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just-dreaming-marvel · 4 years ago

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My Superhero

MAIN MASTERLIST

Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 1,500ish

Summary: You and Steve’s relationship is fairly new, so you haven’t told him everything yet.

Notes: I did a Tony Stark one about chronic illness called Invisible Pain. I wanted to do a Steve Rogers one as well.

Feeling completely well on any given day was a luxury. It never really mattered what medicine, diet, or amount of essential oil you put on, your joints hurt. End of story. Of course, it wasn’t completely random. You had Rheumatoid Arthritis, so there was a reason for it. You just sometimes wished that your arthritis was located in specific joints instead of all of them.

You were currently in your apartment getting ready for your fifth date with none other than Captain America’s, Steve Rogers. He was suppose to pick you up in a little more than an hour and, yet, you still couldn’t get out of your pj’s to shower. Your shoulders were causing you excruciating pain. Trying to take your shirt off was bringing you to tears, each try more unsuccessful than the next.

You were at a loss of what to do. You had yet to inform Steve about your chronic illness due to past experiences. Every other man you had dated, or tried to, quickly left you in the dust after finding out that you would forever be sick and that it would slowly get worse with age. So you had told yourself that you would tell Steve once you were official, even though there was still a chance of heartbreak even then. You just wanted to enjoy this while it lasted.

Steve was so sweet, kind, and gentle towards you. You two had met after he accidentally walked into you about two months ago on the side walk. This was only your five date in that span of time due to the missions he was constantly being called on. Though, the two of you texted or talked on the phone whenever you could.

You were currently sitting on the edge of your bed, staring at the typed up message just waiting to be sent. At this point, canceling the date was your only option. You couldn’t change and you had already maxed out on drugs for the night. You sighed, a tear strolling down your cheek, as you pressed sent.

You: Hey, Steve :) I’m so sorry to do this to you at such late of notice, but something’s come up and I won’t be able to make it today. Sorry :( Can we reschedule?

It didn’t take long for Steve to respond.

Steve: hey doll :) is everything okay?

You: Yeah, I’m just not feeling the greatest. But I’ll be fine after some much needed rest. How does next Friday sound?

Steve: Next Friday sounds wonderful. But are you sure you’re okay? Do you need anything? I could come over and we could stay in for the night. Order food and watch one of the movies I’ve yet to catch up on.

This man was too good to you. Almost too perfect. But you were too scared. You didn’t want to lose him just yet. You were enjoying it too much to be hurt already.

You: I’ll be fine, Steve. I just need some rest. You should probably get some too. I’ll talk to you later.

He didn’t respond. You sighed, laying back on your bed, tensing at the pain in your joints. You closed your eyes, trying to will your pain away, to no avail. Apparently, you had slightly fallen asleep because when a few knocks sounded at your door, you jumped up. Immediately regretting it because of the pain that shot through your joints.

Confused, dazed, and in pain, you shuffled over to the door. You didn’t even bother checking the peep hole before opening the door. Your jaw practically dropped to the floor at the sight in front of you. There was Steve, standing there in sweatpants and sweat shirt, your favorite flowers in one hand and two boxes of pizza in the other.

“Steve?” You questioned quietly, willingly yourself to stay put instead of run away embarrassed. You knew you didn’t look your best. “What—what are you doing here?”

“I came to check on you,” he responded with a gentle smile. “Can’t have my best girl feeling unwell now, can I?”

“Steve,” you shook your head, “you really didn’t—“

“Of course I did. Now, are you going to let me in or do I have to let myself in?”

Biting your lip, you opened the door wider, letting him walk in. Steve went straight to the kitchen, setting the pizzas down on the counter.

“Do you have a vase?” He asked, looking around. “For the flowers?”

“Under the sink,” you responded. “Um… I’m going to change.” You pointed over your shoulder, immediately regretting it and grimacing.

“Y/N, is something wrong?” His concerned eyes raked over you.

“No, nothings wrong. I just need to change. I-I haven’t gotten out of these all day.”

The look in his blue eyes told you all you needed to know, he didn’t believe you. You turned around as quickly as you could. You could feel his eyes following you as you disappeared into your room. You slowly pulled down your pj pants, holding in a cry as you did. Pulling up clean sweats was easier, thankfully. It was the new shirt, you knew would be the killer.

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed the hem of your shirt and tried to pull it over your head. Failing to conceal the whimpered cry that left your lips, you heard Steve’s quick footsteps stop at your door.

“Y/N?” He called outside the door. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you responded, clearly your throat. “I’m fi-fine.”

“Are you sure? Do… do you, uh, need help?”

“No! I’ll be right out.”

Steve didn’t move from his spot outside your bedroom door. In fact, he leaned in, pressing his ear to the door. He could hear you breathing deeply, like you were trying to calm down. Which concerned him. You had told him that you hadn’t been feeling well, but you looked like you were fine. So what was going on? He waited, keeping quiet at your door.

Inside, you were still trying to get your shirt off. You were riding it up, but you couldn’t get it past your breasts. You let out a louder cry, finally breaking. Steve couldn’t wait any longer, he came in to see you in tears on your bed.

“Oh, doll,” he cooed, heart breaking at the sight of you. He rushed over and sat beside you on the bed. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m… I’m so sorry, St-steve,” you cried. “I didn’t want you to find out like this… honestly, I hoped you would never find out.”

“Find out about what?”

He went to put an arm around you, to pull you into him. But when he put his hand on your shoulder, you winced and let out a small whine. His hand quickly was off your shoulder and the furrow between his brows increased.

“Y/N? What’s going on?”

“I… I… I’m sick.”

“Like, with the flu? Or… or worse?”

“I guess, you could say, something in between.” You looked at Steve to see him intently listening. “I… I have arthritis. Rheumatoid Arthritis. It’s where, well… my body is attacking its own tissue and joints. Even… even my internal organs. As I age, it will slowly get worse. Possible bone erosion and joint deformity… It’s painful, but I’ve been able to manage it. I still have good days and bad. Today… today’s—“

“A bad day. Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Because all the other guys I’ve dated have left me after finding out. I… I like what we have. And I don’t want to lose it. But… but I’ll understand if this is too much for you.” You looked down at the hands resting in your lap. “It is for everyone else.”

“Y/N… can you look at me, doll?” He carefully guided your head back up. “I am so extremely sorry that others have been so stupid. They obviously don’t know what they’re missing out on. And I guess that makes me lucky, cause now I get to know you and get to fall in love with you.”

“You’re… you’re falling in love with me?”

Steve nodded. “Yes. And I would like the opportunity to keep doing so, if you’ll have me?”

“Of course. Will you… will— you still want to date me?”

“The fact that you go through life every day, trying your hardest and pushing yourself, even though you don’t have to. That only makes me fall more in love with you.” He gently cupped your cheek. “You’re a real superhero.”

You giggled. “No, I’m just—“

“My superhero. You’re my superhero.” He pressed a short kiss to your lips. “Thank you,” he whispered, “for telling me. Please know that you don’t have to hide from me. I really don’t want you to. I want to help you in any way I can.”

“Thank you, Steve.”

He gave you another kiss. “Now, how about we eat the probably cold pizza and watch anything you want?”

“I’d like that.”

I have Rheumatoid Arthritis, but I would like to remind people that everyone who has it suffers from it differently. This story is based off of my own personal pain and struggles. I go through most days pushing through the pain that is constantly there without most people realizing. And I know that I’m not the only one.

Remember, everyone is going through unseen challenges. Please be kind to everyone you interact with/come across.

Comments, likes, reblogs, and asks are always welcome!

#steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #Steve Rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #the avengers x reader #avengers x reader #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #avengers imagine #captain america imagine #captain america

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paper-n-ashes · 3 years ago

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sparks and embers - chapter 15

Characters: Kylo Ren x Original Female Character, Poe Dameron x Original Female Character

Story Tags: Explicit (18+), Canon Compliant/Divergent (Set after TLJ), First Person POV, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Porn with Plot, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren hates Poe Dameron

Chapter 15 - Heat

Words: 4.1k

Chapter Tags/Warnings: Descriptions medical care/procedures, mentions of a flu-like illness with severe symptoms, mentions of physical injury/blood

Read on AO3 or Start from the beginning

It was glaringly obvious Kylo had fallen into hyperpyrexia, his severely increased body temperature now rendering him comatose.

None of my usual checks for responsiveness yielded any positive results, not even a slight whimper when I rubbed my knuckles into his sternum. I was already cursing at myself I hadn’t pushed harder to get that cannula placed, his blood pressure now falling into dangerous territory with all the fluid seeping from his burning skin.

But that was still a secondary priority. Right now, I needed to cool him down before the fever damaged his organs.

Putting him under a cold stream of water was the most efficient option, but I had yet to figure out where his refresher was located. Scanning the room, my eyes locked onto a door sitting in the corner of the room. Leaving the bedside and swiping over the entry button, I was relieved to find my assumption was correct, the glimmeringly clean ‘fresher somewhat different to the ones I was used to, the dark tiles creating a bizarrely ominous atmosphere.

Rushing back to Kylo’s shivering body, I immediately ripped off the monitor lines, hesitating while I tried to formulate a plan of how I was going to move him. I didn’t know how I kept finding myself having to haul heavy, masculine bodies around to save their lives, but there wasn’t much time to dwell on that thought.

Kylo remained unmoving as I lugged his torso upright, the weight of half his body already difficult to handle on my own. It concerned me during this struggle he still didn’t rouse, and a cold fear began to stir deep down, that I was already too late.

No. There’s no way. He couldn’t die this way.

He won’t. As long as you’re fast.

The voice steadied my fear, a strong resolve pulsing through me.

I had my arms wrung under Kylo’s armpits, having already pulled the top half of his form around to make his back face me. With my hands clamped together in front of his chest, I heaved hard to drag him off the side of the mattress, my muscles aching under the stress of his hefty figure. I was able to guide his body to the ground, still hearing his quickened breaths escaping, and began to drag him around the frame of the bed, my strained movement agonisingly slow.

There was an unmistakable warmth radiating off his skin, his shirt moist with sweat, and I couldn’t help but wonder how long he’d been like this. I thought I’d made it clear he should communicate any worsening symptoms, that I was only a room away if he needed something.

Eventually I tugged Kylo past the entry of the ‘fresher and pulled him haphazardly over the recess of the shower, hoping I didn’t bruise him on the way. Annoyingly, his shower was four walled with glass, making the small space difficult to manoeuvre around without bumping into each side multiple times as I finally managed to hoist his whole body inside. Stepping over where I’d placed his limp figure, I pressed the start button, ice cold water pounding into me as I moved past its potent stream.

The water began to rain down over Kylo’s form, quickly soaking every portion, his black hair saturated against his scalp. Worry gripped me further when even this didn’t elicit any form of response, sure that the frosty temperature would shock him into awareness again.

In pure desperation, I knelt down with him on the shower floor and began to peel the water sodden fabric of his shirt up his chest, having to pull his toned arms up to strip the sleeves from the skin, throwing the soaked material away. I already knew he would be severely displeased with my course of action, but there was simply no other alternative. The more surface area exposed to the cooling effect of the shower, the quicker I might bring his temperature down.

It was different this time, seeing his exposed chest, only noting how vulnerable he seemed, shallow breaths still short and sharp, his face flushed with a deep crimson. Kneeling with him on the floor, also being drenched by the chilled stream, I placed one hand to his wrist, feeling for a pulse. Still exceedingly rapid, but regular. Pushing back the strands of hair that’d shifted over his eyes by the shower’s flow, I noticed a flicker of movement behind the lids.

“Kylo! Open your eyes!” I pleaded, a part of me searching out for his energy signature. It was there, I could still feel his life force emanating from the unresponsive body in front of me. But the energy pulse was subtle, dimmed so much more than I was used to, usually sensing it easily even if we were separated by walls. With a hand still resting at the side of his face, water pouring down over both of us, I grazed my thumb over the skin of his cheek, silently waiting, hoping that I’d acted in time to drag him back to this reality.

In these surreal moments, with his mask removed, simmering fury suppressed, he seemed so much more… human. Just another being clinging onto life. I couldn’t pull my touch away, a soothing glow rising from the points where my fingerprints brushed his skin - a sensation I hadn’t felt before, one that I couldn’t recognise.

In the next instant, a burst of his energy surged outwards in a flash of panic, darkened eyes flaring open. My body was immediately shoved away, flung out of the shower into the tiled wall of the ‘fresher, the side of my head slamming into the ceramic. Even through the painful haze, I couldn’t be surprised that he’d pushed me away this time. The scene he’d woken up to was significantly more startling than simply rousing from sleep.

Quickly collecting myself through the headache throbbing inside my skull, I placed my hands up in submission, watching his face dart around, frenzied eyes trying to comprehend how he’d arrived in this location.

“Your fever grew so high it caused you to lose consciousness. I was trying to cool you down,” I described slowly, attempting to convey in my expression the seriousness of his condition. “Please just take a second to breathe. I’m here to help you through this.”

Kylo remained suspicious, yet fortunately did as I asked, and breathed. I could see how hard it was for him to inhale properly, noting the heave of effort visible in the accessory muscles around his ribs and neck. He went to shift his arms, placing them at each side of his legs, trying to force himself up. The effort was wasted, the pushing motion creating no lift, a strained expression now settling on his face.

“I feel… so… weak…” he puffed, looking to me for an explanation.

I tentatively crawled towards him, palms still up, kneeling just out of the shower recess. “It’s the fever. Your body’s working so hard to fight the virus that it can’t provide the energy it needs to give strength to your limbs right now. But I don’t want you to worry about that. Just keep breathing and let the water do its work to bring down your temperature.” My eyes grew softer, wanting to exude some sense of composure and calm. “Please let me do what I need to do to help. I’ve got a plan, and I’ll explain everything as we go.”

Kylo stared back, searching over my face, and I thought for a moment I could see the trace of fear dash over his features. But it was fleeting, and so foreign for him that I wasn’t sure I saw it at all. As a few seconds passed he simply nodded, head then leaning onto the tile in exhaustion.

“I’m going to get a few things ready. But I will be right back,” I promised. Knowing he was awake, breathing and seemingly orientated was enough reassurance for me to leave him for the few minutes it would take to get a proper treatment strategy underway.

There was a haze of wooziness that overcame me when standing up, stumbling slightly as I went to exit the ‘fresher. Before leaving, I spotted my face in the mirror and noticed the dark red drip of blood leaking from a decent sized cut on my forehead, a by-product of crashing into the hard, black tiles.

Dammit. That would need bacta.

I hurried to the medical supply cupboard and pulled a stronger anti pyretic and hypertensive from the pharmacy section, along with several bags of IV hydration and towels. Setting the vials to where I had my cannula kit set up, my feet took me out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. Opening the conservator to the freezing chamber, I stuffed the fluid bags and thick fabric inside. The chill released from the compartment was quick to make me shiver, my soaked sweater increasing the sting of cold against my skin. After closing the conservator door, I pulled at the bow on my back and unravelled the fabric, leaving me only in a white singlet undershirt.

I would have worried about looking unprofessional, or even a little too exposed, but I wasn’t about to cause my own hypothermia.

On the way back, I attempted to run a set of fingers through my hair, the strands having been tangled into a sodden mess from the shower’s stream. I’d already forgotten about the painful gash on my head, a hiss bursting past my lips when I’d wandered too close to the wound. I popped back into the supply closet and snatched the bacta-infused anaesthetic salve I’d eyed earlier in the night, smearing some blindly over the laceration, only to alleviate some of the discomfort while I dealt with Kylo’s health first.

He was in much the same condition as when I’d left, slumped awkwardly against the corner of the shower, his lids scrunched hard, still heaving through each breath. I moved to turn the flow off, his eyes opening as I dipped down to his level again.

“All I want you to do right now is focus whatever energy you have on slowing your breathing, okay? Breathe along with me.” I glared at him while beginning a long inhale, my hands motioning upwards with the movement of my chest, and held the breath. He followed my instruction, although it was clear the action wasn’t as easy for him, a subtle strain burning behind his dark irises. After a few seconds I let the hold on my lungs go, making it obvious to Kylo to take the extra moments to allow for an adequate exhale. After repeating the process several times, his attempts became marginally better.

“Focus on keeping that rhythm,” I insisted. “Now, I’m going to get you back into bed, and place that cannula we talked about, alright? And it’s also time for that breath mask to get your oxygen levels back up.”

I waited for the refusal, to view the same disgruntled expression I’d seen hours ago in response to my suggestions, yet he simply nodded, the movement causing a few droplets of water to drip from his soaked hair, the beads wriggling down his chest.

“Is it alright if I help you to stand?” I asked gently as I shifted into an upright position, reaching a hand out with my offer. Again, I presumed he would wave off my assistance, so it was difficult not to be startled when he lifted his arm to grasp a large hand into mine, holding it tightly as he began to pull himself up, pushing his back against the tiled wall to steady his shaky movements.

Even when I began to lead him out of the shower space, he didn’t let go, gripping hard around my fingers, even leaning into my more stable stance as we walked. His shuffled footsteps were slow and measured, obvious he was still extremely weakened and pained by the effects of this illness.

Eventually we completed the short journey to his bed, guiding Kylo to sit at the edge. His head hung down, and I felt a twinge of true sympathy for the man, recalling a distant memory of surviving through the same type of sickness and how miserable it’d made me.

“Just stay in this position for a moment, I’ll be right back,” I told him softly, rushing out of the room. I pulled the towels and one of the IV bags back out of the freezing chamber, noticing how much stronger this one was compared to the one I lived with on Raxus, the items already icy to the touch. Returning to the bedside, I opened one of the towels and spread it over the mattress. “You can lie down now.”

He followed my order, albeit slowly, slumping down onto his back. There was a slight hiss that escaped, likely from the contrast of the frosted material hitting his overheated skin, yet his expression soon melted into one of relief. I handed him the other towel I’d prepared. “You can put this wherever feels most comfortable.”

He plucked the fabric from my grasp and splayed it sideways over his torso. I couldn’t be sure if this area was where he felt the most heat, or if he was simply uncomfortable being on display. Either way, I was more than content if he felt even the slightest bit more relaxed for my next task.

“I’m going to place this cannula now, alright?” I asked, giving him one final opportunity to refuse. He’d seemed so focused on the idea of consent in the past that I wanted to prove my own point in providing him the same level of respect.

“Just be quick about it,” he muttered.

I grabbed the kit, having everything opened and prepared to reduce my time making him uneasy. Kylo’s eyes never left me as I worked in silence, seeming only curious. It was the second I touched my fingers to the skin of his arm, pulling the tourniquet around his bicep, that his mood changed. The aura around his shape suddenly shimmered with an intensity I couldn’t exactly explain as positive or negative. It was just… there, my attention hard to snag away from it’s confusing strength.

With forced concentration, I pierced the guide needle through the skin on the inside of his elbow, the veins predictably easy to navigate given his toned form. He didn’t flinch at the insertion, barely a waver in the energy around him, making it even more obvious my connection to him was causing the most pain.

The cannula patent and line attached, I turned the flow on and stepped away, Kylo’s unusual energy fading soon after. Collecting the strewn monitor lines, I silently offered them to him to position back on the conducer dots still in their correct arrangement. Even in this weakened state, he was eager to do the task himself, clipping them back on one by one.

His vitals were much the same, glancing at the results once before going to seize the pulmonary resuscitation kit from where I’d settled it on one of the draws. He didn’t make the slightest motion of denial when I handed him the breath mask, stretching it over his face and taking the next few seconds to consume the high flow of pure oxygen. Seeing his oxygenation level rise was reassuring, glad that he’d avoided intubation for the time being.

Preparing two separate med-injectors with the medication I’d selected, I showed him each one before pushing it through the IV line. “This one’s to push your blood pressure up. This one’s to help bring your fever down.”

He nodded in understanding, closing his eyes through more deepened breaths. And with that, my treatment plan was in motion, and all I could do was wait until the next crisis. If there was one.

I picked up the data pad I’d flung onto the cushioned bedroom bench sitting at the foot of Kylo’s bed, resting down on it while beginning the long task of inputting all that had occurred. I wanted every piece of evidence I’d done all I could to support his care, refusing to give Hux any reason to scold my measures in treating his Supreme Leader. In the midst of my furious typing, Kylo’s voice broke through the silence.

“Sorry for making you bleed,” he murmured, the words muffled by the mask over his face.

My hand shot up to the cut, feeling where the skin had been sliced apart. I looked at him questioningly, wondering at what time he’d turned from someone who had threatened to slash through my throat with a lightsaber into the man in front of me now - one who was apologising for a small wound on my temple.

“It’s fine,” I assured him. “I understand how strange it would have been to wake up to… all of that.”

He made a noise resembling a laugh. “That does put it lightly.”

“I wouldn’t have done it if not absolutely necessary.”

“I know,” Kylo agreed, his voice almost too quiet to hear.

A few beats of silence passed, my eyes flitting to the monitor screen. “Your vitals are already looking better. Just try to rest as much as you can.”

“Are you going to stay?”

I looked back to him, his stare somewhat entreating. “I can leave if me being here makes you uncomfortable.”

“No.” He took another breath, now with less exertion. “It would be preferable if you stayed.”

“Okay then. I’ll be right here.”

Questions bubbled to the surface like boiling water, simmering inside my mind, the heat extending out to the rest of my body. The pace of my heartbeat picked up, a feeling somewhat akin to satisfaction curving through my blood, his request implying a degree of trust between us that’d arrived without my awareness.

But, as it always seemed to be, the timing wasn’t right. I couldn’t bring myself to bother him with my wonderings, now that he’d already settled his head on the pillow, lids shut and breaths slowing. As severe as my curiosity burned, it couldn’t overcome the image of seeing Kylo drift back into a more peaceful sleep.

I’d turned the lights down, just enough so I could easily navigate the space through another deterioration. While I’d managed to stay awake during the next few hours, the hypnotic beat from the monitor constantly threatened to make me doze off.

Kylo had thankfully fallen into slumber, but since thrown off the cooling towel covering his torso during his dreaming, evident in the occasional tossing and low murmurs. The breath mask had been pulled off too, but when he maintained an adequate oxygen level on room air, I decided against waking him to replace it.

Being faced with his bared chest again was unusual to me now, feeling the call of two sides echoing through my mind. While it was difficult not to let my eyes wander and admire the sporadic tensing of his muscles, I was nagged by a part of my psyche that knew how much he disliked being so exposed. How disrespectful it was to his privacy.

The realisation made me smother any urge to peek at him several times during the early morning, even when I knew he would be oblivious to my attempts at maintaining his dignity.

Some time later, as the previous night continued to fade into a passing memory, my hands worked to exchange the IV hydration bag, having injected a mild pain reliever into the infusion with the aim of keeping Kylo’s sleep as undisturbed as possible. Although, that would need to be after I checked his temperature again.

A more agreeable patient might have allowed me to place an internal temperature probe on the inside of their nose long ago for continual monitoring. Yet, being more invasive and how downright irritating it can feel, I gathered Kylo would think this as the lesser of two bad options.

He was curled over towards the middle of the bed, the side he favoured now an open area I settled down onto, one leg still dangling over the edge of the mattress. Leaning over his body when I’d woken him yesterday evening seemed to startle him more, as did trying to shake him awake with my hands. This time I wanted to avoid yet another knock of my head into a hard surface.

“Kylo,” I called, not hushing my tone. “I have to wake you for a temperature check.”

I let a few seconds pass, and it was a deliberate exhale that indicated he was alert again. His torso turned to the direction of my voice, eyelids struggling to flutter open, and began to move his arms to his side, pushing himself into a sitting position against the headboard.

I gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry. It’ll only take me a moment.”

He nodded groggily, still in the residual haze of weariness. I waited for him to move his hair back in preparation for the probe, yet he remained motionless.

Guess I’ll have to do it myself.

My movement was slow, careful, giving ample time to refuse my touch. But as fingers inched closer to his face, a stirring inside my chest began to make itself known, telling me that… I really didn’t want him to.

I found myself caught in another moment of charged emotion, sensing a profound longing to simply graze my fingers against his hair. His eyes shot open as I neared his temple, our stares suddenly locked with a growing intensity, embers inside my stomach crackling to life.

Yet… he still didn’t stop me.

My fingertips gently sunk into his softened, dark waves, the connection swiftly turning the sparks into wild flames. If Kylo sensed the change in my disposition he didn’t express it within his face, only noticing the tautness of his jaw. But it was different this time. I couldn’t recognise any pain in his features, the discomfort I’d become used to now nowhere to be seen.

Shifting the hair over his ear, brushing the skin behind it, I relished the thrilling sensation it pulsed through my arm and into the rest of my body. I became lost in it, this intimate moment formulated from nothing spectacular.

Although when my hand began to fall downwards, the connection severed, a callous shame began spiralling around my mind, humiliation soon saturating my thoughts. There was no doubt Kylo would have felt so much discomfort from the encounter, his expression remaining stern and taut.

When his own hand began to rise, finding its way to my cheek with his thumb skimming tenderly over the skin, I felt the blaze held deep within my abdomen erupt into an inferno, my body tensed in anticipation for something I wasn’t aware I had been waiting for. Without warning, fingers became laced through my hair and Kylo drew my face closer, leaning in to touch his lips to mine.

It was gentle, the motion of his mouth slow and cautious. I responded just as carefully, moving my lips only when he did. It was sweet, unassuming, an utter dichotomy of the man I knew him to be.

It was when I felt his spirited energy begin to flow around us, with absolutely no hint of probing smoke, that his kiss became more urgent, reaching his other hand to my waist to wrench me flush against his chest. I let my mouth part wider in between kisses, tongue skimming the inside of his top lip. A restrained groan rumbled from his chest, causing me to relinquish all control over conscious thought, shifting to straddle his hips, not letting our lips separate.

I felt it instantly, the hardness obvious underneath me, but I was more focused on the passion of Kylo’s kiss, his energy spiking into waves of fiery pulses that were tangible against my skin.

Everything else was forgotten. Everything I knew, everything I felt, gone. My senses completely ensnared by his magnetic force around me. Kylo continued in his desperation, now swirling his tongue over mine, greedy. The hold he’d captured me into grew tighter, our chests pressing hard into one another, the radiating warmth of his skin flaring into my body.

Suddenly, a piercing thought carved its way through my mind. A reminder of the last time I’d felt this way, so deeply trapped in desire and fervour.

I pulled my face back, and it became immediately clear Kylo had done the same, his hands jerking away from me in the same instant. I scampered off his figure, backing away, our eyes linked in a shared disbelief at what had just transpired.

“You should leave," he ordered, his voice low.

“Gladly,” I whispered back, turning to escape out of the room.

Next chapter

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secretpajamas · 4 years ago

Text

a different kind of rush;

an ezra x reader fic

pairing: ezra (prospect) x female reader

rating: explicit

genre: romance/smut/and they were roommates (oh my god they were roommates)

words: 5.6k

part 2 of 2 (read part one HERE)

please scroll to the end to “content” if you would like to know specific smut-related content before reading!

When you emerged from the shower, you changed into your long sleep shirt (the thing was far too old and ratty at this point to be considered a “nightgown”). Even though it wasn’t dark out yet, you figured you might as well go to bed at the rate this day was going.

As you slowly crept through the tent partition, you noticed that Ezra was gone—and so was his gear.

You found a note in Ezra’s barely-legible scrawl placed at the foot of your bed.

“Starstone quality check,” you mumbled, reading the note aloud.

Starstone was so finicky that it was necessary to check up on it in storage to make sure it maintained its stability. But you knew in your gut he was avoiding you. While he was out, you cleaned the filters and checked the tanks like you always did—minus the filter and tank that Ezra was currently using—the methodical work helping soothe your nerves a little.

When Ezra came back in, you were sitting up in bed, reading the book Ezra’s kid Cee had hand-written (“She didn’t come up with the story, but she basically rewrote the whole damn thing herself. Smarter than she knows, that kid.”). It wasn’t your usual kind of story, and not even your usual medium of consumption (you preferred late-night radio dramas, but they broadcast from the Ephrate—the signal was spotty at best in the Fringes and nonexistent here in the Reach), but it was captivating nonetheless.

You didn’t look up from the book as Ezra walked in. Neither of you said a word.

Part of you was relieved that you didn’t talk about it.

The other part of you was desperate to talk about it.

The next morning, you woke to Ezra sitting at his makeshift desk—a chair set in front of an old wooden shipping crate—swirling together the starstone enzyme bath. He was wearing a pair of boxer shorts and a gray t-shirt, his hair already matted with perspiration from the heat.

You grumbled and slowly sat up.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Ezra said, not lifting his eyes from his work.

“Mmph,” was your sleepy response.

“Oats are ready if you have a hankering,” he continued, gesturing with his head towards the “kitchen”—another wooden shipping crate, this one with a battery-operated stove placed on top.

You were suddenly very awake at the promise of food. “Please tell me there’s coffee, too.”

“Haven’t made it yet,” he replied. “Go easy on the stuff, you’ve drunk near all my supply.”

“I believe food and board is included in my contract.” You yawned before shuffling your way over to the stove.

“Food and board, sweetheart, not drink.” Ezra held the canister of freshly mixed enzyme solution between his knees as he twisted on the cap with his hand.

Your stomach rumbled and you eagerly grabbed your bowl of oatmeal. After wolfing down your breakfast, you filled Ezra’s rickety kettle with water and set it on the stove, turning the power up to high. You pawed around the mismatched collection of canteens piled next to the stove until you found two clean ones and set them out, along with four packets of powdered coffee (three for you, one for Ezra). It was the instant stuff anyone could grab for cheap at a shuttle station, and it tasted wretched, but it did its job.

As you waited for the water to boil—not long when the water in storage was already warm thanks to this planet’s heat—You heard Ezra stand up and approach you. When you felt his hand brush the small of your back, you shivered.

Ezra huffed. “Are you cold? For cryin’ out loud, woman, it’s hotter’n two channel-rats fuckin’ in a wool sock.”

“Must be caffeine withdrawal,” you lied, knowing full well it was Ezra’s touch.

He rubbed his thumb back and forth and you nearly shivered again. “I suppose it’s high time I replenish our supplies,” he said, “lest you pillage the remainder of my coffee.”

When the kettle began to whistle, you switched off the stove and poured equal amounts of hot water into the cups—and unequal amounts of coffee packets. All the while, Ezra’s hand stayed on your back.

“Speaking of supplies, we could use another full O2 tank,” you said, trying your best to ignore how your stomach did somersaults every time Ezra absentmindedly rubbed his thumb against the material of your sleep shirt, “and coolant for the air circulators.”

“I’m well aware,” Ezra said, “but thank you kindly for the reminder.”

You offered Ezra his canteen of coffee. You mourned the loss of his hand on your back, but feeling the brush of his fingers against yours as you handed him his cup was nearly as electrifying.

“S’posin’ we pull a good haul of starstone today, I can ready the pod for the shuttle station tomorrow,” he said between sips. “Be back within a couple days’ time.”

You swallowed down a lump in your throat along with your coffee. You did need supplies, but it was hardly urgent—was he really that keen on avoiding you? But the way he just touched your back—he’d never been more intimate than friendly pats on the shoulder before—

“The shuttle station gets a clearer radio signal to the Ephrate,” Ezra continued, “I can have a good an’ proper talk with Cee.”

Oh. He wants to talk to his kid, you moron. Why did you make this about yourself and your ill-timed masturbatory ventures?

“I’ll hold down the fort, then,” you said between gulps of your coffee.

“I’m countin’ on it,” Ezra said. “Now let’s score some stone afore this bitch of a planet bakes us alive.”

–

Ezra was gone before you woke, but you had expected it. He told you as much last night. But you still couldn’t shake the notion that he was avoiding you. You sighed deeply before untangling yourself from the bedsheets and crawling over to make your morning coffee.

On the table, the kettle was already set out on the stovetop, along with three coffee packets, a clean canteen, and a note from Ezra.

“Radio at 21:00,” you mumbled. That was tonight—so he was planning to call you as soon as he got in. You couldn’t help but smile as you made your coffee.

You didn’t have to mine today or tomorrow, thanks to working double-time yesterday (and your aching muscles certainly reminded you of that), but there was still plenty to do around the tent. After gulping down your coffee, you started with the pile of laundry in the corner. It was the most urgent order of business, based on how it was beginning to climb up the wall—and how much it stunk. You filled a basin with water and soap and got to work.

While hanging the garments to dry, you noticed a pair of Ezra’s compression pants had a tear in the thigh—thankfully, it was on a side seam, so you could easily sew it shut. You noted to fix it as soon as it was finished drying. You wondered if you could mend anything else, noting Ezra’s ratty assortment of boxers and briefs. If he made any cash in the aurelac rush, he certainly didn’t spend any of it on underwear. You could mend holes, but you couldn’t work miracles.

As you waited for the clothes to dry, you snacked on a ration bar and read more of Cee’s book. You were invested in the characters now, despite your initial skepticism of the subject matter. You had to admit, it was a bit of a page-turner. After a while, you didn’t want to put it down. You moved from sitting at Ezra’s desk to leaning against one of the tent supports to laying on your bed mat, your eyes glued to the page.

When you finally came to a satisfying enough chapter to pause your reading, you looked around for a piece of scrap paper to mark your place. You picked up Ezra’s note and tucked it inside the pages before shutting the book. You noticed the laundry hanging up was dry—had you really been reading that long? Oh well. Time to get mending.

–

You had mended Ezra’s pants, a pair of his socks, and were about to sew a button back on the pocket of your suit when you heard your name crackle from the radio headset in the corner. Startled, you dropped your work, the button skittering across the floor.

“Gimme a minute!” You shouted, hoping your headset would pick it up from across the tent. You quickly found the runaway button and placed it on Ezra’s desk before scrambling to your side of the tent to put on your headset.

“Sorry about that,” you said, “I’m here. You get in okay?”

“All in one piece,” came Ezra’s voice in your ear, “give or take an arm.”

You rolled your eyes at Ezra’s wisecrack. “Talk to Cee yet?”

“Not yet,” Ezra said, “with the time difference between here and the Ephrate, she’s still in class. I shan’t interrupt her studies.”

You looked at the book where it lay on Ezra’s desk and smiled. “Well, when you call her, tell her I said hello.”

“Will do.”

“So, what station did you end up at?” You asked.

“Trinity,” Ezra replied.

“Trinity,” you said, “don’t think I’ve been on Trinity since the rush.”

“Ain’t any different,” Ezra said, “still got egregious docking fees and an abundance of unpleasant company.”

“Already shooed away a pick-pocket busker, haven’t you?”

“Several,” Ezra grumbled, “Damn this stump, they think I’m an easy target.”

“Were any of them good players, at least?” You asked.

“Truthfully, the boy on the panpipes was a talented little devil,” he said, “both in playing his instrument and his victims. I let him pilfer a coin from my pocket—I fancy myself a patron of the arts.”

You snorted. “You keep coin in your pocket? On Trinity?”

“Sweetheart, it’s the decoy cash,” Ezra explained. “You keep a couple low-credit coin in your pocket for the vandals so that they don’t go scroungin’ for the heavy-hittin’ gems in your suit lining.”

“Speaking of your suit lining,” you said, “I’ve been doing some mending.”

You heard Ezra’s raspy laugh through your headset. “Don’t suppose you’ve been sewin’ up my underthings.”

“Those are hopeless,” you remarked, “I meant your spare compression pants.”

“Ah!” Ezra said. “I do recall those had a rip in ’em. I was fixin’ to fix those.”

“Well, I figured I’d do it as long as I had the time,” you said. “Also darned a pair of your socks.”

“Are you anglin’ for a raise?” You could hear the smile in Ezra’s voice.

“Your listing did say ‘compensation negotiable,’” you replied.

“Hmm. That it did,” Ezra said. “Perhaps we shall negotiate upon my return.”

The radio line lay silent for a moment, and you felt a nervous pang in your stomach. Enough small talk. You needed to say something about what happened the other day—even if it was just to apologize.

“Ezra?”

“Yes, sweetheart?” He replied.

“Is everything... Okay? With us?” You asked, trying to suppress the anxiety in your voice.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Ezra replied, before quickly adding in lowered tone, “Did somethin’... rub you the wrong way?”

“Kevva help me,” you grumbled, feeling the wave embarrassment crawl up your spine. “I’m so sorry, Ezra. It won’t happen again.”

“Stop apologizin’. There ain’t a thing wrong indulgin’ in a little well-earned self-pleasure.”

The way he said pleasure made your breath hitch. You hoped like hell it didn’t pick up on the radio.

“If there’s one thing I’ve come to realize in my years,” he said, “is that there’s no use feelin’ shame in feelin’ good.”

His voice was smooth and deliberate now. That bastard knew exactly what he was doing to you. “So don’t you stop yourself because of me—truthfully, I don’t mind. Not one bit.”

Hesitantly, you reached down to press the heel of your hand against your clit, choking back a moan threatening to escape your throat—but not entirely succeeding.

You heard Ezra’s breath coming loud and heavy through the radio. “Are you touchin’ yourself right now, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you gasped out, your previous inhibitions completely shattered.

“Fuck,” Ezra replied. “Thank Kevva this radio headset is hands-free.”

You heard what might have been Ezra undoing his zipper—and your suspicions were confirmed when you heard a low moan through the radio.

“Ezra—”

“Do you have the faintest idea what you do to me, woman?” The line swelled with static and the throaty rasp of Ezra’s voice. “Told myself not to—made myself not think of you like that. It ain’t proper. But when you—you let me watch—”

You whined and slid your hand beneath your underwear. “I was thinking of you,” you confessed, “always thinking of you—”

“It’s a cryin’ shame,” Ezra said, “all I’ve got is spit-slick and a weak hand wishin’ like hell it was you.”

You sped up the pace of your fingers as he continued.

“If you were here,” he said, “I’d bury myself inside you so deep—ah, fuck—’til you were the only thing I could feel.”

At his words, you slid two fingers inside yourself up to the knuckle, arching your hips, trying to get them as deep as they could go, thumb tirelessly working at your clit.

“I want that,” you panted, “I want you.”

“—Make you come on my cock again and again ’til you’re dizzy with it,” he said, “fuck you so hard you feel it the next day.”

Ezra’s words were pushing you close to the edge. “Ezra, I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he groaned, “let me hear you, sweetheart.”

You came to the overwhelming sound of Ezra’s broken moans and your own desperate cries and the static of the radio and the beating of your heart—

a discordant symphony of absolute ecstasy.

–

Ezra returned the following night with a full pod of supplies. You worked together like a well-oiled machine, moving various goods from the pod to the tent in an orderly fashion. You both made small talk—Cee was doing well at the Academy, the shuttle station shop was stocked enough with what they needed, no, they didn’t have real coffee, just the shit stuff in packets.

Despite the friendly conversation, the air was thick with unspoken words.

It was hot out—as it always was on this planet—so you breathed a huge sigh of relief when you had both moved all the supplies to the tent and you could leave the sweaty pod. You both discarded your helmets and stood in front of the air circulator on Ezra’s side of the tent, sifting through the supplies and placing them where they belonged throughout the tent.

When you reached at the same time as Ezra for a can of coolant, your hands collided, sending a shockwave up your arm and stopping your breath.

You both froze, staring at your hands where they met.

Slowly, carefully, Ezra intertwined your fingers with his.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he whispered, those beautiful brown eyes of his gazing at you tenderly.

You couldn’t take it anymore—you climbed over the pile of supplies between you and pressed your lips to his.

He let out a surprised little noise against your mouth before returning the kiss with fervor, wrapping his arm tightly around you and pressing you close to his chest.

“Couldn’t—stop—thinkin’ of you,” he said between kisses.

“Do you want to—can we—” You gasped against his mouth.

“Yes,” he breathed, scrambling to work at the zips and fasteners on his suit. He didn’t object when you reached out to help remove the suit—and honestly, you weren’t thinking of it as helping him, more like getting all your clothes off as fast as possible because holy shit this was happening. Ezra had already removed his boots when he took his helmet off earlier, and you were only dressed in your undershirt and shorts, so this blasted contraption of a suit was the main obstacle.

You both managed to get the damn thing off and Ezra kicked it aside. He reached back, grabbing his sweaty t-shirt behind the collar to tug it over his head. You grasped the hem of your top and pulled it up and off, throwing it to the growing pile of discarded clothing.

You were about to strip off your shorts when Ezra reached for you again, kissing your mouth, your jaw, your neck, down to the tops of your breasts along the edge of your bra. You scrambled to unclasp it, letting it fall to the floor. Ezra wasted no time, cupping a breast in his hand and lavishing kisses on the other. When you felt the wet heat of his tongue against your nipple, you cried out, grabbing his hair and giving it a tug. He moaned against your breast before pulling away to look at you.

“Let’s take this to a bed,” you urged.

Ezra nodded vigorously in agreement and you both stumbled over to his bed mat, falling atop the sheets in a tangle of limbs.

Ezra sat up and you situated yourself on his lap, wrapping your legs around him. You could kiss him like this for hours, his tongue in your mouth, your fingers in his hair, his hand steady and warm on your back.

When you both took a moment to catch your breath, Ezra cleared his throat and looked you in the eye, his expression almost timid.

“I must confess, I have not had the chance to... partake, since I lost my arm,” he said. “I may not be as formidable a sparrin’ partner as I once was.”

“Ezra, I’m sure it doesn’t matter,” you said, leaning in to kiss him again. He stopped you with a press of a finger to your lips.

“Allow me to enlighten you.” He shrugged with his stump. “Nothin’s as it once was. I can’t even take a piss the same way. Ever try to hold a dick with a hand that ain’t there?”

“Can’t say I have,” you said.

“Oh, hush, birdie, you can understand the sentiment,” Ezra grumbled. “Everything is at the behest of my damned weak hand. I can’t read my own handwriting anymore. Can’t shoot like I used to—my grip’s shit on the left. Even gettin’ dressed is harder than minin’ aurelac.”

He took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair before continuing. “And as long as we’re on the subject of minin’, I can no longer mine most things on my lonesome. Each harvest is hardly half of my previous yields, and I got the kid to support on top of everything. Now, Cee deserves every bit of that support, do not misunderstand my words—I would move Kevva and earth for that girl. But such meager wages do tend to make one feel... inadequate. A man’s work is no petty thing.”

You listened to Ezra attentively, not knowing how you could get it across to him that he was no less of a man in your eyes than if he had two arms. You wanted to reassure him, but he pressed on.

“So please, allow me to posit this caveat,” he said, “that I intend to make love to you, and to do so to the fullest of my capabilities—but even my best efforts may prove... unsatisfactory.”

Make love. Ezra wanted to make love to you. Your heart stuttered in your chest.

You were so stunned by Ezra’s choice of vocabulary that it took you a moment to process what he said.

“Oh,” you said. “You don’t think you can make me come.”

Ezra ducked his head; you could have sworn he was blushing. “You always cut right to the quick.”

You cupped his cheek, running your thumb along the little white scar there.

“Ezra, I don’t care. I just want this. With you.” You glanced down to where you straddled his lap, rolling your hips a little against his growing arousal. “And forgive me if I’m assuming things, but it seems like you want it, too.”

Ezra moaned quietly at your movements. “My desire was never in question, I assure you,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smile.

You leaned in and kissed him softly. He returned the kiss before gently moving you off his lap.

“Lie down, sweetheart,” he whispered, and you eagerly obliged, reclining on the mattress. He settled on top of you, propping himself up on his elbow, kissing you passionately. Eager to get your hands on him, you hooked a finger under his waistband and gave a tug.

“Whoa there,” Ezra said, “slow down, spitfire.”

You moved your hand away. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’, believe me. But those clever hands of yours will have to wait, because I’ve been starvin’ for you,” he said with a sly grin, kissing a path down your breasts to your stomach, “and I can no longer deny myself a taste.”

It took a moment for your Ezra Translator to kick in. “Oh.” You scrambled to shimmy your shorts and underwear down. Ezra took over, pulling them all the way off and tossing them over his shoulder before leaning down to continue his trail of kisses.

He nudged at your thigh with his head and you eagerly opened your legs for him. Rough stubble tickled your thighs as he kissed his way to your cunt. At the first feeling of his hot breath against your clit, your hips jumped up out of their own volition, knocking Ezra off his left elbow and face-planting him onto the bed beneath you.

“Sorry!” You squeaked. You reached out to steady him but stopped yourself—you knew he hated being helped.

“Hell’s bells,” Ezra grunted. He gripped at the sheets with his hand as he slowly pushed himself to sit upright.

“Left arm ain’t worth shit,” he grumbled under his breath, “can’t even hold me up.”

“It’s alright, Ezra,” you said, “we can try again.”

“Indeed we can,” Ezra said. He lay down on his back next to you and motioned to his chin. “Take a seat, sweetheart.”

“Um,” you started. You’d done this before, but not like that. “I don’t want to—hurt you.”

“Kevva’s sake, woman, I ain’t gonna break,” Ezra said, then added with a grin, “if I suffocate on account of your cunt, I will embrace death with open arms. Well, one of ’em, anyway.”

“Oh, shut up,” you said with a groan.

“Here lies Ezra, drowned in pussy,” he continued teasing, eyeing you with a wicked grin.

You hesitantly shuffled toward him. Drumming up some courage, you knelt above him, one knee on either side of his head. You were so nervous that you could hear your pulse roaring in your ears.

Whether impatient or just eager, Ezra grabbed you by the hip, then, and urged you down onto his mouth.

You gasped, bracing yourself as you felt the white-hot warmth of his tongue against your cunt. You choked back a moan, your hips stuttering forward, trying not to grind down too hard on his face. Ezra was having none of that. He urged you to move, his hand gripping your hip and firmly pulling you forward. With a little more certainty, you rocked your hips forward and back, making his tongue slide against your clit in long strokes. You moaned again, louder this time, and Ezra hummed his desperate response, burying his face in your pussy like a man starving.

You rutted against him urgently, your thighs beginning to burn from holding yourself up over him. Your movements became less graceful, more desperate—you slid forward too far, causing your slit to grind against the bridge of his nose, and you’d be embarrassed if didn’t feel so damn good. You were right on the precipice, moments away from shaking apart, when Ezra stilled your hips with his hand and brought you back to his tongue. He latched his mouth over your clit and sucked on it, wet and sloppy and fucking perfect.

“Fuck, Ezra,” you gasped, the heat coiling inside you tighter and tighter, “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna—”

Ezra growled, his teeth grazing your clit for a moment, and the jolt of sensation just on the right edge of pain had you coming so hard you thought you might black out. You stumbled forward, reaching out to break your fall, your cunt pulling away from his mouth. Somehow, Ezra knew you needed more, reaching behind his head for you and guiding you back in place with his hand. He began to lap at you again, working you through another shaking shockwave of pleasure.

You had to pull away before it was too much. You collapsed next to Ezra on the too-small mattress, trying to catch your breath, feeling your thighs burn and your cunt twitch and your heart sing.

“Give me a minute,” you gasped.

“Take all the time you need, sweetheart,” Ezra said, equally breathless.

You turned to look at Ezra. His face was flushed red, beads of sweat dripping down to mix with your slick that had ended up all over his mouth and chin—and his nose. He looked absolutely filthy and you’d be mortified if he didn’t look so damn pleased with himself.

You reached for your discarded t-shirt and gently wiped at his face, cleaning up the most offensive wet patches before tossing it aside again. “Sorry,” you said.

Ezra chuckled. “I do not accept your apology, ma’am,” he teased. “That was sexier than hittin’ a motherlode of aurelac.”

“Now that’s high praise,” you teased back.

“C’mere and kiss me,” he all but whispered, reaching out to hold your chin between his thumb and index finger. You closed the distance and pressed your lips against his. It was almost chaste—if not for the knowledge of where that mouth had just been.

He pressed his forehead against yours. You breathed deeply, absentmindedly playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

You looked down at the straining bulge in his pants, snaking your hand down to stroke at him through the fabric. A little choked moan tumbled from his throat at your touch.

“Let’s take this off,” you said, thumbing the waistband. He nodded in agreement, laying on his back and lifting his hips so you could pull his pants down and off in short order. His cock sprang free, hard and aching.

You licked your lips. “No underwear?”

“Too fuckin’ hot for underwear,” he said, gasping when you gently rested your hand on the crease where his thigh met his hip.

You moved your hand up and down his thigh, making him squirm and thrust up against nothing but air. He practically whined, his hand clawing at the sheets.

“Touch me,” he begged, voice cracking.

“I am touching you,” you said with a wolfish grin.

“Damn it, woman,” he groaned, “if the heat don’t kill me, you sure as shit will have the pleasure yourself.”

“Patience,” you chided, not sure how long you could keep this up—you wanted him inside you, and you wanted him now—but you loved seeing him spread out and desperate for you.

Finally, you wrapped your hand around him and gave a long, firm stroke. He threw his head back and moaned, arching into your touch. You licked your lips as you studied his cock, the thick length of it twitching ever so slightly in your hand. You rubbed at the underside of the head with your thumb and your mouth watered when a bead of precome welled up at the tip. On instinct, you moved down to lick it off.

Ezra cursed, bucking up to meet your mouth. You held him down by the hip before taking him into your mouth as far as you could.

“Fuck, sweetheart—I—fuck!” Ezra cried out, clawing at the sheets with his hand, writhing against your hand where it held him down. When you tentatively reached down to gently squeeze his balls, he nearly sobbed.

“I’m gonna—” Ezra gasped.

You pulled your mouth off of him, then, replacing it with your hand, not moving, just holding him at the base.

“Hold on, I didn’t say stop,” he said with a breathless chuckle. “Everything alright?”

“I want you inside me,” you whispered, barely audible.

Ezra reached out to still your movements. “I don’t have protection, sweetheart,” he said, voice strained.

You bit your bottom lip, averting Ezra’s gaze for a moment. “I have the implant,” you said, looking him in the eye again.

Ezra’s eyebrow shot up. “Well, shit, woman,” he said. “Thought they only had those fancy contraptions in the Ephrate.”

“They do,” you said. “I did have some decent money, once. In the rush. Before my crew took it all and left.”

“You and I have trod similar paths, so it would seem,” Ezra said.

“The rush left a lot of us in the dust,” you said.

Ezra nodded. “The deadliest dust there is.”

After a long moment, he sat up to kiss you, just a gentle press of lips. You put your arms around him and closed your eyes, breathing with him for a moment.

“How do you want to—which way should we—” you stumbled over your words.

“You may have me whichever way you desire,” Ezra said, voice low in your ear, “and I will do my darnedest to provide.”

“Can—can you be on top?” You started, “I mean—I will if it’s easier, but my thighs are kind of killing me.”

Ezra chuckled, and you thrilled at the vibration of it against your chest. “Lay back,” he said.

You complied, laying down on the bed mat. He reached behind you to grab the pillow.

“Lift up that pretty ass of yours for me,” he said, and you did. Kneeling before you, he placed the pillow under your hips.

“Reckon my knees will hold me up longer than my arm,” he said, gripping your hip to tug you towards him.

“Guess both our thighs will be burning tonight,” you said with a sly smile.

“Worth every ache,” he replied, taking himself in hand.

He slowly rubbed at your slit with the head of his cock. You moaned, your cunt clenching against thin air as you felt wetness dribble down. Ezra dragged his cockhead through the slick, gathering it before rubbing at your clit directly. You gasped at the jolt of pleasure lighting up your body—it felt so good you could cry. You could hardly stand the teasing anymore, wanting him inside you now more than ever.

“Ezra, please,” you begged.

At your urging, he lined himself up and slid inside you with one deliberate movement. The sensation of his thick cock filling you up, the almost-aching stretch of it—it was better than you ever imagined. He grabbed you by the hip again to pull you even closer as he began to thrust into you at a steady pace.

“Look at you,” Ezra said, his voice gravelly and low, “takin’ my cock like it was made for you. Shoulda known you’d feel this good, sweetheart.”

“Ezra,” you panted, “Ezra.”

You looked up at Ezra as he filled you completely—from his pupils blown wide and his lips slightly parted, to the broad expanse of his shoulders, to the torso adorned with freckles and scars, to—fuck, where his cock was seated deep in your cunt—he was more beautiful than any gemstone.

You could tell Ezra was trying to control the pace of his thrusts, biting his lip in concentration. You didn’t want him to hold back.

“Harder,” you breathed.

“I ain’t gonna last,” Ezra said through gritted teeth.

“I don’t care!” You cried out, clenching down on him.

“Fuck!” Ezra leaned forward and braced himself against the bed, arm trembling with the effort as he set a brutal pace, fucking into you hard and deep and unrelenting. You nearly screamed.

“Touch yourself, sweetheart,” Ezra’s voice was frantic and loud, “come for me, please, please, fuck!”

You rubbed your clit for hardly a moment before you shook apart, your cunt spasming around his cock, your body consumed in flames of pleasure so intense you could hardly breathe.

Ezra managed a few more thrusts before he came with a shout, his cock inside you as deep as it could go.

–

In the aftermath, Ezra collapsed beside you, absolutely exhausted. You turned your head to kiss him, lazy and slow.

“If it’s alright with you,” he said, his breath warm and close, “I’m inclined to take the day off tomorrow.”

“We’re sure going to be sore,” you sighed.

“Well, yes,” he agreed, “but I’m keen on more...sparrin’ practice.”

“You can say sex, you know,” you laughed, “not everything has to be a metaphor.”

Ezra smiled. “I do have an inclination to run my mouth, don’t I.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

Ezra just rolled his eyes before taking your hand in his, your fingers twining together.

“I just realized,” you said, looking over at Ezra’s desk, “I could’ve sat on that chair instead of your face. Would’ve made things easier.”

Ezra’s eyes widened a fraction, looking over at the chair, then back to you.

“Why didn’t I think of that? I am dumber than a box of rocks,” he said with a chuckle. “But I do believe my method is superior.”

“We’ll have to test your theory,” you said. “Do some serious research.”

Ezra nodded eagerly before setting a steely expression with a furrowed brow. “Of course.”

content: phone sex (well, radio sex if you wanna get technical), cunnilingus, face-sitting, blowjob, vaginal sex

a/n: listen. all the scifi sex I write will conveniently make use of “the implant” purely so they can raw-dog it. also like where tf is ezra gonna go buy space condoms. this is set in the fringes of the galaxy. it’s not like he can pop over to space cvs and get some cosmic cock wrappers for his magnum dong. they don’t carry them at the shuttle station, okay?

and yes I DO go back and forth in my fics deciding whether “come” or “cum” is hotter/more grammatically correct/etc and this is a come fic, apologies to the cum crowd

special thanks to taylor (@damerondjarin) for the exchange of messages that inspired this fic, and for all the moral support thereafter. believe it or not this entire fic was supposed to be JUST the face-sitting sex scene and uh it expanded from there. Oops.

#ezra prospect #ezra x reader #ezra prospect x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

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From Eden: One

Warnings: noncon sexual acts, mentions of mental illness; tags to be added throughout series

This is dark!Bucky. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The mc suffers from agoraphobia. After a new neighbour moves in across the street, her home becomes even more of a prison.

Note: So I've decided to try something new. I'm hoping that you don't mind the new format. This story is written in first person in the form of diary entries. Transcripts will be included at the end of chapters to accomodate any who have issues reading the images.

I am still working on Omerta but chapter 12 is taking me a little bit longer to complete so hopefully this can tide you over until tomorrow. Thank you so much for your patience! And support!!

As always, if you are so inclined, please like, reblog, and comment. <3

Transcript:

Sunday

It rained today. I hoped it would break the humidity but the air is still balmy and thick. The garden is starting to droop without the usual June sunlight. The shrubs look healthy but I don’t know if the mums will bloom. It is late for them.

The windows are clouded now the rain is gone. Once they dry, it will be suffocating again. I should have pulled out the old patio set last weekend but Lorena was here for the groceries. My meds are running low, I’ll have to remind her.

Oh, I found the old afghan grandma used to use. The one with the knitted flowers. Not a single hole. I’ll wash it and hang it over the loveseat in the lounge. It still smells of her. It’ll be two years next week. I miss her.

The kettle is whistling. Lorena bought a new flavour of tea; a spiced rooibos. It smells more suited to the winter but I’m anxious to try. It’ll boil over if I keep writing.

I found a documentary on a country house in the British Midlands. I might watch that with my tea. Or maybe fall asleep on the couch. Again.

Monday

I have a new neighbour.

Today, I went out to check the bulbs I planted two weeks ago. I don’t think they’ll bud. It was humid and I had sweat in my eyes as the large truck pulled up across the street. The orange moniker on its side was faded and its white paint was almost yellow. I peeked out the gate as they backed it up.

The beeping was horrible, almost deafening.

A car was just behind it. I shouldn’t be so curious but grandma always said I was a watcher. Watching is easy; doing is… difficult.

My new neighbour is a man. He has dark hair and a thick beard. I thought I was hallucinating when I saw the rest of him. His arm shone in the sunlight. It’s metal! I’ve never seen anything like it. I never saw a prosthetic that ended in anything but a hook or a blunt stump. I guess, I never really thought much about it.

I think he saw me too. It is hard to see behind the ivy that covers the front gate but I swore he could see me. I hid before I could make sure of it. It’s rude to stare. That’s what grandma would say. So went back to the flower bed and dug up the bulbs. They were dead.Lorena is coming tomorrow. I’ll ask her to grab more.

Tuesday

Lorena came buy today. She commented about my new neighbour. I acted surprised.

I gave her my list and reminded her of my pills. She was gone for a while before she returned. When she returned, I helped her bring in the bags. We unpacked them and she told me about her new niece; Cora. I think that’s a pretty name but Lorena thinks it’s too old fashioned. She said I would like it given my usual tastes.

She asked if I was wearing grandma’s shirt. I lied and said I wasn’t.

I showed her the garden and she had some tea after helping me set up the heavy iron patio set with the mosaic tabletop.

She showed me pictures of Cora. She said when she marries Shelby, she wants to adopt but her sister offered to be her surrogate. I thought that was nice.She left shortly after. I’m in the garden, staring at the old shed as I write. The frame around the window is starting to fall apart. I should fix it soon. And maybe clean the--

Later

The man was at the gate. The one with the metal arm. He scared me.

I hid behind the ivy as I looked out at him. His eyes are very blue. Piercing. Despite the heat, they made me want to shiver. His metal fingers wrapped around one of the curlicues of the gate. He said hello and that his name was Bucky.

I nearly swallowed my tongue as I ran away. I didn’t dare grab my diary until the sunset. He was gone, thank god. I hope he doesn’t come back.

Wednesday

Doctor Tisha called today. She wants me to come in at the end of the month to have my prescriptions reviewed. I told her they were helping much better than the old ones. No more vertigo or manic fits, but my dreams are really vivid. She also reminded me that I should make more of an effort to go beyond the garden. The pills can’t do all the work. Well, I think there are parts of me that just can’t be fixed.

I cleaned out the birdbath but the shed window is still drooping. There’s a spider web above the door and I’m working up the courage to open it. My grandma was always the brave one; she called her slippers ‘the exterminators’. She always made me laugh.

Then the man returned. His knuckles make an odd clinking on the gate when he knocks. I didn’t move at first. I’d rather have faced the spider and her web. But he kept on and it was getting rather annoying.

He pulled some of the ivy aside as I got close. I kept to the edge and peeked out at him. He held a box of freesias.

“Hey again.”

He speaks as if he knows me. I don’t like that. He didn’t even care that I didn’t answer.

“I see you like to garden so I thought I’d bring you some flowers. To introduce myself…. Better. I’m sorry if I scared you yesterday.”

I didn’t know what to say. The freesias were all shades of red, orange, and yellow. Young with a bit of growing still to do. I shook my head.

“You don’t want them?” He asked.

I frowned so hard it hurt my cheeks. I haven’t talked to anyone by Lorena or Doctor Tisha since grandma died. I was never good at that.

“No, I don’t know you.” I felt as if it was someone else talking.

He blinked and I suddenly felt very dizzy. I ran back to the shed and ripped the door open without thinking. The web caught in my hair as I slammed it shut behind me. I sat in the shadows as I tried to wipe away the web. The old rubbermaid lid warped beneath me, if not cracked.

I didn’t come out until the musty air made me sick. As I ran into the house, I noticed he had left the flowers on the other side of the gate. I locked the door behind me and shuddered. I swore I felt eight legs crawling down my arm.

Thursday

Sure enough, the flowers are still there. They haven’t wilted at all despite the intense heat of the sun. June is in full effect and the days get brighter and longer.

I found the old weather vane grandma said was swept away in a storm. It was hidden behind the row hedges along the stone wall around the yard. It’s bent but fixable.

I went inside to eat at noon. I looked out the window as I ate; the strawberries were sour. I saw a shadow through the gate. I watched for a while, sure it was the shifting of the sun. Then I saw the metal fingers and the man’s square jaw as he tried to see past the ivy. He knelt and touched the dainty petals of the freesia. He lifted one of the small pots to sniff and placed it back in the box.

He left shortly after. I won’t go back out. I need to work on the house anyway. All this dust is making me sneeze.

Friday

The flowers are still there.

I refuse to look at them. Instead I focus on my own. I brought the old sony tape deck out to listen to the radio. Grandma always said it was older than me. I believe her. The speakers crackle and the antenna kept falling off.

The robins and sparrows were at the birdbath and a pair of cardinals have taken up in the old painted birdhouse around the back. The squirrels broke the window frame on the shed. Well, I’ll deal with that next week.

The flowers are starting to bloom nicely. I thought they might not, given the late showers and the sudden drought.

There was a monarch butterfly by the carnations. It flew away before I got too close. My mother liked monarchs. I remember she had one framed in her room. Like the picture of her in grandma’s.

I try not to think of her. Or grandma, too much.

It makes me sad. Doctor Tisha says this isn’t grandma’s house anymore, it’s mine. My life is mine, she tells me. It’s never really felt like it but I’m trying.

Saturday

The lock on the gate is broken and the flowers are gone. They didn’t go far. I found them planted by the lilies. I had tears in my eyes and my hands shook terribly as I wound an old bike lock around the gate. I picked up the pieces of the old latch. It’s totally ruined.

I haven’t been out since. I’m scared. Was it him?

It seems like a kind gesture but the memory of the busted lock makes me think otherwise.I’m confused. What does he want?

He should’ve let the flowers wilt and die. Or maybe I should just learn to tell people to leave me alone. Out loud.

#Bucky Barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x oc #dark bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes x oc #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x oc #dark!fic #dark fic #fic #series #from eden #au #marvel #mcu

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whitttbit · 4 years ago

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Hawks x reader lemon An acceptable apology and an unexpected visit.

Warnings: This is absolute filth. Extreme dom hawks with spanking,Dom sub dynamics,a dash of angst, office smut, and just general smut. It's my first fic so try not to judge to harshly. If you guys enjoy it I'll open requests and do more. Ps: I am incredibly nervous posting this.

You've been warned:

Dating a pro hero was never easy. They were always busy with paperwork, patrols or undercover missions. Dating the number 2 pro hero was damn near impossible. Somehow though, here you were sitting in a shapartment waiting on the winged hero to get home. Hawks was charismatic and energetic and that definitely translated to the bedroom. The sex was phenomenal and the love was passionate. He was always bringing you gifts and when he found the time he would plan out elaborate dates for the two of you that were thoughtful and fun. Lately though he had been working overtime investigating the LOV in anticipation of an attack. He wouldn't get in until long after you'd fallen asleep. He would then leave before you woke up with a gentle shake and apologetic kiss on the forehead. The commission had given him a positively brutal schedule and he hadn't had a day off in over a month since accepting the mission.

You were trying your best to stay awake but sleep finally won you over and you had drifted off to sleep on the sofa. The hero had planned to be home for dinner but ended up sending an apology text last minute after receiving some new Intel on the case. As you drifted into the welcoming arms of your slumber the dinner you had spent hours making was still on the table. It had long since gotten cold but you hadn't been able to bring yourself to put it away. It was well after midnight when the hero finally landed on the balcony of the penthouse, shaking the snow from his tired wings and sliding the door open. He glanced around and his eyes landed on your silhouette on the couch wrapped in a blanket. Sighing he turned to grab something quick to eat from the kitchen and saw the table set for two. His gut tensed and he felt the sense of guilt that he had become all to familiar with.

"damn....." He mumbled as he started to clear the table putting the delicious looking food into Tupperware and loading the dishwasher. Once everything was clean he walked quietly over to you and scooped you up taking you to your shared bed. He knew he'd have to make it up to you somehow but all he could think of right now was sleep.

Five thirty had come far to soon for Keigos liking as he slammed his hand onto the alarm clock by your bed. He stood up and showered and got ready to go back to work. You began to wake as he left the bathroom and the florescent light hit your eyes. Sleepily you groaned and looked at him in his hero costume ready to leave you yet again.

"Kei?"

"Shit! sorry angel I was trying to be quiet. Go back to sleep, Ill text you around lunch." He walked over and gave you a deep apologetic kiss as he tucked the blankets around you.

" You have to work again? Its Sunday and you said you might be able to get off."

" I know but I've got to complete the paperwork today and its a mountain on my desk. I'm sorry. I should be off someday soon though and ill make it up to you."

" You always say that." You hadn't meant for it to come out so harshly but you were sleepy and annoyed. Keigo blinked and stared at you for a moment before finally speaking.

" I know angel but the mission is almost over. It's literally just paperwork. I've gathered all of the Intel that the commission requested."

"Fine. Ill see you tonight I guess." You rolled over feeling slightly guilty at how cold your words had been. Sighing Keigo walked out to the balcony and headed to his office across the city.

You awoke a few hours later and went into the kitchen to get breakfast. You saw your phone on the counter and saw that he had texted.

BIRDBOY: You awake love?

You hastily typed a quick message.

Y/N: Yes, do you want me to bring you lunch?

BIRDBOY: No, I don't really have time I've got a budget conference call at lunch and still have to complete my reports.

God, why did he even bother texting you back. He might as well be dating the commission. Then a thought popped into your head. It was kind of mean but he deserved it. You took off your leggings and t-shirt and threw on some red lacy panties he had bought you for Christmas and a matching bra and tousled your hair a bit snapping a quick aerial picture.

Y/N: But I miss you daddy...

*attachment*

You sat on the couch eagerly waiting for him to reply. It took a few minutes and he had started typing and stopped several times.

BIRDBOY: Angel, what are you doing? You know not to send me pictures at work. It's not nice to get daddy worked up before a business call.

Y/N: Well its not nice to leave me this wet either.

You knew that you were pushing it. His daddy kink always put him in his dom head space and testing him wasn't always a good thing. He could be positively relentless with his punishments if you went to far.

BIRDBOY: You are pushing it baby.

Y/N: Well you aren't here so I guess ill just have to take care of it myself.

You knew that would do it. He was going to lose it, but still you had already hit send so no turning back now

BIRDBOY: Don't you fucking dare. You know the rules! Don't test me darling.

You left him on read and went to the bedroom to grab some black thigh high stockings and a garter belt. Putting on some heels and a long pea coat. This was possibly the gutsiest thing you'd ever done but you were going to pack up last nights dinner and take it to him at work. He deserved to suffer a little bit after all. Grabbing a scarf you hailed a cab and made your way to the office ignoring your phone which was buzzing with angry texts at your lack of response no doubt.

As you pulled up to the tall silver building you felt yourself getting more and more nervous. You were practically naked under a coat and going to your boyfriends job. This was dangerous and uncharted territory. Keigo always took his job so seriously. As you watched the floor number flash on the screen in the elevator you felt more anxious. Finally it dinged and the doors slid open. You made your way to his secretaries desk. Clearing your throat.

"Hi Jamie....um I brought Hawks lunch" She beamed up at you and tapped her desk.

"He is about to be on a call, if you leave it here ill make sure that he gets it." Part of you wanted to do it. Somehow you mustered up some nerve though.

" Um.... actually I was hoping to give it to him myself.....we were planning on eating together. Ill just sit quietly in his office until hes done. He's expecting me." You looked at her praying that she wouldn't check.

" Oh! okay he must have forgotten to tell me, go on in." Oh thank god, You walked to the big steel door and turned the handle. Walking in you saw him staring at papers and biting a pen. He didn't even look up.

"Jamie, I'm about to be in a meeting whats up?"

You cleared your throat and waited. He looked up and dropped the pen staring.

" I um...brought you lunch"

" Angel, I told you I couldn't have lunch today what are you doing here?" He studied your body like a predator shaking and looking down you began to speak.

" Um.....well..... I thought id just bring it I can go. " Placing the basket on the ground you turned finally losing nerve. What were you thinking. Coming to his office like this? In a flash of crimson he was over to you grabbing your arm and turning you to face him. He cupped you chin forcing you to look up into his golden irises as he spoke.

"I told you to stay home and wait. Impatient are we?" you grabbed the buttons of your coat to keep him from discovering your secret and kept eye contact trying not to break.

" I just want you to eat that's all you jerk."

"Tch- So disrespectful, its sir or daddy not jerk. Now go sit on the couch until after my meeting. It seems we need to have a little chat, and since you can't seem to respond to my texts or use proper honorifics today you'll have to spend that time coming up with a damn good reason I shouldn't teach you a lesson when we get home." He smirked and pointed to the bright red couch on the opposite side of his office and turned to sit back at his desk.

What a cocky asshole. He was so full of himself sometimes. Still though considering everything you'd done already you figured that you better not push it so reluctantly you complied.

" Good girl. Now don't you dare move a muscle until I finish this call do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes....sir."

He smiled as his phone rang. He took the call and began going over expense and damage reports.

-One hour later-

You had been sitting here for an hour. This asshole had had several openings to end the call but he just kept talking. He would smirk at you every time. God this was torture. Why did he have to be such an ass sometimes? Finally after the fourth opening to wrap things up and he refused you decided that he deserved to suffer. He had told the guy on the phone to go over the quarterly reports one more time for his notes so you knew you had time. You stood up and his eyes darted to you and narrowed.

Slowly you undid the tie of your coat and unbuttoned it revealing your bright red lingerie and smiled at him. His eyes went so big you had to smile. You laid back on the couch and began to stroke your folds throwing your head back. You felt those golden orbs on you. suddenly you felt a feather wrap your wrists. Jerking your head up you saw him crook his finger. The feather began to pull you towards him....oh shit.

You made it to his desk and he sent one feather to lock the door and the other to sharpen and cut off your panties. He bit his lip looking at you. Reaching to the phone he hit mute.

" Now, since you don't know how to listen today here's whats going to happen." He began unbuckling his belt.

" You are going to come over here and sit that pretty little pussy on my cock and you aren't going to move or make a sound until daddy is done with his phone call got it?" He shimmied his cargo pants down revealing his throbbing cock. Gulping you looked at him

"....yes daddy....I won't make a sound."

"Good girl now come on." You shuffled over straddling his lap and lowered yourself onto his cock. He reached over to unmute the call.

The call went on talking about numbers and deadlines for a few minutes and you could feel your resolve slowly crumbling. He reached his hand between you and began lazily rubbing your clit as he continued the call. You had to bite your lip to keep the moans from escaping. You shifted your weight a bit and you felt him throb inside of you. He gave you a dangerous look and you stilled instantly. He began vigorously rubbing your sensitive nub. Fuck this man was the devil. Biting his shoulder you could feel tears welling up. You had to get some relief. This was absolute torture.Fuck you were going to cum. You couldn't stop the whimper that escaped as you felt yourself nearing the edge. His ministrations abruptly stopped as he grabbed a fistful of your h/c hair and yanked your head back.

" Everything okay Hawks?" what was that?" the gentleman on the line asked. He looked at you with rage and replied.

" Everything is fine sir, I just got a paper cut. Listen, I think I've got what I need for now so why don't I finish these reports and call you tomorrow afternoon?"

" Sounds good we'll talk then." Keigo clicked the phone off and forced you to meet his gaze again.

" I said not to make a sound y/n. You are being such a brat today." whimpering apologetically you looked at him. Rolling his eyes he yanked you off of him by your hair and bent you over his desk displaying you perfectly. Kicking your legs apart he leaned down over your back and bit the shell of your ear and growled . You let out another involuntary whimper

" Does my angel want to cum?" you nodded feeling yourself turning to jello beneath him.

" I can't fucking hear you slut."

"...yes sir" was all that you could choke out

" Not good enough. Lets teach you some manners first." He reached over to his phone and hit the speed dial for his secretary.

"yes sir?"

" Jamie, why don't you head out to lunch for a bit on me. Use the company card. We both deserve a break. I'm going to eat here with y/n."

" Thank you sir! I've been wanting to try that new sushi place!"

"Knock yourself out, you deserve it." He clicked the phone and listened until he heard her gather her things and go.

" Don't fucking move." He reached down and you heard him rustling with his clothes. Something dropped next to your face and your eyes shot open. His belt was displayed right next to your face. Leaning down again he spoke.

"Now princess you are going to count for daddy got it? You'll get five with my hand for sending me that photo, Five with my feather for not texting me back, and five with my belt for being a needy brat during my call and not listening. Do you understand?" You could feel yourself shaking.

" ..Ye..yes daddy."

A harsh slap echoed as her hit your ass with incredible force.

"o....one" you cried another slap echoed through the office

"Tu...two" the next three came so quickly you could barely keep count. There was no way to anticipate his pattern. You could feel your ass stinging already.

"Three.......fo...four...FIVVEEEEE!!!!!"

He smirked pulling out a feather and hardening it into a makeshift switch and backing up to admire his handy work. Bright red hand prints covered your ass. He Pulled back and hit you with his feather causing your entire body to lurch forward onto the desk with force.

"FUCK! one." With a swish he landed another on your thigh

"TWO!!!" It was like he was hitting you harder with each go. The last three caused more tears to obscure your vision. Dreading what was next you saw the blurred outline of the belt slide off of the desk.

" Last set angel, You okay? Remember the safety colors? Where are we at?" You felt a rush of relief as you heard the concern in his voice. Green meant good yellow slow down and crimson (your safe word) full stop. You and he both knew he'd never been this rough so he was checking in.

"st...still green daddy...g..green." You stuttered out.

" Good girl" he praised

"Okay, lets continue." He folded the belt in half an pulled back to take aim.

SNAAAAPPPPP!

The belt hit your ass ...hard.

"One" you felt so raw beneath him shaking and numb from the sting.

The rest of the hits echoed and caused you to melt into a puddle beneath him. Cunt practically drooling from pleasure and pain. He dropped the belt and positioned himself. Cock pulsating as he grabbed your hips he spoke.

" Color angel?" Eager to come you answered instantly

"Green."

" If you want it fucking beg. Beg like the needy slut you are beg for me right fucking now"

" Puh...please daddy I need it. Please fill me up I can't take it anymore" He smiled and shoved his full length in with a thrust and began to relentlessly pound you into the desk. His pace was brutal but it was like he was hitting every single nerve. A knot starting to form in your abdomen you started to whimper.

" Can I cum daddy PLEASE!!!!!!! Oh my god!" you were begging trying desperately to hold it in. He would be so angry of you came without permission.

" No." he said simply as he continued his assault

You bit your arm closing your eyes.

"Please.....daddy please." You were a blubbering mess but you didn't care you needed release.

"NOW!" he yelled. With a scream you came with him Your walls fluttering as his seed filled you with pulsating rhythmic thrusts. Collapsing on top you sweaty and spent. You both laid there in a perfect heap of ecstasy and release.

After a few minutes he picked you up and released your hands carrying you over to the couch. HE sat down placing you in his lap and began stroking your hair.

" You did so well angel. So perfect for me." he cooed all you could manage was a hum.

" I'm sorry love, i'll take tomorrow off for a personal day. I know its hard but I love you and you are so amazing for sticking with me. I love you so much." He smiled.

Sending a feather to his mini fridge to get a bottle of water he unscrewed the top and handed it to you.

"Drink this angel." You felt the cool liquid slide down your throat steadying you and bringing you back down.

"How about I take the rest of the day off. I'll fly us home, run us a bubble bath and we can order some take out from your favorite place and watch a movie. How does that sound love?"

" That sounds perfect." You rasped out

"I'm so sorry my love. I hope you can forgive me."

"I should visit more often for apologies." You said with a smile. Nestling into his chest. Everything was perfect.

#pure filth #i have no explanation #bnha smut #hawks smut dom #don't judge me okay

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fallingfor-fics · 4 years ago

Text

Teachers pet-chapter 22: forbidden forest

All chapters

Chapter 21

It was the next day and id not gone to breakfast or any of my classes. It was Lunchtime and I was supposed to be in Snape's room for lessons. But after last night, I didn't have the energy to get out of bed. I didn't know what it was but I just couldn't seem to move from the spot. Hermione had come to check on me after I had missed breakfast and I just told her I wasn't feeling well. I know she didn't believe me, but she didn't press any further. I felt guilty for not telling Snape that I was gonna be absent from our tutoring sessions today. I guess I could send a note. I reached out for a journal in my bag and tore out a piece of paper.

Dear Professor Snape,

I'm afraid I've come down with something and will not be attending our lessons, or class today. Sorry for the inconvenience.

Y/n

I forced myself to get up folding the note and opening my window. I got Hera out of her cage and gave the note to her, she took it in her beak and I walked her over to the window. "Get this to Professor Snape please. She cooed and flew off my arm out the window. I went and crawled back into my bed pulling the covers up over me. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't see him after last night, it was too embarrassing, and him not talking about it only made it worse. How did he feel about me now? I thought about what Dumbledore had said. But there was no way the universe would give me the opportunity of me earning this man's affection. I closed my eyes in hopes to just fall asleep so I wouldn't have to worry about these petulant thoughts. But with my luck I couldn't. I remembered the book Ruth had given me and lazily grabbed it from my bag. I looked over the title once more, laying back down and began to read it.

Hera flew to Snapes window landing on his windowsill with a small flutter. He looked up over at her and opened his window. He didn't recognize this owl and was a bit confused at first, he was wondering where you were and why he hadn't seen you all day. He took the note from the owl and looked it over. Had he messed up giving you those lessons? Did you feel violated from him entering your mind the way he did? He was afraid he'd overstepped. He grabbed parchment and a quill and began writing back to you. Halfway through he realized you'd probably not want to speak to him. Unless you were telling the truth and he was just being foolish, and you really were sick. He pondered for a moment before getting up and walking over to his potions closet, he found a small versatile antidote for any common illness and walked back over to his desk, handing it to Hera. "See to it this gets to Ms. L/n" he said as the owl took off out his window and he sat back down at his desk.

I saw Hera flying back in and sat up holding out my hand for her to land on, I noticed a small vial she was holding and she dropped it in my hand. There was nothing else though besides a note that read:

Ms. L/n

This should help with your illness, be careful and don't drink too much or you may get drowsy. I hope you feel better.

Professor Snape

I gave a small smile at the fact he cared enough to send me this, I guess he really did think of us as friends. If only I could get him to think of me as more. I mean it couldn't be too hard could it? Getting the lonesome, cold, and mean Professor to return my feelings. Easier said than done I guess. I thought back to that book I took. Make him jealous? Could that even be done? I shook away the foolish thoughts and opened the vial. "Well i'm not actually sick so should I really take this?" I said, talking to the only person in the room, myself, and Hera I guess. She just looked at me and turned her head. "Well that wasn't a no" I took a swig and almost threw it up immediately. "Holy shit for a potions professor he really gave me the worst tasting potion ever." I took one more sip not sure how much was too much and put the cap back on, sticking it in my trunk at the end of my bed. I grabbed my book again and continued reading it. It was very interesting so far. It was about an older gentleman, very intelligent living in Paris, and he had a particular taste in women, for they weren't women but young girls. I squirmed at the thought, what kind of grown man would like 12 year olds, it's very gross, but I couldn't help to think about the way he talked about his feelings. I hated to say it, he was a bad man, but he didn like them in nasty horrific ways I guess. I paused for a moment thinking about my Professor. He was what 36? And I'm 16 almost 17. Well when I put it that way it definitely makes it worse. He would never love me simply for the fact I'm a child. I got about halfway through the book throughout the day, fighting the sleepiness I began to feel. He had now met Lolita and was explaining how he felt for her, and how she felt for him. In the beginning I was repulsed by the idea of him and a girl. But she loved him and he loved her, it wasn't focused on the idea she was young, just how he felt for her in his heart. This gave me the smallest bit of hope. Maybe if Severus liked me for me and looked past the 20 year age gap it wouldn't seem like such a big deal. I mean this is all irrational thinking anyways since he'd never actually develop the feelings I'm hoping for. I looked up out my window and quickly got up realizing it was already dark. I had missed dinner, and usually this is when Id go for more lessons with Snape. I still could make it if I tried, but it doesn't change what had happened last night and if we were... normal again. I decided against it and took out the vial, sipping more than last time, and layed down. I felt myself grow very sleepy and drift off into sleep, hoping I could just sleep the rest of the week.

I woke up dazed and confused, how long was I out? I looked around and saw it was still dark outside. I looked over at my clock and it read midnight. Is it midnight today? Or of tomorrow? I slowly got up and walked over to the calendar Ruth had taped to the wall next to her bed. Ok so it's still Tuesday, well I guess Wednesday now since it's past midnight. I went to the bathroom and realized I was still in my nightgown, never having changed out of it. I felt nasty though, it makes sense since I was in bed all day. I went to my trunk grabbing my shower bag and new pajamas. I took a quick hot much needed shower and brushed out my hair. Slipping on my underwear, dark green silk pajama pants and a matching silk black tank top. I exited the bathroom letting all the steam out and opened my window a tad. When I did I noticed a note that was on the windowsill, but since it was on the outside it fell and I reached to grab it but it fell outside, I huffed looking down at it and leaned back inside, slipping on some socks and putting on a black knit cardigan, and grabbing my wand. I quietly tiptoed out of the common room into the dungeon hallways, I guess I could have just used magic to grab it, but I needed the air after being in my room all day. I quietly illuminated my wand and began walking to go outside. I didn't see any teachers so far, thankfully. It was kind of late so I doubted there would be a lot of them walking around. As I walked I looked at the dimly lit paintings and such, admiring all of them. I walked out the doors and shivered as I walked into the cold air. Holy fuck its cold, it thought as I walked around to wear my window was. I saw the note on the lightly sodden ground and quickly ran over to it picking it up and unrolling it.

But when I got it open I realized it was blank. I furrowed my brow looking on the front and back, why would this be delivered to me if it had nothing on it? I had assumed it was from Snape about not coming to our evening lessons, but it had nothing on it. I pulled out my wand and held out the note, "Aparecium" I whispered hoping maybe the note was written in invisible ink or something. Sure enough a short note began to appear. But all it said was "Go here" after I read it a small map began to appear. Ok what? There's no way this is real, someone must be messing with me. I looked around me, still outside, but saw no one. I looked back at the paper trying to figure out where it was going to lead me. I looked back up looking around for any students that might be pulling a prank but didn't see any. This could be a very bad idea I thought to myself. I don't wanna get into trouble, but then again I figured it might be important. I began to study the map once more and looked at it intently, it was a very vague map, I wasn't sure where anything correlated to. I began to walk back inside and noticed an arrow on the map move as I moved, I turned and walked th either direction and it still followed me. Wow so I guess i'm just supposed to trust this random arrow to follow the lines. I looked around once more and decided I would at least need my shoes, I looked up to my window and summoned my boots, I slipped them on and let the map guide me.

I took me around the outside of the school and down towards Hagrid's hut. Hmm maybe Hagrid sent it and thought I wouldn't remember how to get to his house. But then again I go here all the time for class, and why wouldn't he just come get me? I kept following the arrow and it took me past his hut and over to the Whomping willow, I knew better than to go there so I stopped. This is weird. Why is it taking me here? I looked at the tree and walked very far around it. The arrow followed and I continued on its path as I got in safe distance from the scary tree. I could see my breath in the cold air and was certain my cheeks and nose were red. I'm sure it didn't help that I had wet hair. I beard the end of the map, my supposed destination and looked up to see where it led me. You have got to be kidding me. It took me right to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. "Ok this has to be a joke, no way i'm going in there" I said out loud looking around for any sign for what I should do. I looked back at the map and flipped it around trying to figure out if I had gone to the wrong place. But the arrow had turned into an x and I looked back up at the forest. I knew of all kinds of creatures that inhabited this forest, Unicorns, centaurs, werewolves, and hippogriffs to name a few, I was fairly skilled in DADA. But I don't think I could fight off any of these by myself. And Hagrid had told me the stories of the students that disappeared in the forest, so why in my right mind would I listen to a random note and go in. Harry had even told me of the time he and Draco were sent in to find a injured unicorn and ran into The Dark Lord himself, I mean there's no reason the dark lord would want anything to do with me so I highly doubt id see him but the thought still carried in my mind.

#snape imagine #severusnape #professor snape #snape #severus snape #severusimagine #severus x reader #severus snape x reader #hogwarts #slytherin #Snape slowburn

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phagodyke · 6 months ago

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ahh.. I have tickets for a small music festival tmr which I went to last year + had a whale of a time but this year theres only like 2 artists I wanted to see but they released the schedule a couple days ago and neither are playing before 9:30pm. since I don't live local anymore I'd have to leave to travel back home around that time or I'd miss the last train... and there's not rly anywhere I can crash overnight there (and I was planning on going alone anyway like I did last year). so I think im gonna have to let this one pass me by :-(

#its not the end of the world like theyre not artists i LOVE love just ones i know and like a few tracks of #last year i had so much fun bc one of the artists there was an all time fave of mine. but yeah im not missing out on that this year #but its still a shame. i miss living there and being able to walk to gigs to easily like the music scene was so up my street!!#and i was kind of looking forward to it. but i shouldve planned it further in advance if i was serious abt going #i just didnt think theyd BOTH play so late???? i swear they had an earlier schedule last year #i guess i could just go and mill around some of the shows earlier in the day even tho ive skimmed most of them on spotify and theyre-#not rly my thing. sigh #im v tired + starting to feel quite sad this evening for some specific reasons i dont really want to think much about bc it is what it is #so its hard to imagine going out and having fun tomorrow. maybe ill just aim to get my chores done instead and see how i feel after that #i might fix my bike up and check the other local climbing gym out bc i havent visited that one before and itd be nice to mix it up #and i need to go out on the bike at some point this weekend so i dont build up anxiety abt it after yesterdays crash. hmm #man. its hard trying to do things solely for my own enjoyment sometimes. im usually pretty ok at making myself do it #and im grateful that i am! but i think im just feeling quite lonely. and not in a way where being around other people rly helps #like its more of a core thing. i feel kind of unseen by people in my life at the moment and that makes me feel like im not quite real #and i dont really know what to do about that. i think its why im still on my discord hiatus i just dont really have anything to say rn #ive felt this intermittently throughout a lot my life i think. but most of the time i can distract myself from it enough not to notice it #and i put the effort in socially regardless + usually when im in the moment it doesnt matter. but the stretches inbetween those moments..#its not unbearable and i dont feel that depressed at the moment either. just a bit lost i guess. i know itll pass eventually #but yeah it just keeps nudging up against me bc im feeling every little misunderstanding and slight quite keenly atm #ahh.. well its okay. ive never really needed much anyway im good at taking care of myself and thats enough to get by #ill do something nice for myself this weekend one way or another. im gonna go take a long shower rn i think and then read a bit #ah and i said i didn't rly want to think about it! but i guess i did... well i feel like i exist a little more for typing it out anyway #okay yes shower time now :-)#.diaries #maybe someday ill have ppl in my everyday life who i do feel seen + safe around. a girl can dream.. i have a lot of work to do before then

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madamewriterofwrongs · 4 years ago

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ooh for the july prompt list can you do 28 + buddie

For you, darling, anything!

July Prompt List

28. “Just by existing and by letting me speak to you, you give me an immense amount.”

Without Question

“No, no, I’m serious, Eddie.” Buck let his beer slosh over the coffee table as he emphatically pointed at his best friend. He could clean up later; there were more important things happening at the moment. “You, need to get laid.”

On the carpet across from him, Eddie threw his head back in a groan of frustration. “Not this again, Buck, I told you.” He had, in fact, told Buck three times since arriving and subsequently leaving the bar with their friends, but it bared repeating. “I am not interested in hook-ups. I need a relationship – with someone Christopher would approve of.” At least, Eddie hoped that’s what he said (words were a bit fuzzy in his head at the moment). “I don’t need to get laid; I need to get married.”

That seemed to sober Buck just a little, his mouth drooping downwards. “You’re ready to get married again?”

Eddie found himself doing his best impression of that singing bass (weren’t brains funny at 3am?), thinking of the right answer. “No. Yes? Maybe. I hadn’t really thought about it but yeah” he eventually decided. “If I’m going to put myself out there again, it’s going to be with someone I can see a future with.”

“How are you supposed to know that on a first date?” Very good question, Buck. Eddie’s face scrunched in on itself as he sought the answer.

“I don’t know that I know what it would look like to meet that person.” Buck’s eyes were really blue when his face was red from too much alcohol. They were like an ocean in a storm. What?

“Okay.” Buck slammed his bottle onto the coffee table with so much force, it shattered their eardrums but he was already crawling to his feet.

He was halfway into the kitchen when Eddie finally realized that Buck was gone and called out “where did you go?”

Suddenly Buck was back where he started (had he even left?) throwing himself to the ground, now with a pen and a piece of what looked like old mail. “That looks important.”

“This is important-er” Buck insisted, leaning his weight against the edge of the table, giving his full attention to the paper stuffed under his forearm. “We’re going to figure this out.”

“Figure what out?”

Buck rolled his eyes and nearly hit his head on the table in the process. Should they really be doing this now? Well, if not now, then when?

“We’re going to figure out the perfect person for you” he declared with the confidence of a man who would have a splitting headache and a few bruises in the morning.

“You have a rolodex of every person on the planet that we can go through?” Eddie scoffed, taking another ill-advised drink.

Buck stared at Eddie too long for either of them to properly see straight, eyes forced wide before he inevitably fell asleep. “A rolodex? What are you, fifty?” Before he could process Buck’s words, they were moving on. “No, we’re going to write down exactly what you’re looking for in a partner, so that when you do meet someone, you’ll know they’re the one.”

Seemed reasonable enough. Buck was so smart sometimes, but sometimes he was an idiot (like that time he tried to pet a dog after they found it covered in – what they thought at the time was – blood. It turned out to be ketchup from where his owner had collapsed from a heart attack in the middle of making lunch). Buck was probably the dumbest smart person he knew. But in a really smart way.

“Okay.” Eddie leaned forward to match his friend’s position across the coffee table. “What’s first?”

Buck squinted at the paper, waiting for it to reveal its secrets. Just as quickly, he perked up and began to scribble.

“Number one: good looking.”

Eddie scoffed, wiping his spit from the table with his sleeve. “Why is that the first thing on the list?”

“Because” Buck drew out emphatically. “The whole goal is to get you laid. If you don’t find them attractive, then this whole experiment is for not.”

It was Eddie’s turn to roll his eyes so hard he felt dizzy. “Now who’s fifty?”

In lieu of a response, Buck went back to his scribbling. “Number two: they have to love Christopher.”

“That is an absolute must.” Anyone he was with had to love Christopher the way Buck did – with his whole heart. He really was a great person.

“Three: someone who understands your schedule. Being a firefighter is not a 9-5 thing; they have to be prepared for late nights and crazy danger.” Buck’s face twisted as he wrote, into something Eddie recognized as hurt. It took him a little longer to realize why that sadness was marring that pretty face. He slowly reached out a hand to touch his wrist. Buck shouldn’t feel like he was alone, or that Ali leaving was his fault. He deserved to know that there was someone who wanted to be with him – despite the schedules and the dangers. His eyes really were so perfectly blue; even when they were starring at him hopefully. Especially then.

Eddie opened his mouth but nothing came out so he closed it again, hoping the lack of oxygen would help him remember. He didn’t remove his hand right away.

Buck spent the next forty minutes emphatically telling Eddie exactly what his ideal person would be, with Eddie adding commentary here and there to make sure Buck got the wording right (maybe, things were still a bit hazy).

At the end of everything, there were ten items on the list. Ten items for the perfect partner for Eddie. Now all he had to do was find that person. He stared at Buck, proudly handing Eddie the paper for him to tuck into his back pocket, and something of a smile rose to his lips. Finding that person would be the easy part, thought Drunk Eddie. All he had to do was remember the list and even his sober counter-part (as obtuse as he was – excellent word choice, Drunk Eddie) would able to figure it out.

Just to be sure, Eddie waited until Buck stumbled towards the bathroom for the third time, before he retrieved the list from his back pocket and added an eleventh item.

There. Easy as pie.

Thoughts of delicious, sugar-filled pastries, had Eddie stumbling up the stairs to the master bathroom. Why did he think getting drunk at Hen’s birthday party was a good idea? He was not in his twenties anymore. This shit had consequences.

Of course, he expected those consequences to be a massive hangover and some second-hand embarrassment (which he did have). What he wasn’t expecting, was to wake up with his arm around the waist of a half-naked Buck.

Well that was new.

The soft smile on his face as he watched Buck’s even breathing, so calm and safe, was also…not that new. Certainly not one he’d ever experienced while sleeping shirtless in his best friend’s bed, obviously; but being happy that Buck was peaceful and all right was something Eddie experienced on a daily basis.

He carefully pulled his arm away from that – surprisingly soft – abdomen, and rolled onto his back as naturally as he could without waking the other man. If Buck woke up to them cuddling like that, there might need to be a discussion about why he felt so comfortable like that; and morning afters were not the time for existential wanderings.

Not that this was a ‘morning after’. It was the morning after a night of heavy drinking and clearly neither of them were fit to drive, let alone sleep on the couch without hurting themselves. Buck’s bed was big enough for two grown men to rest comfortably (not that they seemed to be using half of the space) so it made sense that they would share.

Yup, perfectly reasonable. Anything else – like his heart beating out of his chest with longing – was just an aftershock of the abhorrent amount of alcohol they’d consumed.

Who thought any of that was a good idea?

Oh right. Christopher was away at camp and Buck had dragged him to Hen’s birthday party; where she’d loudly declared that for one damn night, she wanted to celebrate everything she’d accomplished with her closest friends, consequences be damned. Which, of course, meant that several rounds of tequila shots were ordered in honor of the birthday girl. He vaguely recalled Karen getting exasperatedly drunk beside her wife, which encouraged Eddie to drink his loneliness away. Which seemed to have led back to Buck’s apartment.

There were definitely some dots missing there.

Namely, why he’d let himself sleep in his jeans but not his shirt (in Buck’s bed!).

Before he could even attempt to make connections, the body beside him began to stir, and the peaceful rest on Buck’s face soured into disgruntled pain.

“What died in my mouth?” He chewed on the words as they left his lips, leaving Eddie to dodge a few flailing limbs as Buck returned to the living. A few more scrapes of his tongue against his teeth seemingly had Buck satisfied that he wouldn’t get the taste out of his mouth without help, so he rolled over to check the time on his phone, only to find a body in the way.

“Eddie?” he groaned against the morning light through his window. “What are you doing here?”

The firefighter tried to shake his head but found it only made his stomach protest harder than it had been already. “We are too old to be drinking this much” he hoarsely declared.

Buck’s reply was swallowed by his retreating form as he stumbled towards the bathroom to empty the contents of his bad decision. Eddie let his head fall back against the pillow, the only sounds in the apartment becoming Buck’s retching, and Eddie’s painful decision to forget everything about last night.

Stumbling through the door of his bedroom a few hours later (Buck had insisted on taking him out for a greasy breakfast before dropping him off at home), Eddie had just enough mental energy to toss his clothes vaguely near the hamper before jumping in the shower and then straight to bed. He had never been so grateful for a day off in his life.

Much like the night before, Eddie remembered very little of the day he slept away; those 24 hours became a blip in the string of time that carried no real significance in his life and was happily forgotten.

When doing laundry a few days later, he did find a piece of Buck’s mail folded into the back pocket of his jeans. So, he tossed it onto the ever-growing pile of things on his dining room table colloquially called ‘things that need to be returned to Buck’s eventually’, and thought nothing of it.

It would be another month before Eddie thought about the letter or the night that time forgot.

Hosting random get-togethers for the firefighters and paramedics of the 118 (along with their families, of course) was practically a bi-weekly tradition at this point. Whoever was available would offer their space, and everyone was welcomed in, bringing food and drinks and games. It was one of Eddie’s favourite things about being a part of the 118: the inherent companionship. He had never been a part of anything where it was just assumed that he would have a babysitter, or someone to barbeque for two dozen people in his backyard, or drive him to the hospital when his grandmother broke her hip. No matter what was going on, they could always rely on each other.

He loved the family he’d built at the 118.

So what if he was a little lonely sometimes; he was never alone and that was just as good. Still, maybe it was time for him to put himself out there again. The idea of dating – of random hookups and dead-end dinners – felt exhausting (and not at all what he needed). What else could he do, though?

Luckily, it was his turn to host, so no matter how he was feeling, it would soon be replaced with joy and contentment and laughter. But first, he needed to clean up.

As was tradition, Eddie grabbed the pile of things on his table lovingly titled ‘things that should get back to Buck’s but likely never will’ and shoved them onto his bed until their guests had left for the evening. One of these days, he would remember to tell Buck about all the things of his that had accumulated at the Diaz house over the years (a spare charger, a hat, a few bits of mail he would bring over when he was helping Eddie with tax season – or Eddie was helping him, they weren’t really sure). Small things that might not be missed, but also a spare tooth brush, a pair of sweatpants, and a book he’d only ever seen Buck read at his dining room table while Christopher did his homework.

Maybe he should just get Buck a drawer for his things and then he wouldn’t have to lug it around every time he had company over.

The doorbell rang, sending Eddie sprinting to throw everything onto his bed so he could answer the door in a timely manner.

He loved having a full house. It made everything feel lived in. Sure, he strived to ensure that Christopher’s room (and any room his son spent a lot of time in) was warm and inviting. But there was something about 20 people crammed into the small sections of his house, filling the air with love, that made his house feel like home.

It also meant that there was a mess everywhere. He really didn’t mind it – part of having a big family was accepting that there would be a mess sometimes. With so many little ones running around, however (especially one who wasn’t so steady on his feet), it was best to keep the floors and corners tidy as much as possible.

That was when Eddie noticed a folded-up piece of paper on the floor of the hallway leading to his bedroom. It must have been a some of Buck’s mail that fell when he ran to get the door. An easy enough fix. Curiously, he unfolded the paper for the first time, just to see if it was something important.

Just a flier for some new gym Buck was on the mailing list for. Nothing special.

He turned it over to see the writing on the back, expecting contact info for a trainer or something equally relevant.

1. Someone good looking (you have to want to bone them or it’s all for not don’t make fun of me for using that phrase it’s rude)

He recognized Buck’s messy handwriting straight away. What he couldn’t remember was why he’d written some sort of list on the back.

2. Someone who loves Christopher (obviously that kid is your whole world so he has to be theirs too)

Okay, so this had something to do with Christopher, it probably had something to do with Eddie, too.

3. Someone who understands your schedule/lifestyle (your job is important to you and you need someone who gets that)

Eddie stared at the page, memories of too much tequila and not enough inhibitions flooded back to him.

4. Someone who will make you a priority (you need to make you a priority too you know)

Buck had written him a list of things he should be looking for in a partner, that much he remembered now. The commentary scrawled beside the list, however, was new.

5. Someone kind (you’re so kind you need someone whose just as kind and appreciates your kindness because you’re so kind)

Eddie found himself dragging his feet towards the sounds of people, eyes still glued to the page.

6. Someone smart (not like a doctor or anything but you have to be able to hold a conversation obviously)

He’d laid it out so simply that night; told Eddie exactly the type of person who would make him happy. How could Buck know that?

7. Someone loyal (you deserve someone as loyal as you Eddie you stick by people even when they’re awful jerks who almost screwed up the best thing they ever had)

Eddie couldn’t breathe, head buzzing with the sincerity in Buck’s words, even sloppily written on the back of a flier.

8. Someone who makes you laugh (I wish you could laugh more I like your laugh)

Someone called out to him – maybe the real Buck – but he was trapped in the memories of this world of possibilities.

9. Someone who can read you (not read to you idiot you need someone who knows what your face means because you don’t always say things out loud but you do say a lot)

The new voice was in front of him now, reaching out to him, trying to pull him to the present, but he refused to leave.

10. Someone who makes you feel safe (you make me feel safe)

And there it was; the list of qualities for Eddie’s perfect partner. The person who he could marry – because he remembered telling Buck that he wanted someone he could marry (that’s where the list had originated). It seemed an impossible task to find someone who fit all ten items on the list.

And yet.

Underneath it all, Eddie recognized his own handwriting, as messy as it was. The note he’d written himself so Sober Eddie would remember who it was that fit every criterion.

11. Someone who’ll stay

When he finally found the strength to raise his eyes to meet the real Buck’s, he was breathless all over again. The concern, the absolute care on his face, tipped Eddie over the edge.

“It’s you.”

Buck ducked his head but didn’t physically retreat; he was still so close, all-encompassing – the same way he’d ingratiated himself into the Diaz family long ago.

“What’s me?”

Wordless, Eddie presented the list for Buck to read. He watched the journey of emotions play through like a slideshow from confusion, to embarrassment, to realization, to confusion once again, mixed with painfully unending hope.

“I didn’t mean me when I wrote this.”

How had he not seen it before? How could Eddie have been so blind?

“But I do.” His eyes really were like the ocean, weren’t they. Even sober, he could stare into them forever.

“Marry me?”

Buck’s chest expanded with the weight of Eddie’s question, eyes wide in a disbelief that made him feel giddy; knowing Buck was just as stunned by these turn of events as he was. The fact that neither of them had run away screaming in horror, had to be a good sign.

“What the hell is going on?”

In hindsight, Eddie should have known better than to have his earth-shattering realization in front of their friends and family. Everyone was too nosey for their own good. Just because he’d suddenly proposed to Buck despite the fact that they were not dating.

He’d just proposed to Buck despite the fact that they weren’t dating.

Athena called out to the boys again when neither answered. “Does someone want to clue me in?”

Buck turned back to Eddie, a calm smile on his face – the same peace that he’d had when they were lying in bed together (visions of memorizing his sleeping face filled his hope to the brim).

“Eddie and I are getting married.” Buck spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear, but his announcement was just for Eddie. The only word he had left to describe his beating heart was ‘disbelief’.

He’d just proposed to Buck despite the fact that they weren’t dating. And he’d said yes.

He should be more panicked. He should run away screaming. Ask to take it all back. What the hell was he thinking? Asking his best friend to marry him because of a list that seemed too good to be true. Just because Buck ticked every box that said they were perfect for each other. Just because Buck wanted him back, just as deliriously.

How could he not embrace it all?

The noises that erupted from their family was drowned out by the thrumming of his heart when Buck pulled him in for a kiss punctuated by the infectious laughter bubbling in his chest.

The list floated to the floor as Eddie wrapped both arms around his fiancé (holy shit, he had a fiancé), to be retrieved after everyone had gone home. Buck and Eddie would talk about everything – sit Christopher down with them to make sure he was as happy as he seemed as well – and the list would eventually make its way to their bedside table.

On their first anniversary, Eddie would present it to Buck in a frame, and they would hang it in their bedroom as a reminder of the night their drunken selves figured out what it took them years to discover.

Their perfect partner.

#cj writes things #cj answers things #prompt fill #buddie #buddie fic #911 fox #911 fic #love allie #getting together #love confession #maysgrant

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hobidreams · 5 years ago

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The Early Shift | Second Taste {M}

determined to find the truth, you pay yoongi a visit at his apartment and get more than what you bargained for.

pairing: barista!yoongi x reader genre: smut, angst (well, more like anger) words: 7k contains: coffee shop au, enemies to lovers, lots of banter & sarcasm, face f*cking aka oral (m), dirty talk, yoongi continues to be an ass index: first sip - second taste - last cup

“Hmm. I think we should give Yoongi a call.” This is what Sooah suggests, fifteen minutes before the end of your shift. Her full lips are downturned as she cocks a hand beneath her chin, bats you those doe eyes.

The glorious freedom you were fantasizing about disappears in an instant. “Why?”

“Maybe he got into some trouble and needs help.”

You decide she’s much nicer than you. “Or maybe, hear me out, just maybe, he’s decided to skip work today and continue being the inconsiderate jerk he is.” You have no such patience for him, but that might be because you still remember the heat of his lips nipping at yours. Or maybe it’s because the marks he left on your thighs still remain in faint traces of dark pink.

“Hmm.” Sooah doesn’t look convinced. “Still, just in case. We have his number already. It’ll just take a minute.”

You let your nails sink into your palm. “Fine. I guess there’s a .0001% chance that something actually tragic is happening.” You make for the shop’s landline, where all the employees’ numbers are saved. You fully intend on handing Sooah the phone. But when you whirl back, she’s busy taking an order, with another customer in line behind the current. “Fine,” you mutter to yourself. “I’ll do it.” You hit the call button.

There are a few long rings, by the end of which you’re certain that voicemail will pick up. You tune out, listening instead to the bop released a few months ago that Sooah insists on playing at least three times an hour over the speakers. Your foot absently taps along to the catchy beat.

Click. There’s some fumbling, and you, only half-paying attention, wait for the robotic voice. Except what you get instead is a hurried, low-toned “yeah.”

You blink in surprise, pausing as your brain processes.

“Hello?” The voice is more annoyed now.

“It’s me.” You say your name.

A sigh. “What do you want?” Translation: why the hell are you calling me?

That tone has the magic ability to spark irritation in you like no other. You’re actually thankful for your visceral reaction to it; it squashes any unnecessary nerves that might want to flutter in your stomach. “Hmm, let me think. What do you have every Monday morning? Why might your coworker be calling you?”

There’s some more rustling, perhaps a whisper of a curse that you don’t quite catch. “Uhh... I’m sick.”

“Really. Sick.” You enunciate every thick syllable. “Why didn’t you tell Mina?”

“Too sick to.” The fake cough he manages is the worst excuse you’ve ever heard. “Can I go now?”

“Yeah, whatever.” Your thumb grinds the end call button for a few seconds longer than necessary before you set the phone back into its cradle.

Sooah hands a warmed muffin over before she turns to you. “So? How is he?”

“He says he’s ‘sick’.” You make air quotes, just as the backroom door creaks open.

“Who’s sick? Yoongi?” Namjoon, who’s scheduled to take over for you, comes out looking concerned. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, I’m sure he’s completely fine.”

Sooah frowns. “Hmm, but I don’t think he’d just not show up unless something was really going on.”

“When he’s sick, he tends to forget everything and just stay in bed.” Namjoon turns to you. “You’re off soon. Do you mind just swinging by his place with some porridge?” That’s his go-to; you know because he once did the same for you when you had an awful fever. Remembering that day reminds you that you still owe him one for it. Damn it.

You scratch absently at the back of your neck. “I guess not...” You really can’t come up with a single excuse, because you don’t have any homework to do tonight nor do you have classes. Plus, if Yoongi’s truly ill, you’re not about to let him starve to death.

“Great.” Namjoon’s dimples flash as he pulls out his phone. “His place isn’t too far. Here’s the address.”

That’s how you wind up in front of Yoongi’s apartment door nearly an hour later, a tasty bowl of chicken porridge in hand. It’s a quaint building, small but cozy in its own way. Humble is the word that comes to mind as you take in the older, yellowed wallpaper, the slightly crooked number on his door. You shuffle your weight from foot to foot, feeling somewhat awkward. Like you’re intruding somewhere you shouldn’t be.

But you’re here to get the truth.

Some part of you hopes he’s actually sick. That, or he was just being a dick for the hell of it. Anything works, as long as the reason is not you.

You raise your hand and knock thrice. There is no sound, not even after the first minute passes. So, you knock again. One more minute, you tell yourself. If he doesn’t answer in one more minute, then I’m going to go home and eat all the porridge myself.

Finally, the door opens a crack. Bleary eyes with heavy purple bags behold you from beneath tangled, dilapidated blonde hair. Behind this disfigured creature that was once your coworker, all you can see is darkness even though it’s noon o’clock.

“Yoongi?” You ask, a little incredulously. “Are you okay?”

He frowns. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, you said you were sick, so...” You hold up the takeout container. “Namjoon made me check up on you.”

“I’m fine. You can go now.” He’s about to shut the door on you but you push your palm insistently against the wood.

“No way. You look like shit, Yoongi.” You sigh. “Look, I don’t want your death on my conscience, so at least let me heat this up for you. Namjoon’ll never let me live it down if I don’t.”

“Ugh…” He contemplates, but ultimately seems to recognize the combative fire in your eyes. “Promise to leave right after.” He turns, leaving the door open for you to follow. “I hate letting people in here,” he mutters as he walks.

“Trust me, I don’t want to stay any longer than I have to either.”

You step inside, and your nose instantly wrinkles. Everything just smells kind of stale, in need of a good airing out. Empty ramen containers litter the kitchen counter while scattered papers decorate the carpet. But what’s worse is when you behold Yoongi in all his glory – stained sweatpants, ratty t-shirt, and all.

“Is your hair allergic to brushing or something? God.” You gingerly set the bag on the table, wondering if he even has clean bowls to use. You’ll find out. Curse you and your empathy. “Go take a shower or something. Please. For your own sake.”

“You’re not my mother,” Yoongi mutters, but he seems to know you’re right. He drags his shirt off, and instead of admiring his slim physique, you cringe as he tosses the top carelessly onto the already messy couch. “Don’t mess with anything while I’m gone.”

“What, afraid I’ll fuck around and make it all cleaner?” You shoot back, but he’s already disappeared into the bathroom. “Jerk. Wouldn’t want to snoop in this place anyway.” Grumbling, you rifle through the cabinets and manage to fish out a single bowl that doesn’t look too suspicious.

Despite what you said just minutes before, while the porridge spins away in the microwave, you lean against the counter and take a good look at your surroundings. It’s a studio apartment, already tiny but made even smaller by the clothes strewn around. The bulk of the mess seems to be centered around the electronic set up shoved against a wall, consisting of two huge monitors, a lit-up keyboard, and something that you’ve only seen on TV, usually for a stereotypical depiction of a DJ. What the heck is Yoongi doing with something like that?

The roar of the shower is still going, so you take a few steps towards the desk. The screen is locked, asking for a password but you’re more fascinated by this soundboard with all its knobs and controls. Does Yoongi make... music?

Your first instinct is to think that it doesn’t fit your perception of him. But then it strikes you that your perception of him is incredibly limited. You suppose you’ve never asked about his hobbies or anything about him. You feel a little guilty now. You’ve never tried to understand him, just gotten pissed off at him time and time again.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Yoongi walks out of the bathroom, towelling off his hair. Wet droplets are still rolling down his bare chest. A second wimpy towel hangs off his hips, looking seconds away from falling. He’s already glaring. “Get away from my shit before you break something.” He walks towards his bed, lifting a pair of sweatpants off the mattress.

“Please. I’m not as clumsy as you think.” You roll your eyes as you move to fetch the congee from the microwave. You set the bowl in front of him as he finds a spoon. “You’re welcome.”

“Thanks,” Yoongi mutters as he slips a spoonful into his mouth. “For checking on me too, I guess.” The bags beneath his eyes have gotten even more obvious and gaunt after the shower, as if he hasn’t slept in days. And hasn’t eaten either, judging by the way he goes at the congee as if it’s his last meal on this planet.

“Geez, you’re gonna get indigestion like that,” you say with a wince. “Do you live like this all the time?” Is this why he’s always late?

“Kind of.” Yoongi barely stops eating to breathe. “But this week is especially busy.”“With what? You should at least get some sleep...”

Yoongi’s already almost done his food, meaning your time with him is running towards its end too. “With important things.”

“Nothing’s more important than taking care of yourself.”

“God, please stop talking. Don’t you think I know that?” Yoongi squeezes his eyes together, rubbing fatigue from the corners. “But certain things have deadlines that have to be met.”

“You can’t make deadlines from the grave. Can’t you get an extension or something? What’s it even for?”

“Contest. Song writing contest. Only runs once a year.” His spoon gives a final clatter before resting against the empty bowl. “So, no. No extensions.”

So he does make music. “You should have just started earlier instead of being late, as per usual,” you tease, hoping to lighten the sour look on his face.

Bad choice. “Don’t you think I did?” Yoongi surges to his feet. His palm slams into the counter, rattling the bowl. “You don’t understand how it feels when everything just comes out shitty and not good enough!”

You face his fury, swallow it to fuel your own irritation at how absolutely careless and ridiculous he’s being. “So, you’re just going to not sleep or eat or come to work until its done?”

“That’s the plan.”

Yoongi turns away, trying to end this conversation as he heads towards his computer. You don’t let him escape, because you’ll be damned if you work your next shift alone. “Why don’t you just wait for the contest next year?”

“Well I was going to.” He swivels his head back, “but aren’t you the one who said to fight for what you believe in?” He snaps it, exasperation in his tone. Then he instantly looks away again as if he’s said something embarrassing.

That makes you stop, your jaw slackened in half-surprise, half-amusement. “Wait… You actually listen when I talk? You’re doing all this because of what I said?

“No. Shut up. Just, ugh, get out.” You wonder if he’s turned away so you can’t see the expression on his face.

Okay, now you feel a little proud that some of your words finally made their way into Min Yoongi’s thick skull. A task you once thought impossible. But that makes you a bit responsible for his predicament, doesn’t it? Plus, you’ve never seen this (perhaps a bit overly) dedicated side of him before. It fascinates you.

“Show me something you’ve made, Yoongi. I’m sure it’s not all shitty.”

He snorts as he drops into his groaning chair. “What do you know about music?”

“Well, I listen to it. A lot.” You may not be Beethoven, but you love music and consider yourself pretty well-versed in several different genres. You’re so curious: what kind of music does Yoongi write? “Seriously! Just show me something.”

Yoongi still looks unconvinced.

“Hey, I brought you food. And covered your ass at work. So you owe me one.”

“And this is what you want to use it on.”

“Yup.”

He shrugs. “Dumb choice, but I wouldn’t have expected anything else from you.” But he starts to click through folders. He ultimately pulls up a file named TRASH. Interesting choice, you think as you gingerly perch yourself on his messy bed. Yoongi fiddles with the volume knob on his speakers. Seconds later, the music begins to flow.

You’re already tapping your foot along by the time the tenth bar hits. You don’t know what you were expecting, but this is good! Like, actually good! Instead of vocals, a keyboard plays out the main tune. It’s sounds rather bare, but you assume that’s because it’s unfinished.

But wait… The melody sounds familiar.

Once you realize it, the more obvious it becomes. Yes, some elements have been changed: this version is much more R&B influenced, the song dips in slightly different ways, and the opening has synth elements that the finished piece you know lacks, but…

“Hey, isn’t this…?” You trail off when the chorus hits, and the similarities become undeniable. “We don’t talk together—” you sing, the lyrics going perfectly with the tune. It’s the very same song Sooah’s been playing relentlessly at work.

Yoongi is staring intensely at the screen with something so unfathomably sad in his eyes. He doesn’t speak.

“It’s different than the final version, but similar enough. You wrote this?” You whip out your phone from your pocket. “Wow, you’re amazing, Yoongi!” You hum the song beneath your breath as you pull up the song’s production page; you’ve looked at it before, but you never noticed Yoongi’s name under the credits. Why the hell is he still working at the café? Shouldn’t he be off writing the next big hit? Wasting talent, really.

On the page, three names appear. The singer, then the rapper. Then final name you don’t recognize and assume to be the producer. He doesn’t have an artist page yet, no image or real name revealed on the website. “You’re DJ ALEX?”

Yoongi shakes to life at the sound of your voice. He lunges out, almost breaks the knob as he forces the volume to zero. “No. I’m not.” The words feel strange in the sudden silence. Uncomfortable.

“...But this is the same song, isn’t it? ‘We Don’t Talk Together’?”

“It used to be.” He whirls towards you. “Look, you heard something I wrote. I ate the food. You can get out now. I have work to do.”

You don’t move from the bed, knowing you’re pissing him off by the tensing of his jaw. “What do you mean? Who’s this Alex guy then?”

“Just drop it.”

“Yoongi, what happened?” You push him despite the way his hands have curled into fists. “There’s no way this is a coincidence because—"

“Tch! You want to know so badly? Fine! He stole it from me, alright?” His piercing glare forces goosebumps on your skin. “We wrote it together. He took the original and deleted my copy and passed the song off as his own. Now he’s the one getting all the record deals while I can’t write shit and stuck making coffee with an annoying ass coworker. Happy? Good enough of an explanation for you?”

You shake your head. “You just let him take it?!”

“What the fuck else was I supposed to do?” Yoongi’s voice is dangerously guttural, as if on the verge of breaking altogether. “He blocked me. Dodged me when I went to see him. Before I knew it, he was signing contracts and the song was being produced.” Yoongi sets his fists back on the table with not much strength at all, as if he’s just so exhausted of it all. “It was half a goddamn year ago. It’s too late now.”

Before you can stop yourself, you’re standing. “No, no, you can’t just let it go like this!” Not when it puts that look into his eyes. “You can fight it! You can, uhh, report him or show some proof that you wrote it together or something!” When he doesn’t respond, you step towards him, intending to put a hand on his shoulder. “C’mon Yoongi, you’re better than this!”

He knocks your hand away as he surges to his feet too. “Shut up. Just shut. Up.” He rounds on you, fury’s fire back in his eyes, worse than you’ve ever seen it since hurt is what stokes the flames to blazing. “You don’t know anything about me. You think just because we fucked once you have some insight into who I am or what I should do?”

His words hit you like bullets as you stagger back but the bed prevents you from moving too far, caging you in. “Yoongi, no, that’s not—”

“Or what? Are you gonna tell me you came here today because you missed my cock that much?”

Thoughts seem to fly clear out of your mind at the dip in his voice. Your heart thuds in your ears as Yoongi takes a step. Then another. Breaking every boundary of personal space until his lips are aside your ear. Breath curves around your lobe, coming hot, much too hot as he growls, “didn’t get enough in that pretty little pussy of yours, did you?”

“I... Uh...”

“That’s why you’re running your mouth, huh?” He captures your bottom lip, tracing it with a calloused thumb. “When you should be choking on my cock instead.” Yoongi pulls back enough for you to see how his mouth curls into that damn smirk, and you remember. God, you remember how he stole what he wanted from your body and left you stuffed full of his pleasure. But this time, there’s a desperation behind his words that was absent before. As if right now, he’s the one that needs you despite the lewdness rolling off his tongue.

So you drop to your knees.

Yoongi’s eyes widen, then narrow with deep pleasure as he thumbs your cheek with more tenderness than you would have expected. That thought is shattered when he harshly tugs your chin up, forces you to stare into the gaze that you can only find predatory. His other hand works the waistband of his sweats, tugging it down to spring his stiff cock so violently it smacks you in the face. “Open wide, baby,” he snarls, the word not sweet but condescending, the way he enunciates the syllables.

You let your mouth unhinge, but you don’t move to engulf his dick in your heat. Instead, you drag your gaze across the few beads of pre-cum are already gathered on the tip, just waiting to be slathered all over the smooth head by your fingers. He groans when you curl your hand on his shaft, bucking his hips into your touch whether he wants to or not. He can’t control himself when you pressure his frenulum, squeezing to coax another moan from him. You love that you can drive him this wild with need, put that look on his face as if he’s seeing the bright lights of heaven behind those half-closed eyelids.

But he’s not about to let you take control.

“Don’t be a fucking tease.” He shoves his hips forward, sliding himself between your parted lips and onto your awaiting tongue. You taste the saltiness of arousal leaking from his swollen cock, swiping along the head to gather every last drop of sin. He stiffens even more under your touch and the slippery texture of your agile tongue; you take it all in stride, swirling saliva around while your fingers use the excess spit to work his shaft.

“Unh, your tongue feels so damn good.” Yoongi moans like his stresses are melting away with every lick you slather across his taut skin. You trace the fat vein running along the side, carving the curves into memory. Which spots make him shiver, which ones make him moan. “Fuck, almost as good as that tight cunt of yours.” Said cunt gives a pulse of wanton need and you have to squeeze your walls around air, feeling so damn empty when you know how full you could be.

Without a single regard to your wants, he continues to urge his hips forward, mercilessly plunging in thick inches of dick until the head prods at the back of your throat. You’re trying your best to breathe through your nose but he makes that impossible when he tests your gag reflex with two brutal thrusts. Only after does he bring himself back, let you suck in much-needed oxygen before you’re bobbing your head again to his groans.

Yoongi seems torn between squeezing his eyes shut and keeping them trained on you, mired to the sight of your lips stretched and wrapped so obscenely around his cock. “How much of me can you take with that filthy mouth?” It’s a challenge he issues despite his tense, sweaty thighs and the unassailable glaze in his eyes that says he’s closer to the end than he’d like to admit.

“All of it,” you say as best you can with your mouth stuffed full. You’re not afraid of him, of any attempts he’s made to scare you off. You prove so by supressing your instincts and easing him into the slick of your throat. You push on despite the protests of your body, spurred by the painful fist in your hair that keeps you speared on him. His fine pubic hair tickles your nose, smelling like soap and his natural musk that is somehow more intoxicating than it should be. You’re so close; if you strained, you could give his crotch a sloppy French kiss.

“Then take it.”

You choke when he fucks in the last few inches, forcing his bulging cock down your throat. He pulls back only to repeat the action, earning himself a fresh gag. He seems to love that lewd squelch, imprinting it in his mind along with the tears coalescing at the corners of your eyes. Spit flies everywhere as he rocks his hips like a machine made solely for this purpose, abusing your aching mouth but even that turns you on. You don’t think you’ve never been this aroused by sucking a dick but Yoongi just has that effect on you, for better or worse.

You can barely hold onto his skinny thighs as the muscles ripple beneath your grasp in name of erratic, orgasm-seeking thrusts. They make him occasionally jerk his dick but if he grazes your teeth, he doesn’t show it. Just keeps pumping like a madman, getting himself off on how you take him so well – his good girl. Your jaw aches from his girth but you don’t dare pull away; not when he’s slamming into you like you’re the only thing in his world that matters right here, right now.

Now Yoongi’s the one choking when you lift your hand, cupping the sensitive skin of his balls. His lust-drenched eyes have flown open with surprise. Then he’s grinning, impressed with your eagerness. “Just like that—god—yeah, use your tongue, fuck…!” His moans are becoming increasingly broken, interrupted by gasps when you work your throat in tandem with fingers. “I’m gonna cum down your throat, baby,” he promises. “You better drink every fucking drop.”

You suck him harder as agreement, slurping with noisy abandon as if there’s nothing you want more than his seed coating your throat. Messy spit bubbles beside your lips but there’s no stopping you, not when his knees are buckling and he’s moaning your name in a hoarse voice that should be illegal.

“C-Cummin...!” Yoongi doesn’t even get to finish the word. Two hands on the back of your head force you all the way down. His shaft pulses and the first shot of cream hits your throat, followed by several hot strands that you automatically swallow down. He’s still gasping when he pulls back, tip profusely spilling the last remnants of bliss onto the tongue you leave exposed for his viewing pleasure. Then you gulp it down while you hold his heated stare.

With something like a growl, Yoongi yanks you up off the floor, crashing his mouth on yours to tangle your rather-numbed tongue with his own. One hand is still arrested in your hair but the other finds your waist, dragging you close to his body as he brutally sucks, bruises your bottom lip. You let yourself believe he needs to feel you, that he wants you even while his cock softens and carnal lust slips away.

“Y-Yoongi,” is the only thing you can exhale when he finally lets you go. The kisses only add to the arousal pooling between your thighs, demanding attention. But Yoongi makes no moves to take care of your need.

Instead, he wipes his lips of spit with the back of his hand. “Damn. That mouth of yours is something else.” He’s still panting, clearly having left most of his sanity on your tongue.

“I know.” You’re the one smirking now, feeling rather pleased with yourself. Looking around, you find a tissue and use it to clean yourself off. Yoongi does the same, and for a moment, it all just feels normal between you two.

“Thanks. That really cleared my head.” It only takes Yoongi a minute to get his pants back on. Then he’s planted himself in his chair again. Wait. Is that it? Your smile twists, droops into a frown as you watch him pull up the complicated software with all the soundbites back onto his screen, typing away as if inspiration has struck.

“Yo—”

“Looks like you’re not the worst coworker after all.”

…Right. How could you have forgotten? That word sends you crashing down into reality like an icy bath. You stare at the side of his face, focused squarely on his screen as if you’re nothing more than a houseplant. Not even giving you the title of fuck buddy, or friends with benefits. But, then again, you’re not friends in the first place.

“You can stay if you want, but I have to keep working on this.” That just sounds like an afterthought, a consolation prize that’s more bitter than the taste of his cum still lingering in your mouth.

You’re already moving towards the bag you left near the door. “No thanks.” You pull the strap onto your shoulder, twisting the icy doorknob. “Bye, I guess.”

Yoongi doesn’t even look back.

To set the record straight – you are not a coward. You are a rational adult making rational decisions that fit into your adult schedule. Begging Namjoon to switch shifts with you for the next month is just part of your regular plans, in no way influenced by the mixed, confusing, dizzying feelings that pop their heads up like groundhogs every time Yoongi crosses into your line of sight. Or your thoughts. Or really in any way whatsoever.

Okay... Maybe you’re a little bit of a coward.

But you can’t seem to help it. He’s too distracting, now that you’ve had a second taste of his poison. A poison that, instead of stealing your life, seems to have claimed your rationality as victim instead. You experienced the consequences of this robbery for the first time on Friday morning, when Yoongi showed up on time (shocker!) for his shift. Instead of being absolutely delighted, all you could think about was that he should have slept in a bit more because of the bruised bags beneath his eyes.

Friday was the first time you’d seen him at all since that visit to his apartment four days prior. Namjoon and Hoseok had taken Yoongi’s shifts throughout the rest of the week, you assumed to give Yoongi time to finish his song. You couldn’t muster up the courage to ask Yoongi about the piece; it felt like you were prying into a world that he wanted you to stay firmly out of. You still don’t understand why you’re so interested in the first place, when you should be hating him.

The rest of that shift had been a hodgepodge of awkwardness, what with the flinching every time Yoongi brushed past your arm reaching for the syrup, then the weird high-pitched tone your voice went to when he addressed you. By the time you left work on Friday, you were determined never to repeat that again.

So here you are. Today. Monday night. Except this time, you’re not spending it knelt on a musty apartment floor, swallowing Yoongi’s anger. That’s probably a good thing, you tell yourself. You need the time and the space to sort out your own emotions. To think about why the hell you keep replaying the sadness in his eyes, then corrupting that image with the coldness of his back in that chair and—

“Hellooo? Anybody home?”

A hand abruptly appears in front of your face and you jolt back to reality, whipping your gaze to find Hoseok grinning brightly at you. “There we go. I’ve been calling your name for ages.”

“Oops, sorry Hobi. I just spaced out. What did you say?”

“I said that I’m leaving soon, silly.” Hoseok leans against the counter, playful curiosity in his expression. “What’re you thinking so hard about?”

“...Nothing important.”

“Well, guess I can’t blame you. All the downtime will do that to ya. And you’re staying for the next month?”

“That’s the plan.” A customer approaches the bar, bringing you their empty plate. “Thanks, have a good night!”

Hoseok chuckles. “I thought you had night classes. Don’t tell me you dropped out of college to avoid working with Yoongi.”

The plate you were holding clatters as you drop it, smack the porcelain against the counter. “W-Why would I want to avoid working with Yoongi?” How did he know? Oh god, did Yoongi tell him what happened?

“Because he’s always late?”

“Oh! Oh. Right. Yeah. Well, no, no, it’s not because of him…” You don’t sound convincing in the slightest, yet you have no choice but to plow on. “I’m just taking an online course this term. So why not take an easier shift because I have the time, you know?” To be fair, you were planning on taking the course anyway. It was just a matter of physically going into class or not.

“Makes sense.” Hoseok grins. “And I’ll always be on time.”

“Yup. I can always count on you, Hobi.”

He stares at his watch, watching the second hand tick the seconds away. “Aaaand I’m off. You’ll have to count on me next time because I have a hot date!”

You wiggle your eyebrows. “Hope it goes well!”

Hoseok is out like a whirlwind in the matter of minutes. Left alone in the shop, you run a hand through your hair, surveying the little café. One customer taps furiously away on their laptop. Another devours what remains of their quiche. A third jots down notes while they parse through War and Peace. You’re expecting no one else tonight, certainly not Yoongi to come bursting in like he had the last time you had a night shift. You’d better get started on cleaning.

As you wipe down the counters, remove the leftover food from the display case, the customers leave one by one. You hum a song beneath your breath, distracting yourself from any errant thoughts of a certain person that might be wanting to poke their head through. You’re not having any of that. Not today.

Time speeds by, and soon you only have thirty minutes left to go. You’re now alone in the shop, working quickly enough to ensure you’ll be finished right as your shift ends and not a second more.

Then the door chime goes off. Your head snaps up, and for a moment, for an infuriating moment, you hope it’s Yoongi.

Instead, another familiar face appears, that same, smooth, self-assured smile painted across his lips. Jiwon. This time dressed in a fitted suit, one that makes him look like he just stepped out of a magazine photoshoot. Still one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen. Still not Yoongi.

“Hi. Hi!” You correct yourself, realizing you should sound less disappointed. “Welcome.”

“Hi.” His easy smile widens as he approaches the counter, devastating with those melting chocolate eyes. “Wishing I was someone else?” He asks with a laugh as he pulls out his wallet.

Oops. Your face must have given you away earlier. “No! Of course not.” You force on a grin to match his, wiping your damp hands on your apron.

“Good. Because I was hoping for you. That you’d be working tonight.”

“Oh...” Your face automatically heats up. There’s no way he’s flirting with you, right? Him, who is so far out of your league you’re not even playing the same game. “I don’t normally work night shifts.”

“I noticed.”

“I. Um. Ahem.” You clear your throat out of sheer nerves. “What, uh, what can I get for you?”

“Just a black coffee this time, please.”

“Got it. Go ahead and tap.”

When you hand over the hot cup, Jiwon takes it leisurely. This time, there’s no denying how he lets his fingers graze past yours for that extra half-second, how his eyes hold yours with something unfathomable and exciting.

“I’m working every weeknight for the next month!” You blurt out before you can stop yourself, not even knowing what the hell you’re hoping for. Shooting your shot with this incredibly good-looking man. Making a fool of yourself, apparently. “So, uh, yeah.”

To your great relief, Jiwon nods his head. He raises his coffee like a toast. “Then I’ll see you soon. Goodnight.” The way his voice lilts around and teases the parting word remains in your mind through the rest of your shift and even after when you get home, still thinking about how he’d smiled at you like a promise.

Maybe forgetting Min Yoongi won’t be so hard after all.

The weeks come and go. Before you know it, half the month has sped by, and you’re having more fun than you ever could have expected at work. You haven’t seen hide nor hair of Yoongi, working so well with Hoseok and a newly hired college kid Jungkook that you’ve barely had the time to think about him. Sure, it’s a bit odd not to have someone to bicker with every shift, but that’s more than made up for by the presence of Jiwon.

True to his word, Jiwon comes in practically every night, with that same casual smile that makes your heart unfairly quicken and flipflop. He always asks about your day, listening intently as you rattle on about what mundane thing has occurred like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. Still, he hasn’t asked for your number in all this time, nor has he offered much information about himself. So, tonight, you’ve decided, after two weeks of this flirtation, you’re going to ask him on a proper date. Tonight is Friday night, one of the busier nights. So, to compensate, you’ll be closing together with Jungkook.

With that in mind, it’s no wonder that you walk though the doors of the café feeling nervous but excited. You love working with Jungkook though, and know he’ll dispel your nerves before too long with one of those wildly hilarious stories of his various exploits. The door chimes tinkle behind you as you take note that the place is rather busy. Gross. Then you sweep your eyes to the counter, expecting to see Jungkook’s bright smile.

It’s not Jungkook handing over a green tea Frappuccino, stacked high with whip cream to a young woman. It’s Yoongi.

“Yoongi?!” You exclaim, voice carrying across the café.

He turns his head, finds your surprised eyes. “That’s me.” His voice is as dry as ever, but he’s looking better than he did two weeks ago. Much better. You try to ignore the squeeze of your heart at the casual mess of his bangs, the falsely sweet smile that still lingers on his lips from interaction with the customer.

Just a coworker, you remind yourself. “What are you doing here?”

Yoongi’s gaze follows you as you move behind the counter. “Working.”

“Well, gee, I can see that. But you never work the night shift. You hate it.” He had said very vehemently so before, when you suggested he switch shifts if he couldn’t wake up in the morning.

“Yeah, well...” The floor suddenly becomes quite fascinating to him. “It’s just this once.”

Hoseok appears out of nowhere, his jacket already on. He swings his arm over Yoongi’s shoulder. “Nah, he doesn’t hate it! I heard him begging Jungkook to switch shifts with him a few days ago.”

“Hoseok, shut up,” Yoongi spits, spinning around pointedly to face the customer approaching the counter.

You giggle as Hoseok rolls his eyes quite dramatically behind Yoongi’s back. “You’re on your way out, Hobi?”

“Yup. Just you and Yoongi tonight.”

You nod, licking your dry lips. “Okay, got it. Have a good night!”

Yoongi may not be Jungkook, but that doesn’t mean that your plans have changed. You’re asking Jiwon out. You’re moving on from the unaddressed, oddly in-between relationship you and Yoongi have, and you’re hopefully going to have a date by the end of the night. You slip an apron on, determination in your veins.

Whatever downtime you usually have on Friday night (that you were worried would give you time to be pensive about Jiwon’s impending arrival) soon becomes a long-lost dream as the customers just start pouring in. It seems there’s a big event at the theatre across the street, causing an enormous boom in caffeine and snack needs that keep you and Yoongi on your toes, a fact which Yoongi looks especially irritated by. That might be because he looks like he has something to say to you every time you have a minute of break; but he can’t get out anything substantial past a ‘hey’ before he’s drowned out by another group of people.

It’s hours before the crowd finally dies down, leaving the shop sparse and you exhausted. As glad as you are for the break, it also means you have to face whatever Yoongi wants to say. You can’t fathom what he could possibly want, but it looks like he’s about to tell you as he turns in your direction.

“Hey.”

You take a sip of your water. “Hi.”

“Uh…” You say nothing, just stare at him. Yoongi looks decidedly uncomfortable, and you’re starting to worry he’s about to drop that he has an STD or something. “I, err, just wanted to thank you.”

“For what?” Bringing you food or sucking your dick?

Yoongi sighs, raking his hair back with a hand. “I finished my song because of you.”

“Oh. Oh.” Okay… You can’t deny it; that actually makes you pretty happy. It makes you drop the frown and walls you thought you had to put up around him, replacing it with a genuine smile. “Congrats, Yoongi! When do you hear back about the results?”

“Not for a few weeks. But without you, I think I wouldn’t have entered at all this year. I just couldn’t write anything decent after…” Yoongi cuts himself off, shaking his head. “Look. Even though the song’s still not perfect and I’m still not too happy with it, it’s done. So. Thanks.”

Your heart threatens to pound at the sincerity in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. “Anytime.”

Yoongi coughs, cutting off the moment prematurely. “Anyway, I’m gonna do inventory in the back.” You hate inventory, thinking it a mindless task that you would rather make a hundred lattes than do. You don’t know if Yoongi knows this, but you appreciate him all the same. You’re smiling faintly as you watch him disappear into the backroom.

Seconds later, the front door clatters, chime going off. You look up, customer-service smile already painted on, but it becomes that much wider when you find Jiwon’s friendly face grinning right back at you.

“Jiwon!”

“Hey! Can’t stay long today, but had to stop by for my coffee fix. And to see my favorite barista.” He winks, way too smooth for your health.

You fight the automatic flush of your cheeks. “No problem. Iced macchiato? Skim milk and light ice?”

“Yup. You get me.”

Your hands begin to tremble as you turn to make the drink, thinking about how best to ask him those difficult words. Oh god, you’ve never been good at this, but you’ll be kicking yourself forever if you never try. Do you want to go on a date? Nope. Too direct. Are you free on Saturday? Or maybe you should go with a simple do you like pasta? But what if he doesn’t? Oh gooood.

The drink is finished all too soon. You hand it to him, watching him take a sip. “Mm, you always make the best coffee.” The compliments come too easily to him, you swear.

“Haha, I try my best!” Okay. Now or never. “Oh, um, by the way…”

The door of the backroom swings open, interrupting you. Yoongi’s voice can be clearly heard over the music. “Hey, do you know where th—” He stops. His gaze rakes across the scene, taking in your silly, flustered grin, your faintly flushed cheeks. Then his eyes fall on who you’re talking to. His jaw slackens. “...Hyung?”

a/n: so uh,,, i’m sorry to end it like this again haha. what do you think is up? 👀 inbox is open; let’s chat! also the song i reference is “We Don’t Talk Together” by Heize and Giriboy, produced by Yoongi!

thank you to my beta readers: @sweetlyseokjin, @jiminspjm, @mypurplelamp, @hoseoksdior, @bigtiddiejoon 💞

and as always, a fat shoutout to my best girl @jeonshome for helping me brainstorm & hyping me up like always when i was struggling. don’t know what i’d do without you!! ♡

want to be on the tag list? the link is in my navi! (or send an ask!)

#btssmutclub #bts smut #bts imagines #bts reactions #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #coffeehouse au #e2l #college au #enemies to lovers #min yoongi #the early shift #rain writes #enjoy!!! <3

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trikxx · 4 years ago

Text

I try to put a lil something before the chapter cause thats what I usually do but I can think if anything😀 on to the story.

Songs for this chapter ⬇️

•shame by summer walker

•if you let me by sinead harlett

Armoni's pov

I got up early cause I didn't want y/n to kill Shinsou for letting me drive. I have my permit and all but I still have to take my drivers test... again. Y/n doesn't trust me with the car but shes gonna have to give in soonnn.

I go into the living room and they not there anymore

So I go to Shinsou's room to get him. "SURPISE SHAW.." He wasn't in there. The last place he could be thats inside the house is y/n's room. 'God please let me going here and know that nothing happened last night even though I want a niece not yettt' I think in my head while putting my hands together.

I slowly opened the door. 'please please pleaseee' I slowly open my eyes and they are fully clothed and only facing each other "THANK THE GODS!" I accidentally yell out waking up Shinsou.

"Wtffff Armoni."

"Damn, what happened to hey, hello, good morning." I say. "Waiting in living room ill be ready in a little bit.

Shinsou's pov

I slowly slip out of y/n's bed and go to my own room and hop in the shower, brush my teeth, fix my hair and get dressed. After I finished I grabbed my keys and put on my shoes. "Lets go." I say to Armoni

"I would have let you drive y/n's truck but you know how she is." I say "Yea i know" Armoni said adjusting the seat. "Check it out so I have a automatic so you dont have to worry about all that fancy stick shift shit you thought was finna happen when you got in. Nope." I explained to Armoni everything he needed to know. "No music til you drive a mile" I say. Armoni pulled out the parking spot and out he garage and started driving.

"Damn you actually drive good." I say to Armoni. "I know its just my sister." We started driving toward y/n's parents house to take Armoni home and so I could make it back home so me and y/n could go to Sero's shop.

~Time skip~

Y/n's pov

I wake up and get in the shower not really acknowledging the fact that Shinsou and Armoni were gone out the house. The quiet was nice. I stepped and wrapped a towel around my body and staring to brush my teeth. I heard the front door open. I walk out my bathroom into my room to peek out the door.

"Oh your woke now?." Shinsou says. I tolled my eyes and closed my door back to get dressed.

Your outfit

I did my hair the same way I did it last night then grabbed my wallet and keys and walked out the room "We taking your car?" I ask Shinsou. "Yea." He responds. I out on my shoes and we walk out the door.

~Time skip~

We pulled up to a tattoo shop that had a sign that said '4RT' "You ready?" Shinsou said. "Wait they open?" I say. The shop looked like no one was there even though there was four cars outside besides ours.

"Naw they not open." Shinsou said side eyeing me. I rolled my eyes and got out the and Shinsou did the same.

We entered the shop and heard low music playing. "Yoooo Shinsou!" I heard Sero yell from down the hallway. "Is that the beautiful y/n?" Denki said following behind Sero. Shinsou side eyes Denki and Denki puts his hands up like this '✋🏽😐🤚🏽'

"What tats do yall want?" Sero asks. "Ima get this." Shinsou says showing Sero the picture.

(This is the only one I could find that I liked Pinterest did me wrong yall ✋🏽🥲 ill edit it if i find sum different;-;)

"Still a minimalist I see." Sero says joking around. "And you?" Sero resumes pointing to me. "Oh I was thinking something like this."

"Thats niceee." Sero says. "Ok I'll do y/n and you can get Shinsou." Sero says to Denki. Denki nods and leads Shinsou to his area and I got Sero's. "This your first tat or nah?" He asks. "Nah." I says showing him the dragon tattoo behind my ear that goes on to my shoulder. "Thats dope as fuck." Sero says starting the sketch for your tattoo.

(Idk how this works🧍🏽‍♀️)

~Time skip~

Third pov

Sero finished the sketch and started apply the stencil (yall know the little thing they put on the you before they actually tattoo..yea that.)

Sero turned on some music (the song at the top played first) and started tattooing. At first it hurt but soon you got use to it. "You ok?" Sero asked. "Yea." You say looking back at you phone.

~Time skip~

You here the door of the shop open. You saw a pink haired girl rush passed the room you and Sero were in. Eventually peeking her head in ti the room "Im here Sero they kept me late at the mall my bad... Y/N?!"

"Heyyoo." You say smiling at her. "We have to talk after your done ok?" She says. You nod your head at her and she skipped away. You lay your head back vibing to the music trying to ignore the pain.

"Ok Cool Kami.." Shinsou says walking into the room. "Y/n... holy shit." You look up at Shinsou then look down at the tattoo and back at Shinsou "what." You ask. "I should have let you pick my tattoo."

You raise your eyebrows and formed an straight like with your lips then nodded your head up and down slowly. "Im gonna wait in the lobby ok?" Shinsou says "ok." You say. Shinsou walks out the room and you look back down at you phone.

Shinsou's pov

I walk into the lobby and sit close to ok the desk and talk to Mina and Denki. "And bro she was like..." Denki was saying then pointed to where he was looking at.

'Woah' I see a girl come through the door." Hey! Welcome to Art. How may I accommodate you today." Mina days with a smile. "Hiii I had made an appointment." The girl says. "What was the name?" "Camie." She says.

"Alright, you can sit over there..." Mina said pointing over by me. "and Denki will be with you in a moment." Mina finishes. "Hey hottie whats your name." The girl says to me. "Shinsou. And yours?" I say looking at her.

"My names Camie." She says. "Hold on." She says getting up. She comes back with paper and a pen. "Camie?" Denki says to her. "Here." She whispers to me and hands me a piece of paper then follows Denki. I looked her up and down looking at her outfit. She winked at me before disappearing into the hallway. 'Damnnnnnn'

Camie's outfit

"Finally out that fucking chair got damn." Y/n says stretching while walking into the lobby.

"Thats one hell of a grin Toshi." Y/n says making the "😏" face. "Hush and let me see." I say.

Y/n's pov

I show Shinsou my tattoo. "Im just fye like that." Sero says. I chuckle and start walking to pay. But Shinsou stops me "I'll pay." He says. "But.." "unt uhn." I roll my eyes and step back.

"Alright I'll see you guys." Shinsou says walk towards the door. "Byeeee" I say going after him. "Wait!" I go back in the shop. "Heres my number Mina facetime, text, call, or what ever. And we can talk." I say writing it down. "Ok! Bye Y/n!" I wave at her walking out the door and running ti the car.

"Alright I'm ready."

~time skip~

We get back to the apartment and I flop down on my bed. "Sooo tireddd." I say. I pick up my computer and check how many orders we had 'its not that bad' i think to myself closing my computer and putting it back on my nightstand.

I walk out my room to go mess with Shinsou but when I got closer to his room he was... giggling? I held in my laughter and knocked on his door. "Yo Toshi you hungry?" I say through the door. "Yea hold on." He responds back.

20 minutes later

Shinsou's pov

"Ok what did yo..." I say. 'This mf really fell alseep in 20 minutes' I think to myself. I pick y/n up and put her in her bed.

I walk into the kitchen and ordered y/n's f/f for her and something for me.

*DING*

Camie🤍: Hey Hitoshi🤗.

Hitoshi☄️: Hey👋🏽.

Camie🤍: i wanted to know if you wanted to hang out tonight and get to know each other?

Hitoshi☄️: im cool with that but where.

Camie🤍: your place?

Hitoshi☄️: I would sag yea but we would just be in my room. I have a roommate and they get kinda rowdy.

Camie🤍: Its ok. What ever you want babes😁.

Hitoshi☄️: cool.

Hitoshi ☄️: Also eat before you come over i only provide snacks.

Camie🤍:LOL. Ok☺️.

*UBEREATS NOTIFICATION THING*

|your food for HITOSHI has been delivered|

I go out the door to get the food and come straight back to the apartment. I look through and make sure everything is there. Then I put y/n's food in the refrigerator/on the counter(depends on what you picked).

~time skip~

Camie🤍: should i park on the street?

Hitoshi ☄️: yea.

I walk downstairs to let Camie in. "Hey handsome." She said and kissed me on the cheek. We went back to the apartment and into my room. "I'll be back." I say walking out the room. "Hey Shinsou." Y/n says waving at me while walking out her room.

"Hey, Your foods in the fridge." I say. "Thank you." She says hugging me then warming up her food and going back to her room. I cut off the lights in the living room and a leave the one above the sink on. Then I go back to my room with Camie.

Y/n's pov

I go back to my room and watch tv and start packing orders. Sometimes I do orders by myself just for some me time (play if you let me by sinead harnett).

*DING*

Unknown: Y/n please I miss you so much please. Im sorry I didn't mean for it to happen please just take me back ill do better please. I still love you.

Y/n: If this is who I think it is No. cause you know what you did and it really doesn't make sense that you cant get that shit into your head stop contacting me. Im not taking you back even if its the end of the world.

Unknown: please y/n

*this number you are contacting has blocked you*

———

I finished eating and went to throw my stuff away. I got in the shower did my skincare and brushed my teeth. 'I should just chill out in my room.' I think ti myself while getting out the shower and drying off.

I put on some spandex shorts and a hoodie. The pull out my sketchbook to make more designs.

———

I've been sketching for about a hour so i go to see if Shinsou wanted to watch a movie but as I got closer to the door i hear moans getting louder. 'No, he did not.' I thought to myself. I go to the living room and just turn on the tv and watch a movie alone in the dark.

About an hour late I hear him coming out the room. "That was sooo nice." I hear a girl say. She come out of the hallway where Shinsou's room is. "Who are you?" She says.

"I'm y/n." I say. "Shinsou there's a girl out here. Maybe your roommate has her over." She says.

'Is she-' "wait whats your name?" I ask her

"Camie." She says "oh, do you know Todoroki?" I say "yes i know him." She says kind of with a attitude. "Ohhh I remember youu. Aren't you his ex." She said.

"Alright are you... hey y/n." Shinsou said. "Really Hitoshi." I say getting up. "Of all the people in the world HER." I say. "What are you talking about y/n."

"You know what im talking about Hitoshi. Or do you not remember why your own best friend broke up with her boyfriend." I say. Shinsou looked like his heart dropped to his ass.

𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤

"Hey y/n its gonna be ok forget about him."Shinsou says. "Im gonna call Ace to come and get you."

Ace: Hello?

Shinsou: Hey Ace i need you to come to Y/n's house right now.

Shinsou looks at the code book you gave him for emergencies like this.

"Code...uhhh pink no wait its a purple"

Ace: Im on my way right now.

Y/n's pov

"Two years down the fucking drain for what!" i yell as Ace comforted me. "N/n you have to calm down a little." Ace says. i layed in my bed under my cover with my music blasting. My parents were on a business trip and my brother was at our Aunts house.

Me, Ace, and Shinsou heard someone knock on the door so I go to open it. "Y/n i'm sorry! It all happened so fast and I was drunk." Todoroki says. "DRUNK MY ASS SHOTO! YOU NEW WHAT THE FUCK YOU WERE DOING AND IT WASN'T A ACCIDENT." I say yelling. "Hey Y/n I got this go chill out." Shinsou says pulling me back.

I step back and then I look at his car and she was in there. I push both boys out the way and walk to the car. I snatched the door open and pulled her out the car. "SO YOU FUCKING LOVE ME RIGHT?! YOU WANT ME BACK HUH?! BULLSHIT SHOTO GET YOUR SHIT AND GO. IM DONE. AND AS FAR AS I KNOW ONCE YOU OUT YOU DICK IN HER WE WERE DONE SO GET YOUR SHIT AND LEAVE."

Todoroki grabbed Camie from you and got her back in the car. "Im sorry ill leave.".

𝐄𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤

"Damn i did it again." Camie says with a smirk on her face. "Maybe its just not meant to b..." I cut her off by gabbing her hair and slamming her on the couch.

"Say some slick shit again Camie. I fucking dare you. I will do something I didn't get to do then. Cause i dont give a fuck now. Ima let you go this is what you do to avoid getting your ass beat. Get your bag, keys, and shoes and get the fuck out this house and never come back." I say. She nods and I let her go.

Camie runs and gets her stuff and leaves the apartment. "Wtf Y/n." Shinsou says. "You know she was just gonna be a hit and kick anyway so im saving her the heartbreak." I say walking to my room. "Thats not the point y/n you didn't have to do that."

Shinsou said

"THEN WHATS THE POINT HITOSHI?!" I say. "THE POINT IS THAT YOU BROUGHT UP STUFF FROM A LONG TIME AGO." Shinsou argues back. "you know i tried to ignore the fact that you brought the girl that he cheated on me with." I say calmly. "but dont argue back. i dont want to waste your breath on this. and just to tell you ill leave for the night to give you some time to yourself." I say walking away to my room.

———

When I get into my room I feel and tear come down my face as i get out some overnight clothes. I text Mina to see if she was free.

Y/n🤍🌸: Hey Mina are you free to night

Mina🥀: Sorry babes im out with my boyfriend

——

I sighed and texted Sero

Y/n🤍🌸: Yoo Sero

Sero🤠: wsp y/n

Y/n🤍🌸: Can I crash at your place tonight? Me and Hitoshi kinda got into a fight.

Sero🤠: Sure, im still at the shop so you can come here til i close up

Y/n🤍🌸: alright cool.

——

I finished packing my bag and slip on some grey sweats and went to the door. As i was putting on my shoes Shinsou came out to the door. "You don't have to leave Y/n." He says. "Well if you dont want me to leave for then ill be leaving for myself. Ok? Cool." I says as I grab my keys off the rack and walk out the door.

👀 dont hurt me ya’ll please dont😬

#shinsou x you #shinsou x y/n #bnha shinsou #shinsou fic #shinsou angst #mha angst #mha x reader #mha sero

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aboyandhispokemon · 4 years ago

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All You Need Is a Little Pokémon TLC

Summary: When Ash falls ill a day before Serena's performance, his Pokémon make sure that their Trainer gets the rest he needs, even if they have to be a little forceful. Ash has always taken care of his Pokémon, and his Pokémon will always take care of him. Sometimes the best cure for the flu is plenty of TLC. Takes place before Performing With Fiery Charm.

...

The morning sunlight filtered through the gap between the red curtains, rousing Pikachu from slumber. The Mouse Pokémon stretched out with a yawn, stomach rumbling in hunger. He took a fleeting glance at the clock, a puzzled sound escaping him when he discovered the time—it was late morning.

"Pikapi?" Pikachu began to shake Ash's arm, but the boy continued to snooze on. Pikachu's ears twitched, picking up on the odd, unusual rhythm of his Trainer's breathing pattern. He scampered to the right side of the bed, where Ash's head lay snug against the pillow. Pikachu's eyes widened at the red flush and sheen of sweat on Ash's face. His mouth was wide open as he breathed in and out, as he was unable to breathe through his nose.

There was no doubt about it—Ash was sick.

"Pikapi!"

His concerned call managed to rouse the boy awake. Eyes cracking open, Ash slowly sat up, wincing at the dull pound occurring in his head. "I'm up, I'm up," he said groggily. He tried to stand, but a wave of dizziness overtook him and he dropped limply back into the bed, stomach swirling. "Whoa…why's the room spinning?"

Pikachu hopped into Ash's lap and raised a paw to rest against Ash's forehead, which was warm to the touch. "Pika pika," he said worriedly.

"I'm fine," dismissed Ash, scratching Pikachu's head before gently setting him on the mattress. "Probably just hungry. I'll get dressed and we'll go downstairs for breakfast."

His stomach gave a lurch at the mere thought of food, but Ash ignored it. He once more stood up, moving cautiously across the floor towards his backpack, which rested next to the wooden dresser set. At that moment, to Pikachu's relief, there was a brief knock at the door and Clemont entered.

"Morning," he greeted with a smile. "I was wondering when you two would get up. I—" He noticed Ash wobble in place, his face flushed red, and he hurried to his friend's side. "Ash! Are you okay?" he asked anxiously, steadying the boy.

"Yeah, I'm good. Just off-balance today."

"Pikachu! Pika! Chu!" voiced Pikachu firmly. Ash was most certainly not okay, and it was his stubborn habit to pretend he was healthy when he was clearly ill.

Clemont pressed his wrist against Ash's forehead, ignoring his companion's sound of annoyance. "Yeah, you have a fever," he confirmed, leading him over to the bed and easing him down. "I'll go get Nurse Joy right away. Lie down and rest."

Ash scowled slightly as Clemont hurried from the room. "I don't need to be looked over by Nurse Joy. I said I'm fine," he grumbled. He idly swiped the back of his hand under his leaking nose. "Ugh."

Pikachu quickly went over to where a box of tissues rested on the top of the dresser. He grabbed hold of it and brought it over to Ash, who plucked a few tissues free and honked loudly into them. "Thanks, buddy," he said gratefully. "Must be allergies or something."

No, you're just sick, thought Pikachu in exasperation.

He made a noise of protest as Ash stood up again, but all he received was a reassuring pat on the head before Ash tried the trek to his backpack once more. The pajama clad boy swayed with each step, and looked close to collapsing at any moment.

I'm not going to be able to get him back to bed by myself.

Pikachu glanced towards the Poké Balls attached to Ash's belt, which was hung carefully over the back of the desk chair. "Hey, a little help?"

There were four bright flashes of white light, which caused Ash to turn around in surprise, having to grip the edge of the dresser to keep his balance. "Hey, what's up?”

"Froga." Frogadier took Ash firmly by the arm and led him to bed. "Dier."

"Cut it out, I'm telling you, I'm not—ah, ah, achoo!"

A bout of sneezing overtook the boy, cutting off his protests. He lacked his usual strength, and was not able to pull away from his Bubble Frog Pokémon. He grudgingly let himself be set on the bed, and Pikachu tugged the covers over his trembling form.

"Fine," he muttered, sinking back into his pillows. "Maybe I don't feel one-hundred percent."

"He's not going to admit he's sick, is he?" asked Frogadier, glancing at the Pokémon who had been with Ash since the very beginning.

"Nope." Pikachu shook his head. "Admitting he's sick means he's admitting he's feeling weak, and he hates that."

"That's silly," said Fletchinder, ruffling out its feathers. "Illness is natural."

"Try telling him that," muttered Pikachu.

Clemont returned with Nurse Joy at that moment, and she promptly went to Ash’s side to stuck a thermometer in his mouth, ignoring his protests. "No talking," she chided. Turning to the worried blonde, she asked, "Do you know his symptoms?"

"Well, I could tell he was sweating and he’s pretty congested," answered Clemont, adjusting his glasses. "It also looked like he was pretty dizzy. He was having trouble walking.”

"I see."

Ash's brow furrowed in annoyance, but he lay still on the bed, arms crossed loosely over his chest, the glass thermometer stuck under his tongue. His Pokémon stood at the end of the bed, watching their Trainer with intent eyes.

"All right, that should do it," declared Nurse Joy after a couple of minutes passed. She removed the thermometer and checked the result. "Yes, you have a fever. Nothing too serious, but you certainly won't be leaving this bed today."

"Aw, man," groaned Ash. "But what about Serena's performance?"

"We still have a day and a half," soothed Clemont. "If you rest up and drink lots of fluids, you should be better by then."

A soft beeping noise started emitting from the pocket of Nurse Joy's apron. "Oh dear, there's someone in the lobby needing my assistance. Will you be able to watch over him?" she addressed Clemont.

The blonde furrowed his brow. "I was supposed to pick up my sister from Serena and take her around Dendemille Town, but I'm sure she'll understand. I'll—"

"Don't—achoo—be silly," spoke up Ash, sniffling slightly. "I don't need to be looked after. I'll be fine. Serena would probably appreciate the time to practice without worrying about looking after Bonnie."

"Hawlucha, haw!" said Hawlucha firmly, forming a determined fist. "Lucha!"

Clemont looked over in surprise before smiling. "Of course, I should have realized sooner. You'll take care of him until we get back?"

"Pika!" confirmed Pikachu with a nod. "Pi pika!"

"Right, nobody listen to me," grumbled Ash.

"I'll be in the main lobby if you need me at any time," Nurse Joy informed the Pokémon. "I'll be up shortly with some medicine."

The pink-haired woman departed, and Clemont turned to Ash, who was trying to snuggle in his covers. "Do you want me to get you anything before I leave?"

"No," he replied stubbornly. "Go on. I'll see you later."

"You should at least have some water or juice."

"Pi pika pi!" spoke Pikachu.

"Right. I know you guys will take good care of him. I should stop worrying, huh?" Clemont raised his hand in farewell and started for the door. "We won't be long. Make sure he stays in bed."

Ash's Pokémon made noises of acknowledgement and the blonde left the Pokémon Center's guest room. Noibat flew up onto the edge of Ash's bed and studied him worriedly. The raven-haired boy managed to sit up and gather the young Pokémon into his lap.

"Hey, I'm okay, really," he said, gently rubbing Noibat's ears. He turned his head away and let out a series of sneezes that racked his body. He collapsed against the pillows with a soft moan, wearily reaching for another tissue.

His body trembled with shivers from his fever, and Fletchinder noticed Ash try to wrap himself tighter in the covers for warmth. It flew up onto the bed beside the boy and settled close to Ash's side, using its Flame Body to slightly heat up and give Ash some warmth. Ash almost immediately relaxed, his head falling slightly to rest against Fletchinder's feathers.

"Thanks, buddy," he murmured.

"Not too much heat," cautioned Pikachu, observing his ill best friend and fellow Pokémon from the end of the bed. "We don't want the fever to get any higher."

"I know," replied Fletchinder.

"Papa's gonna get better, right?" asked Noibat anxiously.

Hawlucha reached out and lifted the Sound Wave Pokémon up from where he rested on Ash's chest. "Of course. It’s a common illness.”

"And we want him to get better as soon as possible," spoke up Pikachu. "Hawlucha, do you think you can take Noibat and find Ash something to drink? Orange juice would be the best."

"Sure," answered Hawlucha, setting Noibat atop his head, where the young Pokémon stayed perched, large yellow eyes still locked on Ash, who was now half-asleep.

"I'll get Ash some soup from the Pokémon Center's diner," continued Pikachu. "Frogadier, can you stay here and make sure he stays in bed?"

Frogadier offered the electric Pokémon a salute. "Can do."

"We'll be back shortly!"

The three Pokémon scampered from the room, the door clicking shut to cause Ash to rouse back to full attention. He caught a glimpse of his Pokémon disappearing out into the hall. "Hey!" he tried to shout, though it came out as more of a rasp thanks to his scratchy and mildly sore throat. "Frogadier, where'd they go?"

"Froga," his Pokémon informed. "Dier."

"Well, so long as they don't wander," said Ash, rubbing at his bleary eyes. "Man, I hate being sick. You can't do anything." He scrubbed at his sweaty face, grimacing slightly. "I should at least have a shower."

"Frogadier," said Frogadier firmly, shaking his finger in a negative gesture.

Ash made a face, reaching out to playfully swat away Frogadier's hand. "I'm guessing you're not on my side either, Fletchinder."

"Fletchinder, fletch fletch," confirmed the Ember Pokémon, lightly nudging Ash's arm affectionately.

"And people say I'm the mother hen."

Frogadier reached out to feel Ash's forehead. It was still warm, and the Pokémon went in search of a cloth. Ash followed his movements in bemusement, and when Frogadier removed a white washcloth from the cupboard near the bathroom in triumph, he let out an exasperated sigh.

"Seriously, I'm not like, dying. I can do that myself."

"Frogadier."

Ash rolled his eyes at Frogadier's dismissive sound, a smile on his lips. "Yeah. Stay put. I got it."

It was a minute later when the cool, drenched cloth was draped over his forehead, and Ash let out a soft sigh of contentment. He raised a hand to rub Frogadier's head, drifting it down a moment later to stroke Fletchinder's feathers.

"Thanks, guys."

It was not long before Pikachu, Hawlucha and Noibat returned, bringing with them a to-go container of soup and multiple cans of orange juice. Ash moved himself into a sitting position, warmth that had nothing to do with his illness coursing through him.

"You're the best," he said gratefully, taking the soup and spoon when Pikachu hopped into his lap. Noibat handed over a can of juice, and Ash immediately cracked it open, taking a long chug. The sweet liquid soothed his scratchy throat. Cradling the hot container in his hands, he regarded his Pokémon with a soft frown. "You guys are probably hungry, right? It is late in the morning."

Frogadier went over to Ash's backpack and proffered two cans of Pokémon food, and with Hawlucha's help removed the lids. Ash grinned as an earnest Noibat practically tackled one of the cans, only to be chided by the Wrestling Pokémon.

Satisfied that his Pokémon would be well-fed, Ash dug into his soup with the plastic spoon, taking careful sips. When he drained the last bit of soup into his mouth, Ash's stomach gave a lurch, which he tried to ignore. Though he hadn't felt like eating, he knew it was important to keep his strength up.

"Eat up, gang," he urged his Pokémon. "We want to be in top form for our seventh gym battle." He formed a fist and raised it determinedly. "That badge is going to be ours, no matter what."

"He's got a bit of a one-track mind, doesn't he?" asked Frogadier in amusement.

"You are not one to talk," scoffed Fletchinder.

Frogadier threw Fletchinder a slight glare. "You trying to say something?"

"Settle," warned Hawlucha, pointedly reaching over to pat an observing Noibat.

Pikachu snickered as the two hastily transferred into friendly chatter rather than threatening bickering. He ate his fill and then sprang up onto the bed, curling up next to Ash. The boy rubbed his ear affectionately. "All full, buddy?"

"Pika!"

As the others continued to eat, Ash idly sipped through another can and a half of orange juice, trying to subdue the rising build of nausea in his gut. When that didn't work, he clenched his teeth together, trying to focus on his breathing.

Pikachu peered up at his Trainer with concern, sensing something was wrong. "Pikapi?"

Unable to fight it any longer, Ash practically catapulted out of bed, sending Pikachu jumping to the side and the cloth that was resting on his head flying. His Pokémon jumped up as the boy raced for the bathroom, sliding across the tiles before falling into a kneeling position in front of the toilet.

His chest heaved and his throat burned as his body expelled the contents of his stomach. His hands shook and his breathing grew harsh as the uncomfortable sensation overtook him. His vision blurred, and after a moment he could feel soothing circles being rubbed into his back.

When his stomach at last settled, Ash slowly leaned backwards, turning to look over his shoulder. Frogadier and Pikachu were rubbing his back, while the others watched anxiously from the bathroom door. Once Noibat noticed that Ash had finished his retching, he burst into tears, sonic waves bursting throughout the room, and charged for his caretaker.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, I'm fine," soothed Ash, flinching against the high-pitched noise and petting Noibat's ears. "I didn't mean to scare you."

His chest hurt and there was a terrible taste in his mouth. He slowly got to his feet, with Frogadier steadying him, and flushed the toilet. He rinsed his mouth at the sink and made his way back to bed, settling back against the pillows with a soft moan.

"That wasn't fun," he muttered, holding Noibat close to his chest. "Ugh. Have I mentioned I hate being sick?"

"Many times, and I completely agree with you," said Pikachu sympathetically, hopping onto the bed and climbing into Ash's lap.

"I thought soup was supposed to be good for humans when they're ill," voiced Frogadier, retrieving the fallen cloth.

"It is, but his stomach isn't cooperating at the moment," replied Fletchinder. "Maybe he'll be able to eat in a few hours."

"I hope so. He needs to keep up his energy, and frankly he gets cranky when he's hungry," returned Frogadier, before disappearing into the bathroom to wet the cloth once more.

Hawlucha let out a soft snort. "Yes, much unlike you," he said sarcastically, causing Fletchinder to chuckle.

Frogadier returned and handed Ash the cloth. The boy set it over his forehead and opened yet another can of orange juice. "Yeah…so…I might need more of these," he muttered, squinting at the two that still remained. "Here's hoping this manages to stay down."

Before he could take a drink, there was a knock at the door, and when Ash answered Nurse Joy entered the room, carrying a small bottle of medicine. "I'm so sorry I didn't bring this sooner," she apologized, setting it on Ash's bedside.

"It's fine," answered Ash. "Thanks a lot."

"How are you feeling?"

"Not so good," he admitted. "Pikachu brought me some soup, but it didn't want to stay in my stomach."

"The medicine will help with that," assured Nurse Joy. "You should be able to eat an hour after consumption. This will also bring down your fever. It's quite bitter, so you should take some juice with it."

"All right."

"Can I get you anything?"

"Not right now, thanks. If I need anything later, I'm sure my Pokémon will be happy to get it for me. They're not letting me do anything but rest." Ash sent a mock-glare towards his friends. "They're very boring."

Nurse Joy laughed. "I can see they're doing a great job of looking after you. You have wonderful Pokémon."

Ash smiled sincerely. "Yeah, definitely. They're the best."

"I'll be in the lobby if any of you need anything. Rest well!"

"Right, and thanks again!"

Nurse Joy departed, and Ash stared at the brown vial of medicine. "So…Hawlucha, you want to go first?"

"Lucha lu," denied Hawlucha.

"Anyone else?" asked Ash. He received more noises of refusal, though Noibat was sniffing the bottle curiously. Ash grinned and uncapped the bottle. "Trust me, buddy, you don't want this stuff."

"Does it taste bad?" asked Noibat. "It doesn't really have a smell."

"Let Ash's reaction be all the answer you need," replied Pikachu.

Ash poured some medicine into the cap and stared at it for a moment. Taking a deep breath, he quickly downed the contents and his face immediately screwed up in distaste. He gagged slightly and grabbed his orange juice, taking a mighty swig.

"Gee, they must be just as bad as sour berries," remarked Noibat.

"If not worse," agreed Fletchinder.

"All right, that's enough of that," declared Ash, flopping back against the pillows. He was rather exhausted now, and his eyes were starting to fall shut. "Who wants to take a nap?"

His Pokémon made noises of agreement and they all clustered together on the bed, burying underneath the covers. Ash shifted over to make room for Hawlucha, fondly rubbing his head. "Hey…thanks, gang. I know I can always count on you, and I really appreciate you looking after me. You know I love you, right?"

"Not as much as we love you," replied Pikachu, nuzzling Ash's hand.

"You take care of us, and of course we'll take care of you," spoke Fletchinder. "Always."

"I love Papa," said Noibat cheerfully, snuggling close.

"Ah, we'd do anything for him," agreed Hawlucha.

"You're the Trainer I always waited for. You gave me the one thing I longed for, and I will return it to you full-heartedly," said Frogadier feelingly.

Soon the group fell asleep, with Pikachu cuddled in Ash's lap, with Noibat held close to the boy's chest. Frogadier lay beside Ash on the right, one of his arms slung over the Bubble Frog Pokémon's stomach. Fletchinder was pressed against Ash's left side, and Hawlucha was snoozing against Ash's leg, and that was the sight Clemont, Serena and Bonnie returned to.

#pokemon #pokeani #ash ketchum #frogadier #fletchinder #pikachu #noibat #hawlucha #ash's pokemon #kalos #a boy and his pokemon

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rons-hermiones · 3 years ago

Text

Come Find Me

by rons-hermiones

Summary: Unplanned, Hermione is forced to spend Christmas at the Burrow due to her grandmother falling very ill. After being ignored by Hermione for weeks, Ron is determined to show her how much she means to him. Just before he gets the chance to tell her, Bellatrix Lestrange shows up with other plans for Hermione. Can Ron get to her before it's too late? (Ron/Hermione Half-Blood Prince AU)

Rating: M for language & dark themes in later chapters.

Chapter Twenty Two

Ron hadn’t said a word all morning. He’s of course been quiet since everything went down just what, two weeks ago?

The person he has the least trouble talking to is Harry. His whole family and The Order are right devastated, but no one gets how he feels quite like Harry does.

Her parents were an entirely different story.

That day when they left Hampstead Hermione’s parents had showered the three boys with tender embraces and promises that things would be alright. But that shouldn’t be the case.

Not when Ron was responsible for this whole thing. Not when he spent more of his time at the Granger residence locked away in Hermione’s room, explaining to her father all the times he’s been a right tit to her over a game of chess.

He should’ve been the one giving the reassurances that he would get their daughter back, not the other way around.

That was only two days ago.

Now he stands on the chaos that is Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, still having not spoken a peep to anyone. Not even when Harry told him he’d been screaming for Hermione again in his sleep last night.

However, time was running down as the Hogwarts Express rolled up and opened its doors.

His Mum was tearful, more so than usual, probably with the notion of sending three of her mourning children off to school.

That’s right, three. Ginny, Ron, and Harry.

“Come here sweet girl, promise me you’ll write darling.” Molly cried into Ginny’s shoulder, the girl stifling a nod through sniffles.

Soon, Mrs.Weasley pulled away to embrace Harry tightly, her sobs only becoming louder, causing a slight scene.

Arthur noticed and gently patted her back as he turned to Ron, “I know you can do this son.” He said in a whisper.

After a moment he spoke, “I don’t know if I can Dad.” This man right here is his hero. He couldn’t help but be honest with him.

He dropped his hand from his wife’s shoulder and switched it atop Ron’s. “I know you can do this Ron, I know you’ll be strong. For Hermione.” He told his boy, who somehow has grown into a man.

Knowing his fathers words to be true, the youngest Weasley brother managed a nod as he grasped at his Dad’s shoulders.

“Someone will be sent there within the week, yeah? Make sure everything’s alright down in Hampstead.”

“I promise Ronnie. I’ll see to it myself. Someone from The Order will check the wards and debrief the Granger’s.” Arthur swore.

As they departed a few days ago, Bill had promised Hugo and Jean someone within the Order would be stopping by to properly debrief them and check the wards. Ron was determined to make sure this promise was kept.

“Swear to me Dad that you’ll write if anything changes,” his father opens his mouth, “I know Mum thinks I’m too young and it’s too dangerous, but I’m going mental as is, I reckon it’ll only get worse at school. Please promise me you’ll tell me what’s being done if anything, anything at all changes. Please?” He begs.

After a few moments, a little misty eyed, the man nods, “I promise son. I promise.”

The conversation ends as Molly halts herself at her youngest son. Crying and whispering sweet nothings. Words of encouragement. The promise to bring Hermione home.

“I promise Ronnie, she’ll come back. She’ll come home.” She cried softly.

He rubs his mother’s back gently, “I’ll hold you to it Mum.” Ron responds, just as tenderly.

At this Molly pulls away to gaze up at her son, who now towers over her. So proud of the man he’s become. At the things he’s able to face.

And she tells him as much, “I’m so proud of you Ronnie. Please know it, I am. You’re so strong.” She fusses with his hair gently.

Not willing to let himself cry here, he leans forward and places a soft kiss on his Mum’s cheek. Really caring less who saw.

“I’ll write, okay?”

“Okay.” She answers, stepping back into her husbands awaiting arms.

A whistle sounds as more kids pile onto the train.

“You guys need anything to help you out,” Fred winks, “you just owl us, we’ll send it in a tick.”

“On the house.” George promises, clapping Ron on the back as he smiles at Harry.

“Goodbye gits.” Ginny supplies with a watery smile.

The pair of them just grin back, silently wishing the three of them luck. Letting them know to be strong through a simple expression.

As they turn to board, Harry whispers low in Ron’s ear, “it’ll be alright mate. It will.”

Not in the mood for sentiments any longer, the ginger just grumbles. “Let’s get on this ruddy thing before anyone finds us.”

Somehow, they managed to discreetly find a private compartment, drawing the shade and sitting in silence.

As the engine gained speed and the train began rolling forward, Ron blocked out whatever nonsense Ginny and Harry were going on about. Instead, he watched the pastures speed by.

It all felt so wrong.

For the first time since he was eleven he sat here in this compartment, in their compartment, without her here. It was almost too much to bear.

No asking if he’d catch up on any assignments. No listening to her talk about her holiday as her eyes shined with joy. No shutting Harry down for wild theories.

Nothing.

And despite Harry and Ginny rattling off nearby, there’s nothing.

Just silence.

Apparently, a lot of time passed with Ron sitting like that. Gazing out the window and feeling empty.

The only thing that pulled him from his trance hours later was the door sliding open. He gazed at it with hope, because for some stupid reason, for one second, he imagined Hermione being on the other side.

Of course, she wasn’t.

“Oh finally! I’ve checked just about every compartment.” Neville told them, taking a seat next to Ginny. Diagonal from Ron.

He soon reverted his eyes back to the window, hoping Neville would leave him be. He wasn’t in the mood to socialize.

“Hey Neville.” Harry said, sitting up and trying to smile, though it faltered.

However, the fellow Gryffindor didn’t seem to notice.

“How was everyone’s holiday? Mine was quite good if I say. You see here,” he held up a pot with a pretty flower, “this is a Whispering Lily, my Gran managed to get one, rare things they are. I’m not even entirely sure what it can do. I just know it’s properties are similar to a Dancing Daisy.” He sounded off like they understood.

“You see I was hoping Hermione could help me, I’d bet she knows. I can nurse plants, sure, but knowing everything about them? Not particularly. So where is she?” He finished, at the mention of her name Ron finally looked up.

“She's not here.” Harry said shakily, though calm.

“Oh, loo?” He figured.

Ginny shook her head, “no Neville she’s not here. As in, she’s not on the train.”

It took a moment but it finally registered with him what Ginny was saying. Neville knew Hermione wouldn’t miss school for anything. Unless of course..

“No! We’ve been owling over holiday, we had been sending letters back and forth, she told me about her Gran!” He exclaimed in disbelief.

For a brief moment something bubbled deep within Ron. It wasn’t the same insane jealousy he felt when he thought of Hermione and Viktor Krum, but it was more feelings of disappointment. Disappointment in the fact that she didn’t feel sure enough to find that sort of comfort within Ron, despite sharing the same house.

He soon pushed away those thoughts because soon enough something dawned on him, “When was the last time you owled her?” He finally spoke harshly.

Neville jumped at the aggression behind his words and the look in his eyes, “uh I don’t know!”

Ron leaned forward, determined to know the truth. He knew it was far fetched to think she was owling Neville somewhere but at this point he wanted to cling to anything.

At his look, the brunette shut his eyes in thought, “I sent a letter late Christmas Eve night, it probably arrived in the morning. I haven’t heard from her since. I swear.” He said defensively, though unsure why.

Harry flicked his gaze to Ron’s nodding at Neville’s words. He can recall the golden owl that he knows to belong to Grandma Longbottom pecking on the Burrow window while the Weasley’s were at Muriel’s.

At the chosen one's gesture, the red head eased a bit, though his stomach was still turning. The brief hope now squashed and turned into terrible parasites.

“What’s this all about then? The lot of you are acting like wherever Hermione is she’ll never come back.” Neville piped up after the long tense silence.

“Of course she’s coming back!” Ron snapped sharply before he could help himself, causing the other boy to flinch.

“What I think he means is,” Harry starts softer, “is that Hermione’s Grandmother passed over holiday so she’s gone home to Hampstead to deal with it all and the arrangements.” He said, voice quivering over the lie, but to Neville it appeared as mere sadness for their friend.

“Oh Merlin! That’s terrible! Harry, please tell me next time you write her, will you? I’d like to send a letter out with Hedwig.” He responded sadly.

At this, the dark haired boy could only morosely nod.

“Have you heard from her? Is she alright?” He asked next, frantically searching their eyes.

“No Neville. We haven’t.” The youngest Weasley brother said to them.

He knew he was letting his anger get the best of him. Not anger at Neville, but at the situation he, Harry, and Ginny have been put in. More importantly, the unknown situation that Ron can only imagine is a grueling hell that Hermione’s in.

Neville takes a shaky breath, “I’m sorry if I’ve done something to upset you Ron.”

Suddenly he feels guilty, but can’t bring himself to justify his behavior.

“Ron’s just a little upset, him and Hermione never got to say goodbye.” Ginny commented softly, placing a gentle hand on Neville’s arm.

“I’m sorry mate,” and again, Neville’s apology feels wrong, like the roles should be reversed, “tell me you sorted everything out with her, yeah?” He asked hopefully.

Nothing came from the ginger but a rough growl, anger displacing his sadness yet again.

Sensing as much, Ginny piped up with raised eyebrows and a tone that left no room for argument, “Ron, don't you have a prefect’s meeting?”

And he did. Normally Hermione would drag him there ten minutes early, but this is how things are now. She’s not here.

Wordlessly, he stood and exited the compartment, needing some time to breathe. The distraction.

The only thing that registered were Harry, and Ginny’s voices assuring Neville he did no wrong as they continued their elaborate lie.

Not wanting to think about all that’s wrong, he let his body go on auto pilot to the prefects car. Just as he reached it, a body knocked into him.

“Sorry.” They said.

Turning to investigate he was left mouth agape because Draco Malfoy had apologized for bumping into him.

“Sorry?” He repeated.

Draco said nothing but instead pushed on into the compartment and moved to talk to Katie Bell, who seemed to pass back from her poisoning.

Ron remained outside for a little, mentally preparing himself for the barrage of questions that’s bound to come about his absentee partner. Another thing that also remains in the back of his mind is Draco Malfoy’s behavior, something he’ll have to catalogue and look into later.

After all, his father is a Death Eater. His Aunt is Bellatrix Lestrange.

Not realizing he’d been lingering for five minutes, he soon entered behind Ernie Macmillan.

The first five minutes of the meeting dragged on. He spent most of his time observing an uncharacteristically quiet and squirming Draco Malfoy.

Maybe he was spending too much time with Harry. Looking into something as simple as an apology and now he’s suddenly got a hundred different scenarios conjured up that involve the blonde git holding Hermione somewhere. Torturing, mocking, hurting her.

It drives him wild with rage, but he knows it’s something just capitalizing on. Something he’s determined to fixate on just to distract him from the Order’s failed attempts to bring in Hermione.

But would it do more harm than good raising suspicions with Malfoy? On the very off chance he is right, asking could only-

“And because of Hermione not being here. We’ve rearranged the schedule a bit for you Ron.”

His eyes instantly snap to Katie’s at the mention of her name. It’s used in such a nonchalant, casual manner. Everyone at the Burrow has just been referring to Hermione as ‘she’ for the better part of a week.

All he can do is deafly nod in response. His ears suddenly ringing, with all thoughts of Malfoy leaving his brain. He feels like for the first time since it all happened, the weight of his much everything is going to change is now laying on his shoulder as heavy as ever.

No more prefect rounds. No more doing homework in the common room. No more dining hall. No more classes. Hell, even no more of him watching her ignore him. Even that was better than this.

And on top of it all, to everyone around him, he had to appear as if that were okay. That he could survive without Hermione, that it wasn’t killing him.

Surely he’s already failed at that, he could barely speak to Neville without biting his head off.

As much as all of these dark thoughts swim in his brain, he knows he needs to remind himself that this isn’t forever. That Hermione will come home and they can do all those things again.

He tells himself this over and over, despite knowing that if, when, she comes home, things will never be the same.

For the remainder of the meeting the only thing that rings in his head are those three horrid words she spoke before vanishing.

Come find me.

Over and over playing out in his head. He’s so distracted, he’s failed to notice the cart is not vacant, save for Katie, and the meeting over.

“-go.” He hears her say.

Soon he shakes his head, “sorry what?”

“I said you can go, Ron.” The brunette seventh year says.

“Oh right, sorry.” Quickly he moves to exit the compartment.

“Bye Ron, like I said, let me know-“

He stopped abruptly, something just now dawning on him. Not even able to focus on the fact apparently she’d been having a full blown conversation with him.

“Hey Katie?” He halts, voice rather shaky.

“Yes Ron?” She asked with a quirked brow, almost sensing his unease.

“How did you know about Hermione?” He asked almost forcefully, “that she’s taking some time uh, away.” The ginger managed softer, willing himself not to cry.

“Oh, well Draco told me.” She responded like it was the most simple thing in the world, like that would make sense.

“He did?” Ron asked rather taken aback.

Katie nodded, “sure. He said he’d heard she was spending time with her folks,” her voice dropped into a whisper, “I had around the tower her Grandma was ill.”

Not wanting to give himself away Ron just nodded shakily, “right.”

Still, how did Malfoy know she wouldn’t be here? Could Harry have been right... no there’s no way. He’s a tosser! What would You-Know-Who want from him? Fashion advice?

Noting the far off look on his face, the Head Girl spoke again, “hey if you’re worried about doing this alone we can always get someone to help until-“

“No!” He jumps in quickly, rather loudly too, “no, I mean, I’ll be fine.” The ginger covers up

Still looking skeptical Katie nodded and offered a weak smile before vacating the compartment.

He needed to find Malfoy right now

#Ron Weasley #Ron and Hermione #ron x hermione #rons-hermiones come find me #Hermione Granger #romione fanfic #romione #sixth year #hp fanfic #hp

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mhdiaries · 5 years ago

Photo

Wave 3 Toralei Stripe Diary

July. Two. Five.

Ooh they’re telling math jokes now...

Q: What do you get if you divide the circumference of a jack-o-lantern by its diameter?

A: Pumpkin Pi!

The math geeks I’m stuck on this bus with think that this is funny. So funny in fact, that the harpy sitting in front of me shoots milk out of her nose when she hears the punch line. I don’t think it’s funny at all. I’d rather be listening to the music I have stored on my iCoffin but two hours into our five-hour ride home my iCoffin gave up the ghost. It should have lasted the whole trip and then some except that one of my math camp roomies “accidentally” unplugged my iCoffin charger last night when she plugged in her fright light. I don’t even know why a ghost needs a fright light. What? Was she afraid she would trip over something and go “bump in the night?” I realized what happened when we woke up this morning but we had to leave first thing so I didn’t have time to put a full charge on it. At least I got enough battery life to block out the two hours dedicated to the singing of “X Number Bottles of Ghoul Juice on the Wall.” To add to the misery the seats on this bus only have room for two monsters and Meowlody and Purrsephone are of course sitting together which left me stuck in a seat next to a troll named Teala who had never been away from her bridge for more than a day until she came to math camp.She cried herself to sleep every night. Not that any other monster but me noticed but then again I notice everything. I also noticed Teala wasn’t laughing at any of the math jokes either. In fact she seemed to be more miserable than I was. Well now, here I was thinking she was missing her bridge but if that were the case why didn’t she seem excited about going home? “Dish,” I said. She turned and looked at me for a moment and then stared back ahead. “Okay - suit yourself then,” I said and then tried to curl up in the seat to take a cat nap which I had almost accomplished when she said; “My boy-fiend broke up with me...by text...the first night of math camp.” She still wasn’t looking at me but she wasn’t crying either. “He was my first real boyfriend and...and I don’t know why I’m telling you ‘cause you don’t seem to care about any monster besides yourself and you’ll probably figure out a way to use this to make me even more miserable.” I didn’t show it, but that really hurt. Just because I enjoy the chaos that a good practical joke brings doesn’t mean that I’m intentionally cruel does it? I don’t think it does and besides; where’s the fun of kicking some monster when they’re already down? It’s a lot more fun to see the surprise on a monster’s face when they think they’ve got it all together and you can “help them” see that they don’t. So I said, “Guess you better tell me the whole story then so I can do a thorough job.” That actually brought a ghost of a smile to her face. Teala told me that her ex boy-fiend was applying to colleges and that he decided he needed to keep his “options open” in case he might meet his “intellectual equal” at school. At first I didn’t believe he actually wrote that and then she showed me the text. “Does he really think he’s that smart,” I asked. She kind of shrugged and said, “He’s scary smart but not as good at math as I am, especially withy differential equations.” She told me he really wanted to get into this one school because his favorite mad scientist taught there. I’d never heard of the school but I knew who the mad scientist was because Mr. Hack made use watch a bunch of his videos in class. The videos were deadly boring but the mad scientist had this odd accent and strange speech pattern. I used to mimic his voice in class to make Mr. Hack jump. I’d wait until Mr. Hack’s back was turned and then scream, “Huhhacckkk - theeese stuuudannts reeelease youuu wuh-ill ah-yuat wa-unce!” It cost me several days in detention and a trip to Headless Headmistress Bloodgood’s office the last time I mimicked the mad scientist but even Mr. Hack admitted he couldn’t tell the difference between the scientist’s voice and my imitation of it. We talked about a few more things and then Teala finally fell asleep. I was able to finally fall asleep as well but not before having to hear another math joke followed by an explosion of milk from the seat in front of me.

July. Two. Eight.

I went to MH today to pick up some pictures I left in the FearBook office. When I was done I went up to the belfry. It’s a good place to keep an eye on things without other eyes watching you. It’s also a good place to take a nap. Usually the hunchback who rings the bells...the bells...works up there but he was on summer vacation in France or somewhere so I had the place to myself; until Spectra came floating through that is. She thinks that she’s very stealthy but it’s almost impossible to sneak up on me and I heard the rattle of her chains long before she actually appeared. I pretended to be asleep for a moment then with my eyes still closed I said, “What do you want Spectra?” “Oh, hello Toralei. Did you hear the news?” Most monsters don’t trust anything they hear from Spectra. I know better. There’s always an element of truth in her “news”. You just need to know how to listen. Here’s an example; Spectra told me she heard that Nefera is moving back to town and will be taking over for Ms. Kindergruber in Home Ick. Not only that but Ms. Kindergruber is also going to quit teaching to become a roadie for her favorite rock and roll band. Now as much fun as it is to imagine Ms. K. climbing stacks of amps while wearing a sleeveless leather vest, bandana and steel toed boots it’s not going to happen. Although when compared to the thought of Nefera actually “lowering herself” to teach, it’s practically a done deal Ms K will be hitting the road. I’m pretty sure out of that confusing jumble of information the one true fact is that Nefera is moving back to town and probably sooner rather than later...now there’s a monster who enjoys kicking some body when it’s down.

July. Three. Zero.

Got an email today from Teala, the troll girl I sat with on the ride home from math camp. Apparently her ex boy-fiend told her that he got a call from the mad scientist he wanted to study under. The scientist told her ex that his test scores indicated a “skuhh-ill weeeakness in diffuhh-wrenntial eeeequay-shunns” and that her ex should find some monster that was intellectually superior and “geeet sah-ummm tuutorr-ing”. Her ex was certain it was the professor since “no monster could fake that voice.” He also apologized to Teala for being an arrogant jerk and asked if she would tutor him in differential equations. Teala told him that she would have to check her schedule. Sometimes it is just purrrecious the way things work out for the beast.

August. One. Three.

I bought a ball of dragon thread today for Sweet Fangs. It’s just about the only material that’s strong enough to survive more than one play session with her. I don’t know what I’m going to do when Sweet Fangs gets bigger because I’m probably going to need the whole dragon and I’m not sure mom and dad are gong to be good with that.

August. Two. Five.

M&P came over today. They’re like my sisters and I can’t imagine how boring unlife would be without them. We do just about everything together and some monsters even think we’re related but we’re not. Not that it matters since we don’t really care what other monsters think anyway. We are who we are and any monster or monsters that want to try and herd us better get ready for a long miserable day. Today we weren’t worried about being herded, today was a brainstorm session. Our mission, repay Cleo de Nile and her minions for not only ruining our perfectly planned graduation prank but also for taking away part of our valuable summer vacation by “arranging” our trip to math camp. Knowing that it was Cleo who got the better of us is almost as irritating as being wet or having my fur stroked the wrong way. I can’t believe that I actually helped her when she first wanted to be a part of the Fear Squad. Cleo didn’t even know how to do a cartwheel, much less a round off. So I took her under my claw and taught her everything I knew and since I’d been doing gymnastics from the time I was a kitten I knew a lot. I finally got Cleo to the point where she started to “get it” and instead of being a liability she started contributing. I figured that for all my hard work and leadership Nefera would make me the Fear Squad captain when she graduated. Only she didn’t - she passed it onto Cleo. I can still remember what Nefera said to me when I confronted her about it. “I didn’t want Cleo to succeed - I wanted her to be humiliated but since you helped her, you get to deal with the consequences.” Then Cleo acted as if she deserved to be the captain and that she automatically knew everything there was to know about leading the Fear Squad. She should have showed some humility and stepped aside. She didn’t so now it’s up to me to teach her some new lessons and I can’t wait for class to be back in session.

August. Three. One.

There’s a meteor shower tonight, which will give us the purrrfect opportunity to practice the three D’s. Divert. Design. Demure. First I divert attention away from myself - although tonight the meteor shower should do that for me, next I design a “surprise” for my intended victim student and then after the unexpected happens I demure - “Oh my, what happened here?” More later...

Ended up scraping the three D’s tonight, mostly because the meteor shower diverted me. I was supposed to meet M&P at this coffee shop down close to the beach - it’s the only time I go to the beach since sand + water + fur = unhappy werecat - but they were late so I grabbed a catnipuccino and waited. The owner turned down the lights of the shop so it was almost dark and then the sky was falling. The ghouls showed up just as somewhere down the beach a monster started playing guitar and I said, “Just because we’ve got nine lives doesn’t mean we need to rush through this one.” And we didn’t.

#monster high #monster high diary #toralei stripe #text post #wave 3

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