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silv3rswirls · 1 year ago

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taking care of their drunk girlfriend

Anon asks: Seventeen when they have to take care of their drunk gf? Maybe they're sick, or need a ride home, lost something? However you want to write it!

Note: Thank you for requesting, I hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: Drinking/being drunk, throwing up in Vernon's, some light mentions of creepy men in Hoshi's

♡Seungcheol♡

Normally you wouldn’t go out much without Seungcheol, especially when you planned on drinking and having a carefree time, but your coworkers insisted. Everything was fine initially, until they all ditched you and you were left alone at the table. Your tipsy fun ending, and leaving you sitting there with a new bout of nerves sitting in your stomach as you looked around. So you text your boyfriend, complaining how they left suddenly, how you felt uncomfortable on your own and would be heading home soon.

Cheol on the other hand feels his face heat up in anger when he gets your messages. He can practically feel your sadness through the texts. He picks you up instead of letting you catch a car home. He fully plans to give your coworkers an earful if he sees them. For the rest of the night, he sighs in frustration and comments about how rude or angry he feels about it, how could they leave you like that? He stays in the rest of the night with you, cuddling and talking until you start to drift off to sleep.

♡Jeonghan♡

You went out for a friend's birthday, leaving Jeonghan with a warning that you wanted to really party with her tonight. He gave you the go-ahead, so long as you checked in now and again with him and kept your location on so he didn’t have to worry. So there he was, comfy in bed watching his show, enjoying an evening alone when he got about a dozen texts from an unknown number; you had lost your phone, your keys, you wanted to come home, etc., etc. etc. He’s out of bed to get you in an instant, but he’s complaining the whole time. How could you be so careless? What do you mean you can’t find your purse? Was no one in their right mind over there?

He’s bothering everyone around you for your lost items, looking everywhere he can think of. While you're clinging to him, feeling emotional over the whole ordeal as he drags you about the club. You’re very lucky that he found your items being held behind the bar. He takes you home and puts you to bed, still (lovingly) teasing you over your drunken mishaps, you won’t be forgetting this anytime soon.

♡Joshua♡

Oh no, you’re not feeling well? Joshua’s taking you home the instant you complain about a stomach ache and the drinks just not agreeing with you. You had gone out with him and some of the other members for dinner and then some drinks afterward, but it seemed your body just didn’t want to partake that night. He grabs your coats and makes sure you’re bundled up for the cold outside and then you go straight back to your place. You get comfy, he makes you drink some water and just take it easy- he doesn’t care if you think he’s overreacting, he’s in sweetest boyfriend in the world mode and doesn’t plan on stopping.

♡Jun♡

He got home after you, shockingly enough. You had gone out to celebrate a big promotion at work, while he had been stuck late at the company. He felt bad not going out with you but had promised you to celebrate tomorrow. He even picked up a little cake for you on his way back, leaving it on the counter with some flowers. And when he went into the bedroom to greet and suffocate you in a big hug- you had already passed out. The sweetest boyfriend in the world mode activated instantly. When you refuse to get up he starts making you comfy. He takes your shoes off, tries his best to wipe your makeup away, and brushes your hair. He moves you under the covers, tucks you in and leaves a bottle of water and some medicine at your bedside table. He snuggles next to you, ready to celebrate a slow morning with you.

♡Hoshi♡

You were hiding in the bathroom. The stall locked and your eyes glued to your phone as you tried to focus on texting Hoshi, trying to ignore how the room felt like it was spinning. You had gone out with friends- you hardly ever went out, let alone drink much, but they had pestered and pushed for you to let loose for once. Of course, the night you finally decide to go out, they’re creeps crawling all over the place, and your friends have all wandered off. It was becoming too much, you didn’t want to go back out there, let alone wait outside for a car home. With nothing else to do, you texted your boyfriend pleading for advice on how to handle the man outside waiting for you.

Hoshi tells you to stay put and comes to the club, pushing through the crowd of people and bee-lining for the bathroom. He knocks repeatedly, telling you to come out so he could take you home. And when the creep from earlier tries to stop you, grab at your arm and say something about you coming to dance with him- Hoshi argues with him instantly. He holds your hand on the car ride back to his apartment, he makes you lie down and rest until your tipsiness starts to calm down. He clings to you all night and morning, promises to never let you go out alone and be harassed like that, apologies, and is extra sweet on you.

♡Wonwoo♡

Lost? What do you mean you’re lost?? Wonwoo keeps texting you, but all he gets are messy, misspelled messages about how you’re lost, your friend left you, you want to go home, etc. Luckily, you still had your location on so he ventures out to find you. He hadn’t expected your big night out to end like this, lost? He can’t wrap his mind around the situation; especially when your location is down the street from the club where you met your friends. He’s pretty worried though, but hopes you found safety in the cafe it seemed your phone was at.

And there you are, sitting in the cafe and frowning as you wait for him; drunk and feeling far too silly to get up on your own. He smiles and lets you cling to him as he guides you and home. He’s laughing and shaking his head the whole time you stumble and babble on about nothing in particular. He makes you drink some water and settle into bed, and he sits up well after you fall asleep to watch over you.

♡Jihoon♡

If he didn’t love you so much, he would tell you off the moment you mentioned walking home alone that night. You went out with coworkers and called it a night when you started feeling tipsy. You tried getting a car home but failed. You missed the bus and the next wasn’t scheduled any time soon. So you walked home, it wasn’t that far. The next morning you off-handedly mention it to Jihoon, who nearly drops the plate in his hand. He repeated what you said with a question, nose scrunching a bit as he took it in. He’s mad and spends all morning telling you how dangerous it was, how you should’ve called him and he would’ve left the studio to get you or got you some kind of safe way home.

♡Dokyeom♡

The two of you went out together to celebrate a friend's birthday. He decided not to drink, not really in the mood for it while you were happy to drink alongside the birthday girl all night. He takes care of you the whole time. He doesn’t let you wonder, holds your drinks, and watches your drink when you leave for the restroom. He even sneaks in glasses of water whenever he can. He takes you home with him, makes sure to help you get your coat and shoes off, and lets you flop onto the sofa with a happy sigh.

You both had a pretty fun night, or so he thought until he noticed tears shining in your eyes. You throw yourself onto him, crying and rambling about how much of a good boyfriend he was, how much you loved him, and how he always took such good care of you. He’s about to start crying alongside you. Hushing your tears, and carrying you off to bed. You fall asleep cuddled together.

♡Mingyu♡

You went out with an old group of friends you haven't seen since graduating. You hadn’t been keen on the idea but decided to give it a chance. Unfortunately, old drama was brought up and you were caught in the middle. Nonstop arguing and jabbing at one another, the drinks weren’t helping so you decided to leave and let them hash the rest out on their own. Mingyu hadn’t expected you home for another few hours. But when you come home early, tipsy, and red with anger? He’s at your side in an instant. When you start to recite all the drama between your friends that happened? He’s listening intently, taking mental notes, and gasping at every twist in the story. He’s agreeing with you 100%, he’s so entertained hearing your drunken rants, and sides with you completely.

♡Minghao♡

Minghao had advised you not to drink too much when you mentioned going out with your sibling for their birthday. You kept his warning in mind the moment you began to feel the room spin a little too fast and a nagging pain in the back of your head started to pound. You called it an early night and caught a cab to his place. He was a bit surprised to see you, as you had planned on staying with them for the night. But he can’t turn you down. You’re complaining about your head, how you’re not feeling well and just want to be around him. The sweetest boyfriend in the world mode activated. He gets you water and some medicine, offers to make you some tea, and maybe even tries to get you to eat something small. He lets you cuddle and lay on him all evening, rubs your back, and massages your head to try and help. If you’re still not feeling well the next morning, the sweet treatment continues.

♡Seungkwan♡

Honestly, he’s not above scolding you in your drunk state over how unsafe it was for you to drink so much tonight. He’s not truly mad at you, he just wants to make sure you’re taking good care of yourself and being safe. He doesn’t care if it's going in one ear and out the other, but the moment he notices your eyes well up with tears he’s lowering his tone and asking what’s wrong. He feels bad, holding your hand and apologizing if he sounded too harsh. He lets you cry all you want on his shoulder, cuddling into the crook of his neck and drunkenly ranting about any little thing that stuck in your mind.

He decides to put you to bed, urging you not to worry anymore and just to rest now that you’re emotionally drained, drunk, and getting sleepier every minute. He will properly pester you about your recklessness tomorrow, and for now, he’ll let you cling to his arm and drift off to sleep- eagerly of course.

♡Vernon♡

He’s trying his best, really he is, but his words offer little comfort in the moment. You’re drunk, hunched over in the bathroom throwing up everything that was in your stomach after a rowdy night out. He’s just standing in the doorway asking if you’re good at first. Eventually, when everything begins to calm down he’s kneeling beside you, rubbing your back and asking if you’re okay again. While you brush your teeth and rinse your face he gets some water and waits for you to crawl into bed and curl up next to him. He rubs your back and tells you it’s okay, he’s not upset with you for getting sick or drinking too much. He tries to stay up with you until you can fall asleep, and if he passes out before you he makes you promise to try and wake him up if you need him.

♡Dino♡

You both went out drinking to celebrate a friend’s promotion. Laughing and enjoying the cheery atmosphere until it was time to head back to his apartment. You flop in the living room, both silent as you soak up the alcohol and comfy vibes; until you mention that you’re hungry. He sits up instantly because no way- he’s starving and takeout sounds amazing right now. He orders nearly the whole menu for you, not even caring what he ends up getting for himself as long as you’re happy with what he gets. You stay up late, trying and failing to finish your feast before going to bed. Giggling between bites and poking fun at each other.

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venomwrites · 7 months ago

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Pure unadulterated post-cannon Christmas fluff/angst to say thank you for being the best readers. On Ao3 too

Caitlyn wakes alone on Christmas morning.

It’s not strange in itself. The room shuffling that has taken place still has her waking up every morning wondering why she is in her parents bed. Then she remembers it is her bed now. Some mornings it makes her want to cry. A lot of mornings that feeling wins. It’s not where she wants to be. She wants to be back in her room. She wants her mother and father to be in this bed. She wants to feel awkward perching on the edge of it. No, she wants to go back to the days where she refused to perch on the edge of it because that bed was where her parents kissed. But time does not allow her such luxuries. So she wakes to the grander room every morning. And every morning she wonders if she has somehow ran to her parents for comfort like a a child. But the nightmare is not when she is asleep anymore. It greets her every morning. Stretches endlessly in front of her as she looks at the thing she calls a life and wonders if it will ever make sense.

She doesn’t even remember it’s Christmas until she smells the perfumed soap in the cavernous bathroom. Her parents bathroom is a double, massive thing. Two sinks, two showers, two toilet closets. In the center is a massive tub. It’s completely foreign to her bathroom in everything except color. Everything is settled in different corners. Which is fine by Caitlyn. She refuses to use her old bathroom. To this day, she would rather mess herself than step foot in that place. When the staff had put her things here they had nestled them in the middle, but she had immediately gravitated towards her mother’s side. Now her bottles nestle next to her mother’s. Sometimes Caitlyn mixes them, but she wants to make all those products last. Wants to keep anything her mother touched for as long as she possibly can. It’s foolish and she cannot stop. On days when it is unbearable she washes her hands in the other sink and ignores everything.

That’s the benefit of having two of everything.

The rest is just drawbacks.

This room is not designed for one person. Especially not one who lives most days half scooped out. She was not supposed to occupy this room until she could make it her own. And even then, she was not supposed to occupy it alone. This room was her parents, but truly it was her mother’s. And before that it was her grandmother’s. The room is a suite for the head of the house and their partner. It is designed to make the task of running the Kiramman family as easy as possible. Two wardrobes, two desks, endless nooks and crannies and cabinets. Two people are supposed to have a life in here. Caitlyn tried to bring something over to the other side but snatched it back. Her things are sparse on the side she has taken for herself. The other is just bare. Caitlyn doesn’t know who it is waiting for yet, but she cannot bring herself to touch the room and admit it may be waiting for no-one at all.

Caitlyn dresses in her usual black and heads down the hall. She raps on the door gently but it swings open to reveal an empty room that was once hers.

She never would have agreed to the move if not for Vi.

She tucked Vi into her bed after the fight with Warwick and she just never truly left. During those weeks of preparation they would tangle there and talk. Vi brought such life back to the space it made it tolerable. Before that Caitlyn had just occupied a guest room, unable to bear the thought of returning to her own bed. After the fight when Vi had staggered down and walked past the ashes of at least one member of her family, when the medical team had finally released them, she had just staggered back to the bed. Caitlyn would never have given up her room for anyone else, but if Vi was willing to collapse there, then Caitlyn was willing to surrender it. Surrender was somehow the tenant of Noxian warcraft she was drawn to. So she surrendered her girlhood room. Surrendered to her father’s quiet, tearful insistence that she belonged in her mother’s old room. Pressed another key into her unworthy hand and choked out that she would have wanted to give it to Caitlyn herself. Then he retreated as he always did.

The bare walls of her room seemed ill suited to someone like Vi. But Vi had no things of her own. So Caitlyn has dragged in things she might like when Vi is off on an endless walk or a long-fought over medical appointment. Caitlyn picks out books and pretty things and piles them on the shelves that once held her shooting trophies. She may leave one or two of those there as well. She leaves out a paint set and a ball of yarn, little things that Vi can do with her hands if she wants. Sometimes Caitlyn catches a glimpse of something moved, but she tries to give her privacy. Mostly, Vi reads. The place where she lay next to Vi has become it’s own small library of whatever she is working through at the moment. Caitlyn knew Vi could read, but she also knew she had little access to books. Vi is not fast, she does not sit for hours turning pages. Sometimes Caitlyn hears the sound of something heavy and book like hitting the ground. But then it is always picked up a moment later.

Caitlyn doesn’t care, Vi can burn the books for all she cares. But Vi handles them with upmost care. When she’s finished she leaves them in a neat stack on the table by the door and Caitlyn makes sure they are always replaced if she is unable to do it herself.

Today there is just a note there with a single word on it.

Kitchen

As Caitlyn makes her way down, the hallway takes on a wonderful smell. Savory, sweet, tempting. Caitlyn has been eating when she is hungry or when it’s insisted, but she can’t remember the last time she felt her stomach rumble with want. The gurgle is almost embarrassing. But no-one is here to hear it. Actually, when Caitlyn glances around she realizes the house is shockingly empty. There is usually a skeleton staff on the holiday at least. Maybe they were lured in by the smells coming from the kitchen. Caitlyn realizes the kitchen she’s walking towards is not the polished one for entertaining but the one the staff uses more regularly. One where they can make a mess and no-one will see. It’s a large, rectangular room with an island in the middle and appliances tucked on the sides. It’s always warm thanks to the stove that hums in the corner. Caitlyn was petrified of it as a child. Even now she rarely comes down here. But she can tell that is where Vi is.

Actually, it’s where everyone is.

Staff, her father—everyone is gathered around a table filled with food. There’s meat and rolls and golden brown cakes with butter and syrup. But more than that there’s Ionian dishes from Caitlyn’s childhood. Congee and dark marinated eggs and green briny seaweed sprinkled with sesame. She enters and no-one looks up. No conversation stops. People glance at her but only to see her come in. It’s strange to enter a room and not destroy the sound of chatter like taking a needle off a gramophone. It just continues around her. Caitlyn swallows against the lump it brings to her throat and finds the culprit easily amongst the chaos. Mostly because one of the cakes goes sailing up in the air and she catches it in the pan she’s holding to voracious cheers.

“Hey,” Vi says with something almost resembling a smile, “merry Christmas. I made some of everything.”

“It smells wonderful,” Caitlyn says politely as her stomach makes the rudest noise. She can feel Vi watching as she picks up one of the bowls. Caitlyn is determined for it to be wonderful, but she’s caught off guard when it actually is. Texture, flavor, all of it is flawless, “how on earth—“

“You left a cookbook,” Vi says with a proud shrug, “I just followed the instructions,” she clears her throat, “it’s gotten better though.”

“It was good from the start!” Someone calls and Caitlyn realizes much more work went into this than she thought.

“Save some room,” Vi says as a ding rings out. She hefts a tray of scones from the oven and Caitlyn’s mouth waters at the sight. Especially when she spots the pot of blueberry jam on the table, “your dad said it was your favorite,” Vi tells her.

“What’s yours?” Caitlyn asks. She hadn’t even thought Vi was eating, let alone that she was cooking. Vi gives her half a genuine smile and jerks her head towards the skillet on the stove, “share that with me.”

Something lights in Vi’s eyes and she nods. Vi likes her pancakes dripping with butter and syrup. There have to be at least two though, so the butter melts between them. They are tangier than Caitlyn ever remembers and completely delightful. Vi is suspicious of the scone when Caitlyn holds it out, but agrees to take a bite. She seems equally surprised and delighted by the taste and texture. Despite never making them before, she’s managed to do it nearly perfectly. People come in and out of the room through the morning as they try each other’s favorite dishes. It’s a new sensation to learn each other. Somehow it’s the easiest conversation they’ve had since Caitlyn lost her eye and Vi lost everything. Jinx’s name even slips from Vi’s lips a few times without the gut punch of emotion that usually follows it. The only miss between them is when Vi wraps some kind of cured meat around a briny pickle. Both of them immediately decide it’s too salty and choose something else from the spread.

“Who told you to do that?” Caitlyn questions.

“Ekko,” Vi says, taking a large sip of tea, “do me a favor and say you loved it if he ever asks.”

“Is he coming?” Caitlyn asks, looking around.

“Here? Nah,” Vi says, “I wouldn’t bring him to your house.”

“You live here too,” Caitlyn points out. Vi shifts her weight and shrugs.

“Yeah but—“ she mumbles something that sounds like fancy.

“So bring him here,” Caitlyn says with a shrug. Vi looks surprised. Caitlyn isn’t sure why unless she considers that Vi has only witnessed people coming through the front door and being led to the sitting parlors, “you know you can bring people wherever you want, right?” Caitlyn asks gently.

“Course,” Vi says, her finger fidgeting on the tabletop, “yeah I just figured—“

“Vi I brought you in through a window,” Caitlyn points out. Vi still looks hesitant, “you weren’t the first. You can bring Ekko into the kitchen.”

Vi is silent for a moment. Caitlyn braces herself for whatever Vi is abut to say. But her face breaks into something not miserable. Something almost mischievous.

“That’s why the lock was broken on your window,” she says and snaps her fingers, “that’s why your mom looked annoyed.”

Caitlyn drops her head to her folded arms as Vi laughs. The sound catches her off guard, though not as much as the laugh it pulls from her own lips. The notion that Vi was able to see past the shotgun to her mother’s annoyance makes a warm feeling settle in her chest. She raises her head to see the first genuine smile she’s seen on Vi’s face in a long time. It echoes on her own as they laugh. For once Caitlyn doesn’t think about sitting up straight. She lets her head drop into one of her hands and gives into the urge to press the heel of it to her currently empty socket. It’s a constant urge, one she’s fighting not to become a nervous tick. But at the moment it feels wonderful to just sit in the warm kitchen with Vi and be comfortable. Even Vi’s posture has shifted to something more relaxed as they chuckle about her mom’s annoyance at Caitlyn bringing girls through the window.

“It’s your room now,” Caitlyn says, “I invite you to continue the tradition of bringing people through the window,” she motions, “it will probably be easier for Ekko on that board.”

“Yeah,” Vi says and seems to perk up a bit, “maybe, yeah.”

Fully fed and pleased with this turn of events, Caitlyn picks up the gift she tucked under the chair and holds them out to Vi.

“Since we’re exchanging,” she says motioning to the food. Vi hesitates, “I picked them out myself,” Caitlyn adds.

Vi takes them in her hands with a mumble of thanks and undoes the red twine. Caitlyn forwent all the fancy papers and wrapped them in simple brown. She can’t help but watch as Vi tears one of the corners carefully. Her face shifts and the paper comes off the first parcel much more quickly. She turns the book over in her hands and slides her fingers into one of the dented letters, looking at the list of words that spiral across the page. Her eyes light up with a hunger that has nothing to do with food and Caitlyn feels a beat of pleasure. Vi is smart, but Caitlyn knows some of the books use words she might not be familiar with. The dictionary is the only book that has not moved from the shelf, as though Vi does not want to admit some of them are strange. But the books Caitlyn hears her throw in frustration are ones Caitlyn often needs a dictionary for.

“I figured you needed one you could mark up,” she says.

“This is—“ Vi swallows, “thanks,” she says and the tone is so sincere it makes Caitlyn’s heart ache. She picks up the second package and tears the paper a little more carelessly this time, but Caitlyn can see when it clicks on her face what she’s holding, “no way,” she breathes. Her head flies up, “how?”

“Abuse of power?” Caitlyn says. Vi’s eyebrows shoot up, “and Sevika.”

The name makes Vi’s throat bob but her focus is drawn back to the book. All things considered, it was a mild abuse of power. Just a bribe really to get into the Enforcer archives. It wasn’t like anyone was actually doing anything with the contraband from an old half war. She had made Sevika aware of it’s existence and she had immediately demanded access. She was part of that fight. She took most of it back to Zaun, where it belonged. Where it always should have been. Caitlyn had simply smoothed the wheels so the Enforcers didn’t kick up too much of a fuss. Sevika had almost yelled when she had asked if there was anything in there of importance to Vi. Caitlyn had learned it was a good idea to let Sevika yell first, then let her consider the request. Then she had told her she had no idea. Then two weeks later she had dropped the book on Caitlyn’s desk. She didn’t bother saying what it was, Caitlyn didn’t need to ask. It took longer to have it properly cleaned up from the dust and decay of sitting in a box. But every cent had been worth it to see Vi reverently brush her fingers over the cover.

“What is it?” Caitlyn asks.

“You didn’t look?” Vi says. Caitlyn shakes her head. Vi gets up and comes around to her side of the table, sitting on the seat next to hers and thumbing open the book. Caitlyn is surprised to see pictures accompanying the words, “our families would pass it around when there was a new kid,” she says, “so you could read a crying baby to sleep,” a smile tugs at her lips as she looks at the page, “when Mom said she was gonna have a baby, I was so excited because I knew it’d be our turn,” she lets out a laugh, “I think I was more excited for this than I was for Powder.”

“May I?” Caitlyn asks and moves the book before Vi’s tears can stain the pages. Vi wipes messily at her cheeks, “did you read to her?”

“No, I’m shit at reading aloud,” Vi says, “I remember telling my mom she had to show her the pictures though. I really liked those.”

Caitlyn does not know how to comfort her. She knows they are not just sad tears, that Vi’s memories usually bring them up. Risking it, Caitlyn tucks a piece of hair behind Vi’s ear. Just something to let her know she’s there. Vi sniffles and wipes again at her cheeks before looking over at her with a wet, honest smile.

“Thanks, Cupcake,” she says, “these mean a lot.”

For the first time in her life Caitlyn helps with the dishes.

Vi takes pity on her and assigns her drying duty. Caitlyn knows better than to point out someone else can do this. Vi won’t hear of it. Vi scrubs, she dries and then Vi directs her where things go. By the time they are done, Caitlyn half knows her way around the kitchen. That is also incredibly strange, but Caitlyn tries to commit it to memory. It wouldn’t be terrible to make a cup of tea down here every so often. Especially if this is where Vi spends a lot of her time. Vi makes sure her hands are dry before she gathers her precious books in her arms. Caitlyn has seen Vi lift impossibly heavy loads with and without the Gauntlets, but she wraps both her arms around the books like they might fall away. They both go back to their rooms to attend to various things and Caitlyn expects Vi will go on one of her long walks. There’s some silly bead of hope in her heart that maybe Vi will invite her along. But she pushes that aside. She knows those walks aren’t for her. Maybe one day, but not yet. It’s something that makes physical therapy a bit more bearable as she learns to navigate her new world.

Still, her heart jumps when there is a knock on her door.

“Come in!” She calls and watches Vi step into the space.

She doesn’t spend a lot of time in the room. Caitlyn can’t blame her. She’s lucky Vi was willing to accept her old room and she half thinks that’s only because it was somewhere she could navigate to and from with minimal help. This room is worse somehow. It’s even more grand. The ceiling is set with colored glass that sends rainbows across the polished floors. It takes two fireplaces to give it any kind of heat and Caitlyn thinks when it is empty when she one day changes it, there will be an echo. The only part of the room Vi ever lingers near is the balcony. It’s still set with the small table and two chairs from when her parents would sit every morning before the day began. Caitlyn hasn’t set foot on it. Vi’s eyes sweep the grandeur and the balcony before they settle on her. Caitlyn turns to face her but Vi doesn’t cross the room. She half fidgets in the empty space, her book of fairytales clutched to her chest. Her eyes are still reddened but there’s a set in her shoulders that makes Caitlyn aware she’s come to some decision. Feeling oddly nervous, Caitlyn pushes herself to her feet and stands on her side of the room.

“I don’t want to bring anyone but Ekko through the window,” Vi says and Caitlyn’s heart begins to race, “I know there’s a lot going on and you’re sleeping here now but—I’m not bringing anyone else through the window.”

“I’m sleeping here so you can be comfortable,” Caitlyn blurts out.

Vi swallows and runs her fingers over the edge of the book, like she’s drawing comfort from it. They tighten on the corner and she looks almost nervous for a moment.

“I thought I could—“ she jerks her head towards the empty shelves, “if it’s okay with you.”

“They’re yours,” Caitlyn says without meaning to. Then she realizes what she’s said and has to fight the urge to throw herself off the balcony, “I—“

“Yeah, okay,” Vi says simply.

As if Caitlyn has not just said the most embarrassing thing. She says it as if she knows it too. Caitlyn realizes she may be the only one who was hoping and everyone else just knew. She watches as Vi walks over to the empty shelves. Caitlyn realizes it’s not just the fairytale book in her arms. There’s that one, two cookbooks and a book on cartography. Vi settles them on the shelves sandwiched between two heavy metal bookends that made Caitlyn think of her tattoo. It’s just a corner of the shelves but immediately they look better. Vi considers her handiwork calmly as Caitlyn stares at it with a pounding, hopeful heart. Then Vi takes the fairytale book from the shelf and walks over to the empty desk. She pulls out the chair and seats herself in it, shifting her weight on the upholstery to get comfortable. She winds up with a knee drawn to her chest in what Caitlyn’s learning is a comfortable position for her. She thumbs open the book as Caitlyn sits back in her own desk. Whatever she’s supposed to be doing is forgotten as she looks at Vi sitting there. Vi is aware of her gaze but is focused on the book. So Caitlyn forces herself back to her own work.

“We can change anything,” Caitlyn says to the paperwork, “make it our own when you’re ready.”

“Thanks,” Vi says quietly, eyes still on the book, “can Ekko come through the balcony?”

Caitlyn is silent long enough for Vi to glance over at her.

“That lock isn’t ‘fixed’,” Caitlyn says finally and Vi snorts out a laugh, “I wasn’t planning on sneaking in when I took this room!” Caitlyn defends hotly, “if Ekko comes though the balcony you’d have to actually unlock it from the inside.”

“Noted,” Vi says and turns the page.

Suddenly the life that stretches out before Caitlyn seems a bit less impossible and a bit less scary. She tries to imagine the room with a tangle of Vi’s books and her things. Closets jumbled together because they will probably keep things like gear in the other. Mornings at the sink and night in the bed. Her throat tightens at the thought of coffee on the balcony and one day the sound of smaller feet running to their bed in the middle of the night. She’s not sure she deserves the thought of any of it, but when she glances at Vi’s half smile, she knows she probably never was worthy of it. Not with someone like Vi. But Gods, Vi is worthy of all of it. Deserves all of it. And if she wants it to be with Caitlyn, Caitlyn vows that she will rise to the occasion. But for now, it’s just nice to sit in the room at the two desks. She’s glad it feels nice. At some point Vi uses the bathroom and settles into a chair by the window. She’s a bit closer but it only takes a minute for Caitlyn to move to the neighboring chair.

“What are you working on?” Vi asks.

“Staff payroll,” Caitlyn says. Vi actually looks interested though Caitlyn finds it unbearably boring, “do you—“ she holds up the paper.

“You can show me another time?” Vi offers, “if you’re busy—“

“I don’t mind,” Caitlyn says. Vi swallows but the interest doesn’t wane from her eyes. Caitlyn doesn’t know what possesses her. Maybe the books on the shelf or the fact that Vi is sitting here, “it’s a lot to learn,” she warns, “but it would be easier if we went slow,” she tries to smile against the sudden burning in her eye, “I wouldn’t recommend learning it all at once alone.”

“Cait,” Vi is suddenly half on the chair with her.

She wedges them tight together. It makes the burning worse but Caitlyn fights the urge to cry. Vi has been stupidly wonderful and Caitlyn doesn’t want to burden her. Not when Vi has lost everything and Caitlyn is only dealing with the consequences of her own foolishness. This is Vi’s first Christmas with them and Caitlyn wanted to make it special. Instead she’s fighting tears as Vi wraps her arm around her shoulders and presses her lips to her temple.

“You’re not alone anymore,” she says in that firm, convicted way of hers. Caitlyn shakes her head, “I’m here.”

“No,” Caitlyn protests, “you shouldn’t be taking care of me,” she sets the paper down and wipes her cheeks, “I suppose payroll really does bore one to tears,” she says, fumbling for the humor even though it feels dangerously like she might sob.

“Great,” Vi says and takes the paper, “I need to start with something boring before we get to the hard stuff.”

“But—“

“Hang on, I need to concentrate,” Vi says and tightens her arm around her shoulders.

If she’s not talking though, then there’s nothing to do but choke on her sobs. And if there’s nothing to do but that, then at some point her body forces her simply to cry. Even though she’s been dreading it with the lack of an eye. It feels terrible, as crying usually does. The lack of an eye is worse but the feel of Vi’s arm around her shoulders is better. Somehow it puts her back even with the miserable tears that remind her she’s powerless against some things.

“Gives us a minute!” Vi calls and Caitlyn realizes someone has knocked. But Vi holds her close so she can be tearful in peace. She somehow lets Caitlyn have privacy and let’s her know she’s not alone, “tell me how to help,” Vi murmurs into her hair when the tears have slowed, “I was gonna invite you over to the old room,” she says, “what if we stayed here?” Caitlyn nods.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Vi says, tightening her arm around her shoulders, “I’m sure.”

“I can’t believe I made us both cry your first Christmas,” Caitlyn says, embarrassment churning in her gut, “that wasn’t my intention.”

Vi gives her a long look and then tugs her upright. She guides her over to the bed and spares one fond, annoyed look towards it. Caitlyn rolls her eyes. This bed is even larger than the monstrosity in her room. Despite all her tossing and turning, the other side of the bed is completely untouched. It’s that big. Vi guides her down until Caitlyn’s head is resting on her lap. Her remaining eye still trickles with tears. Vi makes sure her hands are dry and thumbs open the book. Caitlyn realizes she’s already tucked a scrap of paper into one of the pages. When Caitlyn looks at the illustration, she can see why. Multiple girls are twirling in some kind of ballroom, but two that clasp hands are dressed in pink and blue.

“I told you I’m shit at this, right?” Vi says. Caitlyn nods and curls her fingers around Vi’s thigh in a silent plea.

Vi clears her throat.

And starts to read.

#caitlyn kiramman #vi #arcane #piltover's finest #caitvi #vi x caitlyn #caitlyn x vi #we're saying there's christmas here ok

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wintercarnage · 5 months ago

Text

☥ ˖ִ ࣪ 🦇 icyhot.　⠀p. parker & t. stark . . .

( ♱ ) … ftm!peter hates his period. tony orders him to relax and take it easy. (tw: injury)

777 。。masterlist

Peter hates the school bus. He sits somewhere in the middle, mostly surrounded by little kids that like to scream at 7 in the morning and have an obsession with pulling all their belongings out from their bags and dropping them all across their seats and into the aisle. Peter won’t pick up another water bottle, he refuses. The back of the bus, though, has the older kids, from his grade and just below. They play inappropriate music, don’t stop gossiping, and make fun of everyone they can. Including him.

With a groan, Peter slides down further into his seat. Everything just aches, from his throbbing temples to his binder-wrapped chest to his toes. There’s nothing to make it go away either, he ran out of Midol two days ago and hasn’t been able to get more since. God, he hopes that it’ll be a little quieter in school. He pops his headphones in—StarkTech, noise-cancelling dialed to 11 for his spider sensitivities—and dreams of being anywhere but on a creaking yellow bus filled with people he can’t stand.

The rest of the drive passes in a pain-filled haze. Several times Peter contemplates crying, the ache in his body worsening. He’s not sick, he knows that much. Took his temperature this morning and everything. It doesn’t matter so much, though, because he knows exactly what’s wrong and just can’t bear to admit it. He disembarks the bus, rounds to his locker, and meets up with Ned and MJ.

“You sure you’re alright, dude?” Ned asks again, concern painted clearly across his face.

“Yeah, I’m good. I promise,” Peter reassures him, even as a wave of nausea curls in his gut. As nice as it is that Ned cares, Peter would rather jump off the school than talk about this. He doesn’t want it to be happening, let alone let other people know that it’s happening.

“Well, if you need anything, ask,” MJ says. The way she looks at him says she’s already got it all figured out. He smiles at her, tight and closed-lipped, in thanks. Unless he’s literally bleeding out across the floor, Peter doubts he’ll be asking for anything. “And drink hot things. Might help you feel better. But no caffeine,” she tacks on casually.

Ned squints, looking between them like they’re speaking in code without him. “Right, what MJ said. Just ask! We can even fake an emergency and have you called out.”

“Thanks, guys,” Peter replies genuinely. “I appreciate it.”

And he does, is the thing. It just makes him feel a hundred times shittier that he can’t bring himself to tell them. It’s not even their business, really, he reassures himself. But, on the other hand, they wouldn’t have to worry. Or, Ned wouldn’t. MJ knows—she always knows. They head to class, Ned and MJ splitting off towards English while Peter heads for Calculus.

Peter makes it until lunch, where he dramatically collapses into a chair beside MJ and, embarrassed and annoyed, asks for some Advil. He pops two and washes them down with water, watching as Ned comes back from getting his lunch.

“There was some girl, a freshman I think, up there getting her lunch and she started arguing that it’s stupid she has to take a fruit if she won’t eat it and that it makes more sense to leave it for someone who will eat it,” Ned relays the second he sits down.

“Well, she’s not wrong,” Peter replies as he pulls the lid off his applesauce. His stomach is still queasy, but people have always been on him about the importance of eating when you feel horrible. “Kind of wasteful, really. They only make you do it because it’s required for them to hit all the food groups.”

The conversation tumbles into talk about assignments, upcoming tests, and, inevitably, questions about Spider-Man or Tony.

“I still can’t believe you just, like, go to SI whenever you want and just use the labs—you use Tony Stark’s personal lab,” Ned exclaims. “It’s crazy.”

Peter chuckles and grins. “It’s kind of my lab, too. I have my own workbench and all. I have a whole space to make my web fluid, too.”

“So, when are we going to be invited?” MJ asks. “Since you live there half the time and all.”

“I don’t—I don’t live there,” Peter splutters. “I only go there when May works late or I need fixing up for Spider-Man or—”

“Peter, that’s half your life,” Ned interrupts. “MJ’s kind of right. When do we get to—”

“Shut up,” Peter laughs. “Look, I don’t know. Mr. Stark’s a busy man.”

“Bet you’re going over there tonight,” MJ replies. She grins smugly when Peter flushes bright red.

“I hate you guys,” Peter complains.

“Nah, you love us,” MJ says. “Not our fault you’re so predictable.”

Though lunch and the Advil brought relief, Peter is quickly back to feeling shitty again. By the time the final bell of the day rings, his entire body aches so horribly he thinks he might collapse. His chest is overly sore and he almost can’t pick between whether he should keep binding or not (he shouldn’t; it’s been eight hours).

The bus ride home is worse than the one to school was. Peter does cry this time, hood pulled tight over his head and earbuds snug in his ears. His intestines have tied themselves in knots. Nothing feels okay and it’s all just on the tipping side of too much. Peter has been hurt worse, but somehow, this feels like a kind of emotional and physical torture tied into one and topped with an ugly, garish bow.

When Peter gets home he collapses onto his bed and contemplates spending the rest of the night there. His duty to Spider-Man and promise to drop by to see Tony override his exhaustion. He pulls himself out of bed and suits up for patrol (sans binder—because his pain is worse than his gender dysphoria right now—but with layered sports bras and the compression of the suit).

It goes to shit instantly, because the universe has had it out for Peter Parker since his birth. He nearly gets shot by a bank robber within the first hour of patrol and gets slammed into a wall so many times by the same guy trying to steal a car that he should be in jail for that as well. He helps a teenager with directions towards the subway station and a little girl catch her dog who’s run off down the street.

The next person he meets is a mercenary. Peter’s come face-to-face with them before—Deadpool is surprisingly sweet and always nice to him—but this one is out for blood of every kind. Peter’s energy has been steadily waning ever since he woke up, and a few Advil can only boost you so far. By the time the criminal is webbed up tightly to the wall, Peter’s sustained a gash to the thigh which is steadily leaking blood.

Guilty as he feels about it, Peter makes the decision that patrol is over for the night. He sprays webbing over the wound and swings his way to Stark Industries.

—

“Welcome, Peter,” FRIDAY says, voice ringing out as Peter drags himself through a window into the tower’s second living room—the one for Starks only. Climbing the tower is never fun, but it becomes significantly less enjoyable when it hurts like hell to put weight on one of your legs. “Would you like me to alert Boss to your presence?”

“Yes, please, FRIDAY,” Peter gets out through gritted teeth. He drags himself over to the couch and collapses onto it, fully drained of the last bit of adrenalized-energy he has. His fingers scramble at the edge of his mask as he attempts to pull it off, clumsy with pain.

Tony walks into the room not five minutes later and by then Peter is teetering on the edge of passing out. His breaths are shallow, chest aching if he takes too deep of one. Tears are dried tacky on his cheeks and he’s just so fucking—embarassed. He’s a superhero. He shouldn’t be knocked down because of a slight knife wound and his period.

Tony takes one look at him and says, “Oh, kid,” before Peter starts sobbing.

Peter is helped to the bathroom—freakishly lavish and sparkling clean—where he strips out of his suit and switches into the change of clothes (soft sweatpants and one of Tony’s old shirts) that Tony brings him. They set about his wound next, Tony cleaning it and wrapping it in gauze while Peter sits on the closed toilet. He refused a doctor—not willing to suffer the embarrassment of being seen by one without his binder, even Dr. Cho—and Tony deemed the wound not deep enough to be in need of stitches.

By the time they finish, Peter is a little more alert but still feels like his muscles are throbbing and the lingering embarrassment and shame haven’t gone away. Just as Tony tosses the first aid kit back below the sink, Peter’s stomach growls. He doesn’t have the gall to even be embarrassed about it; he hasn’t eaten since lunch and it’s now well into the evening.

“Suit, gone. Wound, patched. Food, next up on the list,” Tony says, flashing Peter a reassuring grin. Peter grins back, much weaker and lacking…anything. He sways back and forth slightly, head feeling as though it’s too heavy to hold up. “Hey, hey, hey.”

Tony catches him just before he can fall. His face is scrunched up in worry and he presses the back of his hand to Peter’s forehead. He frowns and says, “You’re burning up. What else happened, just the leg wound or something else?”

Peter shrugs weakly, unwilling still to talk about it. He doesn’t want to tell Tony he’s on his period, even if it would be nice to get some medicine and maybe a heating pad or hot water bottle.

“Want to take anything?” Tony pulls open the medicine cabinet behind the mirror. “Let’s see, Tylenol, Advil, Midol—”

“Midol,” Peter interrupts. “Please.”

Tony tosses the packet to him without question, and Peter quickly downs the medicine. The idea that he even needs to take “for menstrual relief” pills is something that feels disgusting, but the pain-free breeze that they bring negates it ever so slightly. He hands the packet back to Tony and slumps against the toilet’s tank.

“Leftover pizza sound alright?” Tony prompts when Peter doesn’t say anything. His face is softened with the gentle concern Peter has only ever seen directed at three people: himself, Morgan, and Pepper. It’s moments like this where Peter wants to cry the most. Somewhere between superhero mentor and genius guide, Tony also became something like a—dad.

“Yeah,” Peter replies. “And we can watch Star Wars?”

“Always, kid,” Tony replies. “Always.”

Peter gets bundled up on the coach with a number of soft, fuzzy blankets and a hot water bottle pressed against his abdomen. They eat cold pizza while A New Hope drones on quietly in the background. Peter still feels like shit, but he’s a little more relaxed about it now, safe and warm in the penthouse with Tony—and a myriad of others, such as the doctors—to help if need be.

—

Peter wakes up squirming and crying in pain, his stomach aching. He’s shivering too, and he registers the pain of all these before anything else. The room is dark now; the TV and lights are off. Peter can just make out the faint print of the time—3:37—from the clock sitting on the kitchen island. He also realizes that Tony is still here, asleep at the opposite end of the couch.

He wants to call out to him, say that he feels a little like he’s dying and is really actually scared he might, even though this happens every time and he always ends up okay at the end of the week. A cramp kicks in and Peter’s leg jerks out, jostling the pillow by Tony’s head.

Tony shoots up like a firecracker. Ever the light sleeper—Peter, meanwhile, can and has slept through fire alarms.

“Kid? What’s wrong?” Tony asks worriedly when Peter only stares at him like a deer in headlights. Another wave of pain hits and Peter’s face screws up in a wince.

“My stomach hurts,” Peter admits lowly after a long moment of tense silence. The next thing he knows he’s being rushed downstairs, a blanket still tangled in his legs as Tony carries him like he’s a little kid. It would freak Peter out, suddenly being picked up and transported, if he didn’t know Tony’s been witness to him saying that a gunshot wound isn’t “that big a deal.” Peter rests his head against Tony’s shoulder and lets himself get ushered to the med bay.

“You’re freezing,” Tony mutters as he walks down the hallway and pushes through the final door to medical. The lights here are blinding and Peter hides his face with a groan. “Burning up with fever before you fell asleep and now you’re colder than Cap when he got broken out of that ice cube.”

“Spidersicle,” Peter murmurs with a grin. It’s a dumb joke that’s been made a hundred times, but Tony laughs at it anyway.

Over the next hour, Peter is poked and prodded so many times that he almost punches a nurse in the face. Well, not really, and Dr. Cho’s assistant is probably very nice, but if she doesn’t stop staring, Peter swears he’s going to. The room he’s in is bare too—bed, window, chair. Not even a TV, nothing to distract himself with besides his own thoughts.

“I would recommend birth control,” Dr. Cho says to Tony. “There’s nothing medically wrong with him; his menstrual cycle is simply far more intense. Unfortunately, it’s just like that for some people.”

Tony glances over at Peter, who buries his head in his hands and wishes the ground would swallow him up right now. “It’s up to you, kid.”

“And the birth control—” Peter tries not to look repulsed but he’s not sure he succeeds by the way Tony cuckles “—would help?”

“It would regulate your menstrual cycle and reduce the blood flow and pain, yes,” Dr. Cho says.

“Then…yeah. I guess. Better than this, right?” Peter replies, gesturing to himself laid up in the hospital-esque bed.

Dr. Cho smiles at him reassuringly before she walks out of the room. Tony sits on the edge of Peter’s bed, reaching out to squeeze his hand.

“God, I love that woman. Would probably not be doing so hot without her.”

“Yeah, Dr. Cho’s pretty great,” Peter responds. He slumps back against his pillows with a groan. “This sucks. I hate hospitals.”

“Yeah, me too, kid. Not too many great memories here,” Tony says with a sigh. “But you’re getting help, and that’s always a positive.”

“Something like that,” Peter responds with a weak smile. “But I’m also really bored—I mean, there’s not even a TV in here! Most hospitals have that, so patients who are just lying around—like me—can have something to do.”

Tony chuckles at that and Peter continues on. “I’m hungry, too. Can I have something to eat? My stomach’s still queasy, so maybe like soup? Man, I could go for some soup right now.”

“Yes, you can get soup,” Tony responds, shaking his head. “An hour ago I thought you were dying and now you’re back to talking a mile a minute.”

“Yeah, well, I’m pretty resilient, I guess,” Peter says with a grin. “I always bounce back. Maybe that should be my thing, instead of ‘friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.’”

“Let’s cool it with the superhero talk. Right now, kid, you’re just Peter. No world saving, no ‘helping the little guys,’ okay? You are the little guy, and the little guy needs to rest.”

“...I really want that soup, Mr. Stark.”

Another laugh and shake of his head and Mr. Stark places an order to someone within the building to bring soup to infirmary room 13A.

“There. Your soup’s on the way. Happy now?”

“Yeah,” Peter says, voice rawer with emotion than he anticipated. “I’m happy now.”

#peter parker #tony stark #iron dad and spider son #iron man #ironman #spider-man #spider man #spiderman #irondad and spiderson #writing #writers on tumblr #fanfic #fanfiction #feveruary #feveruary 2025 #trans peter parker #ftm peter parker #➜﹐indelible﹒📘﹒✮

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bellafragolina · 1 year ago

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May I request insecurities for submas and warden Ingo? What are they insecure about, and how/when do they tell their partner? How do they respond to comfort once they do?

You got it for sure for sure I love my boys

Also, for context, submas in my headcanons have big noses cause I find that very handsome

🍓🍓🍓

Ingo:

Ingo has his fair share of insecurities regarding who he is as a person as well as how he looks. He’s too loud, he’s strange, he has a big nose, he’s bossy, he’s overly attached but also standoffish, he doesn’t smile. It’s easy to list such things, not that he ever really brings them up unless you either ask or something happens related to one of his insecurities and he feels the need to explain.

Ingo doesn’t really seek out comfort in regard to his insecurities. He’s very much an Older Sibling in the sense where he feels he has to be strong, never faltering, never showing weakness. He also tries to be a strong partner, so him talking about what makes him upset takes some time to whittle out of him.

He only doesn’t hesitate when you admit your own insecurities to him. Ingo doesn’t want you to feel alone, so he sympathizes by admitting some things he worries about too, thus you two can comfort one another together. Brains are strange and can be so mean sometimes, but they don’t know everything. Ingo knows everything about you, though, and he loves every part

When you turn it around on him, cradling his face and swooning over how handsome and amazing he is, Ingo finds it hard to deny you. He blushes and sputters some refutes, but you easily disproven them with kisses to his big nose and ever present frown, with compliments over how reliable and kind he is to his loved ones. Doubts linger, and they never fully go away, but you make Ingo feel good about himself and his idiosyncrasies, and that’s enough

Emmet:

Emmet is a lockbox, never letting slip the things he doesn’t like about himself. He refuses to talk about them because he refuses to really think about them. He ignores his insecurities most of the time, and you only ever get a hint that they’re there when he wrinkles his nose at himself in the mirror or falls silent when someone comments on his strange way of speaking

Emmet is hard to coax into talking about what bothers him. He thinks it doesn’t really matter, cause he likes himself and you and Ingo like him, so there’s no problem. Or there should be no problem. He gets frustrated for still being insecure when he knows he shouldn’t be, but sadly you can’t always just whim away these things. So Emmet ignores them instead.

Where Ingo is Older Sibling, Emmet is Younger Sibling in the sense that he keeps his issues to himself to not overburden Ingo, who already has so many responsibilities as the eldest. They’re twins, but they have their dynamics, and Emmet knows this, so he brushes off any concerns and tries to focus on being happy. And it works somewhat, until the bottle finally shatters from the pressure

When Emmet shatters, he falls into you as a pit of despair. He hates himself, he shouldn’t, he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t, but why does he have to talk this way and walk that way and look like this? Why is he off putting and why do people assume he’s so mean? You cradle his broken pieces, soft comforts and exclamations of love a glue to help him go back together again. He’s nothing short of perfect in your eyes, because Emmet is Emmet, and you love him. And Emmet learns to love that too.

Warden Ingo:

Surprisingly, Warden Ingo is more open to talking about his insecurities than Subway Boss Ingo. Maybe it’s because of his amnesia, or maybe it’s because he’s so lonely that he’s desperate to talk about anything to keep your company that much longer, or maybe it’s a mix of both. But Ingo brings up his worries about himself to you at seemingly random times, confiding in you to hopefully find either comfort or a way to fix whatever it is he doesn’t like (you never fix him, there’s nothing to fix)

Ingo admits to you concerns about his appearance, his big nose and sour expression. He worries about people fearing him, he worries about hurting people because he is naturally too loud. He’s also an outsider, and it makes him very insecure when he can’t act the “correct” way. You also being an outsider makes it easier to feel okay about his weirdness.

When things grow romantic, Ingo starts admitting more worries, concerning his age, if he’s a good partner to have, if you don’t deserve someone better. Luckily it’s easy to drown out these worries with plenty of kisses and loving affection. It’s hard to talk when your head is red as can be, after all.

Now if only he could understand why he feels so uncomfortable by himself, like he should be with someone else, guiding and protecting them. . .

🍓🍓🍓

I hope these are believable! They’re what I think the boys worry about concerning themselves. If only I could kiss those big noses <3

Have a good day!

~Renee

#pokemon imagines #pokemon x reader #submas x reader #ingo x reader #emmet x reader #warden ingo x reader

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kamisama1kiss · 1 year ago

Note

First off LOVE THE PAGE AND THE WRITING and as a fellow reader I’d like to request maybe possibly a Lloyd Dating headcanons? Pretty pleasssssssssse with a cherry on top 🫶🏻🥺

AHHH Thank youuu!! 😭😭 this is so cuteee. I am giggling to myself writing these headcanons!! Suprised, I hadn't thought of this yet!! Might even have gotten a bit overboard with writing for him🤭🤭

(!Gender neutral!)

~~~

Lloyd Garmadon Headcanons { Dating The Green Ninja }

- As in start, he would make sure NO ONE knew you were together when he was the green ninja since he was scared for you to get hurt in any way (expect the other ninjas)

- But when outside of being the green Ninja and in public, he didn't mind having small affection of PDA as in hand holding, cheek kisses, and ect

- It was definitely a rookie start with his past feelings going horribly, which meant he would need a handful of reassurance, understanding, and patient

- His favourite pass time is reading comics with you in his arms, reading with him. Leaning your head on his shoulder would definitely make him a bit shy no matter how many times you've done it

- Couple goals since day one!

- Everybody knew about his crush for you before he even knew it himself. He had refused for a little while, Kai eventually pushed him enough to ask you out

- He is 100% a communication kind of guy, even with the smallest subjects. All he wants to make sure of is that fact that you and him can rest easy without worrying about anything.

- The kind of guy who would admire you when doing absolutely anything, as simple as reading, his gaze filled with nothing but admiration for you

- If you cought him looking, the tips of his ears would turn bright pink. Looking away and acting as if he didn't just admire you for like 20 minutes

- Expect in private back hugs, surprise kisses, long comforting hugs, and cuddles for days, but you'd only achieve this after a few months since in the start he was scared to even hold your hand

- Checks up on you to make sure you eat and take care of yourself, but make sure to do the same. This poor guy forgets himself all the time, and the burden of being the green ninja weights on his shoulders

- Date nights wouldn't be regularly since his duty, but he always tried his best to at least do it on your anniversary every month. If not that day, then the day before or after

- Knowing if you were upset, broke his heart completely, would do anything in his power to make you smile and feel better.. maybe even a small snack that he knows you enjoy.

- Stargazing is a must!! It's a way to rewind and hangout, the world is finally quiet. He feels as if he can breathe and just enjoy his time with you, no worries in the back of his mind when holding you under the stary nights

- Would get teased by the others the both of you all the time, but nonetheless, they were happy he found someone who wasn't a evil person in disguise

- You'd join their family nights at one point. He'd silently be thankful over the fact you all get along and took you over many more get togethers

- At some point, being introduced to Misako was nervracking for the both of you. It went very well since she was very open and talked to you the whole time, over all after you left, she told him to bring you over for dinner next week.

- You'd bandage him up after fighting the bad guy this time around. He knew you were reliable if he ever did need help, but he felt guilty every time after you did help.

"You don't have to help me every time if you dont want to.. you do know that?"

"I want to help you, I care about you."

"..I appreciate it. Thank you, love.."

- Golden retriever boyfriend!!

- Playing with his hair is a must, it's very soft and well taken care of since he dose not use those 3 in 1 kind of bottles.

- His favourite kinds of dates would be being alone with you, most likely taking you away from everything and everyone. Picnic dates are 100% the onse you go on the most.

-Finding it easier to sleep with you in his arms at night, having not experienced it before he felt pride but also a sort of comfort to know you'd be there when he wakes up.

-Meeting Garmadon would be just a tiny bit different. Dont get me wrong he is happy for Lloyd but he's definitely a bit more difficult to get liked by, just know he'd eventually grow a soft spot for you (This is when he isn't like killingly evil, yk)

- Overall being with Lloyd as in Dating will be a adventuris and a exciting experience! The most green flag in a man you could ever meet

#headcanons #lego ninjago #ninjago #lloyd garmadon x reader #ninjago lloyd garmadon #lloyd garmadon #lloyd Garmadon Headcanons #lego ninjago headcanon #ninjago headcanons #lloyd x reader #lloyd Garmadon dating headcanons

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scribbbbbles · 4 months ago

Text

How Brooklyn Was Brought To Her Knees - Chapter Seven: The Needle

HI CHAT so sorry I forgot I deleted a chapter... SO HERE'S A NEW ONE PLS DON'T BE MAD school is starting up again so offer me some grace these next two or so weeks as I go through tests :(

word count: 4.1k

THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS A CAR CRASH, DRUG USE, WITHDRAWALS, AND CONTENT RELATED TO ADDICTION. IF THIS IS A NO FOR YOU PLEASE BACK OUT NOW.

PLEASE CHECK THE SERIES MASTERLIST FOR ALL OTHER WARNINGS!!

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Remember how in school you had to sign a D.A.R.E. form? Some oath about respecting your body and other bullshit, after they showed you pictures of blackened lungs and scarily thin meth-heads with missing teeth. I remember coming home after scribbling my name on that piece of paper with my favorite green crayon, and sobbing onto my dad. It was an unspoken thing in my house, his problems. How he put whiskey in his coffee in the morning, and came back from the bathroom with a white dust on the tip of his nose. I wasn’t young enough to not notice, and he was often too high to care. I remember looking up at him and begging in that way only naive, scared kids can. Begging him not to die, not to lose his teeth and his smile and his life; begging him not to leave me alone. I remember how years later he told me that night he threw away the probably hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of substances he had. Every bag of coke, every bottle of dark liquor, every needle of mystery liquid– all of it. He didn’t think twice. I remembered him being really sick, but just believing it was the flu. I remember we watched movies, and he’d smiled.

I wonder why I ever made him stop.

The numbness was intoxicating. A flow so easy it felt unreal. Colors were brighter, everything was funny, and there was no recollection of that damn basement; that fucking chair. So when I woke up and lost hours, days, weeks of time– it was almost comforting in a sick, twisted way. It was familiar, the feel of the needle.

It helped being a Stark; when you had millions you had an unlimited supply. It also helped that people liked when you picked them up in a vintage corvette and let them rip a line off the dash. My weeks quickly consisted of days filled with going to a meeting or two with Dad because I refused to be not included, get high, pick up a few hot people from the club, come home at some point, have a panic attack, maybe puke, and do it all over again. The weight I’d been so proud to put on slowly fell off again, and I started to fumble in training sessions with Nat. She’s cornered me more than a few times about it, but I just bring up the nightmares and she goes real quiet. I don’t mean to be mean to her, I love her. But she doesn’t get this is the only way I can get up in the morning.

God, Dad would be so mad if he knew.

I’ve seen Bucky, Steve, and Sam a few times since then. I managed to keep up appearances long enough to get through those meetings only thrice before I started cancelling them. Bucky’s big, sad blue eyes boring into the side of my face was not helpful, neither was Steve’s kicked puppy look. At least Sam was trying to be normal, but he wasn’t slick with his VA therapy tricks either. I can’t do it. Being around Bucky and his entourage is hard enough sober, let alone itching for a ski trip.

Natasha and I had talked about it, the weird relationship Bucky and I have. And as usual, she was right.

“You’re not in grade school anymore,” she’d said as she went through my closet. “It’s actually probably been longer that you haven’t seen him than you’ve been around him.” I made a noise of uncomfortable agreement.

“I mean I guess you’re right,” I muttered.

“Oh you’re still allowed to be upset,” she’d laughed. “As a neutral party, Barnes is a piece of fucking work now, I can’t imagine the terror he caused as a seven year old.” I laughed at that, the vivid memories of him putting gum in my hair and yanking on my ponytails in hall lines rushing back. It quickly turned to him shoving me off the playground and me breaking my arm, and I turned my brain off.

“As your friend,” she’d continued, holding a silk blue slip dress up to my front and nodding, “you’re entitled to how you feel. But you’ve both clearly been through some shit, and he’s at least trying to reform.” She’d shrugged before turning back to the closet to dig through for shoes. “You’re both adults. It doesn’t erase what happened, but I think 20 year old James is a different beast to the toddler,” she’d winked. “Plus he’s like, really hot now and looks at you like you hung the moon.” I choked on the breath I was trying to take as she said that.

“He does not.” She’d shrugged again, throwing a pair of heels in my direction with scary accuracy to my face. I’d swerved and heard them thud behind me.

“You can be blind to it if you want,” she’d sung in a joking voice, poking a fingertip lightly on my cheek.

“Okay fine, I can manage at least being nice to him,” I laughed. “Thank God I actually enjoy Steve though, he’s great.” Nat had let a sad smile pull at her lips.

“I know,” she’d said softly.

We didn’t address the way she said it almost mournfully. Or the way my neck got hot at the mere thought of Bucky.

And then we went out for the night. And I forgot most of that conversation by the following morning.

This morning? I was fucked. So, royally fucked. I crashed the cherry red corvette in the middle of Brooklyn at nine in the morning. I couldn’t see straight, but all I wanted was the wind in my hair and the weight off my shoulders after another horrible night. I think I broke a few bones, but I didn’t even care as I sobbed so hard I choked. I didn’t know if it was from the snot or the smoke billowing out of the crumpled front of the car. There was glass in my hair. The bottle of Jameson sat spilled on my jeans. All I thought was how mad Dad was going to be. How Pepper was right. I’m a fucking mess. It’s like someone went and bought a puzzle, and they cut all the little connecting pieces off with some scissors. There’s no way to put it back together.

My morning was made exponentially worse when Steve Rogers appeared in front of me.

“Holy shit Y/N!” I blearily looked up at him and blinked, like, a lot.

“Hi Stevie,” I giggled, the name being severely funny for no reason at all. He sighed and ran a hand through his swept back blond hair.

“C’mon, get out of the damn car before it catches on fire,” he said, as he reached out to help me unbuckle my seatbelt when he realized I couldn’t do it. My hands were shaking and I didn’t know if it was from the crash or the nice mix of something my dealer had slipped me. I could not stop laughing, or crying, I probably looked insane. I vaguely recognized camera flashes. There was a steady crowd of people gathering around and I kind of heard what sounded like Sam Wilson go ‘oh fuck’ before yelling at the crowd drawing.

“Torres! Help Sam!” Steve yelled to the young, very attractive, hispanic man who rushed out after Sam.

“He’s cute,” I slurred as Steve fireman carried me out of the car. He squeezed me roughly.

“Not the time.”

“Ohhhh someone’s angry,” I poked his cheek with my finger and saw the blood dripping down my arm. The small sober part of the back of my brain recognized that this would hurt like a bitch when it all wore off. I stared at the blood spot I left on Steve’s perfectly smooth cheek. He ran his eyes over my figure as he turned me away from the crowd that Sam and the hottie were barely holding at bay.

I heard him before I saw him.

“Move!” shouted with an icy authority that caused an almost silence to fall over the crowd of onlookers.

“Where is she?! Where?!” There was a panicked edge to his normally low timbre that shot it up a pitch or two as he roared out the questions. When he appeared in my line of sight he looked… like a wreck. His hair was windswept and blowing in his face as he whipped his head around in a search. His shoulders were held high and almost pinched towards his ears, his whole body pulled that way. His hands were itching to grab something. His tie was fully askew and his shirt was rumpled underneath his equally screwed up suit jacket. He was out of breath, a wild-crazed look fallen over his features. His eyes were so incredibly blue.

He was terribly beautiful.

He ran full speed at Steve, who rolled me into his chest to avoid Bucky’s accidentally violent onslaught of force. I let out an ‘oof’ at the collision and giggled.

“Thank God thank God thank God,” he breathed out over and over as he ran his hands over my arms from where I sat against Steve’s chest. My head was suddenly really heavy to hold up. I laughed again as I let it fall back against the crook of Steve’s elbow. Bucky looked at me like I had gone crazy, then sent the same look to Steve.

“Hiya Buck.”

“I think it’s the shock,” Steve muttered to Bucky as I laughed again. I felt like a million dollars, and Bucky’s cologne made him smell like a great idea.

“Give ‘er here,” Bucky muttered in return, holding out his arms. Steve gave him a look but placed me against his chest anyway.

“Yay!” I exclaimed as I looped my arms around Bucky’s neck. He went absolutely rigid.

“Hiya you,” I murmured into his neck with a smile. I felt his skin against my lips and the taste was more addicting than the percs stashed in the glovebox of the corvette. He was warm and solid and sweet and all I wanted in that moment.

That was the dead giveaway that I was high off my ass.

“Check the car for anything,” Bucky told Steve. I felt his throat vibrate as he spoke and shuddered. “If there is, take it out. Let me know what it is. Call Tony, do not tell him that she’s on something.” Steve nodded, like a good little soldier, and began rifling through the car. I sat up in Bucky’s arms and moved to stand up.

“No no no no no you don’t have to do that–” I slurred out before Bucky pinned me back to his chest.

“We’re gonna take a walk, sweetheart,” he spoke into my ear. His breath smelled like a curl of cigarette smoke. I just started crying again. It all smacked me at once as we walked to a black SUV, and I was placed in the back. I crashed a fucking car in public and had Bucky Barnes as my white knight. Again.

“I’m sorry, God fuck I’m so sorry,” I repeated as I cried into my hands. Bucky was silent as he reached around and grabbed the seat belt to buckle me into the back of the car. He gently moved my hands to make sure it fit right and leaned back slowly when he heard it click.

“I know,” he murmured into my hair. I felt his lips press to my temple. “I know, sweetheart.”

We drove to a brownstone neighborhood deeper into Brooklyn. I stood on wobbly knees as Bucky led me into the house, a hand pressing firmly on my lower back.

“Gotta get you cleaned up doll,” he tells me as he sits me down at a chair in the kitchen. The house is… nice. Like, really nice. Not in the sleek rich person way my house looks– it’s lived in. There are pictures of Bucky and his friends and family on the wall. There’s exposed brick and a fireplace. There’s a record player sat in the corner of the living room surrounded by a wall of vinyls. It’s lots of reds, browns, and blacks, and it’s kind of an industrial style; but it suits him. A vanilla candle’s lit somewhere. It’s warm. Bucky came back from wherever he went with a first aid kit and some towels.

“You like it?” He asked with a small nervous grin as he turned the sink on and began wetting the towels. I whipped my head back to him and quickly looked at the floor.

“It suits you,” I muttered. The whole house reeked of him, and my head was starting to hurt. How much sandalwood and tobacco does one man own? He pulled another chair from his kitchen table and sat in front of me, setting the equipment down.

“I gotta get this glass outta here, so you gotta stay real still for me alright doll?” I just nodded and kept my eyes to the floor. Bucky and I sat in complete silence, the sounds of my quiet sniffles and our breathing echoing throughout the kitchen.

“You’re the only person who’s been here, by the way,” Bucky said, randomly breaking the silence. “I mean, aside from like, Steve, Sam, Tasha and Becca.” I raised an eyebrow.

“You call Nat, Tasha?” My voice is hoarser than I realized. He nodded.

“I dunno why, just always have.” I made a little ‘hmm’ noise at that. I guess I never really thought about their relationship much. But he clearly loves her, he’s got that same relaxed smile that he gets when he talks to Steve. My hands were shaking pretty bad.

“You crashed a car sweetheart,” Bucky murmured, tone somehow aghast and serious at the same time. Almost like he was in as much disbelief about my fuck up as I was.

“Yeah, I guess I did.” I winced as he rubbed the towel over the side of my face, cleaning the blood off.

“I’m sorry, I can’t give you anything for the pain because I don’t know what you took.” He’d said it so matter-of-factly. Like it wasn’t weird or concerning that I was so high.

“You knew?” He chuckled sadly.

“Doll, that was the happiest you’ve ever looked to see me in your life. If you weren’t on anything I’d be concerned about a head injury.” I felt a hot, fat tear roll down my cheek. Bucky brushed it away with his flesh thumb. I let out a watery chuckle.

“I don’t want to hate you, y’know,” I mutter after a beat of silence. Bucky stilled from where he was pasting a butterfly bandage over a decent cut on my forehead. “I just don’t know anything else,” I continued. “Our relationship has always been so cut and dry, you hate me and I hate you.” I laughed half-heartedly. “It was one of the easiest because of that.”

Bucky just continued his work, wiping blood off of me and bandaging whatever he could. He didn’t say a word, just the heavy weight and warmth of his hand roaming my body, his cold metallic one remained pressed on my cheek where I’m assuming a nasty bruise was forming.

“But I haven’t seen you in years. Literal years. Over a decade,” I rambled on. It was definitely the come down of the shock and drugs combined; it was embarrassing but I couldn’t stop. The dam was open. “It’s not fair of me to compare a grown man to a grade school kid. You deserve a fair shot, and I’m starting to feel like a raging bitch for being this rude to you when you’ve come to bat for me literally since we’ve been reintroduced.” He smiled softly at that.

“You’re always a raging bitch, but I’m pretty sure that’s just the Stark genome,” he poked back. I laughed softly and lightly smacked his shoulder. For a second it was just us, in the midday light of Bucky’s kitchen. His hand on my cheek, a smile on his lips, and the warmth of the sun.

“I owe you an apology and a thank you,” I started. Bucky shook his head.

“Clean slate, remember?” I just looked at him. He smiled. “We’ll start it after today. Clean slate. I think I’ve been nice enough to earn my penance.” I smiled at that.

“Yeah, I guess you have.” It fell silent again, as he checked my arms and legs for any damages. He says that he thinks I sprained an ankle and bruised some ribs but nothing serious. I just nod, because frankly it’s starting to hurt like a son of a bitch and I think he’s full of shit. He goes to clean up the bloodied towels and the med kit, and I sit there and look at the tiles of his backsplash. I don’t have my phone, it was in the car. I don’t have my pills, those were in the car. I start biting my nails, it’s a nasty habit but I can’t seem to shake it. Bucky comes back, I hear him muttering on the phone for a second before he walks in and sits back across from me.

“Y’wanna talk about it?” he asks. His accent is thick when he speaks this softly, I notice. I look him in the eyes. His brows are pinched in concern and I can see the waters of the blue churning with worry. I figured if anyone would get it, it’s him. And hey, clean slate right? I never noticed the freckle by his right eye.

“I just wanted it to stop,” I murmured defeatedly. “It’s so loud, it's so much. I can’t sleep, Bucky. I haven’t slept through the night since I was 14.” I swallowed. “I can’t remember anything anyway, so it’s almost comforting, in a weird sick way. I miss feeling nothing. It’s a lot and it hurts.” I clamp my mouth shut before I can say anymore and just cover my face with my hands. My shoulders are shaking with the effort it takes me not to bawl.

I miss the absolute devastation and heartbreak on Bucky’s face. I miss how it crumbles and how he bites the inside of his cheek to keep it together.

I just feel him pull my chair to him and wrap his arms around me. Our knees are slotted, mine, his, mine, his. His chin rests on my head and he makes soft cooing and shushing sounds. He doesn’t tell me it’s okay. He doesn’t say anything for a long while.

“I know,” he mutters; just once.

And I believe him.

Steve found my stash in the car. He wouldn’t tell me what he did with it but I figured he just sold it or gave it to Sam to throw in the harbor. I wasn’t even going to try asking for it back. He didn’t tell Dad how much I had, just that I was on something.

That didn’t matter because FRIDAY would rat me out, but I appreciated the sentiment nonetheless.

For now, for this simple suspended moment in time where I was so high I couldn’t see, I forgave Bucky. And I enjoyed it.

I let myself like how he grabbed a brush his sister had left and detangled my hair. I complimented his surprisingly good braid and enjoyed that it left him red all the way to the tips of his ears. I accepted his offer to change, and I wore his sweatshirt and his sister’s leggings. I admitted I really liked his cologne, but only to myself. I let him talk– about business, about maybe getting a cat, about his dislike of the color of the wall but having no idea what to paint it. I let myself be held, my cheek pressing to his chest where I could feel him speak as much as hear it. I let myself smile at the soft tone of his voice, I let myself like him.

Maybe Natasha was right.

But I still wanted to kill him when he brought me outside.

I always forget that Dad is genuinely feared. He’s just my dad, with his shitty jokes, big smiles, and a weird obsession with Fast And Furious. This was Anthony Stark, the Head of Manhattan.

And he was livid.

His face was pinched tight and his eyebrows were drawn. He stood rigidly straight, shoulders held back and eyes boring into mine. They held no warmth. His mouth was downturned in a deep frown. I felt myself curl back. He was fucking terrifying.

Bucky’s hand never left my back.

“Y/N Marie get in the fucking car.” His voice was a deadly crawl. I could almost see it float up the stairs to me. I swallowed.

“Yes sir.” I started down the stairs, Bucky’s presence following as I walked to the car.

“Don’t help her Barnes,” Dad bit out when he noticed. Bucky didn’t listen. He whispered in my ear as we reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Let me know when you’re home, okay sweetheart?” I nodded.

“Now, Y/N.” I tripped while getting in the car and my whole body got hot. I couldn’t feel my face but I heard Dad’s deep, pissed off sigh and knew the waterworks had started. I had always been an angry crier, it took a lot to make me cry when I was sad. It was always frustration or anger. Not a great trait to have in the mob world, it’s hard to be intimidating when you’re blubbering like a toddler who didn’t get what they want from the grocery store. Bucky must’ve gone to say something about it, or reach for me, or something– I wasn’t looking at him. The leather seat of the SUV was suddenly very interesting.

“Barnes,” Dad’s tone had left no room for argument. “I have zero pity for the fool and so should you. Back away from the fucking car.”

Bucky’s presence slowly drifted off my back. He didn’t acknowledge my dad, just slowly walked back to the stairs of his house, his shoes softly thudding on the concrete. I felt his eyes boring into the back of my head, to the braid he’d just thrown my hair in less than an hour ago. I fought the urge to undo it.

I sat in the car, my hands in my lap and my eyes looking nowhere but them. I heard and felt the door slam, and my very bones jumped. Dad didn’t get in the same car as me. I felt like their prisoner again, waiting to be dragged from place to place. I tried to breathe and the air just felt absent. My hands were wet from the tears that puddled under my chin and dripped off my nose. I gasped and gasped. The driver never turned around, rightfully so. Dad was kind to his workers, they were our family– when they obeyed. I don’t blame him for ignoring me. The car was too small, I didn’t dare open the window. My hands were white from the force at which I kept them interlaced.

We parked in the garage of the Tower. The driver, who I recognized as fucking Happy when finally looking at his face, opened the door. He couldn’t look at me. Fucking traitorous asshole. I stumbled out of the car, head down and shoulders hunched. I heard Pepper’s shrill voice from the elevator doors.

“Tony, I told you this would happen. What did I say to you? She’s not who you think she is. She’s fucked up, and a goddamn grown adult. She can be on her own–”

She never finished her sentence.

I smacked the fuck out of her.

I grinned at the sting on my hand as I full-palmed her face. My rings left a few nice cuts on her cheek. I relished her gasp and how she flew back and curled into a ball. I stood straighter.

“Stairs,” Dad said, monotone and low. He didn’t look at me from where he inspected Pepper’s face. I watched as they entered the elevator and let the doors close.

I grinned the whole time I climbed the 50 flights to my floor.

I was crawling by the end, but no one could say I was a quitter. The pain of my injuries was setting in, which meant everything was wearing off. My body wracked in shakes and I had to stop to puke once or twice. And how was I rewarded?

I was locked on my floor.

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sosa2imagines · 2 years ago

Text

I know where I belong. Part 3

Warning- Angst and Fluff.

Two weeks.

Two weeks after everything fell apart, you got the news, the happy, selfish couple had made it official. Steve and Sharon were together. The thought alone made your stomach turn. You still struggled to understand what had gone wrong in your relationship with Steve, but Bucky refused to let you drown in those thoughts. He stayed with you every single moment, refusing to leave you alone, even for a second.

When you cried yourself to sleep, he was there, lying beside you, his arms securely wrapped around you. When you woke up gasping in the middle of the night, he was there, whispering soothing words, grounding you.

At first, you considered numbing the pain with alcohol, but Tony being Tony, had already hidden every single bottle in the compound. And even if you did manage to find one, Bucky’s sharp glare was enough to make you put it down immediately.

So the team found other ways to distract you.

Tony sent you a list of movies to watch, though Pepper had to inspect it first to make sure he hadn’t slipped in anything inappropriate. Natasha and Wanda pampered you with ice cream and face masks, telling you that heartbreak was no excuse to let your skin suffer. Sam spoiled you with food, cracking jokes about Bucky whenever he got the chance.

And Bucky? Bucky simply stayed. He was your constant. He made sure you ate, slept, and got fresh air. He reminded you, in the simplest of ways, that you were not alone.

Two months passed. You weren’t healed, not completely, but you were doing better. Until Steve and Sharon walked back into your life.

The moment you saw them, hand in hand, acting as if they hadn't shattered you.

You felt your world crack all over again. You had hoped, foolishly, that you wouldn’t have to face them for another twenty years. But there they were, standing in the common room like they belonged, like they hadn’t left carnage in their wake.

Your vision blurred with unshed tears, and before anyone could see them fall, you turned and ran.

Bucky was right behind you.

He locked your door behind him, his strong arms wrapping around you as you buried your face in his chest.

"Talk to me, doll," he murmured against your hair.

"I thought I could face him… maybe in twenty years," you mumbled, making him chuckle.

"Sadly, he's here now."

"Why is he doing this to me, Buck?" Your voice cracked, raw with pain. "The moment I saw them, it all came back. The hurt, the betrayal… it feels like I'm right back at the beginning."

Bucky held you closer. "Shhh… you love him."

You stiffened slightly, looking up at him. He gulped before correcting himself, "You loved him."

You nodded.

"It won't be easy, but we work together. We have to deal with him. You have to face him."

You swallowed hard, nodding again. Then, with a small pout, you looked up at him.

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. "How about this? You take a nice, warm shower, and I’ll order us some pizza."

"Okay."

The hot water soothed your nerves. Bucky was right, you had to face Steve eventually, and you needed to be strong when you did. As you stepped out of the shower, you caught your reflection in the mirror. Your face wasn’t red and puffy anymore, your skin looked fresh, and for the first time in weeks, you didn’t feel like a ghost of yourself.

When you emerged from the bathroom, Bucky had already laid out fresh clothes for you. The simple gesture made your chest ache in the best way. You needed to take better care of yourself, not just for you, but for your friends… for Bucky?

Lost in thought, you barely noticed him knocking at the door, holding up the pizza box.

"Hey," he said softly.

"Hey, come in," you smiled.

He sat at the edge of the bed, and you curled up next to him, his arm automatically draping around you.

"I’m sorry," he whispered after a few minutes.

You shook your head. "It’s not your fault, Bucky. You’re right, I had to face him one day, and maybe waiting twenty years wasn’t exactly realistic."

You both laughed softly.

Bucky grinned. "Pizza?"

"Yes, please!"

After eating in comfortable silence, Bucky got up to leave, but you instinctively grabbed his wrist.

He looked at you, a silent question in his eyes.

"I'm just throwing the empty box out," he reassured you.

You nodded, a little embarrassed. You weren’t used to being so dependent on someone, but Bucky made it easy.

After everything, he still slept beside you most nights. The nightmares hadn't entirely gone away, and having him there made them more bearable. And if Bucky was honest, looking after you helped him too. In all the nights he'd spent by your side, he hadn't had a single nightmare himself.

Later, curled up together under the covers, you rested your head against his chest as he played with your hair.

"Tell me about your vacation," you murmured.

Bucky smiled and started talking—about the weather, the beautiful views, how, for once, people didn’t look at him like he was a monster.

"You see? I told you not to worry too much!" you beamed. "Did you get their numbers?"

Bucky turned red. He shook his head quickly, making you laugh, really laugh for the first time in months. The sound sent warmth rushing through his chest.

"I missed you, Buck. Not just because of what happened… I really missed you. Believe me, I can’t live without you. You’re important to me."

As soon as the words left your lips, you bit your tongue. Bucky, blushing furiously, let out a soft laugh. But he didn’t deny it.

Looking after you gave Bucky a new purpose.

At first, it was just friendship, he was your best friend, and friends looked after each other, right? But the longer he stayed by your side, the more something shifted.

Sam, being Sam, had to open his mouth one day and joke, "You and Y/n look lovely, Terminator."

Bucky scoffed at first, unaffected. But then why did his heart flutter every time you laughed? Why did his face heat up when you touched him? Why was he always thinking about you?

He tried blaming Sam, but that didn’t feel right. He tried blaming the Winter Soldier, maybe his brain was malfunctioning, but that didn’t work either.

Then, as he sat lost in his thoughts, FRIDAY's voice jolted him back to reality.

"Mr. Barnes, Miss L/N’s heart rate is irregular. She is experiencing difficulty breathing."

Bucky panicked.

He ran straight to you.

When he found you, you were curled up on the floor, hyperventilating, tears streaming down your face.

"Y/n," he breathed, kneeling in front of you. "Hey, listen to my voice." He gently cupped your face, forcing you to look at him. Taking one of your shaking hands, he placed it over his heart.

"Feel that?" he whispered. "Breathe with me. In…" He took a deep breath. "Out."

You tried to mimic him.

"That’s it, doll. Just like that. Keep going."

It took a few minutes, but eventually, your breathing steadied.

"What happened?" he asked gently.

You motioned toward Steve’s room.

Bucky froze. From inside, the unmistakable sound of moans and giggles filled the air.

His stomach turned in disgust.

Without hesitation, he scooped you up and carried you to his room. He laid you down on his bed and held you tightly, his grip firm but gentle, his presence grounding you.

That night, as he watched you finally drift off to sleep, Bucky realized something.

He had already made one silent vow to protect you, to heal you.

But now, as he lay awake, holding you close, he silently made another:

To love you.

Unbeknownst to either of you, Steve had seen Bucky carrying you to his room.

And his jaw ticked in anger.

Part 4 (Part 3 is here I hope you guys like it comments and feedback is appreciated love you all ❤️ and in the next part we'll see more of Bucky and Reader 😊)

#sebastian stan characters #chris evans characters #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #steve rogers angst #bucky barnes x reader fluff #steve rogers x reader angst

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strawberryblue-blog · 2 years ago

Text

Love hate part 3 —Pablo Gavi

warnings: none. alcohol drinking, enemy to lovers.

summary: continuation of part 1 and part 2.

words: +2.8k

#SEXYNOTE: part 4 is coming. thank u sm for the love.

After Ferran's birthday party, you and Gavi never spoke again. Although everything between you had become very tense.

Directly you never approached him or talked about what happened but indirectly you said so many things to each other. Every time you looked at him, his eyes are already on you. When you said something in the group, Gavi would smile trying to intimidate you. Even several times he had passed close to you brushing his body with yours. He was provoking you but he had said it himself 'you didn't mean anything'.

Luckily the days passed and your head forgot what had happened but the taste of his kisses were still impregnated on your skin. And that made you angry. You couldn't believe that you had let Pablo Gavi touch you and make you feel things like that.

But you weren't going to let him off that easy.

You had received a message from Ferran saying they were going to get together at Pedri's house and you didn't refuse knowing it was a chance to see Gavi again.

"Are you ready?" your friend asked as you walked towards her. You nodded taking your things to leave the house.

When you arrived at Pedri's house, his brother Fer opened the door with his smile. You could see the owner of the house with a girl you didn't know, Ferran with Joao, the new guy in the group, and your other friend flirting with Fermin. On the other side of the living room you saw Pablo Gavi sitting alone on the sofa. He watched you arrive and greet everyone but him running away when he waited for you to go to the kitchen to help Fer with what he was doing.

You ordered some pizzas while enjoying a few beers chatting about your lives. You met the new girl in the group, Isa, Pedri's friend, yes "friend" but everyone there knew you weren't exactly friends.

Like you and Pablo. You weren't friends. You weren't exactly nothing.

"Let's play a game" your friend said when they finished dinner.

"I never ever" agreed Isa.

"We're not fifteen anymore" you laughed in denial.

"Are you scared?" the question sounded loud or clear. It was the first time in the night Gavi spoke to you meeting your gaze.

The same smile from that time, reappeared on his face and your body trembled. Your memories of that day came back to your head, his lips on yours, his hands on your skin, the touch of his body on yours.

You didn't say anything. You just smiled a little towards your friend and she herself got up with Fer to get everything she needed. They came back within minutes with vodka and you were thankful it was something strong to soon be as drunk as possible.

"We turn the bottle and to whom it points ask. If you have drink, if you don't then no drink" explained your friend enthusiastically. Everyone nodded.

The first twist came pointing to Fermin.

"I've never ever drunk myself to unconscious" he asked. Everyone laughed and took a swig of alcohol.

The bottle spun again. Ferran was the one pointed out.

"I never ever thought that anyone here is pretty" again the majority drank, even you. And you could see several curious glances between you.

Now it was your friend's turn to ask.

"I never ever felt anything for anyone here" she said.

Everyone drank, except Joao, Fer, Pablo and you. Pablo raised his eyebrow when he saw you.

You were even surprised that Ferran and your friend had a drink while looking at each other in complicity.

You settled in your place feeling Gavi's gaze on you he had been looking at you for a long time, you could feel his eyes burning your skin. But you weren't going to look up to look at him. Even though you wanted to, you weren't going to.

"Pablo!" your friend shrieked. The young man was still challenging you with his gaze as the bottle spun pointing at him.

You lifted your head slightly and when his eyes met, your heart pounded. His eyes were still on you, dissimulating so as not to be discovered.

"I never ever kissed and touched someone here" the question caused silence among everyone present.

You swallowed saliva without knowing what to do.

"Don't lie guys" clarified Ferran when no one drank.

The first to drink was Pedri, followed by Isa, which caused a round of whistles and jokes. But then Gavi drank and then silence was present again. He looked for you with his eyes and the glass of vodka in your hand trembled.

"You won't drink, T/n?" he asked defiantly. It took your breath away. Fuck.

"Looks like you were going to" he finished as several glances went to him, disguising interest.

"Nope" you said. "I never have" you lied. Your friends nodded and you felt a little bad about never telling them what had happened.

"So who did Pablo drink to?" asked Fer curiously. You all laughed.

"Surely it was Pedri" joked Fermin. Pablo's jaw tensed, laughing a little at the joke, but it all remained very awkward between you, looking at each other funny trying to decipher who it was.

You were thankful that your history with Pablo wasn't going to give you away. You had never even looked at each other before, even though you had friends in common you were just friends of friends and nothing more. Your dislike and hatred was quite evident and you knew that no one suspected, since you were incomparable.

The drinks continued and with it the laughter and jokes. Some were already quite drunk, while others wanted to continue playing. But you, on the other hand, had to go urgently to the bathroom.

You walked away from the group without attracting attention, you knew the house and you knew where the bathroom was. You did your business and when you finished, you opened the door to return.

In front of you, a figure appeared.

In one swift movement he took the door, pushing you a little way back inside the bathroom, to close the door behind you again.

"Look who we have here" he muttered mockingly. Your skin bristled at Gavi's closeness.

You stepped back, trying to get away from him but Pablo kept coming closer to you.

"A little pretty liar" he spat with some suspicion. You bumped into the shower wall, swallowing spittle as he reached you.

You were between a rock and a hard place. Pablo Gavi was in front of you, eating you with his eyes, his smile ready and then you knew you weren't going to get out of there alive.

Oh lord, save me.

#football imagines #football one shot #imagine #pablo gavi #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi x you #gavi x reader #gavi #fc barcelona #barca

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nomoreusername · 1 year ago

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Pretty Things (Part 5)

Paring:Aris x female reader

Summary:As Aris finally finds you alone in the Safe Haven, he finally makes you talk about the night that started it all.

Sitting by a tree, Y/N tuned out the world. Pulling her knees to her chest, she leaned back and closed her eyes as her mind filled with him. With the night that has hurt like hell. All because of a drink. If it hadn't happened she would have bottled her feelings up.

It didn't go down like that. He knew, and there was nothing she could do to take it back. There was nothing he could do to take back what he did either. Because while she was kissing him, while she was trying to show that she had fallen in love, he had imagined Rachel. That's not exactly an easy thing to come back from.

He was here now, and as grateful as she was, suddenly she wanted to leave things alone. She didn't want to hear him say it. She didn't want him to apologize before justifying that he couldn't help but love Rachel. She didn't want him to reason that they were under the influence and their minds hadn't seemed to be theirs.

Because her heart was still in control. It wanted him. It always did.

"Have you seen Y/N?"Aris asked. Thomas just gave him a useless shrug. Holding back an irritated sigh, he headed towards the next person he saw.

"She's by the tree near the ocean,"Brenda said before he could get a word out. "Avoiding you,"She added. Of course. Did she think that he was an idiot? He was well aware that he had hurt her. He knew that what he had done, intentionally or not, left a mark that nobody could see. He knew that you're not supposed to call someone another person's name when you're kissing them like it was all you were capable of doing. Even if he never meant to, he knew what he did. So he was absolutely aware that Y/N wanted nothing to do with him right now.

"Thanks,"He said instead, walking towards that direction. He hoped that she was alone. He hoped that she wouldn't walk off. He hoped that she would listen and look him in the eyes. Most of all, he hoped that she would believe him.

Taking a breath, each step made his heart a little heavier. By the time he was near her it was going to sink into his chest.

Standing there, he watched as she picked at some grass. She looked so out of place here. Well not really. It was her frown that didn't belong. He just wanted to see her smile or even just wear a deadpan expression.

Instead, her sadness was obvious to the world.

"Y/N?"He dared to ask, stepping closer.

"What do you need?"She sighed, not facing him. He just sat a few feet away from her and took in her features. Her Y/E/C eyes, messy Y/H/C hair, and Y/S/C skin. He looked at the way her lips had gone from a light purple to their original color. He just gazed at every part of her, noticing small things he wish he had never missed.

"I'm sorry,"He finally breathed out. She just nodded as he expectantly looked at her.

"Okay,"She shrugged.

"Okay?"He asked in disbelief.

"Yeah. It's fine,"She lied.

"It's not,"He shook his head. She just closed her eyes as she leaned further against the tree.

"Let's just pretend it never happened,"She suggested.

"No. I can't do that,"He quickly admitted. She groaned as she rubbed her temple. "I can't just-"

"It meant nothing,"She kept lying.

"That's not true,"He argued.

"Fine. Then, it meant nothing to you,"She corrected.

"It meant everything,"He frantically explained. She scoffed at his response causing him to feel like he had been punched in the gut. "Y/N, I-"

"We don't need to talk about it. I don't need your pity,"She scowled, masking the hurt. He just shook his head as he moved even closer without realizing. She still refused to look at him.

She needed to though. She needed to understand that he meant the words he was saying.

"Y/N,"He whispered. She stared at the ground as she ignored his presence. She was done.

"Y/N, look at me,"He repeated firmer. Before she could react he placed a hand on her jaw and made her. Her breath hitched in her throat as she realized how close they were. If she leaned in just a little bit she could-no. She can't. That's what got them here.

"That kiss meant everything. I didn't know what was going on, but I knew that. And yeah. I miss Rachel, but that doesn't mean I don't love you. That doesn't mean I wouldn't choose you. That doesn't mean I don't think of it all the time and wish I could change it, that I could go back in time and keep just kissing you. That for just a little longer I would keep my lips against yours,"He promised. Before she knew what was happening he trailed his thumb along her bottom lip sending chills throughout her body.

"I'm not a rebound,"She got out.

"No. You are everything. So tell me how to make this better. Because I will get on my hands and knees and beg if that's what you want,"He admitted.

"Don't do that. That's really weird,"She pointed out.

"What can I do? To make you believe me?"He asked.

"I don't know,"She whispered, moving closer.

"Let me prove it. For real this time. While I'm in my right mind, and know what I'm doing, and who you are,"He asked.

"Are you-are you asking to kiss me?"She stuttered out.

"Yes. I am,"He answered without hesitation.

"Make me believe you, Aris. Prove that I mean something,"She allowed.

Taking her invitation, he kept his hands on her cheeks as he connected their lips. Her heart beat faster than she thought possible as she realized that this was really happening. So even though she had said yes, she couldn't help but freeze. Because there was no way this was real. There was no way this was Aris. That he had so confidently crashed his lips against hers in a fit of passion. There was no way this passive boy could be so gentle yet so sure of this.

Realizing she had stopped moving, he pulled away. With a bubble of disappointment in the pit of his stomach he went to leave.

Then, she did something that caught him off guard. She grabbed his arm and put them around her shoulder before kissing him. Like last time, he had her against what they would count as a wall, as he moved in synch with her. Fitting together, they didn't stop. Because who needed air? Not them. They had each other, and that was more than enough.

Suddenly, he grabbed her wrists, and her hands were pinned above her head as he kissed her collarbone. It was small, but it sent a million butterflies to her stomach.

"Believe me,"He begged one more time, gazing at her. Unable to help it, she smiled as she took his hands in hers. Dropping his hold, when her hands were free he intertwined their fingers.

"I believe you,"She promised.

"Thank god. I was running out of air,"He joked.

"In that case, I don't,"She teased. Glancing around, when he confirmed that they were alone he pressed his lips back against hers. Because he may be willing to kiss her until the end of time, but the only reason he had done it in front of others was because he was under the influence. He didn't want anyone to see this. Not out of shame, but because nobody needed to know. Nobody deserved to see her with her arms above her head as they kissed like they were the only people alive.

"I love you,"He breathed out, pulling back but keeping her hand in his.

"I believe you,"She promised, kissing his fingertips. "And I love you too,"She whispered. He gazed down at her with admiration before rubbing his thumb over her knuckles.

It had finally happened.

He had finally noticed the girl who had been there all along.

#aris jones #aris x reader #tmr aris #the maze runner #one shot #tmr #fanfic series #part 5/5 #fluff #love confessions

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deckerstarblanche · 2 years ago

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Welcome to Chapter 2 of “An Offer She Can’t Refuse” FINALLY!

Huge thanks to @ultraluckycatnd for being the best beta ever, to @undercaffinatednightmare for the cool artwork, and to @caught-in-the-filter for the inspiring gifs!

Warning: the smuttiest thing I’ve ever written ;)

TAG LIST: @kmomof4 @ultraluckycatnd @caught-in-the-filter @booksteaandtoomuchtv @jrob64 @djlbg @eddisfargo @stahlop @holdingoutforapiratehero @justanother-unluckysoul @teamhook @gingerchangeling @jonesfandomfanatic @grimmswan @captainfloorouat @cs-rylie @natascha-ronin @vasfasan @veryverynotgoodwrites @bugheadswanjones @everything-person @jackieorioncat

Killian was able to get a Safe House room booked during the drive back to school, much to Emma’s relief. He was such a caring, reliable friend — the perfect guy to be with during such a crazy time. The only thing she had doubts about was how they were supposed to go back to being “just friends” after this was over. Was that even possible? Maybe they could talk about it when her brain didn’t feel like mush.

“You know, I’ve never been to the Safe House building before. Do you think you can hear other people messing around in their rooms? I bet you can’t, because of privacy rules, and hormone stuff. It would get pretty confusing in there if the walls weren’t thick enough, so I’m sure they are…” Emma babbled, pressing her cheek against the cool passenger side window as her head lolled to the side.

“Why don’t you drink some of that water I gave you, love? You might be a bit dehydrated already, and you’ll need your strength,” he urged gently, squeezing her arm. She looked down at the bottle in her lap and glared at him for being right, but the cool water did soothe her parched throat and eased some of the tension in her muscles. By the time they got back to campus, though, Emma was literally limp from exhaustion.

Checking in was incredibly easy. Emma had guessed right; because of the school’s strictly enforced privacy rules, they didn’t have to interact with anyone but the staff member who showed them to their assigned room. A woman from housekeeping led them upstairs while Killian held onto Emma, who had burrowed into her blanket. It was a bit of a mess after their activities in the truck, but she needed it, and whatever Emma needed, she’d get.

Killian remembered learning about situations like this in high school health class: an Omega’s instincts and defensiveness intensified during a heat, so familiar and soothing things shouldn’t be taken away from her. Killian knew it was up to him to make sure Emma felt safe and secure. Once the extra bedding, towels, and cases of water were stored away, the housekeeper left, and they were alone together.

“Ugh, I need to shower,” Emma whined as he set her down, burrowing her face into his chest. He chuckled, kissing the top of her head.

“That can most certainly be arranged. Go and relax, love,” he said, handing her a fluffy blue towel from the stack of stuff they’d been given.

Once he heard the water running, Killian kicked his sneakers off and made himself comfortable on the bed, switching the television on. Mindlessly, he flicked through the channels, trying to calm his frayed nerves. He had never been with an Omega in heat before, and there were so many unknowns. How long would they be here? What if he couldn’t get the job done for some reason, and she rejected him? What would happen if he slipped up and told her his true feelings by mistake?

Maybe watching some baseball would help push the self-doubt away, and get him in the right mindset. By the time the bathroom door opened, Killian was so fully immersed in the Red Sox vs. Cardinals game that he had shifted to the edge of the mattress, laser focused on the screen. He had no idea that Emma snuck up behind him, covering his eyes.

“Hello Swan… I trust you found the shower refreshing?” he asked, drawing one of her wrists to his lips.

“Yeah, absolutely; good pressure, plenty of hot water… I’d give it three stars,” she said with a smile, removing her other hand from his eyes. She perched herself on the corner of the bed, knowingly blocking his view of the television. He didn’t mind in the slightest, as she was wearing nothing but a short terry cloth robe, using the bath towel to dry her hair.

“Why’d you take away a star? Surely a shower that nice would merit four,” Killian teased, before his eyes zoomed in on her robe as it crept up to the tops of her thighs.

“Eyes up here, buddy!” she barked, just convincingly enough to make his ears turn red. Laughing, Emma threw the towel on the floor, finger-combing her hair into loose waves before inching her way back toward the pillows. Once there, she relaxed against them with her legs stretched out, long and lean.

“There wasn’t any room in the shower for my favorite Alpha, and I got lonely,” she sighed, her lips pressing together in an exaggerated pout. “Isn’t that awful?”

Killian nodded, his eyes glazing over at the sight of her laid out before him like a present waiting to be unwrapped. “It’s truly despicable, Swan. We shall have to remedy that at once…” he purred, crawling up until he hovered right over her, caging her in with his arms.

“Yes,” she hissed, quickly undoing the belt so her robe lay open, displaying every square inch of her flushed skin.

“Fucking exquisite,” he rasped, dipping his head to kiss her hungrily, using a knee to nudge her thighs further apart. Emma arched her back and moaned as her head hit the pillow, making sure he got an eyeful of her chest.

“I need to feel your mouth on me, Alpha, and your hands…like what you did in your truck,” she told him hoarsely, reaching up to try and grab him by the collar. He dodged at the last moment, ripping the shirt off himself before diving back down to lick a stripe right between her breasts. She let out a soft moan, her nipples stiffening in response to his touch.

“I am going to worship you tonight, Omega,” he rasped into her shoulder, pausing to nip at the skin above her collarbone before trailing his lips up her graceful neck. “I already know how damn good you feel around me, and that your taste is just delectable, but there’s one more thing that I’m just desperate to learn about…” he told her with a grin, sliding his mouth back down to her chest. He bit down on one nipple while pinching its twin at the same time and she cried out, pressing her pelvis up almost involuntarily.

“Does that mean you’re gonna knot me this time, Alpha? Now that I’ve seen what you have to offer, I want yours even more,” she told him between jagged breaths, cupping his crotch before slipping smoothly out from underneath him to switch their positions.

“Ooh, so fiery…I like this side of you very much.” he smirked, watching her shrug her robe completely off, clawing at the button of his jeans before they popped open. In the time it took him to blink, Emma divested him of his remaining clothing, gasping when his quickly hardening cock sprang up.

She moved up to straddle his thighs, and he watched as she started touching herself, slipping two fingers into her wetness, pumping them lazily before adding a third. “Mmm…Seeing how hard you get, just from watching me touch myself? Alpha, it’s so fucking hot,” she whispered, pulling her fingers out so she could run her slick-covered hand over his length. He shivered and closed his eyes, gripping her hips tightly enough to leave marks as he bit out a few choice curse words.

“You nearly made me come, Omega. It’s a damn lucky thing that I have amazing control,” he said, raising himself up on his elbows. “But that’s enough teasing for now; get up on your knees,” he ordered, the words rising up from some feral place deep in his gut. His eyes were dark with lust, and his gaze roamed freely over her entire body.

Emma was in a similar state, licking her lips as she admired the lean muscular planes of his form. For as long as they were in this room, he was her Alpha, and she felt very possessive. She rose back up, never losing eye contact after she’d positioned herself to sink down onto his cock. Her movements were almost torturously slow, teasing him and squeezing her inner muscles to give him just a little extra stimulation.

“You like that, Alpha?”

He liked it; hell, he loved it. The instant they were fully joined, she ground her ass against his thighs and they both moaned loudly at the relief of it, savoring the feeling together. Emma leaned forward, placing both hands on this chest as she began rolling her hips. In response, Killian thrust upward, bending his knees for better leverage.

“I want you to tell me exactly how you like to be touched, Omega,” he urged, squeezing her ass as he watched her writhing above him. “I want to know so I can find all of the new places to touch, and the ways to make you scream and beg for more,” he revealed.

“My nipples are really sensitive right now,” she breathed, raking her fingers through his chest hair. “Bite them, squeeze them, whatever…I’m getting closer!”

“As you wish,” Killian growled, thrusting faster as he ran his rough hands over her breasts, twisting and rolling until she let out a shriek of pure pleasure, repeating his name as she tightened around him, shaking from the force of her release. As difficult as it was to hold himself off, Killian managed, only pulling out as her aftershocks tapered down. If he dared to look at his cock, fully engorged and dripping with her essence, he would have popped his knot, losing complete control of himself. He had to move quickly.

“If you want my knot, I need you to get on all fours and turn around… NOW,” he growled, mostly from the pain of literally holding off his orgasm. Wordlessly, she did just as he asked, still lightheaded from her own pleasure. She could feel fresh slick trickling down her thighs, as if her body knew what was coming. Listening to that inner voice, Emma tucked her arms under her forehead and lifted her ass a little higher in the air.

She felt his hands smoothing down her back and hips as he moved into position behind her. The heat from his body was almost overwhelming but still she shivered, craving more. Killian’s familiar scent calmed her down, as did the gentleness in his voice when he spoke.

“Before we take this step, Emma, I need to ask you one more time: are you sure this is what you want?”

“Oh, fuck yes,” she purred, and before she knew it, he covered her body with his, thrusting into her completely. Emma had never felt so full in all her life, and she knew instantly that she’d made the right choice in her partner. Adjusting her position a bit, she took several deep breaths, enjoying the pressure and stretch from his girth at the new angle.

“Everything ok, Iove?” he asked, sounding worried that she was in pain.

“I feel wonderful, Alpha,” she soothed, lifting her hips higher and arching her back so he could slide all the way in. Her ass wiggled against his balls, causing him to pant harshly, unsure how much longer he’d be able to hold on. Emma turned her head, looking up at him as best she could. “Why are you holding back, Killian? I’m ready, and I want you,” she told him, rocking her hips back as she arched her spine to further encourage him.

“I want you too, love— believe me,” he rasped, nuzzling into her neck as he squeezed her hip. “You feel so unbelievably perfect. Touch yourself, so we can do this together…It will feel so much more satisfying for you, I swear it,” he pleaded, his voice cracking with emotion.

Emma was so moved by his constant consideration that she just nodded, bringing her fingers back to circle her clit roughly. That seemed to satisfy him, so he finally started moving again, taking her with fast, deep strokes. “Oh yes, Alpha, that’s the spot…Fuck! You feel so good,” Emma cried as she hurtled toward another release.

“I knew you could get yourself there, Omega. So unbelievably sexy,” he groaned, voice low and seductive. “You feel like heaven around my cock…”

There were no more words after that, just the sounds of their ragged breathing and slick skin colliding, building up toward a frenzied climax. She fell first, the tension mounting until it finally broke into seemingly endless waves of pleasure. With a final snap of his hips, he pushed forward, and when her muscles stretched enough to capture his knot, he could finally let go.

Experiencing such intense intimacy with Emma was the most satisfying high Killian had ever felt. He came hard, and as her walls spasmed, their bodies locked together to ensure that his release remained exactly where it was supposed to be.

In that moment he knew, with an almost primal certainty, that he had found his mate.

By the time the aftershocks ceased, they were sweaty and exhausted, barely able to coordinate themselves to lie down comfortably. Emma yawned, stretching her limbs as carefully as she could to avoid jostling his knot, but Killian was already falling asleep, his arm slung loosely across her hips. Aside from where they were joined, he made sure to keep an inch or two of space between them, avoiding too much skin contact for her comfort. It was exactly that kind of care, even to the smallest gesture, that made Emma’s heart swell with affection. The wonderful guy behind her was so thoughtful that he knew, without having to ask, how much she valued her space.

Emma wanted to let go of all her worries, and just bask in the incredible endorphin rush until she fell asleep — but her brain wouldn’t stop spinning. She heard his mind-blowing words and thinly veiled feelings on a loop inside her head, and it scared her to death. She knew what would happen if she allowed him in too close; they’d get too serious, too fast. Then, like so many other people in her life — from the parents she’d never known, to all the foster homes filled with neglect and broken promises —- he’d get tired of or abandon her. Everything, including their friendship, would crumble into dust.

Long before Emma met Killian, she had decided that she wouldn’t let anything distract her from her work, and it was even more true now. She couldn’t afford the emotional and physical maelstrom that a real heat caused, so going back on her meds was the best way to achieve her goals, even if it meant forcing herself to walk away from the man whose embrace had begun to feel like home. As her eyes drifted shut, Emma resolved to make her feelings clear after her hormones had settled.

##########

Killian awoke peacefully, just as the morning sun’s first rays began to filter in through the window blinds.

He was disoriented for a moment, knowing that he wasn’t in his own bed, but the soft snores from the body next to him, hopelessly tangled in the sheets, gave him a quick reminder.

Emma.

Emma, who apparently snored in her sleep? She was dozing on her side, facing the wall, so he propped himself up on one elbow, content just to watch her over her shoulder.

They’d had quite an exhausting night, so he was glad that she was able to get some rest. A few of the old wives’ tales he’d heard over the years ran through his head: Omegas who couldn’t sleep for days straight during a heat because their bodies needed constant stimulation; guys who almost asphyxiated in their partner’s slick during oral sex; the couple who spent 12 hours in an intimate tie because every time they tried to separate, it triggered simultaneous orgasms. At least that couple was trying for a baby, so they got their happy — albeit, unconventional — ending.

He shifted to focus his attention on his bedmate, who looked so peaceful and far removed from the chaos her body was going through. She had a small smile on her face, like she was in the middle of a very pleasant dream, and it filled his heart with happiness.

Dammit, get yourself together, man! Killian thought, chastising himself for such un-Alphalike behavior. It brought back unpleasant memories of his domineering father, who always berated him for walking away from playground fights as a child. Brennan Jones never walked away from a brawl, a “value” he tried to instill in his sons every single day, until he up and abandoned them in the dead of night.

Killian and his brother had worked hard to rise above their father’s pettiness, and as a result, Liam found a wonderful wife and partner in Elsa. Emma had a similar quality about her, enabling Killian to be softer and more in touch with his emotions. He had never experienced that with anyone else, not even his brother.

The woman in question was fast asleep at the moment, so he could take the time to memorize every freckle and laugh line on her face. If she ever found out how deeply he truly felt about her, she’d get scared and put distance between them. In the literal heat of the moment, Killian decided to let all of their issues and hangups fall to the side for a while. He wanted to enjoy this experience, and for that to happen, he needed to be unburdened.

A few minutes later, he fell asleep, breathing in the light floral scent of her shampoo.

###########

When they awoke after a long snooze, Emma was wild-eyed and wanting once again, but at least he persuaded her to guzzle down two water bottles and a Lemon Luna Bar before they got back down to business.

Unfortunately, a series of loud knocks on the door popped their bubble of serenity.

“Killian, just be as quick as you can…I need you,” Emma whined, writhing against the rumpled sheets. He stole one more kiss before sliding off the bed, nearly biting through his lower lip when he saw her, lying there all naked and glowing, waiting for him.

“Don’t you worry, sweetheart. In a few minutes, I’m going to give you exactly what you need,” he assured her soothingly, pulling on his discarded jeans and a grey t-shirt before slipping out the door.

He was flummoxed to see a woman in crisp blue scrubs standing at the door, holding a clipboard. A cardboard box stood by her side.

“Good evening, Mr. Jones, my name is Tracy and I’m the on-call nurse tonight. It’s just about time for your 24 hour check-in, so I have to ask you a few quick questions, then I’ll be on my way. I’ve also got your laundered personal items,” she said cheerfully, gesturing for him to pick it up.

“Oh sure, thanks very much! Everything is just fine here, really…” Killian replied, bending to grab the box so she wouldn’t see his face and ears turn a ridiculous shade of pink.

She still had a list of questions for him, so Killian raked a hand through his hair, shoved a thumb into his front belt loops, and prayed that she wouldn’t ask about bodily fluids. “Ok, let’s see now: any fevers, dehydration, headaches, or dizziness to report?”

“None at all. I’ve been paying close attention to her hydration,” he answered, looking at the nurse’s immaculately white shoes in order to avoid her gaze.

“Good. No excessive bleeding, burning, chest pain, or hmm...panic attacks?” she asked, jotting a few check marks down in her notes.

“Definitely not, although she might start panicking if I don’t get back in there!” he joked with a tight smile, looking up just as the nurse raised her eyebrows, looking suspiciously like she didn’t mind his intense discomfort. He felt mortified. What other invasive questions was this woman going to ask?

“Well, if you don’t have any questions for me, I think that’ll do it for now. See, that wasn’t so bad, was it Mr. Jones?” she asked, her chipper tone causing Killian’s jaw to clench. “Remember, call us in case either of you have any dehydration symptoms or are in need of more supplies. We’ll see you again in about 12 hours. Bye now!”’

“Thanks very much, Tracy. Have a pleasant evening!” he called as the nurse walked down the hall, off to harass another hard-working “caregiver.”

Apparently, that was the official name in this place for people like him.

Relieved that the strange interlude was over, Killian went back into the darkened room. The bed was empty, and his protective hackles raised immediately, despite there being no realistic way that Emma could have gone far. Nevertheless, his pheromone-heightened senses caused him to worry, so he breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of the shower running. Heart hammering, Killian walked past the small kitchen to the bathroom door and knocked tentatively.

“Killian? You’re back, finally! I decided to take a quick shower, so I’ll be out in just a sec,” Emma’s voice floated over the spray. The thought of her, wet and naked and covered in soap suds, sent blood rushing south so fast that his head spun.

“Aye, love! Take as long as you need,” he called, cursing under his breath when his voice cracked like a gawky teenager. While she finished up in the shower, Killian occupied himself by changing the sheets and checking the room’s thermostat before stripping down to his boxers and settling back into the bed.

By that point in their time together, he was so attuned to her needs that even the faint sound of her humming happily to herself aroused him to full mast. It was almost ridiculous how badly he wanted her. The desire to offer his body and to be fully accepted into hers, combined with his new knowledge of her taste and scent nearly overwhelmed him, driving him closer to a heat-induced rut.

An Alpha’s version of heat, ruts occurred naturally about 3-4 times a year, but they only lasted 48 hours at most. In cases where an Omega’s heat induced a state of rut in her Alpha partner, it usually meant that the pair had the highest compatibility rate for producing healthy children. Some people even believed that it was proof that the couple were soulmates.

The thought of it happening to them gave Killian the oddest sense of pride, but he knew Emma would freak out if he dared ever mention that subject in her company.

“Heyyyy, looks like you’re having some interesting thoughts over there! What are you up to?” Emma asked, leaning against the wall wearing nothing but a towel and a smile. Her wet hair was combed back and her skin was glowing, making her look like a siren in terry cloth.

“Oh, nothing too exciting,” he answered playfully, wiggling his eyebrows in a way that always made her laugh. He pulled the sheets away from the tent in his boxers, patting the spot next to him on the bed with a teasing grin. “You know, I do have something for you over here, if you’re interested…”

Emma couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his cheesy line, even though she knew she’d be in his arms in less than a minute.

And gladly stay in his arms forever, her heat-addled brain admitted traitorously.

But Emma didn’t really care to think about everyday life problems, not while her brain was all fogged up. Especially not while there was a sinfully attractive man waiting for her, ready to fulfill her every need and desire. She stayed where she was for a few seconds longer, enjoying the way his beautiful blue eyes looked her up and down, gazing admiringly at her form. He made her feel like the sexiest, most treasured woman in the world.

“I might be interested…” Emma murmured, finally answering as she sauntered over to the bed, rounding the corner to stand right next to him.

Killian just smirked, and before she could do any more teasing, he grabbed her by the waist and dropped her gently onto the bed.

“What’d you do that for?” Emma sputtered, moving to sit up. Heat or no heat, she didn’t like surprises.

“I’m sorry for the lack of warning, Swan, but I really do need you to be on the bed for what I have planned,” he revealed, his voice pitched down to a low rumble as he encouraged her to back up against the pillows. When she was arranged as he desired, Killian brought his hand up to stroke her cheek gently, and she melted into his touch.

Emma took his face in her hands and drew him in, kissing him hungrily as he pulled the towel from her body. It fell to the floor with a soft swoosh, but she didn’t even notice because his hands were everywhere. They roamed over her curves as his lips traveled to her neck, where a few moments of playful nipping and kissing her there elicited a series of needy moans. When he grazed her scent gland with his teeth, she shivered with delight, his name on her lips.

“Hmm, you smell absolutely delicious,” he whispered against her neck, inhaling deeply right near the sensitive gland. Emma sighed with pleasure, dragging her nails through the hair on his chest as he purred contentedly at the attention. She inhaled sharply as his fingertips brushed over the wetness between her thighs, clicking his tongue in mock disapproval while his index finger swirled around her clit.

“Alpha…” she pleaded, sliding down the pillows as she opened her thighs wider, inviting him to settle in between.

“Why didn’t you tell me how wet you were already, Omega?” he teased, chuckling as he continued exploring her folds, fingers gliding in and out effortlessly while she writhed pleasurably under his touch.

“I didn’t realize how much I needed you. Just keep doing what you’re doing,” she ordered, eyes screwed shut as the familiar tension began to coil in her belly.

“More of my fingers, or will you let me pay homage to your beautiful body with my mouth?” he crooned, watching carefully as she opened her eyes, eager as he was for her consent. Emma reached up to kiss him while she thought it over, enjoying the smooth and confident way he curled and darted his tongue. When they pulled apart, she was gasping for breath, desperate for his touch.

“Mmm, I haven’t had any good experiences receiving oral before, but I think you’re about to change that, Alpha. Fuck me with that pretty mouth of yours.”

His face lit up, as if she’d just told him that he won the lottery. It was so adorable and unexpected that Emma couldn't help but grin back, blushing.

“Absolutely. I promise that you won’t regret it,” he told her, his cute smile turning into a leer as he zeroed in on her dripping center. “Lie back now, Omega, and lift your hips,” he instructed, quickly grabbing a larger pillow to position her pelvis where he wanted it.

Killian sat back on his heels to admire his handiwork. There she was, fully exposed to him; her golden hair looked wild and free against the sheets, and her beautiful face was flushed with arousal. Slowly, he slid his palms from her shoulders to her sternum, pausing to lavish attention on her breasts. All the while, he planted scorching kisses on her neck, across her collarbones, and down to her rib cage.

Not wanting to miss a detail, he skimmed his hands from her taut stomach to her slick-dampened thighs, as his tongue trailed down to her navel.

“Alpha…PLEASE!” Emma begged, so worked up that her entire body shook.

“Patience,” Killian chided gently, placing a kiss to each inner thigh, then one brush of his lips to her center. Just when she thought she would burst, he surged forward, finally burying his tongue inside of her. Expertly, he massaged her clit with his mouth while using his fingers to stroke her g-spot to a quick, toe-curling release.

Her scream was a sound he’d never forget: uninhibited, passionate, and strong, just like the woman herself. As Emma’s breathing slowed, Killian slowly unwound himself from her body. Sliding up to lie next to her, he propped himself on one elbow to face her.

“Mmm, that was wonderful. Thank you,” she nearly slurred, cracking her eyes open slowly.

“You’re most welcome. Would you like a drink?”

She nodded, so he reached over to the nightstand where he’d stored a few water bottles. They both drank silently as Emma collected herself, her hazy eyes clearing and sharpening to hone in on her partner’s clear need of her.

“Alpha,” she murmured, looking down at his clothed erection.“You look like you could use some serious TLC. Take those off and let me take care of-”

Killian put a finger to her lips, cutting her off with a grin. “I’ll show you serious; get up, love,” he said , raising his eyebrows in a way that piqued her interest. She moved to let him get off the bed and followed him over to the front edge. He stripped, then sat down and grabbed her hands, drawing her in close. She narrowed her eyes, wondering what the hell he was up to.

“What are you doing?”

“I have a new idea, but I need you to trust me. I’d never hurt you, Emma; I can promise you that,” he assured, bringing her hands to his lips so he could place a kiss atop both sets of knuckles. The gesture made her smile, and she nodded in agreement. “All you need to do is get up on the bed, knees bent. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Looking more than a bit skeptical, Emma climbed onto his lap and straddled his hips on her knees as requested, placing her hands on his shoulders for balance. Almost immediately, he kissed her roughly, sucking her lower lip into his mouth while squeezing her hips. It felt as if every nerve in her body lit up in excitement as slick dripped onto his shaft.

“Ohhh, Emma…fuck, I thought I could wait, but I need to be inside of you right now. Just lift up, love…” he panted, sounding absolutely wrecked with lust.

“Yes, Alpha, please…” She did as he asked and immediately felt his cock nudging her entrance, hot and rock hard. Killian groaned as he guided himself inside of her, and she angled her descent, sinking down onto him as he began to rock up. He wrapped an arm around her, kissing her neck while Emma clutched at the back of his head, combing her fingers through his hair.

The position was intense: he was so deep now that he was hitting new places inside of her, making her shiver even though they were both damp from exertion and slick. They kept rocking against each other, finding a rhythm as they picked up speed.

“Killian,” Emma said with a hoarse voice, swallowing thickly. He raised his head from where it was nestled against her shoulder.

“Yes, love?”

“The way we are now…you’re hitting the perfect spot. It’s good for me, but is it good for you?” She asked, moving a sweaty lock of hair off his forehead.

“Don’t worry about me, Omega. This part’s all about you,” he breathed, trying to concentrate his efforts on hitting the same spot over and over so she could come. His muscles were beginning to tire, and he was dying to knot her, then take a shower and fall asleep, but he loved the closeness they had in this position.

Emma could tell that he was exhausted, so she kissed him and moved faster, snaking her fingers down to rub circles against her clit.

“That’s it, Omega,” he whispered, breaking their kiss as he stared down at her fingers moving so close to where they were joined. “I can feel you getting even hotter inside, that’s how I know you’re close. Tell me to go faster if that’s what you need, Emma…”

“Yes, faster and harder, please!” she begged, her breathy moans getting more frantic and louder as she approached her peak. The moment she snapped, he felt an incredible spasm of muscles gripping almost his entire length. While Emma was in a state of total ecstasy, Killian realized that he was on the brink too, with no hope of staving it off.

He gazed at her longingly, feeling like his blood was racing like liquid fire through his veins. His mind was consumed with images of knotting her slicked up body against the wall, pumping her so full of his release that he wouldn’t need to mark her; every Alpha on campus would know that she was off-limits.

“Emma, I want to pick you up and knot you against the fucking wall. I’ve been picturing it since we got here,” he confessed, groaning almost painfully as he pulled out of her warmth. “Now is the perfect moment; you’ve come so many times that you’re more than ready to take my knot. Will you let me?”

“DO IT. I want it, Alpha, now!” Emma hissed, gripping his neck and wrapping her legs around his waist. Her command gave Killian a surge of strength, and he rose, slamming her up against the nearest wall as he gripped the backs of her thighs. Guided as if by instinct, she grabbed hold of him, frantically angled their bodies until they clicked right back into alignment, like two puzzle pieces.

The heat generated between them increased rapidly into an inferno, as sweat and slick rolled down their bodies. He pounded into her like a man possessed, bracing his forehead against her chest as each thrust brought them closer to the brink.

“Mmm, I wish it could always be like this, Omega. I’d be balls-deep inside you every fucking night,” he growled, the sound coming from deep inside his chest, vibrating against her own.

“Yes, Alpha,” she agreed breathlessly, nodding as she held him closer, the thought of it taking shape inside her head. “Always want your knot inside me!”

“Then you shall have it,” he muttered darkly, pulling back once more before he slammed his pulsing knot deep inside her, making Emma scream his title as her orgasm overwhelmed her. His own release was long and satisfying, as if their bodies were urging each other to give more and more until oversensitivity forced them to stop moving. Breathing hard, they nearly slumped against the wall, until Emma tapped her heel against the ticklish spot on the back of his right thigh.

“Wench,” Killian groaned, making her laugh as he managed to get them over to the bed and onto their sides. With a sigh, she tucked her head under his chin, and once their breathing normalized, a comfortable silence filled the room.

##########

It took longer than usual for his knot to deflate, leaving them both sticky and uncomfortable. After separating, they rolled away from each other for a while, both needing breathing space and time to process what had just happened between them.

Emma melted into her pillow as she lay on her stomach, flinging her right arm in his general direction. Killian reached for her fingers, interlacing them with his as he gazed up at the ceiling.

“Holy shit, Killian, I don’t even know what to say! That was amazing,” she marveled, turning to face him. “Does knotting just get better and better every time? I don’t know if that can be topped,” she chuckled, amused by her own double entendre.

He laughed too, but his mind was whirling with confusion. He had no idea whether or not he should tell her the truth, the one he kept hidden away. In the end, Killian decided to confess only halfway.

“I can’t speak for anyone else, but for me, it’s like any kind of sex: best practiced with someone you really care for.” he told her softly, hoping that hearing the seriousness in his voice and seeing the love he felt for her in his eyes would help him get through to her.

Her eyes widened, showing a mix of emotions: affection, sincerity, tentative happiness…but fear was lurking in the background, just waiting to push its way forward. Luckily, though, she softened, opening her arms as she turned to face him.

“Killian, will you just hold me for a little bit?”

Without answering, he reached for her and scooped her into his arms. She laid her cheek against his chest, nuzzling into his warmth as she draped one leg lazily over his.

“Of course I will, love. I always will; you know that right?” he murmured into her hair, kissing the top of her head before resting his own back on the cool pillow. To Killian’s surprise, Emma snaked one arm around his waist and curled against him, holding onto his bicep like she wanted to make sure he wouldn’t go anywhere.

As he listened to her breathing even out, he combed his fingers gently through her hair, wishing this perfect moment with an unguarded Emma could last forever.

##########

When Emma appeared in the doorway to her and Mary Margaret’s room two days later, eyes red-rimmed and baggy from exhaustion, her roommate knew something was deeply wrong.

“What happened, sweetie?” Mary Margaret asked gently, guiding her friend back inside, her familiar fleece blanket trailing sadly behind her.

“This morning, I woke up just as the sun was starting to rise, and even though I don’t usually have any problem getting back to sleep, I felt so dizzy that I couldn’t close my eyes! Drinking water helped, but I haven’t felt so bad in years — just nauseous, bloated, and really sore from the past three days,” Emma told her, dropping onto her desk chair with a thump. “All of those times when you said that a natural heat’s end feels like a hangover, I thought you were being dramatic. Now, I know better…” she groaned, turning around in her chair to lay her head on the desk.

“Hey, c’mere,” Mary Margaret urged, holding her arms out, and after a few moments of hesitation, Emma turned and accepted the supportive hug, grateful that she wasn’t being judged. “I don’t understand why you insisted on coming back here all by yourself. Where’s Killian?”

When Mary Margaret pulled back and clasped Emma’s shoulders, she knew that it was time for her to explain her actions.

“Emma, did you check out of the building without telling Killian? Does he know that you left? I’m not judging, just asking…”

Emma’s silence answered the question, and Mary Margaret’s heart shattered for both of her friends. She and David had high hopes that the pair of them would just realize once and for all how perfect they were for each other.

“I just had to get out of there! I was starting to get claustrophobic, and I didn’t want to deal with him worrying about me, so I left. He was sleeping so peacefully that I didn’t have the heart to wake him,” she tried to reason, but Emma knew how irresponsible her actions had been.

“How could you do that to him?” Mary Margaret gasped, trying to rein in her shock at Emma’s carelessness. Unfortunately, the tears running down Emma’s face showed that she had failed.

“Listen, I need a long shower and a good nap. I can’t deal with these feelings right now,” Emma said dully, shrugging her shoulders as she wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. Mary Margaret’s expression softened.

“That sounds like a good plan, Emma. Do you want me to leave so you can have some private time?” She asked, but Emma shook her head vehemently, clearly wanting comfort from her friend.

“After I get back, why don’t we spend some time together? Let’s watch some brainless tv, and maybe make hot cocoa with cinnamon. It’d be nice to hang out,” Emma cajoled, grabbing her shower caddy and towel so she could use their floor’s shared bathroom.

“Of course!” Mary Margaret replied with a placid smile. Once Emma left the room, she picked up her cell phone, telling David to be on the lookout for his own roommate. Killian hadn’t returned yet.

“Killian’s cell phone is still going directly to voicemail, so the only thing we can do is wait for him to surface. I’m sure he’s just fine,” David reassured her, but Mary Margaret wasn’t placated.

“You’d be more concerned if you had seen the way Emma looked when she got back, David! She’s a wreck, and it looks like she spent a long time crying. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her cry before! Usually, Emma keeps everything inside and Killian’s the one who wears his heart on his sleeve. I’m worried about him…” she whisper-spoke into the phone, just in case Emma returned.

“I’ll let you know the minute I hear something. He’s probably just licking his wounds somewhere — what Emma did sounds pretty heartless to me, so I wouldn’t be shocked if he’s hurting,” David pointed out, and Mary Margaret sighed in agreement.

“Don’t judge her too harshly, David. Promise that you’ll call me when he gets back, in case he needs a hug, or even just a friendly shoulder to lean on?”

“I promise.”

#captain swan #cs au #captain swan fanfic #captain swan smut #omegaverse #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #best friends to lovers #cs ff

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ragesin · 5 months ago

Note

R, H, I

► VALENTINE’S DAY ALPHABET ( accepting! )

H : HEART. is your muse quick or slow to give their heart away?

If you asked himself he would laugh and say nope. He’s both right and incorrect. Meliodas is demiromantic and needs needs needs deep emotional closeness and connection in order to have any romantic feelings. If he lets himself, he can form deep attachments rather fast and subsequently develop feelings in a time frame that’s relatively short to his perception. He'll eventually recognize it in himself and acknowledge it. In reality ? Actually giving his heart away ? The emotional journey he must undertake within himself to achieve that ? He’s Slow. My god. Painfully, agonizingly slow. He’s the epitome of bottles his feelings up until that person dies.

Though he desires it, he’s against engaging with emotional intimacy and in turn exposing himself, preferring to hide away when people come looking. It clashes with a quiet desperation he carries in his chest. He’s spent so many centuries outliving the lives of people he’s considered close to him, it’s a given he eventually learned to hold onto them as long as he can and make every second count before they inevitably leave. Keeping people at arms length while hanging onto their wrist with everything he’s got. He got better with it over time, but Meliodas always was an emotionally stunted twat who struggled to properly process his own feelings. He’s like… a near impenetrable fortress surrounded by a moat of lava and located on an island floating in the sky. It’s hard to breach and hard for him to come out. If you get in however, well, you’re stuck there.

Romantically, he makes it hard on purpose for the person he’s interested in to figure out if he really reciprocates the feelings enough to consider a relationship with them. Honestly, Meliodas would also probably want to be at least a little purposefully ignorant about it all and refuse to see his own feelings because then he has plausible deniability to try to back out of them. Even so, despite all that, no matter what lies you tell, you can't fool your own heart. And it’s a lesson he learned the hard way.

I : I LOVE YOU. does your muse find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

Despite being able to work up to showering his partner with all kinds of affection, outright crossing the line into those three little words is difficult. Oh yes, he talks around it. He makes his passion and commitment to the other person clear, telling them that he wants to be with them and protect them at all costs. He has all the pining under layers of subtext for days. It’s tucked between the intimate actions and nonverbal affirmations. It’s in how he prioritizes their safety and happiness above all else. He finds all these little ways to convey his strong feelings and devotion, subtle and nuanced, carrying a lot of depth underneath the surface. Expressions of love that are direct in a different way.

But he’s not explicit. He doesn’t say it. Not at first. It’s just there, hanging in the space between them, obvious but not quite spoken into existence.

When it does come it’s quiet. Vulnerable. Meant for their ears alone. Shakes him down to his soul. Even as he opens his mouth he’s wondering if he’s doing the right thing, if he’s making some kind of mistake, if his love will somehow find a way to end them and this admission is signing their death warrant, because it’s always been a twisted, black thing gnawing on his bones and it will infect them too if he does not restrain it, consuming that which it’s shared with until nothing remained. Love has always been his oath, his curse. But he says it anyway.

The first time is always the hardest. It comes much easier after that.

R : ROMANCE. is your muse a romantic or a cynic?

Somehow he’s a balance between the two.

Interest never sunk its claws into him. Notions of romance occupied the lowest spot of priority on a list of things taking far more precedent. A pursuit mired in foolishness, and a distraction his younger brother could stand to waste time on but not him. He could never comprehend why people became so desperate and worked so hard for it, so instead he used it as a tool to weaponize against others and to manipulate them into doing what he wanted. Apathetic efficiency and mindless bloodlust was the only thing on his mind.

After he gained a better understanding of it himself ? The joy of having someone precious to him to call his own and the feeling of wanting to protect that someone ? His entire world was turned around. He underwent a huge heel turn that he had to hide under the persona he already had, stone cold on the surface but a massive romantic underneath. He fixates hard on the person he has a romantic interest in and devotes himself entirely to them. He will take it to the extreme beyond any level of common sense considered by others. He is intense, near obsessive, as he walks a tightrope composed of the healthy and unhealthy, putting their needs and happiness above his own. Even if he didn’t realize it at the time this motherfucker is big on the idea of courtly love, and much later on when chivalric knight romance prose popped up he loved to read them. He likes being supportive of the romance other people have in their lives and will try to help them in their endeavour. He sees it as something you need to work hard for and to earn.

But the longer he stays in the curse, the more jaded he becomes once again. It’s not realistic to have someone fall in love with only him over and over and over again while being bound to him, more likely a product of the curse than anything genuine. Doubts creep in. His own love is unchanged, eternal, a choice he weathers with each plunge, but could he really expect someone else’s to last as long as well when they remembered nothing from one life to the next ? For someone like him ? What does it say about him when he still accepts it and desperately cling to it because it’s his only lifeline ?

So, he’s someone who thinks romantic love is a really nice thing and a great ideal, but believes that it is something that will realistically never happen for him after he loses Elizabeth.

@dichotomouskey

#dichotomouskey #⁺✧⠀⠀`⠀reply⠀﹕⠀❪ wrath claws at your chest. ❫#⁺✧⠀⠀`⠀headcanon⠀﹕⠀❪ both rage and tenderness. ❫#( mel dealing with love is his own personal boss battle )

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laudys83 · 6 months ago

Text

Daybreak

Day 19 : "The middle" by Jimmy Eat World

The wind swept through the courtyard of Kaamelott, heavy with dampness and an odd weight that seemed to herald an approaching storm. The castle’s festivities had stretched late into the night, but Venec had no desire to partake in the charade. The laughter and bursts of voices from the great hall echoed like a distant mockery. He had spent too many years pretending, playing the rogue courtier everyone expected him to be.

That night, he slipped away, seeking refuge in the dark, damp gardens. The cold stone of the low wall he sat on did nothing to soothe the turmoil in his mind. A half-empty bottle hung limply from his hand, the wine long since turned warm and flavorless. His thoughts spiraled endlessly, heavy and confused, with Alzagar’s shadow—always so calm and self-assured—refusing to leave his mind.

He lifted his eyes to the ink-black sky, pierced only faintly by a few stars. A strange bitterness washed over him. He’d always believed he’d find his place at Kaamelott, even if it meant a few compromises. But tonight, for the first time, he wondered if that was a lie he’d told himself just to endure it all.

That was when Alzagar found him. Wrapped in his cloak, a flickering lantern in hand, he moved through the darkness like a discreet star guiding a lost sailor.

"Venec, planning to spend the night chatting with the bushes?" he teased, a slight smile softening his words.

Venec, startled, looked up. He groaned, half-annoyed, half-grateful not to be alone anymore. "Eh, go back to bed, will you? Don’t need a sermon from you."

But Alzagar didn’t move. He set the lantern down and sat beside him in silence. He knew how to recognize when Venec needed to talk, even if he wasn’t ready yet. Together, they sat there, listening to the sounds of the night: the wind rustling the trees, the distant call of an owl, and closer by, the fading murmurs of the festivities.

Finally, Venec broke the silence, his voice low and rough, as though the words were costly. "I'm tired, you know. Not physically—that I can handle. But tired of all this crap. Kaamelott, Arthur, their expectations… Like I signed up to be their puppet for life."

He took a swig from the bottle, grimaced, and glanced at Alzagar, who listened without interrupting.

"You ever feel that? Like you’re just a pawn in someone else’s game?"

Alzagar nodded slightly, his dark eyes fixed on Venec. "Maybe. But I freed myself from that a long time ago. You know that, don’t you?"

Venec let out a hollow laugh. "Yeah, but what do we do? Just leave? And then what? You think the world’s gonna welcome us with open arms?"

Alzagar placed a hand on Venec’s shoulder, a simple gesture but one filled with unwavering support. "Maybe the world won’t welcome us. But we don’t need the world, Venec. Just us."

Those words struck Venec like an arrow. They hung in the air, penetrating the walls of doubt he’d built around himself. For the first time in a long while, he felt a glimmer of hope—a possibility he’d never dared to imagine.

He lowered his head, fidgeting with the bottle’s neck. "Aren’t you scared?" he murmured eventually. "Scared of throwing it all away?"

Alzagar smiled, soft but resolute. "Of course I am. But sometimes, fear is what pushes us forward. And you, Venec—you deserve better than this life. We deserve better."

Venec let the words sink in. Part of him wanted to believe Alzagar, to embrace this vision of a simpler, freer future. But another part, the cynical one, still held back.

"Yeah, well, easy for you to say. But Arthur, the others… I can’t just turn my back on them. Not after everything I’ve done for them."

Alzagar looked at him with a newfound intensity. "Venec, you’ve given enough. Too much, even. You have the right to think about yourself now. You have the right to live for yourself."

Silence fell between them again, but this time it wasn’t oppressive. It felt like a truce, a pause in the storm raging within Venec. Minutes stretched on, punctuated by the call of a lark somewhere in the night.

Venec lifted his eyes to the sky, where a faint light began to break on the horizon. "Dawn, huh? Always there to remind us we can’t run forever."

Alzagar followed his gaze and smiled. "Dawn’s not an end, Venec. It’s a beginning."

Venec grunted, but a corner of his mouth lifted in a reluctant smile. "Do you always have these ready-made lines?"

Alzagar chuckled softly. "No, but I figured it might work on you."

They stayed there until the wind calmed and the night brightened, heralding the day’s arrival. Venec felt a part of his chains break—a first step toward something new.

He turned to Alzagar, his gaze a little clearer than before. "I’m not promising anything, all right? I’m just a guy lost in all this mess."

Alzagar shrugged with an amused smile. "You’re not lost. You’re just finding yourself, that’s all."

And in that silence, heavy with hope and the lark’s song, Venec understood that he didn’t have to solve everything at once. Sometimes, it was enough just to sit there, breathe, and wait for the sun to rise.

Aurore

Le vent balayait la cour de Kaamelott, chargé d’humidité et d’une étrange lourdeur qui semblait annoncer l’orage. Les festivités du château s’étaient prolongées tard dans la nuit, mais Venec n’avait aucune envie de participer à cette mascarade. Les rires et les éclats de voix venant de la grande salle résonnaient comme une moquerie lointaine. Il avait passé trop d’années à feindre un rôle, à jouer le courtisan roublard que tout le monde attendait qu’il soit.

Ce soir-là, il s’était éclipsé, cherchant refuge dans les jardins sombres et humides. La pierre froide du muret sur lequel il s’assit ne fit rien pour apaiser l’agitation dans son esprit. Une vieille bouteille à moitié vide pendait mollement à sa main, le vin tiédi ayant perdu son goût depuis longtemps. Ses pensées tournaient en rond, lourdes et confuses, et l’ombre d’Alzagar, toujours si calme et sûr de lui, ne quittait pas son esprit.

Il leva les yeux vers le ciel, noir d’encre, à peine percé par quelques étoiles. Une étrange amertume le gagna. Il avait toujours cru qu’il trouverait sa place à Kaamelott, même au prix de quelques compromis. Mais ce soir, pour la première fois, il se demandait si ce n’était pas un mensonge qu’il s’était raconté pour supporter la vie.

C’était là qu’Alzagar le trouva. Drapé dans son manteau, une lanterne vacillante à la main, il avançait dans l’obscurité comme une étoile discrète guidant un marin perdu.

« Venec, tu comptes passer la nuit là, à causer avec les buissons ? » lança-t-il, un sourire en coin adoucissant ses mots.

Venec, surpris, leva les yeux. Il grogna, mi-ennuyé, mi-reconnaissant de ne plus être seul.

« Eh, retourne te coucher, toi. Pas besoin d’un sermon de ta part. »

Mais Alzagar ne bougea pas. Il posa la lanterne sur le sol et s’assit à côté de lui, silencieux. Il savait reconnaître quand Venec avait besoin de parler, même si ce dernier n’était pas encore prêt à le faire. Ensemble, ils restèrent là, écoutant les bruits de la nuit : le souffle du vent dans les arbres, le cri lointain d’une chouette, et, plus près, les murmures des festivités qui s’étiolaient peu à peu.

Finalement, Venec brisa le silence, sa voix basse et râpeuse, comme si les mots lui coûtaient. « J’suis fatigué, tu sais. Pas physiquement, hein. Ça, j’peux gérer. Mais fatigué de tout ce bordel. Kaamelott, Arthur, leurs attentes… Comme si j’avais signé pour être leur marionnette à vie. »

Il prit une gorgée de vin, grimaça, et jeta un regard à Alzagar, qui écoutait sans l’interrompre.

« T’as jamais eu c’te sensation, toi ? De te dire que t’es qu’un pion dans le jeu d’un autre ? »

Alzagar hocha doucement la tête, ses yeux sombres posés sur Venec.

« Peut-être. Mais je me suis libéré de ça il y a longtemps. Tu le sais, non ? »

Venec éclata d’un rire sans joie.

« Bah ouais, mais on fait quoi ? On s’tire ? Et après ? Tu crois que le monde va nous accueillir à bras ouverts? »

Alzagar posa une main sur l’épaule de Venec, un geste simple mais chargé d’un soutien inconditionnel.

« Peut-être que le monde ne nous accueillera pas. Mais on n’a pas besoin du monde, Venec. Juste de nous. »

Ces mots frappèrent Venec comme une flèche. Ils restèrent suspendus dans l’air, pénétrant les murs de doute qu’il avait érigés autour de lui. Pour la première fois depuis longtemps, il sentit une lueur d’espoir, une possibilité qu’il n’avait jamais envisagée.

Il baissa la tête, triturant le goulot de sa bouteille.

« T’as pas peur, toi ? » murmura-t-il finalement. « Pas peur de tout envoyer valser ? »

Alzagar sourit, un sourire doux mais déterminé.

« Bien sûr que si. Mais parfois, la peur, c’est ce qui nous pousse à avancer. Et toi, Venec, tu mérites mieux que cette vie-là. On le mérite. »

Venec laissa les mots résonner en lui. Une part de lui voulait croire Alzagar, s’abandonner à cette vision d’un futur plus simple, plus libre. Mais une autre part, plus cynique, se méfiait encore.

« Ouais, bah, facile à dire. Mais Arthur, les autres… J’peux pas juste leur tourner le dos comme ça. Pas après tout c’que j’ai fait pour eux. »

Alzagar le regarda avec une intensité nouvelle.

« Venec, t’as donné assez. Trop, même. T’as le droit de penser à toi, maintenant. T’as le droit de vivre pour toi. »

Le silence s’installa à nouveau entre eux, mais cette fois, il n’était pas oppressant. Il avait la qualité d’une trêve, d’une pause dans le tumulte des pensées de Venec. Les minutes s’étirèrent, ponctuées par le cri d’une alouette qui s’élevait quelque part dans la nuit.

Venec leva les yeux vers le ciel, où une lueur timide commençait à poindre à l’horizon.

« L’aube, hein… Toujours là pour nous rappeler qu’on peut pas fuir éternellement. »

Alzagar suivit son regard et sourit.

« L’aube, c’est pas une fin, Venec. C’est un début. »

Venec grogna, mais un coin de ses lèvres se releva dans un sourire malgré lui.

« T’as toujours des phrases toutes faites comme ça ? »

Alzagar rit doucement.

« Non, mais j’me dis que ça pourrait marcher avec toi. »

Ils restèrent assis là jusqu’à ce que le vent se calme et que la nuit s’éclaircisse, annonçant l’arrivée prochaine du jour. Venec sentit enfin une part de ses chaînes se briser, un premier pas vers quelque chose de nouveau.

Il se tourna vers Alzagar, son regard un peu plus clair qu’avant.

« J’te promets rien, hein. J’suis qu’un mec paumé dans tout ce merdier. »

Alzagar haussa les épaules avec un sourire amusé.

« T’es pas paumé. T’es en train de te trouver, c’est tout. »

Et dans ce silence chargé d’espoir, rythmé par le chant de l’alouette, Venec comprit qu’il n’avait pas besoin de tout résoudre d’un coup. Parfois, il suffisait juste de rester là, de respirer, et d’attendre que le soleil se lève.

Challenge by @monthlywritingchallenges

#januarysongchallenge #middle #jimmy eat world #kaamelott #alzagar x venec #drabble

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