shit just got weird and I felt weird texting you to ask about the jeans.”

“You didn’t have to.” Caleb replied as he took the colorfully bright pink Disney princess bag from Alice’s outstretched hand. He looked at the bag and back to her with a smile.

“Don’t give me that look, I saw it at target and the damn thing screamed ‘Caleb’ so I had to buy it. Now go on and open it!”

Caleb shook his head as he opened the bag up, sifting through the pink and blue tissue paper Alice had stuffed into it. When Caleb finally had the shirt in hand he tossed the princess bag into the bed of his truck and unfolded the shirt to hold it up and inspect it.

“I fucking love it Alice!” He shouted as he looked at the shirt that had bullets in the shape of a hand flicking you off.

“I wasn’t sure if I should get that one or the one with all the fish on it that said size matters. But Greg said to get this one.”

“Well I love it, thank you!”

Caleb opened his arms and Alice fell right into them wrapping her arms around his back and taking comfort in his hold. It had been too long since she got to hold her favorite person. She often dreamt of him holding her and it felt just as good as her dreams.

“Come on Alice, say your goodbyes. He is a casualty.” Yelled out Alice’s best friend from the back of the Toyota affectively killing Alice’s moment with Caleb.

“Casualty?” Caleb asked.

Alice pulled away but held on with just one hand to his KORN shirt, “Just ignore her.”

“Mmmhmm. How are things going with that?” Caleb inquired.

Before Alice could give him an answer her other friend yelled from the driver seat in his Yoda voice “Say your goodbyes and lets go.”

Alice looked from Caleb to her friends in the car and stomped her foot as she yelled “I wanna keep this one!”

The car of friends broke out in a laughter knowing that she was referencing a TikTok they had all seen hundreds of times. They thought she was being funny, they knew she had a crush on Caleb but she had meant it. She didn’t want him to be a casualty. She wanted him to stay in her life.

“You should probably get going, I don’t wanna hold you up.” Caleb said with a slight chuckle.

“I don’t want to. Can’t you stay awhile?” Alice asked looking up at him through her sunglasses. She could feel the tears wanting to come but held them back.

“You know I cant.”

“Please.” She begged.

“I have to get home.”

“Live a little.”

“I do live a lot but just not with you.”

“Same excuse every time.”

“Get going now before they leave your ass.”

Alice grabbed on to his shirt with the other hand. “I don’t want to.”

The tears were welling up inside her eyes, she didn’t know how much longer she could hold off. She hated crying in front of people. She saw it as a weakness. The many years as a child being told to stop crying or she would be given a reason to cry. Then as an adult being told by the man she was seeing that crying was a weakness and that she need to toughen up and that she wasn’t allowed to cry and be weak. She knew it was perfectly fine to cry and it was not a weakness. It was something that she told her kids all the time when they felt sad. That it was normal to cry and that you should cry and work through your emotions. Yet it was something she preached but never practiced herself. She had four kids at home to watch over, she didn’t have time to be weak.

“Thank you for the gift Alice, I really do like it.” Caleb said as he held onto one of her arms.

“I’m glad you do.” The first traitorous tear slip passed her eyes and she knew the instant Caleb saw it because his face lost all playfulness.

“Alice…” he gently called her name.

“I know its stupid. You don’t gotta tell me that. But I know the minute I let go and you get in your truck I wont see you again. All those plans we had will be gone. Who will take me to the gun shop to buy my first gun? Who will make sure that the sales man doesn’t take advantage of me? Who will help me learn to shoot it correctly? Why couldn’t you like me? God I sound like a stupid female right now. But we would have been great together you know. You matched my level of darkness, we matched each other in so many ways.”

“Alice..”

“You know it. They know it. Everyone knows it. Everyone always said that we should just get together but we both would just laugh but deep down I wanted it. God did I want it but you just couldn’t get past that I was a bigger girl. Boy do I feel fucking stupid on an epic proportion right now.”

“Alice everyone has their preference, you always said we were friends because you knew I didn’t like you like that.”

“Of course I did because I didn’t wanna lose you. Better to be friends then not have you in my life. Funny how now I wont even have that.”

The tears were freely falling at this point. Alice could no longer hold her head high, instead she looked down at the ground. She couldn’t look at that stupid face of his, that face that she knew would haunt her dreams for many days to come.

“Alice you will find someone so much better then me. My stupid ass wouldn’t make the best partner for you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. Look at me Alice.”

Alice shook her head, how could she look at him she was feeling pathetic at the moment. Crying because a man doesn’t want her. Caleb didn’t give her a chance to wallow in her own misery, he put his new shirt on the side of his truck bed and grabbed her face lifting it up to his. He lifted her sunglasses and looked at her tear stained face.

“Don’t cry Alice.”

“Shut up you don’t get to tell me what to do.”

Caleb took his thumbs and brushed the tears away from her eyes. “I’m not someone to cry about.”

“To me you are.”

“You gotta let me go Alice. Move on. It was fun while it lasted and we will always have our memories.”

“Do they teach you these bullshit excuses when you guys are in school? I swear it’s the same fucking thing just said by a different guy.” Alice yelled angrily through her tears.

“Don’t be mad.”

“Don’t tell me what to feel.”

“Then don’t act like a spoiled brat.”

“Then don’t act like an ass who is un-attracted to fat women.”

“We aren’t going to get anywhere on this. Please don’t be mad and please don’t cry over me.”

Alice knew she was being mad because she was hurt and that she shouldn’t be. She knew she should be enjoying these last few moments with Caleb. With shaky hands Alice reached for Caleb’s sunglasses and lifted them up to see his face. Caleb was an expert at hiding his feelings, years in the military had made him hard.

“Why did you do it Alice?” Caleb quietly asked.

“You act like I did it on purpose. I didn’t plan on falling for you. If you weren’t so fucking perfect and if your darkness didn’t call to mine we would be safe.”

“I’m sorry Alice.”

“Me too Caleb.” Alice whispered as more tears fell down her face and she stood on her tippy toes to give him a chaste kiss at the edge of his lips.

Alice tried to smile through her tears and pulled away allowing him room to get back into his truck. With him seated in his truck Caleb rolled down the window and said goodbye before pulling away. Alice watched as the man she wanted nothing more did what all men do…..leave.

#Emotions #heart ache #broken heart #dating

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beskarhearts · 4 years ago

Text

Human (Din Djarin x reader)

Connection series: Part 3

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader (no use of Y/N)

Warnings: cursing, mention of family members dying (let me know if I missed any)

Word count: A little over 4.6K

Summary: The Mandalorian feels a lot of things he’s never felt before and finally gets to ask you some questions.

Notes: This one is entirely from Din’s perspective except for the very end. I absolutely loved writing from it so let me know if you did. also let me know what you all thought! I’d love to hear some feedback!

Previous Part ___ Next Part

_____________________________________________

Din Djarin had never felt so human before.

For so many years, he simply felt like a machine or a droid. He’d get bounties, hunt them down, turn them in for credits, and the cycle endlessly continued. He never complained, even though it was lonely and lacked the fulfillment it once gave him, because it was The Way and he swore an oath that he would never break. And if Din Djarin was one thing, it was a loyal man - some would say perhaps to a fault.

Din Djarin was aware that this life was different from so many others and would be considered by many to be a bizarre life, maybe even a depressing one. So many found a way of living where you had no friends, no companions, no connections, to be a inconceivable thing. The job of a Mandalorian was all-consuming, one that intertwined with every aspect of ones life. It wasn’t just a set of armor, it was a code to live by. And Din never complained about it, despite the years he spent traveling from planet to planet in his Razor Crest, with nobody but himself and absolute silence.

He knew his life was so different and so closed off, but he didn’t really become aware of it until the child entered his life. Din Djarin had never really cared for anyone before, not because he was bad person but because he had no one around him and definitely no one who cared for him. Many people cared to see what was under the helmet out of curiosity. What did a man whose whole life was meant to take down or kill bounties for a few credits look like? Those people wanted to see his face but never cared about the person underneath the armor, the feelings and thoughts he had only ever being his own, never shared with anyone else.

But, the kid changed some of that. He made Din realize how much he could care for one little being and taught him that his code was worth breaking, if only it was this once so he could protect the creature who he treated as a son. Not only did the kid make him realize that, but he also made him realize how much he craved a family. His had died when he was so young and then he became a Mandalorian, which made it hard to make friends or meet people, nonetheless a family. He unnerved people, scared them even. At the very least he made them uncomfortable. But, not the kid. The kid probably didn’t even understand what Din was, but he didn’t care about the helmet or the armor. He was just a kid, someone who Din could care for and protect, and made Din feel less lonely and sometimes even appreciated, maybe even loved.

And then she came along.

He initially didn’t want to bring her along. But, she wouldn’t stop nagging him about it, saying how she could be a full time mechanic for him and help with the kid (and while he loved the kid, he was a total pain in the ass at times). She also wasn’t bad with a blaster and he had to begrudgingly admit she had saved his ass on that fateful day. The kid also instantly loved her, which puzzled the Mandalorian. It was like the kid laid eyes on her and decided she must stay by his side and she seemed to take a liking to the child as well. They had an instant connection and while the idea of bringing a woman (a very sarcastic one, too) into his life scared him, he knew he was in trouble because he couldn’t say no to the kids desire to have her come along. And it was possible that even from the beginning, he couldn’t say no to her. She was too enticing, too unique. She was so different from every aspect of his life.

At first, she drove him crazy, not because she was bad person or anything, but because he had no clue what to do around her. She would make these jokes, teasing him, and he didn’t know how to react. People didn’t joke with him often, out of fear he’d shoot them. But she didn’t seem to be scared around him, which was the first bizarre thing he noticed about her. She would also talk. A lot. She would ask questions and blabber away with the child. He was used to the quiet but now she was here and his ship was full of giggles and chatter. It felt brighter and though the environment had shifted in a way he wasn’t used to, he enjoyed it a little.

She had tried talking to him at first but then stopped, and Din supposed that was probably his fault. He didn’t know how to talk to her though. Sometimes he even thought of things to say to her, responses to her questions, come backs to her jokes, but he felt so uncomfortable at the thought of actually doing it. He was a Mandalorian, not a normal person who could just talk to someone. Innocent conversations and exchanging jokes were things for people like her to do, people who were normal. Not for him. He had a reputation to uphold.

But it was like she didn’t even care about who he was or about his reputation. She had made a joke about him being a glorified tin can (a joke that Din decided he couldn’t determine if it was insulting or the funniest thing he’s ever heard) and had asked for his name, which he realized many people never bothered to ask. But, she didn’t ask what he looked like or ask him to take off the helmet. She didn’t seem to judge him for his profession or his way of life. She treated him normally. And that was more mind boggling to him than anything else. That confused him and he didn’t know what to do.

So instead of trying, he grunted and gave her short responses, ignoring her presence otherwise. The days would still be full of her and the child conversing with each other, but the nights would be silent with the two of them in separate rooms.

But now things were different. Instead of feeling so far apart that they might as well had been on two different planets, Din felt close to her. So much so he had given her his name. He hadn’t even realized he had done it until his name was being said by her. He didn’t regret it though. All he did was damn himself for not telling her sooner as she repeated his name, like his name was only for her to know and like it was meant to be said by her, and only her.

When he later pondered on why he had told her, he realized it was because she cared about him. He could see it in her eyes, after he had saved her from the bullet. She cared about him and that care scared her so much. And the way he felt for the child and for her scared him too. Because he knew he’d do anything for them, no matter the consequences. And he could tell she felt the same, and he felt the least he could do to repay her for her kindness was to tell her his name.

Since he told her, she would say his name as often as possible and he never got sick of it. She’d greet him in the morning with a “Good morning, Din.” She would try to get his attention by calling out for him by name. He was no longer Mando. He was Din to her. He was a person to her.

________________________________________

Night had become Din’s favorite part of the day. He would wait eagerly for the child to quiet down and for the sounds of her stepping up the ladder, into the cockpit where he was. He would listen for her, wait for her to sit down in the seat besides his. Then he look over at her.

Every night she would do the same thing. She would look into the galaxy, into hyperspace, like it was the first time she’d ever seen it. Her eyes would be glowing from it, her lips slightly parted in an expression of wonder. One side of her lips would quirk up, into that lopsided smile that Din had had begun to crave more and more. Din had traveled for many years of his life now and had seen so many places, but he swore watching her in that moment was the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Tonight was no exception. She had brought a blanket up with her, cuddling up with it as she brought her knees to her chest, the chair swallowing her as she leaned against it. “The kid took forever to fall asleep tonight. I swear he does it on purpose sometimes, just to watch me go crazy.”

He loved hearing her talk now, couldn’t get enough of it. The soft ebb and flow of her voice was like a melody to him and sometimes he could feel himself drift into it, wishing he could fall asleep to it. He found himself yearning for it and that puzzled him. He had never felt like that before. Not with anyone and it almost scared him, except it was her. And she vowed to protect him and he trusted she would be there. So for once, he would allow himself to feel, no matter how uncharted the territory was and no matter how silly he felt at times.

“The little bugger likes to do that. It’s annoying.” He grumbled out. He loved the kid, he really did, but he had a knack for screaming, crying, and being defiant at the worst of times. The kid got to be by her side all day. Night was Din’s time with her.

“Oh, yeah. Says the man who no longer has to deal with it.” Din knew she was joking by the sly smile on her face. He used to not look at her really, just stare into hyperspace. But now he liked to. He wanted to see the way her expressions changed, her smiles when they joked, her eyes as she would look over at him.

“I have to wait up here for you while the kid screams.”

“Well, well, Din. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you like my company. Perhaps you even miss me.” She let out a little giggle at the notion, like that was something impossible. But it was true.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, sweet one.” Din froze instantly, the words escaping his lips before he could even think about it. He saw as her eyebrows raise a little but the smile on her lips never faded.

“Well, I never would of guessed that Din Djarin was a flirt.”

That was the thing though. Din Djarin wasn’t a flirt. In all his years, he couldn’t recall one time he has gone out of his way to flirt with someone. Sure, he had found people attractive. That was only natural. But he never went out of his way to do something about it and had never really known someone long enough to want to do it. And it’s not even that Din intended to flirt with the woman before him. But he was finding himself doing a lot of things around her that he didn’t do with others. And he didn’t know what that meant but he knew it felt nice and normal. And after everything he has gone through in life and the way he has lived for so long, didn’t he deserve that at least? If only for once, with her and his child?

“Can I ask you a question?” She asked, looking back in front of her, into the galaxy. Din was grateful for the change in conversation but was also nervous about her questions. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to answer them necessarily, but he worried he’d answer something and turn her away, push her away from him. He supposed it was a silly notion but he still feel a bit of fear creep into his chest at her question.

He also understood her desire to ask him questions though because he wanted to ask her about everything. He wanted to know everything about her life, her past, her passions. He wanted to uncover the layers between them.

“Only if I can ask you some too.” It sounded like a good compromise to him. She got to ask her questions, no matter how nerve-wracking it seemed to him, and he got to know a bit more about the person who was learning to care about more and more.

“Deal.” She reached her hand over so he could shake it. He pulled one of his hands off the controls on the dashboard and reached it over to her. Their hands clasped at each other and shook, until they both let go. “Alright, Din. You go first.”

“No, ladies first.” He wanted her to go first, so she could set the tone of the conversation. He didn’t know if they were asking trivial little questions like their favorite food, or deeper ones.

“What a gentlemen you are.” Din let a chuckle out at that idea. He never would consider himself a gentlemen but he didn’t bother to argue with her about it. “Do you ever regret bringing me along?”

Din’s head whipped over to look at her, but he watched as she pulled at a loose string on her sweater, looking down and not at him. The question broke his heart instantly. Was this something she worried about? Despite the uncomfortableness in the beginning, Din had never wished once she wasn’t there. In fact, he couldn’t imagine what would have happened if he hadn’t let her join, leaving her on that cold planet where he had met her.

“Kriff, no.” She finally turned her head to look at him, looking worried but hopeful at his initial response. “The kid... he absolutely adores you. I think if you hadn’t come, he probably would of killed me with his magic hand thing.”

She let out a laugh at that and Din smiled under the helmet, glad to see her concern dissipate a little. “And,” he continued on, “I am glad you are here. You’ve made life... better.”

She let out a little hum at that, appearing to hold back a big grin at his words. “I guess that was a sufficient response. Your turn.”

“That planet I picked you up from-”

“Yungbrii?”

“Yeah. Was that your home?”

She scoffed in response to the question. “Maker, no. That was just a place to... escape to.” A sadness reached her eyes and she looked as if she was drowning in the past. “My family and I used to live in Jakku, in a small little area outside of the Nimma Outpost.”

“Isn’t that place just for scavengers?”

“I mean, mostly. That and a whole bunch of other shady stuff. Probably not the greatest place to raise your kid but it was fine. My father was the only mechanic there and it was the only place on the planet with a beacon so quite a few people would pop in. Most of the people who stopped by were running from something, so their ships were mostly likely garbage and they’d pay upfront with credits, so it worked out okay for us.”

“Did you like it there?”

She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, shaking her head and giving Din another one of her classic grins. “Now, I see you are trying to get away with two questions in a row. It’s my turn.”

“Fine.”

“Where did you grow up?”

Din whipped his head towards her again, watching as she faced him and leaned her face against her hand, waiting for his response. Where did he grow up? No one asked him questions like that because no one cared. And Din was usually grateful to avoid questions like those, because the pain that came with those memories was something he didn’t want to face.

“Aq Vetina.” Din knew the words were said coldly, and she didn’t deserve that. But every time he thought of that place, all he saw were the droids destroying everything he had ever known and the last glimpse of his parents faces before he was hidden away in darkness, never to see them again.

“There were Mandalorians on Aq Vetina? I thought that place was destroyed or something.” The words were said with no bad intentions, only pure curiosity and confusion but an uneasy silence still filled the room. He no longer looked at her but felt her gaze drift to him. “Oh... I’m sorry. I didn’t... I didn’t know or- ”

“It’s my turn now, right?” He wanted to change the topic before he got even more upset and took it out on her. He didn’t want her feeling guilty. She didn’t know and it wasn’t her fault.

“Um, yeah.”

Din cleared his throat, trying to think of a question that would ease the tension. But he had one nagging away at the back of his mind, one that had plagued his thoughts more and more as time went on. “Why did you want to come with me and the kid?”

“Honestly, I had wanted to leave Yungbrii for a while. But, there weren’t a lot of people which meant not a lot of credits and not a lot of ways out. A lot of the people who came too were real sleaze balls, not the kind of guys you wanted to board a ship with. But then you came in and you were different. Kind of annoying at first but you didn’t scare me. And then I saw the kid and thought if he is taking care of that, hopefully that means he isn’t some crazy freak.

“But, it wasn’t just that you weren’t a freak, which I mean only as a compliment.” She let a small chuckle out at that and Din felt better as she continued on. “I can’t explain it but the kid... I knew instantly that he was special. I’m not much of a people person but I instantly liked the kid and trusted him. And I could tell that he wanted me to come and if he trusted you, then I could too. And even though you weren’t the most charming character when I met you, I could tell you had a heart. I saw the way the kid looked up to you and the way you protected him. You are a good guy.”

Din’s heart warmed at her answer. He could imagine that a lot of people definitely didn’t have that impression of him when they saw him but even the first time they met, she was able to look beneath the armor and the helmet. She didn’t know anything about him but was able to tell he was a protector and despite his reputation, he cared. “You didn’t care I was a Mandalorian?”

“Eh, not really. My grandmother wasn’t fond of your kind but I figured it was maybe some old school way of thinking. And even if it wasn’t, that doesn’t mean all Mandalorians are the same.”

Din Djarin was awestruck by the woman he was sat with. He was so used to people hating him for who he was, or at the very least being scared of him. And the fact she was able to disregard all the assumptions people made about Mandalorians and look at him as a person first showed her true character. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me. That should just be considered common human decency.” He supposed that was true. But it didn’t make her any less special to him. “Okay... hmm... okay, I got one. Have you ever loved someone?”

Now that was not expected at all. His helmet whipped around so fast to look at her, half expecting her face to be turned away but she stared back at the Mandalorian, sitting patiently for an answer. Has he ever loved someone? That’s a hard hitting question yet also a rather simple one, sad enough. Din thought back to his past. Sure, he had noticed attractive people. There had been a few times he’d allowed himself to indulge, but never would he describe it as love. It was just a meaningless night with a person who was lonely too and didn’t mind the helmet. And now that he thought about it, he’d never even kissed someone really. The helmet was always on and he never trusted anyone enough to keep it off, in fear they’d sneak a peak at the infamous bounty hunter.

So, no, Din Djarin had never experienced love. He had never been in love nor has he ever been loved by someone. And while he was able to be reasonable about it in his head, it was harder saying it out loud. He was old enough that that was weird, if not embarrassing. Especially considering the woman beside him.

She was beautiful, with soft features yet such a strong personality. Her lips were the kind you could think about, wonder how they would feel against your own. Her eyes were so expressive: a lot of times you tell what she was feeling by looking into them, if only for a moment. But it wasn’t just her looks (although Mando couldn’t imagine someone could look at her and not be shocked by her beauty) but it was her strength and character. She was so strong and quick. She could take a hit and give one that was even stronger. She could stand being teased and had this lopsided smirk that would cross her face when she said something smart or funny.

Din Djarin imagined she was a woman who had been loved by many.

And he was loved... by no one.

“The job doesn’t really allow for much room for that kind of stuff. Armor doesn’t help either.” He meant to answer plainly, as if the question had no impact on him, but he still noticed the way her eyebrows softened, her head tilting slowly as she processed his words. Din felt a hitch in his breathing as she reached over, her soft hand covering his.

“Din Djarin, you are much more than your job or a suit of armor. You are a good man.”

And he once again felt himself melt into her touch, as well as her reassurances. Din had never had someone do this for him. Sure, the Mandalorians had been there for him when he was a foundling, but even in the end they wanted something from him: to be a Mandalorian like them and to swear by and follow their creed. But this was so different. She didn’t want something from him. She didn’t need him to change the way he was in order for her to support him.

“What about you?” He asked nervously. He didn’t know why he was even nervous. Maybe because he didn’t want her to think he was prying. Or maybe it was her answer he feared. That she would already have someone who was waiting on her or who she had already given herself over to. And while Din knew he didn’t have any claim on her, that they were only friends who happened to get stuck with each other in this big galaxy, he knew a small part of him didn’t want to hear her say yes.

“Have I ever been in love?”

Din responded only with a nod of his helmet, followed by a loud sigh leaving her lips.

“No, I don’t think so. I think maybe once I could of been... but it wasn’t the right time for me.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Besides, my grandmother always told me love was a waste of time. Suppose I haven’t ever really bothered to find it.”

Din felt bad for feeling relieved at her answer. But, he still did.

“You mention your grandmother a lot. Were you guys close?”

She smiled, as if relieving all the bittersweet memories. It was a smile Din recognized. “Yeah. My mom would of argued we were a little too close. Always said I was just a younger version fo her.”

“Well then she must have been a pain in the ass.”

She let out a loud laugh at Din’s joke, her smile reaching from ear to ear as her body shook for the laughter. Din enjoyed hearing the sound of laughing. It wasn’t a sound often heard on his ship and hadn’t ever really been present until she came around. Her presence lightened the mood, make the environment brighter than it ever had been before, made the Razor Crest feel more like home than Din had ever felt before.

“Yeah, she was a pain in the ass. I miss her.”

“Is she-” Din paused, not wanting to ask a question that would hurt her. She was so happy and he never, ever wanted to do anything to tarnish that. He could tell she was scarred enough. She didn’t need him digging in deeper, breaking her apart bit by bit.

She paused, the smile falling off her face, and turned to look at Din. “You know, you can ask...”

“What happened? To your family.”

“About five, maybe six years ago, Empirical troops raided our house with orders to kill everyone in it. It was just my parents, my grandmother, and I. They wanted my grandmother the most. She wasn’t very subtle about her hatred for the Empire and her dedication to the rebellion. She probably should of shut up a bit more...”

Din felt so much anger build up. This was the same Empire that had wanted his kid. The same Empire who wanted to do Maker knows what to him, tarnish the power he held, and make the child into something he wasn’t. The same Empire that Mando constantly had to run from and who hunted for him and the kid. And now the same Empire who had hurt a person he cared about so deeply. An Empire who had taken his family, and hers.

“They did that just cause your grandmother?” He simultaneously couldn’t believe it and could.

“That and... well...” She paused, clearly uncomfortable with the subject but continued on, “My family line... there have been Jedi’s in my family in the past. And they were Jedi’s that were also dedicated to the rebellion. So, they figured they would just kill any possible Jedi’s and not risk it.”

__________________________________

You knew the question was coming, just like you knew eventually this conversation would happen. You were getting close to Din, perhaps too close, and you couldn’t keep what had happen to your family a secret forever. And maybe a part of you wanted to talk to him about what happened, because there was no one else on the planet you could tell.

Because you weren’t supposed to be alive and probably had a price on your head.

All because of who you are.

You heard your mothers words echo in your mind. Never tell someone about yourself. You have to keep it a secret because they will want to kill you. The world isn’t safe for someone like you.

You held your breath as you waited for the question, nervous even though you knew what was coming.

“Are you a... Jedi?”

Never tell someone about yourself.

You finally let out the breath you were holding, trying to steady your shaking hands. Your fingers dug into your thighs and you stared straight ahead, into the galaxy in front of you.

“No.”

#din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin x you #star wars imagine #star wars fanfiction #din djarin

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wellhellotragic · 3 years ago

Text

These Wounds Won't Seem to Heal 3/4

Summary: It’s not her fault. She’s still new and doesn’t know. He’s not flawless. Not anymore. He’s got scars, ones she’s seen first hand. Ones she helped tend to. His body is covered in them. There’s a thin red line where he took a bottle to the face during his early beat cop days. There’s another angry red mark on his torso from where he was stabbed with a knife in his ribs. The one where he had his hand slammed in a locker as a teenager has long since faded, only the barest hint remaining, only visible in just the right lighting.

There’s two oval scars now too. One in his stomach and one on his chest. Those are from the worst day of her life.But none of those scars compare to the ones he carries on the inside. The self-inflicted cuts he makes to his soul never quite healing over. He blames himself. It’s not his fault.

There’s a scar on her soul now too. One he left. A piece of her heart forever missing.

Rating: Mature (mostly for language)

A/N: Guy, I suck so hard core. I don't even know how I let so much time lapse between chapter 2 and now, and then to really top off my suck-o-meter, I realized that there's going to have to be a chapter 4 because I can't fix what I've done so easily. Not realistically at least. I promise, and happy ending is coming though, and it won't take me another 8 months to get it up. I hope to have it up and finished by the weekend.

The AO3 version

It’s been a hell of a night. She’s not sure where exactly it falls on her list of worst days ever, but it’s in her top five. It has to be. It’s not the worst, that honor is saved for the night she almost lost Killian, but it’s still up there. She’s spent hours now going through all of the details over and over again with Graham and Lance, her story never changing. Getting poked and prodded by EMTs, despite telling everyone that she’s fine.

She’s not, but they can’t stitch up her insides.

David, her partner, on the other hand has a bullet hole in his leg. Better than his head though.

She’s not even sure if she can fully reconcile everything that happened. She and David were investigating the death of a low profile importer, a nobody, interviewing some dock workers that had found the body. Some gruff looking men who easily blended in with the usual fishmongers and cargo sorters.

But they weren’t. She realized it just a second too late, right before a bag was pulled over her head. She fought like hell, but she was at a disadvantage. From what she heard, David had put up a fight as well, but in the end, it was useless, and she lost consciousness with a sharp blow to the head.

She woke up strapped down to a chair with David the same a few feet beside her. She shouldn’t have been surprised, Jefferson had always given her a bad feeling, but she never actually thought he’d go dirty. She certainly never expected to be facing the wrong side of his department issued sidearm.

Even now, everything is still a blur. Graham assured her it’s the shock, that it’ll fade once the adrenaline wears off; that everything will clear up after a good night's rest. She’s not sure about that though. It’s four in the morning now and the adrenaline seems to be hanging on for dear life still and she knows she's not going to rest any time soon. Humbert offered to drive her home but she declined, choosing to wait for August to finish wrapping up his report.

She’s not sure what time it is when they finally arrive at her apartment. The battery in her cell phone died ages ago. Neither of them even make a move for the fridge, choosing to bypass the beer she keeps stocked for the hard nights. Instead, the two of them move in silence to her room. She plugs in her cell before crawling in bed next to him, like when they were kids in Ingrid’s foster house. She’s not sure who’s comforting who at this point, but she knows that she just needs to be with family.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She doesn’t, but she knows she needs to or it’ll eat her alive. She’s tried that once already and it ended up with her almost having a complete nervous breakdown and a three week leave of absence with daily Archie sessions.

“I don’t even know where to start.”

It’s true. So much has happened in the last twelve hours, there’s no one easy to pinpoint place to begin. So August goes first. He fills in the blanks that he can, so that she might be able to piece together the rest. He tells her about Killian sending him undercover, about Jefferson and missing drugs and money. How Jefferson was helping to conceal evidence that would link Walsh and the Nikko empire to a wide distribution of pixie dust.

Some of it is just speculation, that Jefferson must have figured out they were closing in on him and that’s why he went for Emma, and David was probably just collateral damage. How he most likely picked Emma because he knew how much she meant to him , and while he didn’t say Killian’s name specifically, the implication hung over her like a heavy cloud.

“Before you got there, he told Killian to choose. Between me and David I mean. To pick which one of us would live and which one would die. And then he just started laughing and screaming in this crazed voice that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget.”

It was the single most terrifying thing she’d ever heard. The mania that accompanied it. She already knew that it was going to haunt her for months to come, if not longer.

It’s a real Gracie’s choice. Gracie’s choice Killian. GRACIE’s CHOICE!!!

She felt August shift next to her.

“Gracie was his daughter. She died while he was undercover with a Southie Gang. Killian was undercover with Cruella at the time. It was a freak accident, a gas leak and the house went up in flames, but he was convinced that she was killed by one of the De Vil boys. He told me once that he knew Killian had given him up as a snitch to prove his worth. The De Vil’s had nothing to do with the Southie boys, but he’d twisted it up in his mind. I never thought he’d do anything about it though. It was just crazy drunk venting one night.”

She knows August. Knows that he’s blaming himself for what happened tonight, but she ignores it. Nothing she says will stop him from tormenting himself, and she’s not done.

“I told him to choose David. He has this whole perfect life, you know. An adoring wife and a new baby, all of these people that would miss him if he were gone. I told Killian to save David, and I-” She hates how small she feels when she cries, but she can’t hold back the tears. “He gave me this look. He’s been cold, but this was something different. There was just so much anger in his eyes.”

And that’s when she breaks. Knowing that hated her was one thing, but watching him train his gun on her. Seeing the pure darkness in his eyes. She doesn’t know how to voice it to August, but she knows that if August hadn’t arrived when he did, she knows he would have done as she asked. That he wouldn’t have had to think twice about it. And it’s that knowledge that sliced open the last piece of her heart that had been hanging on by a thread, even after all that time.

August holds her through the tears, until she finally exhausts herself enough to sleep. And so she drifts off, completely unaware of the new voicemail alert waiting for her.

________________________________

The February air is cooler on the water and he kicks himself for not bringing a heavier jacket. It’s been ages since he’s been out on this boat, and time has helped him to forget everything except for the things he wishes he could. Liam always used to tease him, so much so that Killian would reject any offers of warmth from his brother just to prove a point. He wasn’t some silly kid that needed to be minded anymore. He was capable of doing everything on his own, except for bringing an extra coat. He forgot everytime, and today was no exception.

Luckily for Killian, the spare that Liam kept on the boat just for him is still in its place, folded neatly in a small storage locker below deck. It hits him in the gut a little, that Liam could be so right about some things and incredibly wrong about others.

It’s eating Killian alive, not talking to his brother. Not being able to express himself because despite everything Emma has done for him, Liam still doesn’t approve of her. Liam often still thinks of him as the teenage boy, awkward and desperate for approval from anyone that will give it to him, even if it means getting taken advantage of.

He’s not that kid anymore though. He isn’t letting his crush steal his essays and letting her claim this as her own. He isn’t using all of his hard earned money to buy her jewelry that she’s just going to pawn for cash later. He isn’t following after Emma like a lost puppy dog.

He’s in love with her, and he has a sneaking suspicion that she feels the same way. But at this rate, he’s never going to get Liam’s blessing, the only approval he needs anymore.

He shouldn’t be thinking about this now. He really shouldn’t. Not when he and Liam are sitting in a rented dilapidated loft across from an abandoned fabric warehouse waiting for the Canal Street Cutter to emerge. There had been a lot of chatter that morning about where he might be hiding and Liam assembled teams throughout South Boston hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

Emma and August were stationed about eight blocks over. Lance and Arthur were on the edge of South Boston and Waterfront. Other teams were scattered, but too far away to get to if they needed assistance.

Killian had tried to tell Liam that it was a bad idea to spread everyone so thin, but the elder Jones brother had been instant and headstrong as ever. It would have been a career making arrest, and Liam, ever aspiring to be more just wouldn’t let that chance pass him by.

“I just think that you have other obligations that require your attention right now.”

“If this is the bros before hoes speech you can just save it.”

“Killian,” The exasperation evident in his brother's tone, “you know I detest such vile language. It's crude and you are better than that little brother.”

“What obligations?” He has to quash his desire to correct his brother’s description of him.

“I just think that you are meant for so much more in this life and I worry that you gave up so much when you left the narcotics division to follow her into homicide. You were a rising star there and now you’re having to cut your teeth all over again.”

“It’s not as if I’m starting all over. For God’s sake Liam, I just made Lieutenant. But there’s more to life than a job.”

His brother takes his gaze away from the binoculars to turn to Killian.

“Look at father and all of his vices. It strayed him from the path. But you, Killian, you persevered and now everything you've wanted is in your grasp.”

“This isn't the same thing and you know it. Emma isn't some pathetic man’s addiction. Liam, I'm in love with her.”

“Killian,” Liam pauses, taking a deep breath. “She's a distraction. Think of all that you’ve accomplished in the year that you were undercover. You brought down an entire crime syndicate. You did that without her taking your attention away.”

“I didn't bring the De Vil family down because ‘we’ were apart. I did it because we were ‘apart’ and I knew the only way I'd be able to see her again without putting her in harm's way would be to find the evidence and make the arrest.”

“Fine, if you need another reason, have you thought about working directly with her, or even over her in a supervisory position? Have you considered how your personal relationship with a subordinate could affect your judgment?”

“It’s not-”

Liams sees movement in the distance, cutting off Killian’s rebuttal, but his view is obscured so he motions for Killian to follow him, to leave the safety of their little room. They stay silent as they walk downstairs and head out a propped-open door leading to an alleyway. They had to wind through hallways to get from the loft outside and now they’re further away from the warehouse with no cover.

Killian even tries pointing out how visible they are, but Liam shuts him down, determined to close the case. He’s halfway sure that Liam’s trying to prove a point about how Killian can’t be successful and be in a relationship with Emma. He’s seen it before, the way professional jealousy destroys couples. But Emma’s not like that. She wouldn’t see his success as her failure.

They try to skirt the perimeter and he knows he should keep his mouth shut, this just isn’t the time, but he’s just so frustrated that he can’t keep holding it in.

“Please don’t make me choose between you.” It’s an angry whisper, more to himself than anything, and even though he did his best to keep his volume low it’s still enough that Liam’s heard and turns back to him, missing sight of the empty beer bottle at his feet.

The glass battering against the gravel echoes through the night as they both stay silent, waiting to see if they’ve been heard. The air is still around them, and Killian thinks they just might have lucked out.

And then he hears the gunshots ring out.

Liam is on the ground before Killian has time to register what’s happened. He runs to Liam, but gets knocked to the ground before he can get to him. His body hurts and he can see blood covering his hand from where he just touched his abdomen. He’s always heard people say that the shock blocks out the pain, but they must all be liars, because the longer he lays there, the more the pain intensifies.

It takes everything he has to pull himself behind a dumpster, half crawling, half slithering like a snake.

The shock eventually did kick in though, because even to this day he has no memory of radioing in for help. Just the vague memories of Emma leaning over him. The look in her eyes as she tried her best to hold back tears.

The same tears he fought back the night he left Boston, like the coward he was. But Archie was right. He needed to get his head on straight, to distance and center himself. He had to leave, for her.

He’s still wrestling with the guilt. He talked about it with Archie, how she begged him to kill her and save David. And that he actually considered it for about two full seconds. Not because he wanted to, but because he didn’t want her feeling the way he did. The burden of knowing that someone else was dead, and knowing that no matter how good you are, how hard you try, that you’ll never live up to them. He didn’t want her hating herself the way he did. Didn’t want her to destroy herself like he had.

But then something snapped inside of him and rage bubbled up. The audacity of her to beg him to kill her. For her to try and force that decision on him, with no regard to him or his feelings.

It was at that moment that he finally realized what he’d been doing to her ever since Liam had passed away. He finally understood the choice she’d been forced to make that night. And he knew - he knew that despite it all - he could never live with himself if he’d chosen anyone but her. That he couldn’t let her go just like she didn’t with him.

The only thing that saved him was Boothe. In the moments that passed after August arrived, while the two of them tried to wrestle the gun away from Jefferson, he felt the weight of Liam’s death wash over him. And then he heard a shot ring out and there was nothing but panic. Panic and guilt.

It felt as though ages had passed as he searched for Emma in the smoke filled room. The SWAT team had moved in at some point, but he’d been too focused on fighting off Jefferson to notice. He pushed through the sting in his eyes and the tightness of his chest as he looked for her, but all he saw through the haze were armored cops everywhere.

It wasn’t until he was forcibly escorted outside the building that he saw her, saw that she was safe, and then his stomach turned. He ran around a corner away from all of the prying eyes, and for the first time in his career, he gave in and let the night overcome him.

It’s been nearly a year since that night and he’s been running ever since. Some days are better than others. The anger is mostly behind him, but some nights he still wakes up in a sweat clutching his bed sheets, ready to fight. But there’s never anyone around to take a swing at, because he’s all alone. He’s pushed away anyone that ever mattered and isolated himself on that damn boat.

He thinks of Emma, wonders if she’s moved on or not. He’s too cowardly to call her, partly because he has no idea what he will say if she answers, but mostly because he’s terrified that she won’t answer. So he broods. He takes to the local bars as he sails the coastline and drinks a little too much before stumbling back to Liam’s boat alone. It’s a wonder nobody’s robbed him yet for what a careless sot he’s been.

Tonight is one of those nights. He’s made his way down to Florida and back, only a few hours away from Boston, and his demons are screaming again. He’s hoping against all hope that the rum in the tumbler across from him will help quiet them. Just holding the small glass in his fingertips helps a bit. A placebo of sorts. He doesn’t want to be this man anymore though. This pathetic lonely human. He doesn’t want to feel this way anymore, but he doesn’t know how to fix it. Archie said that him realizing it was a good first step but he’s not sure if he agrees. He’s called Archie a lot over the last year. Somehow doing therapy over the phone as the boat sways back and forth under his feet has helped to ease his hesitancy. There’s something about knowing that he can hang up at any time if he wants, and that no one knows. No one will judge him.

They don’t talk about Emma, not in present tense at least. They’ve had conversations about the way he’s treated her in the past, about his complicated feelings for her, the way it’s all shaped him, but they never talk about her now. He’s not sure if it’s because Archie doesn’t know if he’s ready for that, or if Archie knows something that he’s absolutely not ready for.

Archie is here tonight though, the rum is.

He’s still twirling the amber in his hand as he hears the familiar scraping of a nearby barstool against a wooden floor. There’s a scent that follows, a floral perfume that doesn’t match with the musk of the dive bar. He doesn’t look at her directly, doesn’t need to when he can see her from the mirror behind the bar. Her top is low, flashing more skin that it’s covering. She’s closer than he thought.

“Is that for me?” She’s bold.

He’s reminded of those early days on the force, when he wouldn’t even have to talk to a woman. When he could just flash her a smile and she’d be on his arm heading out the door to her place. He’s not that guy though, he’s salty and cynical, and the look he flashes her is closer to a smirk.

“Excuse me?” “Well, you’ve been toying with it for almost twenty minutes. I just thought maybe you were waiting for me to walk into your life.”

Was he this bad at picking up women?

“Look, I’m not trying to be rude, but I’m not in the mood for woman.” “So you’re gay?”

It’s a good thing he hasn’t started drinking yet because he damn well might have chocked otherwise. He doesn’t get a chance to respond though. The bubbly blonde that served him his rum has returned with a spray bottle in hand. “Mary of Mothers. Didn’t I already have you escorted out of here tonight, Teresa?”

“Bite me, Tinkerbelle.”

The girl behind the bar might be all of five foot tall but there’s a beast inside her that towers over any man in that bar and before he knows what’s happening the bartender is drowning the girl in what smells like stainless steel cleaner and the words coming out of her mouth would make any Navy man blush.

The girl ends up running away and Killian isn’t sure what to make of any of it. He’s broken up bar fights before, but he’s never seen anything quite like that.

“Sorry about that. I know this little bar might not seem like much, but it’s all I’ve got and I’ll be damned if I let the likes of her selling her body in here.” “Oh, she wasn’t-” “Trust me, where you had agreed upfront or not, you would have been light whatever cash you have left in that wallet before the night was up. And I’ll bet you dollars to pennies you would have had a lovely little itch or two down there.” She nods her head towards his crotch before switching the subject like she hadn’t just implied the poor woman from before was an STD ridden whore. “So, I haven’t seen you here before. Where you from?”

He’s not sure how she’s disarmed him so quickly, but he finds himself telling her all about himself over the next hour. Business has slowed down and her other barmate seems to be more than capable of handling the few strays still walking in.

She makes him laugh too with her feisty spirit. It’s been far too long since he’s felt at ease like this. They talk and talk. Not about much in particular, just random conversation. She bought the bar about six years ago, and tells him about how it’s let her build the family she always wanted and never really got. She’s carved out her own little place in the world and he envies her that. The way she can just lay her whole life bare to a complete stranger while he can’t even talk to the people that know him best.

The night rolls on and it’s time to close up. He half expects that she’s going to invite him upstairs, to the little apartment she mentioned earlier, but she surprises him. She’s done that a few times tonight, but this one hits him in the gut. “So, what’s her name?”

This time he actually does chock on the water she’s poured for him.” “I’m sorry, what?”

“Killian, in the last few hours, you’ve told me your entire life story, everything from your shitty father to your arrogant brother, your job, your leave of absence, but you haven’t mentioned a girl one single time. You’re holding back, which means there’s something to hold back.”

“You don’t know that. I could be gay.” “Um, ya, I saw you check out Teresa’s rack earlier, definitely not gay. So what’s the deal.” He doesn’t want to talk about it, but he doesn’t want to be rude either. So he gives her as little as possible, but she sees through him. In fact, she actually asks him what the hell he’s waiting for as she pushes him out the door.

He doesn’t really know what he’s waiting for to be honest. He’s wanted to go back to Boston, but there’s just so many threads he left unravelled when he left.

#These Wounds Won't Seem to Heal #Captain Swan #captain swan ff #CS fanfics

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