#n the understatment of a lifetime

[miaeons]

all this eclipse said to me was "u survived"

[sytoran]

𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐔𝐓𝐘

the mother of the kids you babysit is sinfully hot, and she happens to be going through a messy divorce, so, of course, you're gonna do what you can to help out.

🌸 pairing: milf!pregnant!wanda x top!babysitter!gn!reader

🌸 cont: almost smut (18+), major age gap, teasing, flirting, what kind of oneshot would this be if i didn't add love to the lust, pregnancy kink kinda, or just a thing for hot moms in general

🌸 word count: 1.9k

🌸 note: i know i'm supposed to be on break... scold me after

To say you had an unhealthy obsession with the mother of the kids you babysat would be an understatement.

Understated by such a far amount that it dug beyond the trenches of the center of the universe.

Because you were utterly, filthily, encompassingly, sinfully, and completely enthralled by the mere thought of Wanda Maximoff.

She was leaning over the kitchen counter, low-cut shirt emboldening the tantalising cleavage she had, speaking to her kids in that sexy motherly tone that drove you wild.

“Mommy’s gonna be cheering you boys on for your football game tomorrow, alright?”

Wanda was every one of your wet dreams embodied as a breathtaking woman, so utterly gorgeous beyond dictionaried words that you nearly fell to your knees in the presence of her beauty the first time you saw her. 

Especially now, that she was pregnant with her third child.

It took every cell of your willpower to not start drooling when you laid your eyes on her these days: with her glowing features that had aged like fine wine, or her rounded and full breasts, so tight against the seams of her shirt, or her big belly you just longed to caress. 

Sometimes you’d think Wanda felt the same for you.

All the times she would ‘accidentally’ brush her ass against your crotch area when squeezing through a narrow gap, pressing into you for a moment too long to be considered accidental. 

Or the times she would complain to you about her messy divorce with Vision, lamenting about her lawyers and social workers and saying that you were the only one that could calm her down. 

But the two of you were worlds apart, because she paid you to be the babysitter for her kids. That was what was holding you back, from bending her over the kitchen counter every time she brushed passed you with that ass.

“Y/N?” 

Wanda’s sweet voice snaps you out of your trance, and you look up guiltily at having been caught staring. When you come to your senses, you’ve realized that the boys have already left for school that day. 

The mother tilts her head to the side with a little grin, and your heart does a flip. “What’re you thinking about that’s got you so distracted, hm?” she asks, propping her head up with a hand while resting her elbow on the counter. 

You clear your throat awkwardly, pushing in some chairs to busy your hands. “Uni stuff,” you reply, the lie slipping through your lips surprisingly easily. “It’s quite stressful, with exam season ‘round the corner.” 

It wasn’t a secret that you were nearly twenty years younger than Wanda, but it made your little forbidden crush all the more thrilling. The way you would take time out of your weekends to spend time with Wanda and the kids, disregarding party invites and forgoing study time. It was probably not a good move, but your horniness seemed to have a mind of its own.

“Mhm, uni was a lifetime ago for me,” Wanda reminisces, lifting her arms up to stretch. Your eyes are shamefully glued to the curve of her belly as her shirt rides up. “You’re so mature for your age, though, Y/N. Wish you were around during my time.” 

“What?” you nearly choke on your words, unsure if you had interpreted her correctly. It was too good to be true – Wanda had never been this forward.

“Come on, sweetheart, don’t sell yourself short,” the mother says easily, smiling brightly as if she wasn’t the cause of your burning arousal. “Captain of the football team, eh? You can also cook, clean, fix cars, do gardening, and fix sinks. And you’re good with kids! I bet you have all the girls in uni chasing after you.”

Wanda’s surge of compliments does wonders for your ego, but the only thing you genuinely care about was your availability for her. You’ve had girls in your level lust after you, sure, but Wanda was a secret solace that was different from them all.

“Maybe,” you say cryptically, failing to hide a smirk at the look that washes over Wanda’s face. 

“Do you? Someone from school?” Wanda asks, the teasing lilt in her voice dissipating almost immediately, instead being replaced with something akin to jealousy.

Fuck, you wanted her so bad.

“Hmm, sure,” you tease, liking this cat-and-mouse game you were playing. “She looks a bit like you.”

Wanda can’t seem to keep the annoyance off her face, and it’s adorably funny. And kind of hot, too. “That’s nice. Are you dating her?” 

You laugh, walking up to Wanda to help her with the dishes she was currently unpacking from the dryer. “Nah. Sometimes I think she wants me, but I also think she’s way outta my league.”

‘Way outta my league’ my ass, more like ‘way outta my appropriate age group.’

As Wanda watches you pick up a glass bowl, she feels a surge of emotion well up from inside that causes her to tear up.

Of course, she would never have you, it was just silly to want her babysitter. You had so many younger, fitter, eligible partners, all waiting to have you. Young pretty girls who had problems with the colour of their lipstick, not problems with pregnancy and divorce lawyers and shitty husbands.

When you look back to see Wanda’s state of tears, worry taints your features instantaneously. “My emotions are all over the place because of the pregnancy,” Wanda says between shaky breaths. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

In wordless acknowledgement, you put down the dishes and sweep Wanda off her feet. You lift her from under her back and thighs, firm hands steadying her as you walk up the stairs. Wanda looks up at you, feeling so utterly vulnerable all of a sudden, but you send her a warm smile that simultaneously calms her down and awakes butterflies in her stomach.

She takes the time to brush her hands over your arms, then your neck. You were so strong, so calming, everything she had ever needed. Now, the feeling of your hands so close to where she’d imagined you so many times was a good distraction.

When you reach the bedroom, you move the pillows and set her down gently, all with her arms wrapped around your neck. With a striking realisation, Wanda knows that she’s never felt this safe with anyone ever, so warm and so inviting, and she never wanted to let you go.

You leave for a while to get some things, and reappear in Wanda’s bedroom with a glass of warm water and some painkillers. There are chocolates in the mix, the peanut butter kind that soothes Wanda down immensely.

“You’re too good for me,” Wanda says breathily, the sheen of sweat that had covered her forehead now being tenderly wiped away by you. You shrug plainly. You just wanted to provide for her, take care of her and her kids and all her sexual needs. treat Wanda like the queen she was, nothing at all like the bags of garbage that was her husband.

Before you know it, you lean down to press a kiss against Wanda’s warm forehead in an act of affection. The moment is sweet, and soft, so much like what you’d imagined.

Wanda freezes up for a moment, and you do the same. “Sorry,” you choke out, moving back quickly, but the older woman was quick to grip your forearm and prevent you from escaping.

“Stay.”

Your breath stills in your throat, eyes wide. You’re hovering over Wanda from the side of the bed, while the woman lays down just inches away from you. Her hair is splayed across the pillows, her pupils are blown, and her lips are so close to yours. So, so close.

Time slows down as you tilt your head to meet her lips, chasing that forbidden little paradise you’d been seeking for months. You instinctively place a hand on the swell of her belly, and Wanda shudders at your touch.

She places a hand on the side of your face, fingers skating over your cheekbones, and the electricity that runs through your blood makes you feel more alive than you’d ever been. 

You can feel her warm breath on your lips, tantalising.

You can see her closed eyelids, anticipating.

You can taste that forbidden paradise, addicting.

But the moment is broken like shattered glass when the sound of the doorbell resounds around the house.

“Fuck,” Wanda whispers, jumping into action, scrambling to pull herself together. “It’s my husband. He was gonna come today to collect his shit.” You back away from her, face burning in embarrassment at how excited and desperate you’d been.

“Sorry,” you say awkwardly, watching her check her reflection in the bedroom mirror. “I’ll go now. I won’t bother you anymore.” The sound of keys unlocking the door has you resigning to your fate.

Wanda whips her head around in record time. Only then does she notice your downcast gaze. “Baby,” she croons, coming up to you to cradle your face in her hands. “You know it’s not like that.”

You let out an incoherent grumble, but Wanda cuts you off by pressing her lips against yours in a quick fashion, far too quick for your liking. Nonetheless, you’re left reeling and heart pounding, staring at the older woman wide-eyed.

“I’m divorcing him,” Wanda continues, briskly walking towards the door like she hadn’t just turned your life upside down. “After that, you can have me all to yourself–”

Before Wanda knows what hit her, she’s being pushed against the wall with your lips on hers. You’re quick, and rough, like you’d die without the taste of her tongue. You slide a knee between her big thighs, relentless and stealing her every breath. Wanda moans against you, hands helplessly pinned against the door, her heart beating all too quick.

“Wanda? You there?” A not-so-distant voice calls, then footsteps are heard trudging up the stairs. Spurred on by the movement, you possessively slip a hand up Wanda’s shirt, sliding over her pregnant belly and then to her big breasts, squeezing it in your palm.

“F-fuck,” the mom whimpers, dizzied with your undying fervour. She can feel the wetness in her panties pool, hormones dancing all over the place, her brain screaming at her to let her fuck you right up against the wall and make her cum in front of her husband.

“Tomorrow,” Wanda whispers, as the footsteps edge closer and closer. You pull away, just like that, your hands smoothing over her shirt and resting unnecessarily long on her hardened buds.

Wanda almost laughs in disbelief at your incredible boldness, but after a few seconds the door clicks open and she freezes. 

“What’re you doing?” Vision asks suspiciously, emerging from behind the doorway like a figment of her worst dreams.

Wanda turns her head to look at you, for you’d been standing right there just a moment ago. Now, all that’s left is an empty room, a window wide open, and the howling wind.

“Nothing much,” Wanda replies, turning to Vision with a cryptic smile. “Other than moving on from you, obviously.”

Just two floors down, you’re getting onto your skateboard and whizzing away from the house with your legs shaking in adrenaline. Your blood is pumping and your hands are numb, but this little fantasy of yours leaves your heart soaring higher than it ever had before.

i was too lazy to add the taglist, sorry yall. anyways come and yell at me in my asks rn

read part 2 | main m.list | AO3

[milksnake-tea]

━━ star-shaped .

War was never pretty. Death comes for both enemy and ally, and even as a healer, you cannot save everyone. Wearied by the war that seems to drag on for years, with no victory in sight, you join Jiaoqiu at the campfire for a rare moment of peace.

jiaoqiu x gn!reader

contains: based on leaks abt jiaoqiu's character stories !! but honestly its kinda implied in the quest but idk. has death, war, depictions of injuries and diseases, things are rough, can be read as platonic or romantic !!

word count: 1.7k

a/n: i love this man and his potential because goddamn war stories??? in my hsr??? sign me UP. also this was inspired by The Things They Carried by Tim Burton that i was forced to read in highschool. i loved the soldier death scene in that book so YEAH

taglist: @sh0jun , @themoderatelyawesomeninja , @xphantasmagoriax , @rainswept , @lucensei , @akutasoda , @naraven @camellia-rabbit , @scribs-dibs , @apathicace

The man you killed had two eyes; one was closed, and the other a star-shaped hole.

You wake when the sky is still dark and the sun bathes the other side of the planet. Harsh winds beat unrelentlessly at the tent’s folds, and hail pelts at the sturdy fabric.

Some of your comrades, fellow healers, sleep soundly as they can on the battlefield, while others work tirelessly in the makeshift hospital next tent over, keeping an eye on injured and diseased soldiers’ conditions.

Fire crackles outside. The sound is sharp, yet barely audible over the snow storm.

With a sigh, you pull your sheets off of you and as quietly as possible, make your way outside the tent. You aren’t going to get much sleep anyway - you might as well do something useful.

The man you killed resurfaces in your mind. He had two eyes - one closed, the other a star-shaped hole.

You pull your fur-lined coat closer around you as you step out into the camp. Snow crunches under your boots and you have to hold your hood in place to shield yourself from the hail.

To say that this planet is freezing would be an understatement. Here, the cold chilled you from your bones to your skin, seeping into your veins and leaving icicles in its wake. Frostbite was an everyday occurrence here; you’ve had to amputate more toes and fingers than ever in your life.

A silhouette sits before the fire, their back turned to you. As you get closer, you make out tall, Foxian ears and the same winter coat you’re currently wearing.

“Jiao?” you wrinkle your nose as you near, suddenly slammed with the strong scent of chili. Your comrade acknowledges you with a brief flick of the ears, but nothing more.

You don’t blame him. This war has been a harsh one, with less soldiers returning to camp every time they’re sent out. Unknown territory and harsh weather conditions made the battles long and exhausting, and healers could only do so much.

Not to mention, time passed so quickly yet so slowly here. You don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve been stationed, but it feels like several lifetimes.

Everyone is tired. You can see it in the hollowed cheeks, the eyes that have grown numb to death, and the despondent numbness that has overtaken the camp. They no longer cared who won or who lost. All they wanted was to return home in one piece.

The man you killed had two eyes. One was closed, and the other was a star-shaped hole.

You sit down next to Jiaoqiu on the log. The Foxian makes no move to push you off, only shifting to the side to help make room for you. Hugging your knees to your chest, you stare blankly at the drifting embers that dance in the air.

Jiaoqiu absentmindedly stirs at his soup. It boils in a small pot just above the fire, the thin liquid a red so bright it’d be threatening… if you had the energy to be threatened.

“It’s late,” you say into the crisp silence. “You should get some sleep before the sun rises. You’ll need it for tomorrow.”

Even as the words leave your mouth, you know it’s pointless. In war, sleep is something you have to force your body into. You have to lie down in the tents, look up at the fabric sky and listen to the hustle and bustle outside as soldiers are carried in and out, and close your eyes to the screams as yet another frostbitten knight has their arm cut off. You have to put yourself first, even for that small second, and allow yourself rest while your comrades fight on the front lines.

Sleep is a luxury that no one can afford. It is an escape. It is shameful.

And from the looks of Jiaoqiu’s darkened eye bags and mindless stirring, it’s a sin he won’t be partaking in tonight.

And neither will you.

Your gaze falls to the small bag of spices lying next to Jiaoqiu on the long. You can see peppercorns, cloves, fennel, cinnamon, and… star anise.

You look away.

The man you killed had two eyes. One was closed.

“How are you faring?” Jiaoqiu finally speaks. He doesn’t look at you and keeps his eyes on the flame.

Another gust of wind runs through you.

“As well as anyone else is, I suppose.”

Jiaoqiu swirls the soup with one hand. A bubble bursts and sprays the snow in little sizzling red freckles.

“How about you?” you ask.

The snow has already covered the soup’s spill by the time Jiaoqiu replies.

“As well as one can be,” he mutters. His hands, gloved with thick leather, clench once before relaxing.

A hollow chuckle leaves you. You sigh, kicking your legs out onto the snow and leaning back on the log. You look to the sky, to the cryptically beautiful cosmos. Blues, purples, and reds merge together like watercolor clouds above you, and small, white stars bejewel them.

Stars… Your gaze becomes lidded.

The man you killed had two eyes. One was a star-shaped hole.

“Do you think that man had a family?”

If Jiaoqiu was surprised at all by your question, he didn’t show it.

“Does it matter?” He takes a small taste of his soup. Despite it practically glowing in red, he doesn’t seem satisfied. “He was the enemy, need I remind you.”

You close your eyes briefly. “But I’m a healer.”

“You are.” Jiaoqiu opens his pouch and dumps in the rest of his chili rations - what for, you don’t know nor do you care to know. “You are also a soldier of the Xianzhou Yaoqing military. War always ends up in casualties, you know this. So did the soldier.”

There’s a bitterness in his tone that makes you wonder if he was talking to himself as well as to you. Your eyes soften.

“You did what you could, Jiao,” you offer. You want to put your hand on his shoulder, but you aren’t sure if that is appropriate, given the circumstances. “What happens outside the camp is beyond our control.”

Jiaoqiu sighs. His hand tightens around the ladle.

“Then what’s the point?” he whispers. His brows furrow, and his eyes open - a gem of amber reflecting years worth of grief and hopelessness. “What purpose do I have as a healer if I cannot stop my patients from hurtling towards their deaths?”

He turns to you, searching your face for any sort of answer that could satisfy him, that could reassure him that there was meaning, there was a point, that all of those bandages and surgeries and amputations weren’t for naught.

But you cannot answer him, for it is a question that no healer knows the answer to.

“You gave them another chance at life,” you say softly, unconvincingly. “That’s all that matters.”

“Even if that life is destined to end regardless of what I do?”

Dead eyes meet dull ones.

“What happens outside the camp is beyond our control,” you repeat blankly.

The man you killed had two eyes.

Jiaoqiu searches your gaze once more, before ultimately giving up. The amber of his eyes close, and he returns to the cauldron.

In a feeble attempt to console him, you go against your earlier thoughts and rest a hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. But with the roughness of your gloves and the cold limiting the dexterity of your hands, it isn’t much - but it’s enough.

Jiaoqiu glances at your hand, then back at the cauldron.

“Do you feel bad?”

You blink, a bit caught off guard by the question, but you settle down soon enough.

“No,” you say after a brief pause. “He would’ve killed us if I hadn’t killed him.”

You lean forward, resting your head in your palm as you watch the flames swallow up what little tinder the others managed to collect.

“I’m just glad to be alive.” You don’t sound like you believe it.

Jiaoqiu’s ear flicks. You hear him stand up and scoop some of the soup up into his ladle, and dash out his tongue to taste it. His tail swishes, and his eyes widen momentarily, amber flashing like lightning.

A smile, a weary, tired, but grateful smile, slips onto his lips.

He turns to you, vitality returned, even if it’s just for a moment.

“Try this,” he says, holding the ladle out towards you. 

You eye it warily. The liquid drips down the sides of the ladle and drops down onto the snow below, sizzling the second red touches white. You didn’t think it was possible for the soup to get even redder, but Jiaoqiu somehow did it.

“I won’t die if I eat it, right?” you try to joke. Jiaoqiu huffs, his breath steaming in the air.

“You doubt my cooking capabilities?”

You shake your head. “No, but whatever you have in there doesn’t exactly look… edible.”

And yet you’re already leaning forward to taste his concoction. Jiaoqiu carefully holds the ladle still as you take a sip.

Instantly your senses are flooded with pure, unyielding heat. Fire blazes on your tongue, searing your throat and bringing tears to your eyes. Your stomach burns, and for the first time since you’ve come to this planet, you stop shivering.

It’s painful.

It’s exhilarating.

“It’s delicious,” you praise despite the coughs that wreck your being. “Although… did you have to add so much chili?”

Jiaoqiu hums out a laugh. “But that’s what makes it special.”

You don’t bother denying it. Instead, you laugh alongside him, eyes crinkling with joy instead of pain after years of constant war.

You’ll have to return to the war eventually. The sun is already beginning to rise, and soon the soldiers will be awakened to go out into battle once more. You’ll have to take over for your comrades who had spent the night in the hospital.

But you don’t have to do it just yet.

For now, you just want to enjoy this moment, this second of normalcy and peace in the battlefield.

The man you killed had two eyes.

One was closed.

The other was a star-shaped hole.

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

[lewisvinga]

mr & mrs | max verstappen x fem! pérez! reader

summary; max and y/n relationship from engagement to honey moon

fc: threemillion on ig

warnings; mentions of sex lol

notes; latina n pérez reader bc max is for the latinas

masterlist !

liked by maxverstappen1, schecoperez, and 1,022,928 others!

ynperez: knew something was up when he kept begging me to wear white lol

tagged; maxverstappen1

username: what happened to hello? good morning??

maxverstappen1: liefje, you act like i was on my knees

ynperez: might as well have been, ‘babeeee just wear white, nooo pleaseeeee, wear that white dress. babeeeee’

maxverstappen1: not u exposing me under our engagement post 😕

ynperez: to a lifetime of this, max verstappen !

maxverstappen1: gladly, y/n pérez ! ( future verstappen )

maxverstappen1: i love you

ynperez: and i love you

username: MIS PADRESS [ my parents ]

username: screaming crying throwing up

username: that outfit is EVERYTHING

username: the size of the ring? hello??

schecoperez: enhorabuena, hermanita! [congratulations little sister] ❤️ just gotta make sure he doesn’t make you cry or else

ynperez: muchísimas gracias checo💗 [thank you very much] , but i may have cried a wee bit when he proposed 😕

maxverstappen1: a wee bit is an understatement, i was concerned that you were never going to stop crying

ynperez: exposing me under MY own post??

maxverstappen1: karma is my fiancé

liked by ynperez, danielricciardo, 1,234,927 others!

maxverstappen1: partying in mexico is 10x more fun when you’re celebrating your engagement to your fiancé

tagged; ynperez

username: they’re turning him into a mexicano lol

username: mi gente latino✊

ynperez: omggg 2 pics of meeeeee🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

maxverstappen1: bc ur soooooo prettyyyyy

ynperez: can’t believe your drunk ass left the party to put on that fuck ass polo

maxverstappen1: it’s for the vibes u wouldn’t get it 🙄🙄🙄

ynperez: engagement parties in mexico>> maxie wasn’t i so smart for planning it 😁😁😁😁

maxverstappen1: ur the smartest person ever liefje

username: can’t tell if i want him or her

danielricciardo: never seen max so smiley in my life before

maxverstappen1: i was feeling like you tbh

username: need y/n’s closet asap

schecoperez: told you partying in mexico is fun😂

liked by maxverstappen1 !

liked by maxverstappen1, lilymhe, and 1,104,826 others!

ynperez: called bae to let him know it’s a girls night only

tagged; lilymhe, carmenmmundt, francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, carolamtz1, iamrebeccad, heidiberger_

lilymhe: tell ur ‘bae’ i want you🤤🤤🤤🤤

ynperez: i want YOU🤤👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

alex_albon: maxverstappen1 are you seeing this??

maxverstappen1: i just ignore it tbh

maxverstappen1: almost died being away from you

ynperez: u had the babies with you🐈🐈

maxverstappen1: still not the same 💔

username: i’d do anything to party with y/n and the other wags😩

username: she’s an icon and she is the moment

alexandrasaintmleux: pretty pretty girl!!

ynperez: says you!🥹💗

carolamtz1: gracias por invitarme! fue tan divertido!😍😍 [thank you for inviting me, it was so fun]

ynperez: siempre carol❤️💗 [always]

carmenmmundt: george kept asking me what we were doing last night 🤣

ynperez: don’t say a word, girls only 🤫🤫

georgerussell63: BOOOO

maxverstappen1: so i won’t know??

ynperez: girls only sorry bae

username: this comment section is my entertainment of the day😭

username: countdown to verstappen wedding starts now 🧘‍♀️

liked by schecoperez, christianhorner, and 1,653,836 others!

ynperez & maxverstappen1: mr. and mrs. verstappen.

schecoperez: enhorabuena! bienvenido a la familia, max ! [congratulations, welcome to the family] time to learn spanish😂

maxverstappen1: i know how to order tacos in spanish 😌

ynperez: lol barley

maxverstappen1: under our marriage post?

username: my dream wedding

username: mamá y papá

lilymhe: the prettiest bride😍😍😍

ynperez: the prettiest maid of honor 💗

carmenmmundt: ugh the dress , the hair, everything was so😍😍

liked by ynperez !

username: streets are saying there was a banda n everyone was zapateando??👀👀

ynperez: the streets are right! even max, although, white husband cannot dance, i’m working on it

maxverstappen1: i am trying 😔

danielricciardo: really? are you sure??

landonorris: congrats to the happy couple🎉🎊

ynperez: no tears this time?🤔

landonorris: i don’t have a clue what ur talking about 🤨🤨

danielricciardo: the 5 minute long video i have of you sobbing says otherwise 🤗

liked by maxverstappen1, lilymhe, and 1,142,736 others!

ynperez: luna de miel con mi esposo. 🌕🍯💗👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨 [honey moon with my husband]

maxverstappen1: te quiero. [i love you]

ynperez: JALDKSDWOF

ynperez: te quiero. ❤️‍🩹

maxverstappen1: chilling w wifey

ynperez: happy wife happy life am i right

maxverstappen1: i do make you very happy indeed 😏😏😼😼😼

ynperez: max stop my brother can see

schecoperez: i wish i didn’t see

schecoperez: y porque publicaste fotos en su ropa interior?🤔 [and why did you post photos in your undergarments]

ynperez: ay, checo, no soy una niña, ya tengo esposo 😝[im not a little girl, i already have a husband]

username: checo being an overprotective brother lol

username: y/n panicking over max typing in spanish is so me

username: them>>

lilymhe: so , when are yall gonna give me a niece, i’m waiting…

maxverstappen1: you have jimmy and sassy😝

maxverstappen1: let me change my response, we’re practicing to make sure we get it right on the first try😆

lilymhe: oh😀

landonorris: i need to bleach my eyes🤢

ynperez: MAX MY DAD AND CHECO CAN SEE THIS😭😭

maxverstappen1: sorry not sorry 😁

[chillinglyadventurous]

I knew you’d find me

Ford takes care of a badly injured reader after Weirdmageddon.

Tags: blood, severe injuries, fluff

After everything, Ford found you. He found you lying outside the Shack, just as broken as the building was. He had scooped you up in his arms and carried you inside, fighting tears. You were covered in blood. There was a nasty gash across your forehead. No wonder you were unconscious.

He laid you gingerly in his room. You were alive. That was all that mattered. He knew he needed to get back to Stanley who didn’t remember who he or anyone else was, but he needed to clean you up first. He was as gentle as he could be as he mopped up the blood on your face. He was gentle as he removed your dirty clothes and changed you into something more comfortable. You’d need it when you woke up. Once you were sufficiently cleaned, he knew there wasn’t much else he could do for you.

After Stan was taken care of, his memory restored with Mabel’s scrapbook, he came to you again. Ford laid beside you, stroking your hair. He kissed your cheeks, hating himself for what he brought upon you. He may not have done this to you directly, but he was the cause. Ford was thankful, however, that you were alive.

His hand rested on your chest. He counted your heartbeat and breaths simultaneously. Traumatic brain injury was an understatement. You’d have a long road ahead of you. He knew it and he swore to your unconscious form that he would be with you every step of the way.

Ford stayed beside you for hours, the room silent except for your steady breathing. Each beat of your heart was a reminder that, no matter how broken things felt, there was still hope. He couldn’t stop running through the events that led to this moment, cursing himself for not being able to protect you. His mind whirled with possibilities—what could have happened differently, how he could have avoided putting you in harm’s way. None of it mattered now. You were here, and you were alive. He’d have to focus on that, even if the guilt weighed him down.

Eventually, he stood, brushing a hand through his silver hair. He needed to prepare for when you woke up if you woke up. The thought hit him like a punch to the gut, but he pushed it aside. You would wake up. You had to. No, there was no if. There couldn’t be an if.

Over the next few days, Ford stayed by your side, except when he was checking on Stan. Stanley was himself again. He was still recovering from the memory gun, but Ford couldn’t quite focus on him. Not when you were still lying in his bed, unresponsive.

Stan came into the room a few times, casting worried glances in your direction. Despite the gruff front he put up, Ford knew Stan cared about you, too. “[Y/N]’s tough,” Stan muttered one afternoon, as if trying to convince both himself and Ford. “Just gotta give it time.” Ford nodded, but his chest ached with the fear of losing you. Every hour felt like a lifetime.

Finally, on the fifth day, there was a flicker of movement. It was subtle, just the faintest twitch of your hand, but Ford saw it. His breath caught in his throat. He leaned forward, his heart hammering in his chest. “[Y/N],” he whispered, barely daring to believe it. “Can you hear me?”

Your eyelids fluttered, and a small, pained groan escaped your lips. It was the most beautiful sound Ford had ever heard.

“You’re okay,” he breathed, tears of relief stinging his eyes. “You’re going to be okay. I’m right here.”

You winced in pain. Ford reached for your hand, his grip gentle but firm. “Don’t try to move too much. You’re hurt, but you’re going to be alright. I promise.”

Your lips parted as if you wanted to speak, but all that came out was a hoarse whisper. Ford immediately grabbed a glass of water from the bedside table and helped you take a sip.

“Ford,” you croaked, your voice weak, but filled with relief. The sound of his name from your lips made his heart swell. He leaned down and kissed your forehead, careful to avoid the bandages.

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered, his voice trembling.

You managed a small smile, though it was strained with pain. “I knew you’d find me.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

Okay wait! Luke and y/n sneaking out of their cabins to go to their hiding spot to watch the stars while kissing and cuddling.

Being a Demi-god didn’t allow for you to experience many of the oftentimes mundane or meaningful moments in life, especially when you were thrusted into life threatening quests for godly parents that probably didn’t care to even remember any of your or your half siblings names; never less remember to claim them unless it proved beneficial for their own agenda.

However there was one exception to this answer his name was Luke Castellan. The goddess Aphrodite must’ve took pity on you by sending the charming and dashing son of Hermes your way, allowing you to befriend and then later on, fall in love with him and you’ve never been more happier then you were whenever you were with Luke Castellan.

Or Golden Boy as you’ve playfully called him, much to his dismay but the small smile that’d tug at lips told you otherwise.

As ironic as it might sound but any moment you got with Luke felt like pure magic with the way they make your insides grow homely and warm like a hearth, warming you throughout your entire body as your face was stuck in a perpetual state of dopey and lovesick.

Tonight was no different then any other night as you and Luke -hand in hand- ventured from the beds of your respective cabins and began making your way towards the lake all the while poorly concealing your bouts of laughter, some would manage to slip out now and then but you couldn’t help it! It had been awhile since you and Luke had some time to spend together, especially not without your siblings and or friends coming to get either of you to settle some disputes, and then not see each other until you were all called to the dinning pavilion; but even then you were seated at your tables, still unable to see each other.

To say that this moment was long overdue for both of you was the understatement of the century.

‘I don’t think that I’ll ever get over how beautiful the stars really are.’ You told Luke in awe, completely captivated by the starry sky that hung over camp.

‘That’s what I always say to myself whenever I get to see you.’ Luke says as he then drew your back until you were was fully pressed against his chest, solely for the fact that he could comfortably put his head upon your shoulder and rest his cheek to yours, humming in content when satisfied with the end result.

You snorted, readjusting the blanket you had brought with you to keep warm from the cold breeze that would occur every so often. ‘Yeah, I’m sure you do golden boy.’ You chuckled upon hearing Luke groan dramatically, only to then squeal in surprise when you felt him burrow his head into your neck, the ends of his hair kissed your skin with the weight of a feather while his own lips coated your neck in kisses of his own before stoping. ‘Don’t you ever get bored of calling me that? Golden boy?’ He asks and you moved your head to press a kiss against his hair. ‘Nope,’ you chirped, pressing another kiss but this time to his nose when Luke lifted his head from your neck to look you in the eye, ‘I for one think it suits you.’ You added, flashing him a cheeky smile.

‘I do often think about you, you know, in the same way you spoke about the beauty of the stars just now.’ Luke confessed and you felt your breath catch in your throat.

‘I didn’t say any-‘

‘You didn’t need to.’ Luke cuts you off. ‘I’d like to think the reason I know you as well as I do is because you hold the other half of my soul, as I hold the other half of yours.’ He says softly as his eyes then looked up to the stars in a form of hope, stars that now twinkled within his eyes as though they had finally broken free from the veil of endless hopelessness that often came with being a half-blood. ‘I also wonder that if I’m another lifetime, another universe where we’re not cursed to be demi-gods….If that’s even plausible.’ He adds sarcastically, his features contorted in pain and anger before it all faded away as quickly as it came. ‘If we ever get to find each other again or are destined to wonder our entire lives, lost in the hope of trying to fill the void we’re seemingly born with from this lifetime.’

You wordlessly buried yourself into his neck, pressing soft kisses there in hopes of soothing him somewhat. ‘I’m sure we find each other, no I’m certain that we find each other.’ You murmured reassuringly, feeling his arms tighten on your waist. ‘You wanna know why?’ Luke looked away from the stars to look at you, intrigued. ‘Why?’ You moved yourself from your cosy place against his chest, causing him to whine at the loss of your warmth, only to stop upon feeling you hold either sides of his face between your hands; caressing his cheeks as you stared lovingly into his eyes as he welcomed your touch by sinking into it.

‘Because what we do in this lifetime will echo throughout the others, we defy the gods today and we will defy the gods in every single lifetime afterwards.’ You said, pressing your forehead against his as you moved one of your hands from Luke’s cheek to hold him by the back of his neck, fingers toying with the hair there. ‘The same can be said for when we love each other as much as we do right now, we will always find ourselves falling in love with each other in the other lifetimes too.’ You pressed a kiss to his scar before continuing. ‘For we’re fated to be soulmates, even if means having the odds stacked against us, we’ll always find each other again. No matter what.’

Luke stared at you for a while before he pressed his lips against yours passionately, his hands keeping you close to him as he poured everything he had into the kiss, not so secretly wishing that you were right about your love echoing throughout all your other lifetimes, to the point it disrupts their originally intended fates to pursue one another, not caring how long it would take because you both knew that the wait would’ve been entirely worth it.

[idksmtms]

willow (Cillian Murphy x Actress!reader) - evermore series

evermore series

A/N: I had an idea up on my masterlist about falling in love with Cillian while filming a movie so I just decided to merge it with this. Also I saw the picture of him and Emily Blunt walking in costume on the set of Oppenheimer and I thunk thoughts. (sidenote: I cannot write a summary to save my life) 

Extra info: I never say the title of the movie you guys are filming in the fic because I didn’t really want to get too detailed about it, but then I thought of the plot of The Delinquent Season the entire time lmao (I just changed random things because I’m a sucker for an age gap). Also, we’re pretending Oppenheimer hasn’t happened yet because it works for the story. 

Edit: I feel like the ending sucks but I’m too tired to change it. Sorry. 

Summary: When you met Cillian Murphy on set, you were already a fan. When you left, you were so much more…

Word count: 9,772  (oh my gosh I went so overboard with this…) 

Trigger Warnings: 18+, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, profanity, age gap, PinV sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, toxic!Cillian, like 0 communication between characters, secret relationship, not proofread but they never are (please let me know if I missed any) 

Disclaimer: This is written purely for fictional purposes and for the sake of writing. No disrespect is intended to the real people portrayed/concerned in this scenario. 

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

You met Cillian Murphy for the first time five hours before you kissed him. Despite being cast in the lead female role, you were a rather late addition to the movie. Issues had come up with the actress initially cast and you had gotten a phone call about two months before shooting started to get yourself to the studio to sign contracts and start costume fittings. This was an amazing opportunity, and regardless of the rush, you were excited to have it. You had been in movies before, of course, but this was your first lead role and if you did a good enough job, it could skyrocket your career trajectory. Aside from all the good things it could do for your career, you were simply excited to get to work, and to get to work with such a good cast and filmmaker. 

On top of all of that, you would be working closely alongside the Cillian Murphy. When you were told that he was to be your costar, you had been in shellshock for a moment before pressing an obnoxious kiss to your agent’s cheek. Cillian Murphy was one of those actors that only came around once in a lifetime. He was only in tasteful, and well done projects, playing a variety of the most interesting characters you had ever watched. You had seen Peaky Blinders, Inception, Dunkirk, and though you had no interest in superhero movies, you sat down and watched all three Batman movies just to watch him play a villain. In the few interviews you had done up to now, you had mentioned once or twice that you believed him to be the best actor of your lifetime, someone who was left unrecognised at awards shows but deserved all of them and more (as you walked onto set for the first time, you really hoped he hadn’t seen any of those interviews). So, to say you were a fan before the movie might have been an understatement, but you had worked with other people who you were fans of before, and Tom Glynn-Carney only had nice things to say about you afterward; you could be professional and a fan. 

You had been put up in a hotel the night before you were to be driven to the studio lot, your new home for however long you were going to be filming there, and in the morning a polite chauffeur arrived in a blacked out car to take you there. You felt a little giddy during the drive, as you always did before starting a new project. You hadn’t learnt the rhythms of the set yet, the director’s process, whether it would be a rush of technical work or a more relaxed set. You hadn’t worked with most of the other actors, you didn’t know how they approached the job, whether they were welcoming and friendly or preferred to focus on the job then return to solitude. It was all the unknowns that made your stomach feel swoopy, but you had come to like the feeling, viewed it as a challenge, the beginnings of an investigation to learn about your job and home for the rest of the duration of the project. 

You were deposited into the custody of one of the many assistants running around, and hurriedly walked to your trailer with a warning that you would only have five minutes to put your things down, change into your costume, possibly have a sip of water, before you would be taken to hair and makeup and given your costume. You smiled brightly at her, nodding and affirming her over and over that you understood. Your first actual job on a movie set had been as an assistant, you knew her job was hard enough without an actor giving her attitude, so you simply followed her. 

The area you walked through was like the other studio lots you had been to before, large buildings that looked like warehouses on the outside but probably held the coolest sets or the most intricate technology on the inside. People drove around in golf carts, some assistants sprinted while yelling down the phone, others hurriedly rolled clothing racks between buildings. You could see someone giving an interview in the distance but they were too far away for you to tell who it was. 

The trailer you were led to was in a wide space filled with other trailers, what you imagined the setup area for a circus looked like. It was bland and white on the outside, your name in big letters surrounded by the shape of a star (some intern clearly had fun with Canva) on the door, and you felt that bubble of excitement all over again. You let the assistant open the door for you, thanking her and shooting her a smile as if inviting her to join in on the excitement you felt before stepping in. It was exactly as you had expected it to be, and that made you happier than anything else. There was a small kitchenette area with cupboards and a minifridge. A counter separated it from a little seating area, couch seats against either wall, before a tiny hallway (which could barely be called a hallway) that had the door to the bathroom on one side and led into a little bedroom (which was just a bed with a little space on the side to walk and nothing else). Your clothes were hung up on a little hook on the bathroom door. 

You deposited your tote bag on the counter and went to the minifridge, pulling out a bottle of water and taking a big gulp. Ice cold and delicious. You scrunched yourself up and did a happy little jump and squeal because you were living the dream, and nothing could be better than that. You messaged your parents and friends that you had arrived, sent pictures and a little video of the trailer, before picking up your costume and getting into the little bedroom to change. 

It was a simple pair of mom jeans, well fitted and slightly higher than your ankle, accompanied with a plain white blouse that had blue detailing around the neck and off the shoulder sleeves that ended just after your elbow, something you could imagine a mum wearing on vacation in Greece. It was comfortable, and you made a little note to ask the costume designer where she got the pieces because it may or may not have been the best pair of jeans you had ever worn. 

You were able to take another big gulp of water before a knock and a voice at the door was telling you to get to hair and makeup. The trailer for hair and makeup was closer to the actual block of buildings you would be filming in, and a little golf cart was ready to take you there. You let out a little laugh as you settled yourself inside, chatting with the driver as he manoeuvred around people and other obstacles to get you there. 

It was quieter in this corner of the studio, more people walking than running, less things being shifted around in a hurry, and you felt a sense of calm in the air (or at least whatever semblance of calm one could get on a movie set). The driver stopped right in front of the doors and you thanked him, laughing at the parting joke he told you about a dog getting loose in the lot. You went up the first two steps for the trailer when the door swung open and you had to jump back to avoid being slammed into the wall with it. Someone came walking out with their head down, turning back to smile at someone else who had wished them goodluck from within the trailer. They paused when they finally noticed you, and you opened your mouth to say something but not a word came out. They smiled with a huff of a chuckle, and all you could think was that he was so much more beautiful in person than what any camera could capture. 

“I hope I didn’t whack you with the door,” he winced apologetically and you just took a deep breath in, shaking your head then breathing out quickly and laughing at yourself. 

“No, no, I just managed to avoid it,” you breathed out, giggling because your stomach was suddenly tingling and you couldn’t quite feel your hands (or maybe you could feel them too much). 

“Oh, good,” he nodded, “would not have been a good way to introduce myself. Cillian Murphy,” he held out his hand, smiling and polite, his eyes piercing through your skin. They were so bright, so blue. You blinked then kept staring into them as you brought your hand gently into his, hoping your grip wasn’t too limp nor too firm. 

“Y/n L/n, it is so nice to meet you. I’m sorry, I’m trying really hard to hide how starstruck I am and I think I’m failing,” you admitted, cheeks suddenly burning. You always talked when you were nervous, which meant you always overshared when you were nervous. But he just laughed, a deep chuckle that made his chest shake and drew your attention to it. He was broader than you, and wearing a cosy looking black sweater that you desperately wanted to push your face against and feel rub against your cheek. The sleeves had been pushed up to his elbows and you could see the round collar of a white t-shirt poking out at the neck. 

“Don’t worry, you were doing a good job so far, until you admitted it anyway,” he did that little huff-laugh again and you pressed a hand to your face, scrunching your eyes shut in shame at the bombardment of thoughts running through your head that made you feel brainless at the same time. 

“Alright, well then,” you laughed, shaking your head and stepping to the side so he could finally walk past you (which you thought he had wanted to do the entire time but was too polite to point out). “I’m sorry for keeping you trapped here, I’ll let you go wherever you need to go Mr. Murphy.” 

“Please, it’s Cillian,” he frowned in that way that said ‘don’t bother with such formality’, and waved the hand in the air that was carrying his script as if to bat the title away. 

“Right, sorry, Cillian,” and you smiled brightly because he was looking at you with those beautiful, beautiful, eyes, and watched him walk down the steps, wave back at you, run a hand through his hair that had been styled messily, and head for the door of the first building. 

When he had disappeared through the door, you slammed the heel of your hand against your forehead until it stung a little and made it feel like your brain had moved around in your head, grumbling “Mr. Murphy? Seriously? You’re an adult too, ya know? You can call people by their first names now, for fuck’s sake.” 

Cillian chewed on his lip as he sat in the foldable chair on set, waiting for everything else to be set up, his co-star to arrive, and the director to start dictating everything. He enjoyed these few minutes before filming, they helped him focus in on the set, get into the mind of his character, evaluate the situation and what would be needed from him. But he had a little extra time today, and he didn’t mind either because his mind was a little distracted. 

He didn’t think he had ever been called ‘Mr. Murphy’ by a co-star, and it made him laugh because it felt a little ridiculous, but it also made him wonder if you were just young or overly respectful. A quick google search told him you were younger, much younger, but didn’t necessarily answer the question. 

Regardless, he liked you, thus far anyway. He liked the way you looked, your hair was pretty and you had kind eyes, and you smelled nice, a soft flowery perfume. And he liked your voice too, a little loud sometimes, a little too quiet others, but it was nice. He hadn’t seen any of your movies, but he was feeling positive about you. Perhaps too positive, but he shut down that thought process with a snap. 

The makeup artist was best friends with the hairdresser and they were both some of the sweetest people you had ever met. They chatted with you the entire time, laughed at your story of embarrassing yourself in front of Cillian, comforted you that he was a nice, easygoing man who wouldn’t hold it against you, and offered you the little snacks they had lying around. Your hair was put into a simple braid, slicked down with pommade to control the flyaways you were plagued with, and the makeup was so natural you would question if you were wearing any if you hadn’t been there while she was rubbing and brushing the products onto your face. 

The costume designer had left some jewellery for you with them, and they helped you clasp the necklace and earrings while you rummaged in your bag for your script. The director had come in while your hair was being done and told you about some of the last-minute changes to the script and the scenes that were being filmed. The ‘first kiss’ scene was going to be filmed at the end of the day instead of in two weeks time because of scheduling complications and the intimacy coordinator would work with you and Cillian during the break at midday while they filmed some of the scenes that didn’t have either of you in them. You had simply nodded, you couldn’t have argued anyway, you didn’t have any authority here even if you had a lead role, and just told him you’d look over your script and mark it out. He had patted you on the shoulder with a smile and hurried back out and you had resisted the urge to press your face into your hands lest you ruin the makeup. 

Of course you were a little annoyed, you had been told to prepare for certain scenes and those were the scenes you had prepared for, but as you took deep breaths and rifled through the many pieces of advice your therapist had given you, you knew this wasn’t a problem to waste your feelings on. They would be lenient because of the last minute change, and if they weren’t originally then they would have to be because you weren’t a magician. A few deep breaths and reading your lines for the first scene you would be filming calmed you down and returned you to the necessary headspace for filming. 

You thanked both the makeup artist and hairdresser, then put in your headphones as you slowly walked toward the set. You needed to be in a sombre mood, needed to feel that apathy and sadness clawing at the edges of your mind. Your character was struggling, her life was falling apart and she felt like she had no solution, only minor escapes during her trysts with Jim, Cillian’s character. You tucked the script under your arm as you got to the set, taking out your earbuds and looking around for the director. You met eyes with Eva Birthistle who smiled widely and waved at you, excusing herself from the assistant director and walking over to you. 

“Hello, hello!” She hugged you tightly and you returned the greeting against her shoulder. 

Eva was the only member of the cast you had gotten to meet before filming began. One of your fittings had been at the same time as hers and you both had gotten to chatting about the movie. She was an absolute sweetheart, someone you could see as a mentor for yourself, and you were glad to see a familiar face on the set other than the director, a bonus that it was one as welcoming as hers. She wrapped her arm over your shoulder and led you over to the cluster of chairs behind the camera where Cillian was already seated, chatting with Andrew Scott. They both looked up and smiled at the two of you as you came and sat down on the remaining two chairs, Eva already engaging them in conversation. 

Looking at all of them sitting there, it hit you for the first time that you were the youngest person here, in both age and experience. These were all people who had done multiple movies in a variety of roles, had been acting by the time you were born, and had made names for themselves. A wave of shyness hit you that you scolded yourself for, your cheeks burning as you sat down and shook hands with Andrew. Thankfully, the wave didn’t last, because Eva and Andrew were chatty, and both ready to include you in the conversation. 

You were glad for this little moment, though it took you out of the headspace of the character you were trying to settle into. These were all people you would be acting closely with, yelling at or kissing on camera for the next few months, and the more comfortable you could get with them the better. 

Andrew was sweet, asking you questions about past jobs, the interview process, how you felt about your character, an endless supply of questions, jokes, and responses that made him an instant friend. Eva chimed in with her own stories and jokes, piling on top of his and making you laugh until your stomach hurt. Cillian was quieter, only speaking when directly spoken to or simply laughing along with the jokes, but his simple presence was enough for you to feel warm in your bones and excited at the prospect of acting with him. He was so nonchalant, so calm and focused but not deterrent or rude. While you seemed to learn a multitude about both Eva and Andrew, you learnt little about Cillian other than that he preferred living in Ireland to anywhere else. 

You thought maybe it was better that you didn’t get to know him too much. It would make the intimate scenes feel less personal, less intense. He genuinely was one of the most beautiful people you had ever seen and it was too easy for an actor to fall prey to the emotions of a scene in real life. You didn’t want to suddenly be sitting there after a sex scene wondering how similar it was to the real deal with him. You were here to do your job and nothing more. 

The conversation had quieted down as different checks were done on set and it was almost time for you all to convene with the director to get filming started. Cillian was reading quietly from his script, a pair of rectangular glasses with rounded edges and dark rims sat on his nose as he rubbed his index finger back and forth across his bottom lip. You watched him for a moment, the soft movement of his lips as he silently formed the words. Then the director was calling you all up and you felt like you were being snapped out of a trance you hadn’t known you had entered in the first place. 

“Alright, you guys have had a small dinner get-together at Jim and Danielle’s house. This is a sort of regular thing, every couple of weeks, maybe once a month, you have this dinner get-together. You’re all sitting at the dining table across from each other, picking at the final pieces of your meals. Jim and Danielle’s children are asleep upstairs and you guys are simply drinking wine and talking.” He walked you all over to the dining table and pointed out the seats, sitting you down first next to Eva before scrapping the idea and having you sit across from her and beside Andrew. Once you had all been assigned your seats, he turned to Eva and Cillian. 

“You two have been married for a long time, you have two children, you’re in a place in your lives where you believe you’re simply secure in your relationship, but if anyone pokes into this it’s fragile, and you’re not sure if you’re secure and still in love, or you’re just going through the motions of a life you have lived for a long time and don’t actually enjoy. You don’t question anything anymore, just go to work, come home, kiss each other, cook dinner, have a little chat before bed, and do it all over again, day by day.” Then he turned to you and Andrew. He looked at you for a moment before reaching out, pausing just before touching you and silently asking if it was alright. You nodded happily, and he gently pulled your braid to rest over one of your shoulders, moved the pendant on your necklace so it rested a little more to the left, and pulled one of your sleeves a little further down so just the edge of your bra strap was exposed. 

“You two have also been married for a while, but things are a little different. You married Chris right after graduating uni, most of your adult life has been married life. Chris is older, was already pushing forty when you guys got married. All of your friends are his age, mostly couple friends, and you’ve always felt pushed into this older, more mature role, that you don’t necessarily feel successful in. You lean on him quite a bit during these situations, deferring to him to answer difficult questions or when talking about your family life. Chris takes this in stride, it’s how it has always been in your relationship, even after years of marriage and a child. Chris is struggling silently recently, he’s easier to anger, feels a little distant, but honestly? You don’t even realise. You don’t know what he’s hiding, you don’t even know that he’s hiding anything. Andrew, the weight of the disease, hiding it from his family, all those private struggles, are always in the back of Chris’s mind, ok?” Both of you nodded and as you went to sit down at the table, he beckoned you and Cillian over to the side saying, “just a moment.” 

Cillian stood next to you with his arms crossed, the black sweater still pushed up to his elbows, and the edge just brushed against the skin of your arm. You shivered and stretched out your neck for a moment, a nervous tick, before returning your eyes to the director speaking in a low voice. 

“Alright, you two are sitting diagonally to each other at the table. You guys take the term ‘friends’ loosely. You’re friends because she’s friends with Danielle and you’re Danielle’s husband. You’re friends because you’re both couples who are friends, but you’ve never spoken to each other without your spouses in the room. Ok? But there is a little bit of intrigue, I guess. You glance at each other, not for long, just barely a look, or you meet eyes while one of you is talking to the group. I don’t want chemistry, I want the possibility of chemistry. Jim is laidback, especially compared to her husband. She’s pretty and young, especially compared to the other people at the table. I don’t want to notice anything between you yet, I want to come back and watch the movie one day in the future and suddenly notice that there’s something there, but too subtle to hint at the future affair. Ok?” You nodded as he spoke, feeling yourself settle into that focus you usually found just before filming, no more smile and twinkle in your eye. “Alright, break a leg,” and he was walking back to the cameras. You turned to Cillian for a second and he nodded at you, those eyes that you would never forget looking over your face for a moment before he headed for his seat at the table. You clenched your jaw for a second, staring at his back as he walked away, before shaking your head and holding it up high on your way to the table. 

“Alright, change costumes, change the lighting, we’re moving to the living room scene for the next couple of hours, I need the kids and Eva there, please. Cillian and Y/n, head down to studio three after changing, the intimacy coordinator is already there, you have a couple of hours to get it together before we start filming. Hop to it everyone!” 

You were happy to be moving on. Though you had been in films that took even longer for singular scenes, you were starting to feel stale in that environment and reverting to the exact same routine over and over. An assistant was quick to come up alongside you and direct you back to hair and makeup. 

“Your costume is already there, and once everything’s been changed, someone else will come get you to take you to studio three,” he told you, not once looking at you but rather at the clipboard in his hand filled with typed and handwritten notes. 

“Ok, thank you,” you nodded, watching the assistant nod goodbye before doubling back to find Cillian to relay the same information. You stood still and watched him for a moment, the glasses tucked into the neck of his sweater as he nodded at the assistant. 

The longer hair looked good on him, you thought. It was going a little grey in the places around his ears but you liked it more that way. His cheekbones cast shadows on his face in the dim light, but you could still see the faint freckles over his nose and the very light smattering he had on his neck. You could even see the freckles on his forearms and it made something warm bloom in your stomach. He looked up and directly at you. Those eyes… those eyes you could spend hours talking about, uncaring that you probably repeated yourself multiple times simply because of how beautiful they were. You smiled, something that could just barely be considered a smile with only the corners of your lips twitching up for barely a moment and your eyes fluttering, before turning away and walking out of the studio. 

You ended up changing in the corner of the hair and makeup trailer, both the women standing with their backs turned to you as they organised pins and palettes and chatted away. Your next costume was a set of oversized mauve-coloured pyjamas that felt a little too thin for your liking. You were a little relieved that it was only the first kissing scene being filmed. You had read the entire script twice over, and you knew about the other scenes to come that required a lot more of you. You had only ever filmed one ‘intimate’ scene before, and even that had only been a rather simple kissing scene. While this scene was definitely more than that, it didn’t feel as big of a leap on the first day simply because it cut off after the kiss. 

Your hair was let down from its braid, mussed up with the hairdresser’s hands and sprayed with hairspray. All your makeup was wiped off before they went to work again. Dabs of eyeshadow in strategic places made your eyes look slightly puffy, like you just woke up from a haggard sleep. Purple under eyes appeared out of nowhere and the faintest bruise was brought to life on your right cheekbone. Little dabs of red on your lips made them look bitten and your nails were chopped roughly to look like you had been chewing on them on and off. Again, you thanked the women and in a simple pair of slippers made your way outside to meet with the assistant responsible for guiding you to studio three. 

It looked like a school drama studio on the inside, with blackout curtains hung all the way around, a black linoleum floor and big wood blocks wrapped in fuzzy material pushed to the edges of the room. You would have taken your shoes and socks off outside the room out of habit if you had known what it looked like on the inside. You smiled to yourself at the thought, before quickly shuffling over to where Cillian stood talking to two women who looked like the opposites of each other. One was dressed in plain white pants, a white blouse tucked neatly into said pants, and a cream coloured cardigan. The other wore a poncho-style dress that fluttered as she moved her arms and was covered in dizzying bohemian patterns. Ten necklaces were draped over her chest, anything from chains to rope, and she had a bandana neatly wrapped to keep her hair out of her face. 

“Hi! I hope I’m not late!” You called, stopping just beside Cillian and smiling at the two women who looked old enough to be your grandmothers (the realisation that you would be making out with someone right in front of them was not a pleasant one). 

“Not at all, we were just talking about boundaries,” Poncho Lady told you warmly, reaching out to shake your hand. The one in the cardigan followed suit, though she was quieter, and you simply smiled brightly at both of them before waiting for instruction.

“Alright, give your scripts here and just stand in front of each other.” Poncho Lady gently pried the script from your hand, took your tote bag from your shoulder, and set them both down on one of the wood blocks Cardigan Lady had pulled over. “Ok, so we’re just here to make sure you don’t feel uncomfortable doing this scene, that no one pushes past any hard boundaries, and to make it seem natural without being unprofessional. Now, before you get to it, is there any place on your body that you would be uncomfortable with your partner touching?” You shook your head and watched Cillian mimic the reaction. 

Awkwardness was cloying at the back of your neck and you desperately wanted to open your mouth and make a stupid comment about how it would just look weird in the movie if he grabbed you between the legs anyway, and it took every ounce of your willpower to keep your mouth shut. “Alright! Let’s get started then! We’ll interrupt when needed.” You turned to fully face Cillian, tilting your head back slowly when you realised how close he was standing. He was still wearing the same jeans and sweater, but the shirt underneath had been changed to a black one, the neck perpetually poking out. 

You dipped your head down again, pressing your hand to your face as you began rambling about how stupid you were and how insane it was for you to be asking him to have an affair with you. Your eyes were squeezed so tight you could see white flashes on the backs of your eyelids. Then, gently, he was interrupting you, voice low as he told you that it was fine, everything was fine, you did nothing wrong, he completely understood, you were tired, emotional after everything. But you kept berating, spitting out words about how he was so good looking and so loyal and you were you, a horrible friend and obviously never a second thought on his mind. And then he was cutting you off, rambling in return about how you’re a beautiful woman, and he can’t lie that he hasn’t thought about you, he’s a man who can appreciate beauty after all. But he could see that you weren’t calming down, could see you slowly folding in on yourself in your panic. Then he was grabbing your hand. Gentle, soft fingers wrapping around your wrist, skin warm and making your own feel tingly. You took a deep breath, your chest visibly shaking, and he brought his other hand to your chin, slowly tilted your head back up to look him in the eye with his fingertips. You blinked, eyes big and wide, and he pressed your hand to his chest, covering it with his own. 

The sweater was so soft under your fingertips, and you desperately wanted it for yourself. His palm was warm on top of yours, warm and firm and unrelenting. You tuned into the sensation of his heart, a wild beating, and your face changed to just hint at concern. 

“Can you feel that?” He asked, voice so low it was almost a whisper. 

“It’s racing,” you breathed out, flexing your fingers against his chest so they caught a bit more of the material of his sweater. 

“Yeah,” he huffed out with a smile, and you moved just a little closer, reaching down to grab his other hand and pressing it to your own chest. His fingertips were a little cold, and your entire body shivered, a small sound leaving your lips. Your fingers were slightly threaded with his, and you pressed his palm to the place where your collar split away and exposed your chest. His hand covered so much of your chest, his pinky and index dipping under the fabric, and was so gentle on its own that you pressed it more firmly against the skin. You wanted his fingerprints imprinted on your skin. He breathed out shakily, almost loudly, and your next breath mimicked it as you closed your eyes. It was so hot in the room.

Both of you stood there feeling each other’s heartbeats for a moment, his head dipped lower so your foreheads almost touched. You were standing so close you could feel each other’s breaths against your lips and the sides of your noses just brushed every so often. He gulped, licking his lips as sweat began to build on the back of his neck and the need to rip the sweater off was soaring in priority in his mind. Your lips just brushed each other, cupid's bows just grazing- 

“Alright, so that’s where you say ‘feel my breast’ and begin guiding his hand under your shirt,” Poncho Lady interjected, looking up from the script in her hands. 

You let go of Cillian’s hand and stepped back quickly. It felt like stepping into an air conditioned room from a hot sunny day outside. Your insides were still warm, and the heat that had been tinging your skin hadn’t completely gone away, but you were more awake, more aware. You licked your lips and gave a small smile that you hoped didn’t betray the sudden embarrassment falling upon you. 

You had been in the scene, you had been lost in it. There had been times before when you were acting and when stopped abruptly felt like you were suddenly reentering your body, like your soul had been extracted for a few moments into a different person and then quickly pulled back and thrust into its original form. But this was a different level. This had been you and not you at the same time. You had been doing those things, had wanted to do those things, but you were also being controlled by something outside yourself, being told to do those things. You quietly excused yourself, saying you had left your water bottle in the hair and makeup trailer and would just quickly run and get it. As you turned back one last time at the door, you watched Cillian run a hand through his hair and smile at Poncho Lady as if nothing had happened since he had walked into the room. 

After the door closed behind you, Cillian happened to glance at your tote bag on the block, and saw your water bottle peaking out. He laughed quietly to himself as he sat down next to it. 

He understood how you were feeling. Intimate scenes were always hard, regardless of how many times an actor has done it. Especially intimate scenes when two people have palpable chemistry. If Poncho Lady hadn’t interrupted, he would have kissed you right then. 

Usually kisses between actors were saved for only when they were filming, but he had been lost in that scene, lost in you. Your eyes, teary and pained and so big, were so authentic that it had been easy to fall into his role, the saviour, the anchor. And as you guys had stepped closer and closer, and his senses were bombarded so much, he had lost himself more and more. Your perfume from earlier had worn off, but your skin smelt so good, like cocoa butter body wash. 

From his line of sight, he could see a sliver of your neck where your hair had fallen behind your shoulder. In the moment a sudden, impulsive thought had flashed in his mind, the intense need to lean down and press his mouth to your neck, to kiss it and let his tongue just poke out and drag over the skin. He could even see it now as he sat and waited for you to return, the place where your neck joined your head and the skin went up to behind your ear. He closed his eyes and let himself linger there. 

Then the scene moved on and so did the little movie in his mind. Your hand in his, so soft and gentle as it settled against his chest. Then his hand in yours, your fingertips slightly sweaty and shaking. For a moment he had considered letting his hand stay limp, wanting to see how you would manage to drag the weight of his arm, but that was another intrusive thought that had to be pushed away. 

The skin on your chest was firm but with how firmly you held his hand against it he could feel the slight give of your flesh. His finger had just barely stroked your collarbone as his hand had rested there and he had wanted to move his hand so much more, to so many other places. Up to your neck to feel the soft skin there, to see if he could make you do that full-body shiver again. Down to your breasts, to the delicate skin stretched over them and then to cup them, to feel the weight of them in his hands. 

Cillian opened his eyes and took your water bottle in his hands, opening it and drinking from it as you came back into the room. You looked directly at him and he smiled at the wide-eyed, almost scandalised, look you gave him. He brought the bottle down and screwed the cap back on, putting it right-way up on the block for you to clearly see. He could see a little flush in your cheeks, and watched you rub the tips of your ears with a mischievous smile. 

Poncho and Cardigan Lady didn’t even notice that you returned without a water bottle. 

The intimacy coordinators only made you rehearse the scene two more times before letting you go. They said you both seemed comfortable enough, that you understood what the other person was and wasn’t comfortable with and you were left to your own devices. You left without a glance back and told an assistant you would be heading back to your trailer. She nodded, telling you that someone would come get you for touch ups on your makeup in an hour, and then you walked the entire way back to the makeshift trailer park. 

You only got about fifteen minutes on your own before someone was knocking on the door. You had washed all the makeup off, reasoning that you could simply head back early on your own and give them the time to do it all over again. As you walked, you tied your hair up in a ponytail, awkwardly opening the door with one hand. Cillian smiled politely up at you, arms crossed over his chest and you simply stared at him with wide eyes, blinking stupidly. 

“Hi,” his smile was jovial and infectious, but the one you offered in return felt forced. You felt so awkward around him now, as if you had violated some trust by being so caught up in the moment. “I thought we could walk around a little bit, get to know each other. I think it helps a little bit when filming roles like these.” You paused, fidgeting with the door handle. 

You had really wanted to take a nap, to reset yourself before filming the scene all over again. But this was such an enticing invitation. And maybe it would help you push past all this awkwardness. Maybe getting to know the other actor was better than not knowing. Maybe feeling connected worked better because you had more to think about, more defence in the moment. 

You nodded, holding up your finger for him to wait a moment so you could put your sneakers on and deposit your slippers in your tote bag. He waited patiently, leaning against the outside of the trailer while thumbing through the script. You hopped down the steps and waited for him to take the first stride before following alongside him, taking a winding path back up to the studios. 

“What do you keep in this all-important tote bag?” He asked, eyes squinting in the sun as he teasingly tugged on one of the straps. 

“Oh, heh, just little on-set essentials. Phone, headphones, little snack,” you paused, “my water bottle,” you added quietly, pursing your lips as you watched his smile widen. 

“That’s quite a nice idea, I should think about getting my own,” he nodded as he spoke, and you just smiled. Both of you walked for a little bit without saying anything, and just as the urge to open your mouth and spew out whatever comment happened to be on the tip of your tongue became almost unbearable, Cillian spoke again. “Have you filmed scenes like this before?” He asked, and you knew there were other questions behind it, insinuations. You felt embarrassed all over again, wrapping your arms around yourself and looking straight ahead to the path you were walking. 

“Um, once. And it wasn’t even this intense. I was working on this show, a supporting role with a romantic storyline. I was working with Tom Glynn-Carney?” He let out a little ‘ah’ nodding his head in recognition, muttering a ‘good lad’. “Yeah, it was really small, like a chaste ‘this guy has been my boyfriend for the past two years and I’m just leaving for work’ kind of kiss.” He laughed at that, genuine and melodic, as he looked at the floor and shook his head before looking up to the sky like he was exasperated with your silliness. “And Tom’s really sweet so it went really well, but this has a lot more expectation on it. It feels like going from the kids' pool to the deep end.” You chose to leave out the fact that his very good looks and insane acting abilities made it that much more difficult. 

Both of you paused for a moment, turning to each other in the late afternoon light. He stared at you and you wrapped your arms around yourself again, suddenly feeling like you were exposed to the elements. Slowly, he reached up and pressed the tip of his index finger to your cheek just under your eye. You stared at him, at his lips as he breathed in, and the moment was so slow, so natural, that for a moment you considered stepping forward and kissing him. But someone hit fast-forward again and he pulled back, holding up his finger to you. 

“I’m sorry, you had an eyelash,” he explained. “Make a wish,” he whispered, holding it close to your lips and you waited a beat, looking into his eyes as you leaned closer and blew the little eyelash away. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. You turned and began walking quickly, a rain of dread suddenly drizzling onto your shoulders. Maybe it was a premonition, maybe it was delusion, but something told you that all these moments were leading to something and you wouldn’t necessarily come out of it for the better. 

You pressed his hand to your chest, breathing in slowly and looking into his eyes as if everything you’ve ever wanted was held there. His fingers flexed, just slightly, and you began to move it down, dipping it under the edge of the pyjama shirt. 

“Feel my breast,” you whispered, guiding his hand into your shirt until you could feel it searing the flesh of your breast. He was breathing heavily now, chest shaking as he pressed even closer to you, moving his head so his nose lightly brushed your nose. You tilted your head up further so your lips were aligned and only a little move was necessary to connect them. You looked into each other’s eyes for a moment, thoughts racing, trying to decipher what the other person was thinking but also knowing exactly the thoughts that rain through their head, peaking themselves out into their eyes. And then he was kissing you, mouth slightly open, pressing your bottom lip between his. You moved the hand on his chest up to cup the side of your neck, steadying yourself as he gripped onto your chest and devoured your mouth. And his tongue was in your mouth, delving in and pressing to yours, and you couldn’t breathe but you didn’t want to either and his thumb was pressing against your nipple and your entire body was tingling and- 

“Cut! That was perfect, guys!” 

You pulled away slowly, so so slowly. Your lips still stuck to his a little as you moved away. His hand was almost lethargic in its pace to snake out of your shirt, and you moved your own down from his neck to his chest before bringing it back down to your side. You were both breathing heavily, glancing away from each other then back, away then back before you finally turned away and walked off the set toward the chairs and cameras. You licked your lips as you walked, trying to savour the taste of him. 

The director let you all go for the evening, telling you he’d see you all bright and early on the other side of the studio lot for the ‘second meeting’ scene. You hauled your tote bag over your shoulder and practically ran to the golf cart. You spent the entire ride with your eyes closed. 

You didn’t bother eating dinner, just did your night routine and lay down on the bed. There was a little window in the bed area covered with blinds that had been left unfolded. Yellow light from somewhere on the lot was shining in through the cracks but you couldn’t be bothered to move them. You lay in a state between sleep and wakefulness until midnight. Your brain was buzzing with too many thoughts but you were too tired to think through them. 

Five minutes past one, and there was a knock at your trailer door, three soft thuds. You shifted on the bed, lifting your head up slightly to listen for another one. It came, the person was trying to be quiet, and you slowly slid out of bed. You tiptoed to the door and only opened it an inch. Cillian stood directly in front of the trailer, so close to the door that if you opened it wider he would basically be inside. He was wearing a plain white round-neck shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants, his hands shoved into the pockets. His hair was still relatively neat, which meant he hadn’t gone to bed yet, and you suddenly felt self-conscious, patting down the back of your head as you blinked up at him. He smiled, a small thing that didn’t reach his eyes, and you opened the door a little wider, pulling the sleeves of your hoodie down so they wrapped over your fingertips. 

“Can I come in?” He asked quietly, low and serious. You nodded, moving back and letting him close the door behind himself.

You both stood in the little space between the kitchenette and the door. You felt fully awake now, but everything in the world was still. There was pin-drop silence and you two simply looked at each other. Then he was moving forward, slowly, one step at a time, until he was standing as close to you as he was when you were both filming earlier, maybe even closer. 

Every breath you took made your chest brush his. You could feel your nipples tightening and pushing against your hoodie. He brought both of his hands up to cup your head on either side, then leaned down and kissed you firmly. It was slow, a little pull back and then he was pushing in, kissing you again. Everything inside you was slowly heating up, like a saucepan set on a low fire. Your limbs were filling up with it, there was a lump at the back of your throat, and your core was slowly tightening into itself. Your hands shook and you lifted them to press into his sides, clenching your hands into the soft material of his t-shirt. He kissed you again and again until you were heaving your breaths in and leaning your upper body onto his. 

Cillian pulled away and looked at you, a pause as if waiting or asking, and you simply pointed behind you at the little hallway that led to the bedroom. He nodded, just one little movement of his head tipping down, then he pulled away, grasping your hand in his and walking you both to the little bed area. 

The blinds were still spilling orangey-yellow light into the room, and he simply sat you on the bed before turning around to adjust them so they were closed a little tighter but still let small slits of light into the room. Then he got on his knees right in front of you, pushing himself forward so he was between your legs and your knees pressed into his ribs. You were taking deep breaths in, staring at him with parted lips as he brushed your hair away from your face and kissed you once. 

Everything felt so… small. The room was only the space you two inhabited, your breaths were his breaths, your eyes only looking into his eyes, your lips only existing to kiss his. His fingers gently burrowed under the fabric of your hoodie and began lifting it up. He waited for you to raise your arms then slowly removed each of your sleeves, dropping it into a heap next to himself. You were only wearing a bra underneath it, and he lightly caressed your stomach, watching you shudder out breaths at the sensation. He reached up with his other hand and slid one of the bra straps down your shoulder, touching the little mark it had left behind before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to it. Then the other strap was shifted down, another kiss on your shoulder. Your mouth was dry, your hands shaking. You wanted him to consume you. 

You reached out and lightly tugged on the collar of his shirt. He instantly leaned back and took it off, exposing pale skin and softly defined muscles. Each ridge was gentle, like the artist had painstakingly smudged out any harsh lines. You wanted to feel his body pressing down on top of you. 

He gently tugged your shorts down your legs, waiting patiently for you to lean back and lift your hips up so he could get them off. His right hand moved to splay over your stomach, gently pressing until you were laying flat on your back while his left hand lifted your legs to rest over his shoulders. He slowly pulled you forward until the small of your back was curved to the edge of the bed and all the weight of your lower body was on his shoulders. He looked up at you once, bright blue eyes so shiny in the dim light that you wanted to stop and take a picture. But you only breathed out a little shuddering moan as he pressed his lips against your pussy, poking his tongue out and gently licking between the folds. You clenched your eyes shut, one arm thrown carelessly above your head as you bit down on your other hand. 

It was warm and wet and hot. The room felt humid and your skin burned. His lips were so soft, his tongue skillful, and your hips rolled with every movement, warm tendrils of pleasure moving in waves through your body. He licked until your thighs were messy and you could feel his cheeks stick to the insides. He pressed the tip of his tongue inside you until the pressure at your entrance was making you convulse and the sounds leaving your lips were a little too loud for your own liking. You bit so hard into your hand that you were sure your teeth marks would be there the following morning and let your body quiver on the bed as he pulled away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 

You could see his chest heaving up and down and you pushed up to lean on your elbows, watching him push the sweatpants off his hips before draping himself over you. You closed your eyes and fell back onto the bed, letting him spread your legs and drape them over his hips. When he pushed into you, you curled around him. Your legs tightened around his waist, your arms wrapped around his torso and you pressed your face into his shoulder, muffled sounds spilling from your lips and into his skin. You could hear him panting directly by your ear, feel the wet breaths against the shell of your ear as he turned his head to nip at it. He began moving, backwards and forwards, pull and push, drag and rub. You pushed your hips up against him, a little ‘unh’ sound pushing from your chest when the little space below his belly button pressed perfectly against your clit. 

You lost yourself in the pleasure. Time didn’t exist in that space, only the feeling of your insides climbing up, reaching for something that would make stars burst behind your eyes. It was the feeling of the bed sheets rubbing against your skin, the clasp of your bra pressing into your back. It was his skin sticking to yours, your hands digging into his back, his lips on your cheek, behind your ear. It was the sounds of your hips meeting, soft consistent thumps that slowly began to increase in speed. 

And then you were there. The moment where everything was just right. When the weight of him inside you and the press against your clit lined up perfectly. When his lips were pressed against your cheek and somewhere a star aligned in the universe. It was like warm flowers blooming inside your stomach, so brightly it was almost painful. You clenched around him, pressed your knees to his ribs as tight as they would go. You clenched your teeth tightly together but pressed your mouth to his shoulder so all the sounds came out muffled and weird, high pitched from the back of your throat or deep from the pit of your stomach. 

He groaned when he finished, hands gripping your hips so tightly you felt them even after he let go. His eyes were scrunched shut and when his hips convulsed a few times he almost hissed at the sensation. He quickly pulled out, falling down right beside you. Neither of you moved for a long while. 

When your joints finally felt like they would no longer fall apart if you moved, you slowly turned to lay on your side. He was already looking at you, eyes soft and tracing over every feature of your face. He reached out, blunt fingertips gently brushing hair off of your forehead and cheeks. He stroked one with his thumb, then moved forward to press the gentlest, most loving kiss against your lips. You kept your eyes closed even when he pulled away. 

He was gone when you woke up in the morning. You thought you dreamed it for a moment, the most vivid dream you had ever had in your life. But you were naked under the blanket, and you never remembered pulling it up from the edge of the bed so someone had tucked you in. Your hoodie and shorts were folded and placed on the tiny nightstand beside the bed, and your blinds were fully closed. When you shifted to get out of bed, you could still feel the way fingertips had pressed into your thighs and a soft soreness throbbing between your legs. Not a dream. 

But then everything felt weird when you left the trailer. You didn’t see Cillian until you were on set for filming and he was busy with the director until ‘action!’ was called. You followed him after ‘cut!’ but he only sat and watched the scene over or read from his script. He smiled politely at you, gave you a wave when he caught you looking, but made no special effort to come over to you. 

You felt off-kilter the entire day, like a joke was being pulled on you but you couldn’t figure out what it was. But then, as you curled up in your bed after sunset, watching the sky darken through the window, he knocked on your door again. And you let him in, let him kiss you and take you to bed. And in the dead of night he wrapped you up in the bed sheets, whispering little jokes, telling stories, watching you like you were precious. And then the cycle started all over again the next day. 

You reasoned with yourself. You guys were still at work, you needed to be professional on set, and it seemed to explain everything away. He snuck into your bed at night, wrapped his arms around you and kissed you, coaxed you into sleep eventually, but never in the daylight. Not even a touch other than the ones on camera. 

You couldn’t feel yourself getting attached, couldn’t see yourself manoeuvring your life around him until you knew you would beg for him to just take your hand in the daytime once, let you call him your man. You came when he called, followed where he went. You didn’t realise until you were devoted, didn’t realise until the willow had bent to the wind.

Taglist: @4ria790

[songmingisthighs]

Wanbelyn

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

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ch. lxxx - broken face

neurosurgeon!hongjoong × reader

genre : dad!au

rating : mature; crude jokes and filthy language

wc : 2.3 k

buy me coffee ?

where love and peace is held, i never expected for this to happen. i planned and i planned, i expected, and i hoped, but it was never you. you held what i wanted hostage to make room for you, the thing that i needed but has no means of acceptance. deny me, live your best life.

To say that you rushed into the gym was an understatement because you practically flew through the door, almost breaking it in the process. You even ignored San who was beaming when he saw you, trying to go in for a hug only for you to push past him whilst yelling 'SORRY, MY BABY NEEDS ME MORE'. Hell, you didn't even take notice of Yeosang who had to console San for being ignored by you.

When you got to the classroom, your eyes zeroed in on the very familiar tuft of hair and not because of the fact that he was the only one there.

In a flash, you dropped to your knees and cupped Kijoong's face who was surprised when he was suddenly spun around. "Kijoong, are you okay?" you asked worriedly, the first aid kit you had hauled with you left on the floor as you tried to look for signs that his face was, as San said, broken, "Did you fight with someone?" you asked, still looking for signs of injury.

Now fully realizing that you were there with him. Kijoong grinned widely and jumped into your arms, wrapping his own shorter ones around your neck and trying to climb you like a tree. It was then that you realized that Kijoong was perfectly fine and perhaps you had fallen so absolutely stupidly to San's words. You risked getting a speeding ticket only to see that Kijoong was perfectly fine and that confused you more than anything. "Kijoong, did you get hurt?" you asked again, still wanting to make sure as it would greatly affect how dead Choi San would be. Instead of telling you if he was okay, Kijoong proceeded to tell you about what he had been learning in school and in class with San.

In a state of confusion, the door opened and at first you thought that it was San which would have been nice since that would mean that you could spare his staff from seeing the strangling of a lifetime. So it took you by surprise when you saw Hongjoong standing there, looking as surprised as you.

"(y/n)?" God, it had been a while since you heard him call your name, "What are you doing here?" he asked, confused but slightly hopeful for some reason. "I- San told me Kijoong got hurt and I got here as fast as I could. What are you doing here?" "Picking Kijoong up?" that was stupid of you to ask and you really wanted to kick yourself for that. "But also, San told me Kijoong got in a fight with a kid and I needed to sign an incident report? I just saw him outside, he told me to get the story from Kijoong first so I came here." As if on cue, after Hongjoong was done explaining his being there, the door suddenly closed and locked, surprising you and Hongjoong yet again.

Just as you rushed to try to open the door, Yeosang's head popped up from the small window with San above him. "Kang Yeosang, what the hell do you think you're doing?" you hissed, trying to open the door which of course didn't happen as it was locked. "I did nothing, San was the one who locked you in," he smiled innocently only to receive a smack on the shoulder from San. You turned your attention to San and glared at him, "You have exactly 5 seconds to open this door, Choi San, I'm not kidding I will whoop you," you threatened, oblivious that Hongjoong was looking at you with amusement and affection, as if you were the most adorable being on earth and it didn't go unnoticed by your two friends outside. "You can't scare me (y/n)," San was lying straight out of his ass but he had to keep the facade to ensure that the plan would work, "You two need to talk things out and reverse the divorce because Yeosang and I have created a gaming group chat with Yunho and Mingi and I'm not about to give that up especially since we're going into a competition soon and we want you both to be there!" "Bye (y/n)! Have a good talk!" and with that, both Yeosang and San walked away, leaving you in a room with the guy whom you harboured feelings for but unfortunately had to repress for the sake of his son.

"So..." Hongjoong started, clearing his throat, "Seems like we were lied to, huh?" he stated the obvious. Sighing, you turned around to look at Hongjoong but kept your distance by leaning against the door, "Yeah, seems like it and I have a feeling those two were not the only ones in on this," you huffed. Hongjoong only chuckled as he managed to put two and two together rather quickly.

"How have you been though?" he asked. You didn't know how to answer that because from professional aspect, you were finally getting back on track and you were happy with that. But emotional-wise? You've been repressing everything to the point that you were functioning like a robot in real life, using work as a distraction. Little did you know, Hongjoong wasn't faring any better but he had to kept things going for him as best as he could because Kijoong was depending on him to be okay. You were about to answer when he interjected, "Because I haven't been fine since you left." It genuinely surprised you that Hongjoong was the one to reveal his feelings first. From your experience, something dramatic had to happen between the two of you first before he came clean about how he was actually feeling. The honesty felt refreshing.

"Neither have I," you answered, sending him a sad smile.

Though it was a sad realization for the two of you, Hongjoong couldn't help but feel butterflies in his stomach when he found out that you were as much as not okay as he had been.

"I missed you. Home is not home when you're not there," Hongjoong confessed, voice slightly shaky as he was trying his hard to not be too emotional. Your shoulders slumped hearing that, feeling bad that Hongjoong felt like that and thought it wasn't your fault exactly, you still feel somewhat at fault.

The two of you were so focused on each other that you completely missed the way Kijoong was staring at the two of you with furrowed eyebrows and a displeased expression. You only took notice of him again when he ran up to you and hit you on the hip with a balled fist. "No!" He exclaimed loudly, surprising both you and Hongjoong who immediately chastised him. "Kijoong!" he called out but Kijoong went for another hit and that was when Hongjoong swooped down to hold Kijoong back but Kijoong was straining against him, trying to get another hit on you. "Hey, no!" Hongjoong tried his best to keep Kijoong from trying to hurt you again but the boy was still going wild in his arms. "No!" Kijoong screamed again, louder this time as he tried his best to get his fists to reach you.

After coddling him due to your own self-blaming, you decided to step in and get to the bottom of the issue. You joined in and crouched in front of Kijoong, holding both of his hands in your own. "Use your words," you stated, looking straight into Kijoong's eyes. Kijoong noticed the serious tone in your voice and he felt something in him, something that didn't make him feel good. He managed to slip one hand out of your grasp and swung, successfully hitting you in the head much to Hongjoong's horror. As the parent, Hongjoong was about to haul Kijoong up and out one way or another so he wouldn't hurt you anymore but you didn't falter. Instead, you simply grabbed his loose hand and held it at the front. "Use your words Kim Kijoong, you know you can," you stressed, maintaining eye contact with him.

Kijoong's chest began heaving and you thought he was about to scream at you but the first thing he did was burst into tears. The sound of his son bawling made Hongjoong let go in worry, wanting to immediately calm him down but he was stopped from taking action when Kijoong spoke up, "Why you left? You left and you made daddy sad," he cried out while trying to get you to let go of his hands but you kept them firm, "Kijoong, what did you mean by that?" you asked, your voice sounding less harsh but it still had an element of seriousness to it. Through tears and sobs, Kijoong looked to you and then to his dad, and then to you again before attempting to speak even though it looked like he was struggling, "Y-you said you leave when I don't need you a-and you ma-de daddy sad," he told you.

Though his words were simple and rather vague, you immediately realize what he was trying to tell you. You did tell him that you would only leave when he no longer needed you and you did tell him that you cared for him and his dad. So obviously in his simple mind, when you did leave when he still needed you and when Hongjoong had to deal with the absence of you, he blamed you. It didn't help that you already blamed yourself for Kijoong's episodes and the decision to leave them, hearing what Kijoong had to say made your heart break.

You were about to apologize and acknowledge that you messed up when Hongjoong grabbed Kijoong and turned around to face him, "Hey, you can't blame (y/n) like that, Kijoong. (y/n) didn't leave us, she was giving us time because she was scared that you'd get sick again, remember? Remember when you had another episode and then again?" Kijoong nodded, remembering both times he had an episode around you, "You remember what you told Uncle Mingi? You remember telling him you didn't want (y/n) to be your mommy because then she'd leave me?" again, Kijoong nodded, his mind clearing up as his sobs died down slowly. "(y/n) is not like your mom, Kijoong. Your mom... She was sick so she decided to go, she couldn't be anyone's mommy and yes, that made me sad but I'm no longer sad about mommy being gone because I had (y/n)." Though Hongjoong was talking to his son, you couldn't help but think that he was probably also talking to you, telling you how he felt about you and how serious he was about his feelings. "I was happy when she was around but then you got sick so we agreed that you should get better first and yes, that made me sad, but that was not (y/n)'s fault, that was my fault too. I'd rather be sad for a long time than to see you sick again and (y/n) also thinks the same way. We didn't want to be apart but we thought we had to."

Hongjoong didn't realize that he was starting to cry too until Kijoon reached up to wipe the tears off of his face. "I'm sorry daddy, sorry for being sick," he sniffled, now thinking that his dad was sad partially because of him. But Hongjoong immediately shook his head and pulled Kijoong into a tight embrace, "You silly little monkey, you don't ever apologize for being sick, okay? You can't help being sick, you have no say in that," then he pulled away, "But you have a say in letting people into your, into our lives, you hear me?"

It was then that Hongjoong turned his attention to you, seeing you looking at him so sadly. A small smile appeared on Hongjoong's face as he reached a hand to softly take yours, immediately rubbing his thumb gently on the back of your hand. "And I want you in our lives (y/n). The distance between us confirmed my feelings that it was never the proximity that affected my feelings for you, it was never the fact that we were simply in each other's lives. I didn't choose to have feelings for you but I was gifted the ability to develop feelings for you because it was you, it had to be you. I don't want to force you nor do I want to pressure you, but I really want you back in my life. You heard what Kijoong sad, I was sad without you," You couldn't help but chuckle and tried to look away when you felt a tear fell from your eye from being reunited with the father and son duo once again, remembering how much you silently miss them but not being able to know if you should approach them again only to know that both of them were missing you too. Seeing the tear, Kijoong reached out again and this time, he wiped the tear off of your face. It may seem stupid, but that moment made you feel like it was proof that Kijoong didn't have anything against you, not anymore at least and you didn't know how to feel about that.

"So, can you find it in yourself to come back to us?" Hongjoong asked, hopeful but he was still allowing you to make a decision.

Your shoulders slumped and you let out an exhale. You took a moment to look at Hongjoong and then at Kijoong, remembering all the good times with them and then also the bad times. The bad times that brought so many emotions and even some trauma back. As much as you were reluctant to give an answer right then and there, you knew you had to because if not then, then you would just postpone and risk ruining things further.

This is going to seem mean, but...

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[cassiabaggins]

Too Bitter, Too Sweet (part one)

A chance encounter gives you a once in a lifetime opportunity: the chance to reunite with your first love, Leon Kennedy.

Fluff and Angst

Words: 4k

Warnings: none. Just Leon being awkward. NO SMUT

(April is an oc, she is VERY briefly mentioned because I couldn't resist)

Reblogs and comments appreciated! Cross-posted on ao3.

You can hardly believe what you're seeing. He's older, with longer hair and a hardened look, but you'd recognize him anywhere. Leon Kennedy, your first love and college boyfriend. 

You're approaching him before you can think about it. 

“Leon?”

He freezes, startling a little like no one has called his name in forever, and turns to stare at you. There is no spark of recognition in those baby blue eyes. 

“Uh, hi?”

“It's me, Leon. Y/N. From college? We… were close.”

Close is an understatement. The two of you had dated for almost a year, but he doesn't seem to recognize you or remember. You suppose you can't blame him. It's been nearly ten years and you've both changed quite a bit.

A beat. Another. 

Then his eyes widen and a soft, shy little smile blooms across his face. “Y/N,” he murmurs, then laughs, running a hand over his hair. “Wow. Hi! You look… different.”

You giggle. Oh Leon. He's really not changed at all. “Different?” You ask.

“It's a good different!” He hurries to say.

“It's good to see you again,” you tell him. 

He nods vigorously, his hair falling into his eyes. “You, too.”

He looks around the area, as if trying to figure out what you're doing here. “What are you doing in D.C.?”

You adjust the strap of your purse. “I'm here for work,” you explain. 

Leon puts his hands in his pockets. “Work, huh? You passed the bar, then? That's amazing.” 

You feel your cheeks warming. “How'd you know I was a lawyer?”

“Because that's what you were studying in college,” he replies. “It wasn't that long ago. You think I forgot? Besides, how many different jobs are there to be done in a courthouse?”

You laugh softly, and Leon grins, clearly pleased that he made you laugh. His smile is exactly the same as you remember it, slightly lopsided, sweet, and genuine. It makes you remember easier times and how he used to kiss you. You shouldn't be thinking about him like that… it's been almost ten years, there's no way he doesn't have a girlfriend.

“Are you still in law enforcement?” You blurt, desperate to distract yourself.

Leon shifts in place, and you think his smile falters slightly.

“Something like that,” he says ambiguously. 

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It's hard to explain,” he replies, scratching the back of his head. “Uhm… it's government stuff.”

He's clearly uncomfortable, so you stop pushing. 

“Do you like it?”

“The people I work with are great,” he says.

Not exactly an answer. 

“Well, that’s good,” you say, adjusting your grip on your purse. Leon opens his mouth to reply, but is interrupted by the sound of a jaunty ringtone. 

“Shit,” he mumbles, quickly pulling a cellphone out of his jacket pocket. He frowns when he sees the caller I.D. “Uh, one sec, I have to take this.”

He steps away to answer the phone, and you watch him for a bit, wondering if you should leave. But you can’t bring yourself to. You’ve only just met him again, and just like in college, he fascinates you. But this time, a little over a decade later, there’s so much more to him. Not just physically, though he’s certainly bulked up a bit over the years, but there’s a darkness and mystery to him that excites you. Besides, what woman hasn’t fantasized about reconnecting with the one that got away? 

You’re shaken out of your thoughts by Leon approaching you again. He looks apologetic. “I have to run,” he says. “I’m sorry. But it was really nice to see you again!”

You don’t want him to leave! You want to keep talking to him! You want to know if he’s happy, if he’s got a wife or a girlfriend, if he still likes listening to metal, if chocolate icecream is still his go to flavor.

But he’s already walking away.

“Leon, wait!” you call. “Before you go!” 

He turns and you reach into your purse and pull out one of your business cards. He takes it with his left hand and peers at it. There's no ring on his finger.

“What’s this for?” he asks

“Just in case you need legal advice,” you joke. “Or if you just want to catch up.”

He smiles and fishes his wallet out of his pocket. You catch a glimpse of some sort of badge as he tucks the card carefully inside. “I’ll do that,” he says, and then he's gone.

You settle into your temporary office and log into your computer to begin going through case files. It's humdrum work, but necessary for the success of your client's appeal. But, not five minutes into this, your work phone starts ringing.

Expecting either your boss or a paralegal, you pick it up and introduce yourself by name.

“Uh, whoa,” says the person on the other end. “That was fancy and professional.”

You'd know that voice anywhere.

“Leon?”

He laughs awkwardly. “Yeah, hi. How're you doing?”

You lean back in your seat and twirl the phone cord around your finger, a bashful smile spreading across your face. “Well, not much has changed in the last 20 minutes, to be honest. But it's nice to hear your voice again.”

You can hear the smile in his voice when he replies. “You, too. I hope I'm not interrupting something.”

“You're not,” you assure him. “Although I'm not technically supposed to take personal calls on this line.”

“Yeah, I figured that,” he replies. “But this is the only way I could really contact you.”

“Oh yeah?” You bite your bottom lip, trying to fight a smile. “And what was so urgent that you just had to call me?”

There's rustling on the other end, Leon must be switching the phone to his other ear. He takes a deep breath and lets it out, like he's nervous. Your heartbeat speeds up in anticipation. 

“Well,” he says. “I was just thinking how nice it was to talk to you again. I was hoping we could do that again. Soon. Maybe over coffee?”

It takes all your willpower not to squeal like a teenager. But you're a professional. 

You clear your throat and try to act nonchalant. “Coffee sounds nice.”

“Great!” Leon sounds thrilled. “It's a date!”

“A date?” you tease.

“Uh… I mean… only if you want it to be,” he hurries to clarify. “You still have your maiden name on your business card and I didn’t see a ring, so I assumed— fuck, do you have a boyfriend?”

He meant a date date. You feel a thrill of excitement.

“No,” you say quickly, “no boyfriend. No fiance or husband either… I’m single.”

“Oh, good,” he says, and you almost laugh at how relieved he sounds. “I don’t have any of those either.”

“You don’t have a boyfriend or husband?”

“No wife or girlfriend, either.”

Oh, so he’s got jokes now. You giggle again. God, when was the last time a man had you laughing like this?

“I'm only in D.C. for the summer,” You explain. “Just until the case is over. I don't know many places to get coffee.”

“Well, you're in luck,” he says. “Because I do! I know the perfect place!”

The coffeeshop he recommends is a tiny, hole-in-the-wall place with the best espresso you've had in years. You and Leon plan for only an hour at most, but stay there chatting for nearly two. He even walks you to your car, and as you drive away, watching him wave goodbye in the rearview mirror, you realize that you had done most of the talking. At first, you want to shrivel up and die from embarrassment. Everyone always says that you talk too much, and there you went, yammering away…

But Leon had asked me out again, the other half of your brain pipes up. And he never disliked you talking in the past!

Emboldened by this realization, and determined to eek more information out of Leon next time, you continue on your way.

And so, one coffee date turns into two, then three. Reconnecting with Leon is… it's just amazing. He's older now, hardened by life in a way you can't quite fathom, but he's still so handsome and sweet and attentive. You can forgive his slightly awkward mannerisms and weird schedule and how cagey he is about his job. The first point is nothing new, of course, it's part of what charmed you in the first place, all those years ago. The weird schedule you chalk up to his job, and if it really is government stuff, you can understand why he's so secretive.

Of course, he can't stop you from daydreaming about what his job is, and your imagination thinks up all sorts of dashing occupations. Secret Service, CIA, FBI, Homeland Security… It's fun to imagine him as the dashing hero, leaping in to save the President himself from an assassination or single-handedly stopping a foreign spy organization. He probably looks hot as hell in a fancy suit, sunglasses, and an earpiece.

Coffee dates are nice and all, but you find yourself wanting more. You hint at it a fee times, Leon is oblivious as ever, so you ask him directly. 

“We should get dinner,” you say, pausing by your car. Leon has walked you out to it, just like he always does after your coffee dates. “Somewhere romantic.”

You raise your eyebrows at him expectantly. He's quiet for a second, staring back. 

“I thought you liked coffee?” He asks, looking like he thinks he's seriously misjudged the situation. You just laugh, putting your hand on his arm.

“I do!” You assure him. “But I also like pasta and wine.”

Leon looks relieved. “Oh. Well, I do know a good Italian place!”

You beam. “Yeah? Is it nice?”

“Very,” he assures you. “Very hard to get into, but I can pull some strings.” He winks. “Perks of the job.”

You aren't sure if he's joking or not, but you like the idea of it, at least. 

“Exciting,” you giggle, leaning close to him. “Should we go this weekend?”

Leon's face falls. “I can't do this weekend,” he admits.

“That's okay!” You're quick to reassure him. “We can do next! Or the one after.”

“No, next weekend is perfect,” he says, looking relieved. “I'll have to make a reservation, but I'll call you, okay?”

You let out an excited squeal and throw your arms around Leon's neck, kissing him before you can think.

This is the first time you've kissed since— well, since you broke up the first time. You almost pull away, but Leon cups the back of your neck and kisses back.

He's a better kisser than he used to be, that's for sure, and the whole thing leaves you breathless and weak-kneed. 

He grins at your dazed expression, licking his lips and looking very pleased with himself.

“Next weekend, then?”

You reach up to wipe away a smear of your lipstick off the corner of his mouth. 

“Next weekend,” you agree.

Leon promises to pick you up at 7 PM on Friday night. The two of you text back and forth almost nonstop as the night approaches, exchanging phone calls whenever possible. You're so excited that you even pick out your outfit days in advance.

Then, one day, the communication from Leon just… stops.

It's a day before your date, so you try not to worry too much. Something probably came up. But you find yourself checking your phone almost obsessively. No reply.

You push down your worry and get yourself ready for the date. You choose your favorite set of lingerie to wear under your little black dress, just in case, and probably spend way too long on your makeup.

Nonetheless, you're ready a good hour before he's scheduled to pick you up. You wait nervously for an hour, pacing your hotel room, then snap a picture of yourself to send to him. No answer. By 7:20 PM you're furious with him. By 7:45, you're in tears.

At 8 PM, you're pissed AND crying and a knock sounds at your door. You tear it open, ready to give Leon a piece of your mind, but stop in your tracks. 

Leon looks like shit. He's wearing a rumpled suit and his hair is a mess. Deep shadows show under his eyes, a bruise is forming on the left side of his jaw, and his chin is covered in three day old stubble.

He thrusts a bouquet of flowers into your arms.

All your anger drains out of you, all at once, replaced with concern.

“What *happened*?!” You blurt. Leon flushes. 

“I'm sorry,” he says. His voice sounds hoarse, like he's been yelling for twelve hours straight. “It was a work thing.”

He scratches the back of his head and the movement raises his rumpled shirt, allowing you to see the ugly yellow-purple of a bruise on his hip. 

“A work thing?” You prompt.

He winces. “I can't… tell you.”

What the hell?

“What do you mean you can't tell me?”

“I mean I can't tell you!” He snaps, his eyes darkening for a second. “Okay?”

You can't help but flinch and Leon's shoulders slump when he catches it. “I'm sorry,” he whispers. “I just… can't.”

You wonder if he can't or won't… but you don't press it. 

“You want to come in?” You ask softly.

“I thought we had a dinner reservation?” He asked, glancing at his watch.

“We did,” you say. “But you're an hour late. We missed it.”

Leon, somehow, looks even more forlorn at those words. “I'm sorry,” he says again. “I was in a different timezone, I didn't reset my watch and—”

“Leon.” You interrupt the beginnings of a spiral with a firm voice. “It's fine.”

You step back from the door and wave him inside. “Come on. I want to put these flowers in water.”

Leon shuffles in after you. He stands there, in the tiny entryway, and looks around your hotel room, shoving his hands in his pockets. You don't really have a vase for the flowers, come to think of it. Fancy hotels like this come with all sorts of amenities, but vases are not one of them. You waver for a moment, before grabbing the complimentary ice bucket and filling it with water from the bathroom sink.

Leon watches silently as you arrange the flowers, before speaking up.

“I should have brought a vase, too,” he says. “Sorry. I didn't think—”

You smile at him. “Hey, don't worry. It seems like you have a lot on your mind.”

He cracks a wry smile. “You're telling me.”

With the tension leaking away, you lean forward and smell a rose.

“Are they still your favorite?” He asks.

“I'm sorry?”

Leon gestures toward the bouquet. “Pink roses. Are they still your favorite flower?”

Honestly, pink roses haven't been your favorite flower since college… but the fact that Leon remembered that they were immediately bumps them up to number one once more.

“Yeah,” you whisper. 

And Leon beams. 

You don’t notice him approach you until his hand smooths down your back. You turn to look up at him, taking in his tired eyes and apologetic expression. You wonder again what his job is, and then wonder if you really want to know. Maybe ignorance is bliss.

“I’m sorry for missing our date,” he says softly. “Let me make it up to you.”

“We could try again tomorrow,” you murmur, turning fully to face him. “Or next week, if that doesn’t work out.”

“Sure,” he replies, his hand coming up to cup the back of your head. “But I was thinking of doing something a little more… immediate.”

He bends to kiss you, tender and slow, and you let yourself lean into it. Leon always kisses you like you’re the most delicate, precious thing in existence, he touches you like he’s afraid you’ll break, and you know he means it. You know that you matter to him.

You’re breathing heavily when the two of you finally part. Leon pulls back slowly, his eyes searching your face, looking a little shy but also a little proud of himself. He licks his lips, glances past you at the bed, then meets your eyes again.

“Wanna move this over there?” he asks, gesturing toward it with his head. Your heart skips a beat with anticipation. 

“Sounds good,” you breathe.

That night, you fall asleep in Leon’s arms, well and truly satisfied in a way you haven’t been in a long time. He’s clearly more experienced and more confident than the boy you slept with in college, but he’s still him. Still adoring, still attentive, still a little shy. 

He pretty much lets you take the lead the whole night and while he doesn’t say it outright, you get the impression that he just wants to be taken care of. If you notice tears in his eyes at the end, you don’t comment on it and neither does he.

He drops off soon after you finish, lying on his back like a soldier. You watch him for a few minutes, admiring the curve of his jaw and the slope of his nose, the dimple in his chin and the moles on his neck. There’s a scar on his cheek that you didn’t notice before, a thin white line nearly hidden by his stubble. You wonder how he got it. Probably doing something heroic, knowing him. You fall asleep entertaining little fantasies of Leon being a hero and saving the day.

You're awoken by Leon stirring in the bed next to you. You don't worry too much. You're a light sleeper after all.

You puff your pillow and get comfy again. Behind you, Leon stirs again, a soft groan escaping him.

You roll over, a little concerned. He has his arm slung over his face, but you can see a frown on his lips. He's breathing heavily, but you don't want to wake him up if you don't have to. He looked so exhausted when he came here earlier. It's probably nothing. You close your eyes again, but another soft groan from Leon has you opening them again.

You push up on one elbow, a little frown on your face. He's probably dreaming about something, but you can't tell if it's good or bad. His arm drops off his face, his fingers balling in the sheets. 

“No…” He mumbles. “Please…”

A nightmare, then. You sit up fully and reach for him, but before you can touch him, Leon flings out his arm, inadvertently smacking your hand away, and cries, “Ashley, no!”

Ashley? Who the hell is that?

You shake your head. Now is not the time for that, not with Leon in the midst of a night terror.

You reach out again, grabbing his shoulder and giving him a harsh shake.

“Leon!”

He doesn't wake right away, his head tossing side to side and his face screwed up.

You try again.

“Leon! Wake up!”

Leon jerks upright and the world spins sideways, your back hitting the bed with a thump and all the air rushing out of you. A weight presses down on you, arms pinned above your head.

You glimpse Leon above you and faintly register that the force across your neck and shoulders is his forearm. He doesn't seem to see you, even though his blue eyes are wide with terror.

“Leon?” You croak out.

“Fuck,” he gasps, suddenly seeing you. “Shit. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

You're able to catch your breath again as Leon scrambles off you and through the ringing in your ears you hear him stumbling around the room. You sit up just as the bathroom door slams closed.

Behind it, you hear retching.

You don't know what to do. You sit shell-shocked in the bed, surrounded by rumpled blankets and pillows and stare at the thin strip of light shining from beneath the bathroom door. You rub your hand over your sore clavicle.

What on earth was that? Why would Leon react like that after being woken up from a nightmare? And who the hell is Ashley? It was like Leon didn't even see you when he woke up, like he was stuck somewhere else, living through something horrible. What has he gone through in these ten years you've been apart? Does it have anything to do with his beat up appearance earlier? With the scars you noticed on his body? Did this Ashley have something to do with it? 

Bzzzzzzzt-bzt-bzzzzzzzzzt-bzt-bzzzzzzzzt

You're torn out of your that's by Leon's cellphone, vibrating on the bedside table. Jesus Christ, who calls at— you check the alarm clock next to the bed— 4 AM?

You untangle yourself from the covers and pick up the phone. Should you answer it? Leon doesn't seem to be coming out anytime soon and it seems urgent enough that the caller is attempting to reach him in the middle of the night.

You lick your lips nervously and flip open the phone, raising it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Where's Leon?” The voice on the other end demands. It's female. “Who are you?”

You want to ask the same thing, but you're the one answering a phone that isn't yours. You introduce yourself and the woman on the other end blows out a sigh.

“Oh,” she says bluntly. She clearly knows who you are even if Leon has never mentioned her to you. “Well, can you give Leon the phone? It's urgent.

She doesn't have to sound so annoyed!

“Sure,” you say, sliding off the bed. “Who should I say is calling?”

“April.”

Not the mysterious Ashley, then. That makes you feel marginally better for some reason. 

You pad over to the bathroom and knock on the door.

“Leon? Your phone rang.”

“...Let it go to voicemail,” he mumbles hoarsely from the other side. Oops.

“I already picked up for you,” you reply sheepishly, feeling for all the world like you've made a massive blunder. “It's someone named April?”

“Goddammit,” he mumbles, and the door swings open. In the harsh fluorescent lights he looks like a fucking mess, far worse than he did earlier than night. You can clearly see the bruises, cuts, and scars on his naked torso. His hair is rumpled, his hairline beaded with sweat. He barely meets your eyes, just takes the phone ever so gently from your hand and raises it to his ear.

“Hey, April…” He says tiredly.

You can't hear what she says in reply but you don't want to leave Leon alone, either. He looks like he's about to fall apart for God's sake. You lean against the doorframe and study him. 

You can't stand the way he's hunched in on himself like he's trying to make himself look smaller than he is and the exhausted, defeated tone in his voice makes your heart ache.

“Okay,” he whispers into the phone. “Okay. I'll be there.”

You're pulled out of your contemplation as he snaps the cellphone shut, looking up into his eyes. 

“Is everything okay?”

He grunts noncommittally. “I gotta go.”

Go? At 4 AM? Where?!

“What?!”

Leon scoots past you cautiously, not even meeting your eyes.

“Work,” he mumbles.

You turn, staring at his back incredulously as he pulls on his pants and shirt. “What do you mean work?” You challenge.

“Something came up.”

He doesn't turn toward you so you're left staring at the stiff line of his shoulders as he buttons up his shirt. 

Some random woman calls him in the middle of the night and he's immediately running at her beck and call? Something like jealousy rears its ugly head.

“Who's April?” You ask, not liking the nasty tone in your voice. 

Leon doesn't react. “A friend,” he says vaguely, pulling on his suit jacket.

“A friend calling at 4 AM about work,” you say disbelievingly. “Right.”

That gets a reaction. Leon turns to face you fully and the defeated look on his face immediately tosses all your jealousy and anger out the window. He looks like a kicked puppy.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers. “I wish I didn't have to go.”

You cross the room and pull him into a hug, resting your head on his chest. Leon clings to you, nuzzling his face into your hair, and rocks you side to side. The two of you stand like that for a few minutes, then Leon lets out a long, exhausted sigh.

“I have to go,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your hairline. “I'll call you as soon as I can and I'll make it up to you, I promise. Anything you want, I'll do it for you.”

You tilt your head back to meet his eyes. “I want you to be careful.”

He nods. “I can do that.”

“And I want you to take me out on a proper date when you're back,” you add, smiling a little to show you're not too serious. But Leon nods determinedly. “Got it. One proper date, coming up. It'll be awesome.”

He cups your face in his hands and ducks his head to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

“See you soon,” he promises, then he's gone.

You watch him walk down the hall, away from you, and can't help but feel like he's walking out of your life, too.

Taglist: @hiya-itsamber

[multifandomwhore-003]

Forever —Drabble

Pairing: Lando Norris x female! reader

Summary: First time watching your boyfriend crash during a race? Rough.

Genre: angst, fluff.

Waring(s): Mentions of the Las Vegas crash.

Taglist: @ join taglist here

A/N: This is by far the most poetic work I've ever put out (I think), that being said. WHATEVER TF THIS IS, BLAME ON HIM, THIS MAN IS GORGEOUS

Gif credits to whom it belongs

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED

THIS IS NOT FREE USE, YOU CANNOT USE MY WORK

Even through ringing ears and a dazy view, he could clearly hear you, wondering then how it was even possible, he heard beyond the arguments and strong footsteps; the flare of your nose, the shakiness in your breath, the hamering in your heart, he swore he could feel it. And with that in mind, he sighed in relived, he could feel something after all, the last thing he remembered, the last thing he perceived was dread, flashing through the last few hours of his life, could those be his last?

Shaking, on the verge of tears all he could do beyond gathering the last remnants of strength in him, was think of his family, you right beside his parents, you.

Minutes passed before he realized he blinked forcefully, perhaps one of these times he'd actually lose consciousness, or worse, be gone for good. His usual dramatics and the painkillers were dancing around his brain, making it their playground. Against all of this, he tried to organize the sound with letters, letters into words, and words into speech. Speech, Could he speak right now?

He prepared himself for the task by trying to stand on his elbows.

"Mr. Norris, please lie down," the nurse guided his head back into the pillow.

"My girlfriend," his throat was hoarse strangely enough.

"She's right outside," the nurse's undertone confirmed his bare train of thought.

"I have to see her," he grabbed the woman's arm, he was pleading.

She whispered something under her breath, clearly giving in to the situation, "I'll let her in," she grinned.

He could recognize something now, your stance, firm in shape, trembling with every motion, you stepped in asking, no, demanding the nurse to close the door behind her, avoiding her gaze in plain coldness. You said nothing for the first few seconds, breathing deeply.

"I'm okay," he let out.

"I know, they've already explained everything to me," you covered your mouth.

His fingers reached for yours, longed for them, interlacing with one another, perfectly, like every time before tonight.

He took some awareness of his surroundings, as much as he could without pushing to the edge, how horrible of a might he had over his head, effective, but far too harsh, far too overwhelming.

"We're going home in a couple of hours, they just wanna make sure, you're going to be fine," you knew you were failing at reassuring him, he didn't need it, but you did.

"I gathered that, otherwise you would still be outside yelling at everyone you could,"

You chuckled, not proud of your actions, but finding them rather hysterical at the moment, "I'm sorry you had to hear that,"

"It was music to my ears," he joked.

"Having my screams flood this place?"

"Having you care so much about me,"

"Always," was all you could answer biting down a sniffle.

It was not so long ago when you quietly promised yourself to give him your heart, the one thing you'd never thought you'd offer, let alone to the guy the Russells so kindly invited to a tennis event, to the guy who over a few drinks and laughs without a sense of shame in the world asked you to dance messily, making of those videos something for the internet to cut and explore. He was so much more than that now, and even to put it into those words was the understatement of a lifetime.

He could say the same thing about his side of the story, to explore a rather rushed friendship before diving, completely submerging, was something he'd labeled as a blessing. To fill his hours by your side in talking, and talking until you had everything to learn from one another laid out and displayed in string lights. Neither of you looked for this, flowing like every bottle of champagne you saw him pop, like every shot of Tequila you drank during Mario-kart nights, like every tear of Rosé you spilled all over your couch in the middle of the night.

And to think that both the most infamous people of their career found in themselves something far more valuable than money, fame, even transcending. Comprehending during the first years of your adulthood what it all meant to allow yourself to be completely consumed with love. So unexpectedly both your reputation and his infinite rumors could all be proven wrong. Through the worst of the trials and tribulations of being committed, you still survived.

His head rested in all the calmness you made by moving heaven and earth to have, in the crook of your neck, never letting go of the sensation of his breath, his life. How funny was it to trust someone enough to keep you alive, physically, mentally emotionally; how funny that none of them could think of how to prove something as mysterious as love to be true, in themselves, in one another, in other people past the centuries, yet they believed in, that's what they invested their faith in.

Admitting you were never fools, but only to each other, you could almost touch each other's soul, finding it far more familiar than your own.

"I'm okay," he'd been repeating the same words like a prayer since the night before.

"I know," you gulped, letting go of a choked exhale.

He read you, "Trust me?"

"Forever," you reminded your thoughts, clearing them out with just one.

—If you can't trust yourself, trust him, forever—

"I'm okay," he tested the words against your sleepless frame.

"I belive you," you finally admitted in peace before giving you lips to his.

[shycloudkitty]

Could this Valentine's Day be any better?

Summary: Unfortunately, you are sick this Valentine's day. All the plans you made were gone to trash. Although, Leon still tries his best to make it a special day for you and him. And by best it means… the one that both of you will remember for the lifetime. ;)

Pairing: Death Island! Leon × Gn! Reader

Tags: Tooth rotting fluff, leon calling reader sweet nicknames, leon being a caring boyfriend. (A bit of negative self-talk from the reader's side), Also there's a few Nsfw jokes and a bit of suggestive content so…Not that much so don't worry.

A/N: If you couldn't tell, I wrote this while I was sick and college exams being like a week away 🥲. Also I am single and valentine's just around the corner and yes, I am sick🥲🥲🥲. Personally, not a fan of this combination (It sucks here😭). Anyways, it gave me the perfect opportunity to be delulu about Leon.

So that's what this is - me being delulu, but I hope you all enjoy this fic and have a good day. Thank you to @nexysworld and @luniaxi for beta read🥰

(Also I know it's not Valentine's Day today. Like I said I was terribly busy🥲)

WC: 4.5K

It's Valentine's Day. The day of love. The day of sweet chocolates, beautiful bouquets and heartfelt love confessions.

It was a special day for couples, young or old. A reminder that pure love never grows old or wither away, in fact it only grows deeper as time passes by. The day was a reminder to cherish it as long as you can.

Which is what you would have been doing with your boyfriend today, if you weren't sick. Yes, you are sick, why? Because you have bad luck. A really terrible one.

Out of all 365 days in the year you had to be sick today. The most important day and say goodbye to all the romantic plans you made. The candlelight dinner, the cute dinner outfit you bought. But, no now you have to kiss it all goodbye and just grumble about what could have been.

To say that you were disappointed and angry was an understatement.

You blamed the seasonal changes for the condition you were in. You are in bed, not even having an ounce of energy to sit up properly, a bad throat, headache, body pain, cough and fever.

The only good thing was that your high fever had almost subsided only because of your sweet, caring, most down to earth person, your boyfriend made it his mission to take care of you during these tough times.

The moment he knew you were sick, he dropped everything he was doing and immediately wrapped a blanket around you after he had you settled in bed. Making you hot tomato soup, your favorite ramen, chamomile tea, anything that would help you feel better.

You were in your bed, trying to take a good rest but the body pain you had was making it really difficult. It was noon right now but what could you possibly do besides resting anyways?

“It will get better, just rest. I'm here.” He said as you complained about the condition you were in. He tried to soothe you with the sweetest smile he could muster, his warm blue eyes reassuring you that it will in fact get better even if you didn't believe it.

You clutched your head when you felt the pain coursing its way in your head, giving you a migraine. “I can't sleep Leon…it's so difficult.”

Leon could see the tears of frustration slipping from your eyes as the overall pain troubled you from getting you even a moment of relaxation.

And it broke his heart to see you in so much pain. Knowing he couldn't take the pain away entirely. Even if he was cooking you hot meals and soup it was still going to take some time to heal.

If it was up to him he would move mountains just for you to feel better even for a second. He wished he could just snap his fingers and take all the pain you had and give it to himself. Obviously, he wouldn't say it out loud cause he knew it would get you upset but he really wished he could do all that.

He was willing to suffer, if it meant you would never have to.

Your tired body slowly felt the warm calloused hands, slowly bringing you in his arms and hugging you tightly but keeping his hold gentle, so as not to cause you any discomfort as he cuddles with you. And pulled the blanket over you both to keep you warmer.

You looked up at him with a tired face as he gently rubbed your back with his hand. Slowly massaging your back with his strong fingers, trying to get rid of those sore spots. You felt his soft lips on your forehead giving you a loving kiss, which already had you melting in his big arms.

“Feeling better?” He asked in the softest voice possible and brought his other hand to your temple. Rubbing the sore spot with his thumb gently, which had you crying in pain earlier.

Your eyes slowly closed and a soft relaxed sigh escaped your lips as you gave a small nod. His gentle touch, the sweet voice, the soft kisses surely gave you a moment to relax.

Leon peppered soft, gentle kisses across your whole face while still massaging your back and temple. Soon he moved his hands to your waist to pull you more close so you were pressed up against his chest.

You looked up at him, opening your eyes for a moment, looking at him and wondering how could he even tolerate to even stay this close to you, while you had a running nose & weakness all over.

You didn't feel pretty or cute right now, you felt sick and horrible. Hell, even you wouldn't stay this close to yourself. But here he was… smiling down at you, massaging your sore spots, cuddling with you, trying his absolute best to help you regain your health.

“Have something to say, Darling?” He asked when he noticed you staring at him, lost in thought.

You sniffled a bit and replied. “You know… you will get sick if you stay so close to me.”

You heard a warm chuckle, feeling him hug you tighter. “Worrying about me even when you are sick? You are too sweet for your own good, y'know.”

You rolled your eyes and hit him lightly on his arm. “I'm not kidding.”

Leon chuckled once more seeing the glimpse of the playful attitude you always had. It made him feel better that you were feeling better enough to talk.

He smiled and shook his head lightly. “I will be fine. Relax.”

You huff and say. “You say that now, but if we both got sick at the same time there will be no one to take care of us. Like how will I take care of you? When I'm not even able to get out of bed?”

It wasn't like you weren't grateful for his actions. Of course you were, but if he got sick because of you, the guilt would definitely hit you in the chest about it. Also being sick definitely made you cranky.

Leon raises an eyebrow at your words and tries to hold in a chuckle seeing you argue with him on this, trying his best to be serious. He then smiled and cleared his throat and slowly replied. “Well… first off I'm not gonna get sick. Second… even if I actually got sick, I'm pretty confident I could still take care of you.”

You looked up at him again, a bit touched with his words. “Are you sure?”

Leon playfully rolled his eyes. “Honey, I got infected with viruses you couldn't imagine. This is nothing. So yes, I'm sure.”

Well… he had a point. But you still had something in your mind that you were itching to ask.

You sighed, snuggling up closer than possible. Trying to relax your mind with his scent. Trying to remind yourself that he was really here and not to some far off mission.

You bit your lips nervously. “Are you mad at me for ruining this valentine day?”

Leon’s expression softened further as he realized that you feel guilty. It wasn't your fault, you couldn't control it. Plus, this didn't ruin anything. Yes it was a bit stressful but that was okay, your health was more important than valentine day. If anything this brought you both closer than ever.

“Baby… you can't ruin it just cause you got sick. I love you. Always. Why would I get mad at such a thing? If anything I am glad I got to spend this time taking care of you.”

He pressed a kiss on your cheek and continued. “You can't ruin anything. Ever.” You sighed softly as he said that. A bit relieved that he at least doesn't think it was the worst valentine day ever.

You closed your eyes, feeling the body pain ease a bit. The medications and the cuddling was really taking a number on you. Almost ready to fall asleep.

Leon noticed how you became less chatty, slowly falling in and out of sleep. He slowly sat up in bed, careful not to disturb your sleeping form. And took hold of your legs and slowly started to massage the sore points present in the legs. Fingers applying firm pressure to relieve any pain that you were still having.

A sleepy sigh escaped your lips when you slowly felt the pain go away, transferring you into a state of deep relaxation…

Leon smiled to himself when he saw you sleep, free from any migraines or body pain that you may be having. He continues his massages till he is sure you won't wake up. He then puts a warm blanket over you, and softly whispers. “Get well soon baby, I have a surprise for you tonight…”

Leon gently kissed your forehead and moved away. Now he had to prepare for the surprise…

(Few hours later…)

You woke up after 3-4 hours. Your eyes slowly opened as it adjusted to the surroundings, you turned your head to look at the clock on the nightstand.

5:30pm

You sighed and looked up at the ceiling. You were definitely feeling a lot better now. The body pain was still there but it wasn't that bad. You were still feeling weak but didn't feel like you still had a fever.

A few minutes later you heard some shuffling outside the room. You lifted your head to see what was going on and saw Leon entering the room. He smiled when he saw you were awake.

And came by your side and kissed your cheeks lovingly and mumbled. “Good evening baby… Feeling better?”

You thought about it then gave a small nod with a sigh. “Mmhmm…”

Leon smiled and planted a few soft loving kiss across your face. “Good… Because I have a surprise for you.”

Your ears perked up as soon as you heard that magical word. Surprise. You looked up at him and said, “A surprise…? What is it about?”

He smiled seeing the small spark in your eyes at the mention and gave a wink. “A valentine dinner for us at home, prepared by yours truly.”

Your eyes widened and raised yourself slightly on your elbows to look at him properly. “Wait- As in… A dinner date for today at our home.”

His smile widened further as he took both of your hands and gave it a light squeeze and nodded. A blush rising in his cheeks. If you didn't know any better he was getting a bit shy and a tad nervous too. Such a cutie pie.

“Well… I thought since you were so upset about the whole situation and I know you had plans and everything… So… I decided to bring those plans to you.” You could swear his whole face turned into a cute puppy as he told you about his plan.

Your heart melted, no you felt like your whole body melted and formed a puddle in bed. The thought of him doing so much just to see you happy and cared was enough to give you a whole swarm of butterflies in your stomach.

You were glad Leon came into your life, glad that he chose to be with you. You didn't know what you did to deserve to have this amazing man all to yourself. His icy blue eyes, his sweet demeanor, the way he made you feel… It was amazing.

You didn't know what love was until you met him. Yeah, you thought what love was before him but being with him was just… magical. He remembered almost everything about you. Yeah, yeah the bar was in hell and whatever bullshit.

But if a man like him, who literally fought bioterrorism for a living. Who probably had the most stressful job on this planet did such thoughtful gestures, who almost turned into a puppy when he saw you, looked at you with such warm and sweet eyes… It was hard not to fall in love with him.

You gathered a bit of strength and immediately hugged him tightly, burying your face in his neck and dropping a kiss there. “Thank you… I love you.”

Leon chuckled as he hugged you back. “Love you too. And it's the least I could do.” he saw how your eyes almost started twinkling and how your face brightened up to a few notches. And that's how he knew the job was well done.

Leon dropped a light kiss on your lips and softly said. “Want to get ready for it?”

You gave a nod and he smiled. “Good…Want my help with any of it?”

You were still feeling a bit weak from the illness but it was a lot better. But you weren't stupid enough to say no to his request. So you agreed.

Leon being the gentleman he was, helped you get out of the bed and basically carried you to the bathroom to help you shower. Why would he let you walk when he could just pick you up like a cat and go wherever he wanted?

As you both entered the bathroom he helped you get out of your clothes, prepared some hot water bath, lit some of the scented candles that you preferred to have while taking a bath.

You relaxed in the bathtub while he started to wash your hair. Gentle fingers massaging your scalp, threading through your hair replacing the leftover pain with a feeling of pure bliss. You had a smile on your face as he continued and looked over at him.

“Thank you…”

He met your eyes and smiled. “For what?”

“For… everything. You are the best boyfriend I ever had.”

Leon's smile brightened, feeling a surge of pride in his chest, he then kissed your forehead. “At least I'm best at something.”

You chuckled as he poked your cheek playfully and went back to washing your hair. He then tilted your head a bit and slowly poured down water on your hair to get rid of the shampoo. He then helped you shower through the rest of the body.

When you were done, he helped you get out of the bathtub and wrapped a towel around you. You looked up to see him, to see his face getting scrunched up lightly as he focused on wrapping it tightly around you. You loved it when he would do that, he looked so cute when his nose would just scrunch up lightly as he focused on whatever he was doing. It was simply adorable.

“I feel like a kid getting help in dressing up after parents made me bathe.” You made note as he searched for your clothes through your closet.

Leon had a hearty laugh at the comment and gave you a playful shrug. “Get sick like a child, get treated like a child.”

He turned towards you, taking out the outfit that you previously bought for the ‘dinner date’ you both were supposed to have before you got sick. And helped you wear it.

You smirked at him. “Oh really? Should I start calling you daddy then?”

Leon paused for a moment, his eyes immediately flicking back to you. That nickname always did something for him. And you knew that very well…you couldn't help but just poke him a bit.

A blush rose in his cheeks as cleared his throat and said. “Uh huh… Why don't we just focus on the task at hand. Which is getting you dressed.”

You couldn't help but giggle as he avoided the topic. “Oh you don't like that? I could swear that you did.”

He gave you a stern look and narrowed his eyes a bit. “Babe… don't.”

You chuckled and decided to play dumb. “What? I was just asking.”

Leon cleared his throat again, his blush deepening and slowly said. “I am glad you are feeling good enough to tease me like that. Having fun?”

“Very”

“I could tell.”

You chuckled, deciding to cut him some slack. It's not like you wouldn't like to test his patience a bit more… Maybe after dinner you might.

Leon finished helping you dress up then he also helped you with your make-up, helping you tie your hair up in a bun when you finished giving touch ups to your face.

“Like a doll. You look amazing.” Giving your ass a light smack.

You squealed in surprise which made Leon grin wider and hug you tightly in his arms. And peppered kisses all over your face. “Feeling better?”

You nodded with a bright smile. “Yes, very much so.”

Leon grinned. “Ready for the big date then?”

You eagerly nodded and Leon took a blindfold from his pocket and held it in front of you. “Want you to wear this first.”

You gave a mischievous grin, opening your mouth to come up with a quip but Leon beat you to it. “It's for not ruining your surprise, dummy.” Rolling his eyes at your antics.

You scoffed playfully. “Hey, I didn't even say anything and stop calling me that. It's mean.” You gave a fake pout and Leon couldn't help but chuckle.

It was moments like these that made him feel like that life was worth living. The small domestic moments that he never thought he would get to experience. That perhaps it was worth fighting all those man-made monstrosities and risking his life, if this is what he came home to. His safe haven.

You were worth protecting and taken care of. You deserved every bit of love he had in himself and even his life if you wanted.

Leon turned you around as he tied the blindfold around your eyes. When he finished, he gave another light smack on your ass which made you chuckle. “Well this refreshes some memories.”

Leon kissed your neck and playfully whispered. “Want me to refresh them even more after the dinner?”

You blushed and even if you couldn't see his face because of the blindfold. You bet he was smirking down at you. “Well… Maybe?”

Leon chuckled, taking your face in his hands and kissed your forehead. “Well… I guess you have one more surprise after dinner then.”

You blushed even more and looked away. He grinned seeing you at a loss for words and smiled. Knowing he won that. He then took your hand and said. “Now dinner. Careful not to stumble down on anything.”

He then guided you out of the bedroom, helping you walk down the hallway to your surprise in the living room. He then stopped and slowly removed your blindfold.

Your eyes fluttered open and saw the scene in front of you. Your eyes widened and your hands flew to your mouth to contain the excitement filling your body.

The living room seemed like it was heaven of some sort. Filled with her favorite flowers, rose petals on the floor guiding the way towards the table, present in the middle of the room. The table was decorated with a beautiful centerpiece, filled with roses. The whole room was decorated with red balloons and candles.

If you didn't know any better, you would have thought you were gonna get proposed or something.

Wait-

You immediately turned around and gasped as you saw him down on one knee. An engagement ring in his hands looking up to you like you were his whole world. You were his whole world.

And it seemed like the whole world stopped for a moment, just for the two of you to have this.

You had like dozens of questions running through your head. Like how the hell did he plan all this? Did he take some help? Of course he did. But how did he do all this, the planning and decoration? And was this really even happening? Or your imagination? Was he really proposing to you? Like right now???

Leon noticed that you were well… speechless. So he took one of your hands and gave a gentle squeeze. That seemed to get you out enough of your confusion and shock. Your voice came out in a little whisper. “Leon… I…”

You didn't realize at first but you had started tearing up. Wiping your tears, you looked down at him and he was almost there, on the verge of tears but holding it in for your sake. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze and cleared his throat. “Did you like it…?”

You had a small chuckle & managed a nod while you were tearing up. Oh, it wasn't even a question that you liked it. You loved it.

Leon looked down at the ring in his fingers once more. He had a whole speech prepared on how he always thought you were the one. (Which Claire and Sherry helped him prepare;)). Now he swore he forgot all of it when the actual moment came.

Leon cleared his throat and looked up at you. You looked stunning, even with tears running down your cheeks you looked the most beautiful person ever stepped on this earth. He took a deep breath and started. “Well… to start… this is not how I planned things would go…”

Leon saw you getting confused a bit then explained. “I was originally gonna do it in the restaurant we were gonna go to… but then you fell sick and I had to bring some improvisation to my plan.”

Leon saw your little smile peeking and his confidence rose up a bit. “Umm… I had been thinking about this for a while. Like a year... And you were also dropping hints all over so yeah, I wasn't dumb enough to not understand them…”

You had a small chuckle and shook your head lightly. It was true, you tried to tease him with some videos of couples getting proposed to all he used to reply with was a small “hmm… nice.” And avoid the topic. And now that he was here he seemed so…vulnerable.

He continued. “I know you felt like you ruined this Valentine's Day. But you could never do that. You could never ruin anything. I know I said that earlier but I want you to understand that fully. Everything about you is… Perfect. Magical. There aren't enough adjectives to describe what it's like when I am here with you. You make me feel… safe and loved.”

You felt yourself tear up more when he said that. You could have never thought he felt like that with you. But you knew he was saying the truth the way he was looking at you.

He interlaced his fingers with yours when he gave a gentle squeeze again this time. “The past few days when you were sick, I loved taking care of you. To show you the love you've given me. The love you show me when you take care of me after missions, patching me up, preparing me delicious food even when you are busy with your office work. It's just… I can't believe that I deserve all that. And yes it's not the first time I took care of you but moments like these… helps me to show you and return that love your way.”

He takes another deep breath to calm himself, not yet realizing that he was tearing up at this point. “So, with all the hope I have right now, thinking I haven't exactly messed up all my speech… Will you marry me?”

You didn't know how you were even exactly standing right now after his speech. You were speechless. You had so much to say… but you couldn't even come up with one word. You gulped and took a deep breath and slowly replied.

“Yes Leon, of course I will marry you…”

Leon sighed in relief and let the tears flow from his eyes freely, holding nothing back and slipped the ring on your fingers. And stood up properly this time. He immediately brought you in his arms, cupped your face and kissed you. Pouring all the love he had for you, the love that couldn't be expressed by mere words only by actions.

You immediately wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him back with all the passion you had for him in the moment. His body pressed up against yours. Feeling his warmth and excitement pour into you.

You both slowly pulled back, foreheads still touching and in each other's arms, having a big dumb smile on both of your faces. “Leon… I… don't know what to say… you… did all this?”

Leon gave a light chuckle and shrugged. “I had help.” And kissed your forehead.

You sighed softly and looked down at your ring. “So now I'm your fiancée hmm?”

Leon nodded and hugged you more tightly. “Yeah. Deal with it. You are not escaping that.” His tone got a bit playful as this continued.

You giggled and playfully said. “Actually, kind of looking forward to be Mrs. Kennedy.”

Leon grinned and cupped your face once again. Having the softest eyes he had for you at the moment. “Oh yeah? Me too. The name suits you.”

He then kissed you softly on the lips again, rubbing your back and just holding you in his arms like you would drift away right now.

You both stayed like that for a moment and he asked. “Feeling hungry yet?”

You chuckled and nodded. “Yeah a little bit. What do you have for me?”

Leon grinned and pulled away, taking your hand in his and walking towards the table in the center. “Come with me, I will show you.”

And so you did. Your heart is still beating with excitement that you will soon get married and be his partner for life. And you couldn't wait for the day to come.

Maybe this Valentine's Day wasn't that bad after all.

Phew. So that's done. Ngl I started this a few days before Valentine's Day. I was definitely gonna post it then but exams took priority 🥲. I also think I went too delulu over him lmao. But anyways, I really do hope you all enjoy this like I am sorry if this wasn't that good. Half of the time my brain wasn't working.

And I hope you enjoyed Valentine's Day with your loved ones. Have a good day🥰

-Bella

[whitexwolfxx310]

|| You're A Weapon; And Weapons Don't Weep ||

Pairing: Bucky x female reader

Summary: After Bucky discovers that your once thought to be dead older brother is HYDRA's new super soldier, you're chosen to go on a mission with the team.

Warnings: **PLEASE READ** This fic contains death. If the idea of unaliving someone can possibly trigger you, please do NOT read this. Anxiety attack, cursing, angst, random sprinkles of fluff, use of y/n.

Word Count: 4.7

A/Ns: It has been way too long, but I finally got to write for my BBWWS again. I have a feeling there won't be too many chapters left for Bucky and his Sunshine. But I have been working on other ideas and another series is in the process. I hope you enjoy reading. I love you all! The messages, comments, reblogs, likes, etc. literally give me life and inspired me to come back and get into writing all over again. Enjoy your weekend, besties!!

Previous Part // Masterlist

Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. Any shred of hope that life would be returning back to normalcy remotely anytime soon got washed away by the tidal wave that was the news of your brother being the new super soldier for Hydra.

Tony and Steve called for intel meetings that basically became a fulltime job. At first it felt like an interrogation. They questioned you, curious as to why you would apply for an internship at The Compound. While the circumstances did seem suspicious, they eventually were able to rule out any foul play on your part.

The gatherings soon turned into wanting to know every intricate detail that they wouldn't be able to look up or hack out of any system. From dawn to dusk, the two men asked about your childhood together- trying to connect the pieces as to who Luke is, or was. Bucky stayed silently by your side the entire time and offered a stabilizing hand when things got overwhelming to discuss. But it also didn't slip by you that he focused on each and every detail, noting the intel for this mission.

After being able to specify things so minute; such as your brothers favorite books, favorite teacher from grade school, or the fact that he likes the color green- but not just any green, Sacramento green, because it reminded him of the vines that grew around the windows of your grandparents cottage that you would spend the majority of your summer's at as kids, you also got chosen to go on this mission. There was some minor pushback from the team, but ultimately Bucky took responsibility for you. You knew that he would keep you safe, even if it meant putting the part of his very soul that he felt remained on the line for you.

To say that the training was brutal would be an understatement. While the others had an entire lifetime to perfect their craft and years working alongside one another in unity, you had only a matter of weeks. You were thrown into a constant rotation of being educated on the newest technologies developed by Tony, boxing and going over endless tactical strategies with Steve, knowledge of weaponry with a hint of ballet to stay light on your feet with Nat... pure exhaustion wouldn't begin to describe it.

The day came when intel showed the Swiss Alps would be first on the mission log. Everyone was treating it like just any other, but the dreaded encounter was weighing down heavily deep within your stomach. The thought of using yourself as bait to lure out your brother spiraled into the millions of anxious outcomes that kept you up at night. Finally giving you just the smallest glimpse into Bucky's world. The doorway was creaked open to his nightmares.

"Wooow. You look like a Bad. Ass." Sam annunciates amusingly, as his eyes land on you walking up the small rear cargo ramp of the jet.

Your cheeks instantly blush, having already been self-conscious about the skintight, black Kevlar suit Nat gave you to wear. As more footsteps approach, you sink more into your seat and try to avoid any more eye contact.

"Just so you know, I heard that." Bucky's voice rebounds off of the metal walls before he even makes his way completely into the jet. "Don't try and make passes at my girl when I'm not aro-"

You don't need to look up to know that those steel blue eyes have frozen you into place, but you dare a glance. He's dressed in all black; Black boots, black tactical pants, a black leather jacket with the left sleeve torn off- showing his gunmetal and gold Vibranium arm, and a black glove on his right hand. The sight of him is intimidating, ready for combat and anything to be thrown his way. But those eyes. They hold a tenderness meant only for you. His magnetizing stare mixed with the wonderment expression on his face confirms his friends words and more. Okay, so maybe the suit isn't so bad.

"You're gawking." Sam is now at Bucky's side, smirking with his arms tightly crossed over his chest.

Bucky's face slides back into its usual consternation state before giving him a side glare. "Shut up." Sam shakes his head, laughing to himself lightly before making his way to the front of the jet.

You move to sit upright as he approaches, and Bucky's face finally softens. It always does when it's just the two of you. He reaches above where you're sitting to an overhead rack, casually leaning. Hovering like one of those seductive book boyfriends you'd swoon over, but for him it just comes naturally. Swallowing hard, you angle your head up to look at him. You find a slightly playful grin tugging at his lips and you crack a faint smile.

"You doing okay, Sunshine?" His voice is soft but concerned. A gloved thumb caresses down your cheek. The doting gesture entrances you to gently nuzzle into his palm.

"I don't know." You answer honestly.

He reflects on this a moment, his eyes searching yours. But he looks slightly blurry. The background noise is starting to become overwhelming. Numerous voices all start to overlap, the jet engines growing louder as they're warming up, the loud bang with each shipment container with weapons being loaded on board- weapons intended for my brother. It all combines into one long dragged-out, high-pitched ringing sound and your throat closing in on itself. Bucky senses this, notices and quickly acts. Wide eyed, he drops to his knees.

"Hey... Hey, y/n. It's okay." He quickly unfastens the harness from your seat. "Deep breaths." You can't help but notice how calm he sounds. "Hey...look at me." Bucky gently cups each side of your face, the intense coolness on the one side being a welcomed shock. Your eyes meet his, and when they do, all you see is his devotion. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here with you."

"I know you are." You mutter, pressing your forehead to his as you try to manage your breathing to match his.

"We'll find him." He breathes. "I made it out, he can too. I won't let anything happen to you while we’re out there, y/n." The urgency that his tone is trying to convey is heart wrenching.

"I know, Bucky."

"Here-" He pulls away for a moment to take a bag off his back. Unzipping it, he pulls out a water bottle. "Drink some water."

You smile internally at the gesture. As he's unscrewing the cap, you notice a novel in the bag. It's one he borrowed from you when you first met. There's a familiar stinging behind your eyes. What did I do to deserve this man? One who is willing to walk back into his version of hell to pull out someone that I love?

Sipping on the water of course helped, but Bucky tucking you securely into his side for takeoff is what kept the overwhelming anxiety at bay.

“I love you, so much.” You say against his chest, in appreciation. He snorts slightly, pressing a delicate kiss into your hair.

“And I love you, Sunshine.” Bucky adjusts his hips slightly. “Get some rest, we have a long flight.” Intricate fingers brush through your hair, eventually lulling you to sleep in the safe space that is your boyfriend’s lap.

Distant muttering started reeling you back from a dreamless sleep. Instinctively, you reach for Bucky whom you thought you were still sleeping on- only to find he had replaced it with his bag. The disappointment was starting to settle in when you hear his voice:

“I know how this can come across, but she’s strong enough. She’ll be able to handle it, Tony. I’m here, I can-“

“All I’m hearing is I, I, I, me, me, me, Barnes. You, my friend, were an exception. I don’t know if we can go in there and get this guy out alive, and even if we can, who knows what the aftermath is going to look like! For either of them! We’re taking a regular, a nobody off the street and putting a lot of pressure on her to do this. She’s already starting to feel it, that much is obvious. I’ve said from the beginning that this is a huge mistake. I understand your feelings here, from both sides. You want to make sure HYDRA doesn’t continue to pop up like daises and be there for the love of your life. I GET it. But this is a mistake.”

It’s apparent that Stark has walked away with the clinking of his heavy metal footsteps.

“You picked a good one, Buck. I have faith in her too.” There’s a small reassuring pat to coincide with Steve’s voice. “Y/n’s one of us now.”

“Thanks, Steve. I just… I have to save him. For her.” You can hear the exasperation in Bucky’s voice.

While tears sting from multiple emotions behind closed eyes still pretending to sleep, you feel overcome with something you haven’t experienced in this situation yet; determination. A sudden tenacity to prove the doubters that you can do this, that you can help your brother just how Bucky had, and that you wouldn’t bail and have a breakdown… again. No. From this point on, you refuse to let anyone see you as weak.

The bag underneath your head gently shifts and is quickly replaced with warm body heat that you quickly snuggle into. That warmth spreads as Bucky wraps his right arm around your body, pulling you in a little closer. His heart rate starts to slow, and his breathing becomes more regular. You just soak in the last moments before the unknown.

“He’s really going to just jump out the back of the jet like that?!” You try to yell, over the loud wind rumbling and your hair whipping around.

With Sam’s back facing towards you, he takes one absentminded step off of the opened ramp and is just gone. Your stomach drops along with him at the sight.

Bucky rolls his eyes as he hands you an earpiece, “Yep,” A second later, Sam comes back into view, now soaring with his Falcon wings. He gives Bucky a little sarcastic two finger salute and flies out of view. “He’s flashy like that.”

Putting the impossibly small earpiece into your ear, you can’t help but shake your head and laugh. It must be an almost forgotten sound with the weight of everything going on because now Bucky is smiling too.

“Well, I hope you’re not expecting me to jump out of a plane,” you say only half joking. Because if that’s the case, he’s going to have to literally throw you out.

“What did you think the parachutes were for?” Bucky asks deadpan, with a raised eyebrow and pointing to the packs behind him.

All of the color starts to drain from your face, when suddenly you saw the slightest twitch in Bucky’s lip.

“Oh my god. You asshole!” Bucky grabs his stomach and starts to hunch over laughing as you hit him in the arm. His metal arm. “OW!” You start shaking your hand out to wave away the initial sting.

Glancing at him, Bucky is doubled over, nose scrunched, laughing so hard that barely any noise is coming out and tears are welling up in his eyes. It’s contagious, especially as the throb in your hand turns into a dull ache.

I’ve missed this. Things being simple with us and not so draining. Moments that resemble a drop of normalcy in a typical ‘would be’ relationship. But I still wouldn’t trade it. Because he’s perfect. And he’s mine.

Once your lungs don’t feel like they’re on fire any longer, you let you a deep sigh, resting your hands on your hips. “God, I needed that.”

“Did you really think I would toss you out of a Quinjet?”

“Seemed like it in the moment-”

“Alright, love birds,” Tony interrupts, the heavy metal footsteps of his Iron Man armor catching both of your attention, "don't be late to the party," he says knowingly, palms glowing before he too disappears out of the jet.

“Don’t worry, Sunshine,” Bucky says, now standing next to you, “I have my own flashy transport,” he side eyes you with a playful grin.

Arms wrapped tightly around Bucky’s stomach; you can’t help but snuggle your cheek into his leather covered shoulder.

Of course, Bucky’s idea of flashy would be a motorcycle.

Your eyes flutter open to see Steve on his own come into view through whips of your hair. The boys. Two best friends riding like they don’t have the weight of the world constantly on their shoulders.

Steve’s bike has a bulky, all chrome classic look while Bucky’s is a modern, all black crotch rocket. Both have been modified to drive relatively quietly, and it’s such a weird dichotomy to still be able to feel the rumbling of the bike between your legs without all the noise.

One of your hands releases the clasp they had on one another, pressing your palm against Bucky’s chest- smoothing itself along his abdomen. Bucky sits more upright in his seat to press back into you more, using only his left hand to steer as his right encloses around yours, giving you a reassuring squeeze. The gesture is so minor, and yet you can just feel how he puts his heart into everything when it comes to you.

"We're going to pull off to the side up on the left. We'll have to go the rest of the way on foot," Steve's voice is solemn in your earpiece.

Bucky gives him a nod in acknowledgement, leaning back down to better control the motorcycle. This time, his hand doesn't leave yours.

The trek through the Switzerland forest was less than a mile, but with each step your feet grew heavier and that sour stomach of yours returned with the dread of seeing your brother again. If he could even be considered your brother anymore. Who knows what actually remained. As much as you have begged and pleaded with the universe to make yet another exception for Lucas just as it had for Bucky, you were terrified of the man that you would soon encounter.

Just shy of coming out of the tree line to the supposed to be abandoned old military base, you hear a series of echoing pops- stopping all three of you dead in your tracks.

Gunshots.

Bucky and Steve exchange a quick, wide-eyed glance at one another, “Go, we’ll catch up.” Bucky says, and within the blink of an eye, Steve takes off running at super soldier speed.

You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until Bucky turned to face you, his shoulders squared, lips in a tight thin line. But looking between your eyes, he loosens a breath, gripping your shoulders, “Listen to me, Sunshine,” he makes every attempt to soften his voice, but a few more pops and yelling sound off in the distance making you wince. His hands grip you tighter, “I need you to focus. What I’m about to say goes against everything I normally believe, but in this circumstance it’s critical…” he sighs, looking down before back into your eyes- trying to convey the seriousness of what he’s saying, “you have to push the fear down. And I know how that sounds, but you can’t walk in there with that look on your face. Because honey, these people will not hesitate to kill you.”

You gasp lightly at the graveness of his words. It’s not like you didn’t know this walking into the mission, but it’s different once you’re actually here.

Bucky sighs again, his expression softening as his hands cup each side of your face especially gentle, “I know, baby. I know. I won’t leave your side,” he presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes, “I just… I can’t lose you.” His voice cracks slightly, even at just the thought.

Even with your eyes teetering with the threat of tears, you nod in understanding. Placing each of your hands over his, you press your lips to Bucky’s- holding them there, accepting that the moment they pull apart it’s no longer about the two of you, but about the mission. Luke is your mission.

“I love you,” you murmur, before opening your eyes to see deep consternation in his.

Disassociation is a powerful coping mechanism for human beings. It can feel like an outer body experience or even a dream. More like a nightmare. But as you follow into the bunker where the screaming leads, closely behind Bucky with your gun drawn watching for any sudden movements and stepping over the trail of bloodied bodies in the hallway, you're thankful for the part of your brain trying to convince you that this isn't real.

"Still no sign of Castle," Sam's voice was pragmatic in your earpiece.

Bucky looked back over his shoulder at you while still walking, "Maybe he's not here after-" and that's when you see the slightest shift of a shadow in an inverted doorway.

It was so small that in any other instance you would just assume your eyes were just playing a trick on you. But not here. Your body reacted before your mind could even fully register- taking a sudden step to the side, you fired off two prompt shots. A heavy thud followed.

Practically giving himself whiplash, Bucky looks at where you shot and back to you. His eyes widen, mouth open slightly at the realization of what just happened. What you just did- for him. Your eyes haven't moved from that doorway, and your grip is tighter on the gun than it probably should be. Pain surges through your jaw with how tightly your teeth are clenched and yet, you wait to see if anyone else is there. Is there another shadow lurking just waiting for the opportunity to harm one of you?

"Y/n..." Bucky's voice is delicate as his eyes dart around, also looking for shadows, "we have to keep moving," he says in a coaxing manner.

I can’t. The words blare in your mind like a doomsday siren and yet you can’t speak. All you can do is focus on that that dark corner where the pool of crimson continues to grow.

Bucky steps in line of your gun with somber eyes meeting yours, causing you to simultaneously point it towards the ground and break your trance. You didn’t realize just how high and how tight your shoulders had been as you loosened your breath. A new version of you being transformed as you exhale.

“I-” You try catching your breath, completely slack jaw and shaking your head just trying to comprehend what you did. “I…I just-” and the tears are flowing. No crying, no uncontrollable sobbing, but a small steady line of tears as the overwhelming awareness of taking control and trading a life for someone that you love comes to light… just flows.

“You did what you had to,” he answers for you, nodding sympathetically. You don’t deserve kindness right now, do you? But that is why he is good. And that is why he deserves to live.

“We have to go, y/n.” Bucky says, looking over your shoulders and behind himself again. “It looks like no one else has been down here yet.” He grabs your hand, not waiting for a response before he’s treading down the hallway again.

Your feet shuffle instinctively at first to follow him, but the brightness of the flickering fluorescent lights quickly grounded you to where you actually are. There are lives at stake and you need to keep your head.

The distant noise of constant struggle seemed to almost completely stop. Every few minutes you would hear a familiar voice say 'clear' in your ear and relief would wash over you, just thankful for knowing that they were alive.

It got cold the further you went, meaning you probably had gradually descended underground. Finally, at the end of what seemed like a never-ending tunnel, was a large set of metal double doors with multiple large chains and padlocks.

You and Bucky exchanged a quick glance with one another before he fists the chain with his Vibranium hand, pulling effortlessly as they break into pieces. He pushes open the doors to reveal a large, primarily empty room aside from a bunch of dusty, bulky outdated computers. Most of the overhead lights don’t work, so it seems darker in here than it did in the corridor.

Bucky steps into the room and starts looking around, his boots crunching noisily on worn rubble and glass. You hold your breath, watching as his fingers skim along the keyboards, his eyes squinting at the monitors as he passes each one as though looking for something.

And then he stops at one in particular. He eyes it carefully before looking up at the ceiling to the lights again.

“What is it?” You can’t hide your curiosity.

“There’s still power to this base,” he says observantly, turning his attention back towards the computer. “Maybe…” he mumbles to himself, leaning over the monitor a bit, his fingers blindly searching before pressing the power button. Bucky stands back as the screen comes to life, but his eyes widen, alarmed as to what he sees.

“Bucky?” You ask apprehensively, moving to stand next to him and also look at the screen. It's mostly black, but there's a green contour of... a face?

"Hello Sergeant Barnes," the computer says with a German accent.

"Oh, what the fuck?" Bucky steps back, his hands fisting into his hair.

The voice chuckles, "Come now, is that any way to greet an old friend?"

“Is… the computer talking? To you?”

“Why, yes, Ms. Castle. I am,” your stomach turns over at the sound of the voice addressing you as well.

“What the fu-” you go to repeat Bucky’s words but get cut off.

“Does the facility seem… familiar, Barnes?” Zola asks, condescendingly. “Or, at the very least, the machinery?”

Bucky's eyes start to dart around the room, taking in the different equipment before muttering to himself in dismay, "these control the cyro chambers..."

The computer laughs menacingly, "Ah, so you do remember. Good! Good..."

Rolling his arm once while taking a large step forward, Bucky brings it down, crushing the computer completely. Exposed wires spark briefly from the powerful impact, otherwise leaving the room in silence.

“What- who was that?”

“Arnim Zola. A scientist for HYDRA. The one who, well…” Bucky passively gestures to himself, “experimented and is responsible for me.”

Suddenly, another one of the numerous screens comes to life- the digitized green face grinning, “tsk, tsk. Oh, Soldat…”

“I won’t answer to that anymore,” Bucky maintained through gritted teeth, raising his arm to disintegrate this talking monitor as well just as it says:

“Who said I was talking about you?”

Just then, you hear quick, trudged steps. The only warning you had before been picked up, as easily as a pillow and aggressively, carelessly thrown aside into a metal desk, knocking some of the computers that sat on top along with you.

You tried gasping for the air that was stolen from your lungs on impact with the floor, but it didn’t come. Instead, it burned, more than the pain creeping around the left side of your ribs as you sluggishly moved to sit on your knees. Looking up, you meet the threatening gaze of the one who attacked you.

He was exceptionally tall, especially from your view on the floor. Lean, but had an athletic build and strong. Super strong. He was dressed in all black tactical gear, the only color being a large red Soviet star in the center of his chest. A black mask covered all but his eyes, keeping him faceless. He was pale, as if he hadn't seen actual sunlight in years and had shoulder length dirty blonde hair.

But those eyes. They cemented you to the floor- glaring, daring you to move or even breathe. Just the look that he conveyed felt like you were in the presence of death itself. As you were able to take your first small breath, your lips parted, and eyes narrowed as they locked into his deadly gaze. There was such a darkness glazed over the emerald irises, but you'd recognize them anywhere.

"Luke..." you exhale, painfully. Both physically and emotionally.

His brow twitches slightly at you saying his name, like his mind is trying to recollect it from a long-forgotten dream. As his body turns to face you, he suddenly gets shoved back a few feet, "Back off, Castle." Bucky warns sternly, stepping between you and your brother.

Gripping the desk, you use it to hoist yourself up, whining slightly and grabbing at your left side realizing that you most likely have some broken ribs. The sound of your pain distracted Bucky for one second, and Luke took that opportunity to lunge forward and kick him high in the chest. With a breathless grunt, Bucky barrels backwards into you, knocking your back flush against the wall.

Luke was there in the blink of an eye, grabbing Bucky by the collar of his jacket. The two of them quickly became a tangle of throwing fists and kicks, breaking apart to find anything around to throw at one another. Overturning desks, throwing chairs, Bucky even chucked a still laughing Zola computer at Luke.

While you never thought the two most important men in your life would ever have the chance to meet, this is not the way you would have ever imagined it.

With your back still flat against the wall, you slide down to sit on the floor, starting to feel dizzy. Maybe it was the overwhelmingness of the situation, but instinctively you bring your hand to the back of your head, and it feels... wet. Looking at your fingers, they're now coated with fresh, warm crimson blood. It's getting harder to think straight with the tunneling vision, but you realize that you hit your head against the wall from the collision of bodies.

"Please..." you choke out a sob, "please, stop," you beg. But they can't hear you over their own heated screams and grunts as they continue to fight one another. Your narrowing vision focuses on Bucky, seeing that he is fighting more defensively- actively trying to avoid hurting Luke, pulling his punches where he can. Tears burn behind your eyes at the sight, knowing that if this were anyone else, it would already be over.

"Luke!" Bucky yells and quickly dodges to the side, avoiding the knife now sticking out of the wall that Luke threw at him. "Your sister came here to get you back! She's here for you. We're here for you!" Bucky maintained his distance, mirroring Luke's movement's trying to rely on his words rather than fists. They're pacing, waiting for the other to make a move.

The ringing in your ears was becoming too hard to ignore and as much as you tried to fight it, sweat started to bead up on your skin. You were losing consciousness, and fast.

"Bucky," you breathe out. His body tenses as he looks over at you, eyes wide. He jumps over one of the only remaining desks in the room and kneels down, hands hovering over body briefly, afraid to touch you.

"Okay... okay," he mutters to himself, scanning you over, his eyes linger on your hand with the now drying blood on them. Bucky gently cups your cheek, his thumb grazing over it as he forces a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "You're gonna be okay, Sunshine. I-I'm going to get you outta here and get some help, okay?" His voice sounds shaky as his chest heaves, "Sam? I need a med evac for y/n,"

You nod once, or at least you think you do, as you continue to focus on Bucky. Everything around him starts to fade into a deeper black void. The last thing you see is Luke step into view over Bucky's shoulder to look down at you. At some point during their altercation, his mask had been ripped off. His lips were pressed into a thin line as his teeth clenched and remained expressionless while Bucky continued to stroke your hair and try to speak calm, reassuring words of how he would make sure you would be okay as you slipped under the surface of complete darkness.

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[therealcocoshady]

Recovery - Chapter 35

Eminem x Female Reader Fanfiction

Synopsis : Reader is mad at Em after their heated argument and he does everything he can not to lose her.

Y/N’s POV 

You had decided to sleep in one of the guest rooms after your argument with Marshall. He had tried to reason with you, apologize for the millionth time and tell you he loved you but you just needed to be in a different room and not see or hear him. With him begging and pleading, it was impossible to process your feelings. After you locked yourself in the guest room, you heard him knock and apologize for a while but he eventually went away when he understood that you would not open the door, let alone talk to him. To say you were hurt would be the understatement of the year. How did he dare accuse you of lying ? How did he dare imply that you would not deserve to raise children when he knew full well that it was all that you wanted for yourself ? You understood that he might have said that out of anger, fear or whatever extreme emotion he might have felt in the moment but that was no excuse. And it did prove one thing : after knowing you for nearly two years, having witnessed you work towards recovery, he still saw you as an addict. This made you feel worthless, like everything you had done, all the meetings, the therapy sessions had done no good and that you would always be seen as the stupid girl who made a couple of bad decisions because she had a hard time handling trauma. Before messing with your anxiety prescription and eventually overdosing, you had never done a lot of drugs. You had never been the party type, drinking too much and experimenting with substances. The heaviest thing you had ever tried was smoking weed during trips to Amsterdam with your friends from college. You were not a crackhead, for crying out loud ! Looking at the bigger picture, your experience with drugs was limited and represented a few months. It could have been worse. You did not want to minimize your mistakes, but you also did not want them to be held against you for the rest of your life. You were twenty-eight, you still had a lifetime ahead of you. Three months messing with Xanax should not earn you a life sentence. And if Marshall thought different, to hell with him. 

Having him throw all these things in your face hurt on so many different levels and you cried yourself to sleep. Out of anger, sadness and frustration. And on top of that, you had to deal with the guilt of feeling unable to truly rejoice for Talia. You were feeling more lonely than ever. The last time you had felt this lonely was after you lost your baby. Simon was there physically but nowhere to be found on an emotional level and your friends, despite trying their best, did not really understand what you were going through. Now, things were different but also similar in a way : you couldn’t really talk to your friends and it was painfully obvious that your partner would not be of any support. All you had wanted for the night was to have some peace, some alone time and, eventually, Marshall’s arms to fall asleep in. Instead, you had an argument that led you to sleep in a guest room and a possible breakup on your mind. 

You didn’t want to break up with Marshall. Even after the awful things he threw in your face, you were still in love with him. It didn’t make sense. If anything, you should hate him. And in a way, you did. But you still loved him. The perspective of breaking up was making you sick to your stomach but what choice did you have, when the person you loved the most, the one who was supposed to protect you, be there for you and have your back did not respect you and thought of you as a failure ? Yes, he had apologized countless times and professed his love for you, but what good did it do if he saw you as an addict and a charity case ? 

The only reason you managed to sleep at all was from the exhaustion from crying. You had sobbed so much that your head was hurting when you woke up, your vision still blurry. That’s when you felt a presence in bed, next to you. You rubbed your eyes and saw Marshall laying there, staring at you intently with bloodshot eyes. You had locked the door behind you. What the hell was he doing here ? How long had he been staring at you for ? 

What are you doing here ? You asked in a raspy voice. How did you even get here ? 

Masterkey. Baby… I can’t sleep without you, he said. I don’t want to sleep without you. Not tonight. Not ever. 

So you thought you’d stare at me in my sleep like some sicko ? 

Y/N, I… Please don’t do this, he sighed. Don’t leave me. 

He was staring into your eyes, as if he were trying to read into your soul. He was wearing a white tank top and gray sweatpants. He knew full well that was the clothes you liked the most on him. You had told him countless times how sexy he was in them. And you had to admit that, laying on top of the covers, icy blue eyes and muscles on full display, he was a vision. Even when you were mad at him, he had you drooling and it was painfully unfair. 

Marshall…, you began. 

I can’t lose you, he pleaded. I don’t want to lose you. I can’t live without you. 

You hurt me, you said as you swallowed dryly. You really hurt me. 

I know, baby, I-

No you don’t ! You interjected. You have absolutely no idea how bad it hurts. This is worse than the time you told me I should have overdosed before we met. Losing this baby, it’s the worse thing that ever happened to me. How dare you tell me I shouldn’t get to be a mother ?! How dare you tell me that when it was my biggest dream and the reason for our breakup ? How dare the man I told everything about my miscarriage to, the one who consoled me when I was hurting, say something so mean when I gave up on this dream in order to be with him ?! 

I’m so sorry, he sobbed. I don’t deserve you. I know it. I fucked up. 

And I don’t deserve you either ! You spat.  I deserve better. You said you had my back. You said you were here for me. You were supposed to be my best friend in the world. You were supposed to protect me. You had me believing that I could recover. The man who gave me this fucking sobriety pendant and told me I wasn’t alone doesn’t believe in me and thinks I’m basically a crackhead ! 

No, Y/N, it’s not true, he said. I don’t think that at all. You’re so strong. I know it. I see it. 

Then why would you say what you said ? You cried. What good reason can you possibly have for hurting me this bad ? 

I… It’s hard to explain. 

The both of you were crying, laying in bed, staring at each other. Seeing Marshall in tears broke your heart but, hell, he had broken yours. You were mad at yourself for having so much empathy for him. He reached for your hand and, with the other, wiped his tears. 

Look, I know it’s no excuse, but… When I saw the tests, I freaked out, he said. Because it’s not even that I don’t want kids. I mean, I don’t, because I’ve had three beautiful daughters, I feel like my family is complete and, who wants to change diapers in their fifties anyway ? Or be mistaken for their child’s grandpa ? But really… When I thought you were pregnant, I was terrified. Because there is no fucking way I can be chill with the idea of having another baby when I put mine through so much. I traumatized my daughters. Their mom traumatized them too. Their parents were fucking zombies. They saw us struggle. No child should ever, ever see that. No kid should have to call 911 because their dad is dying on the bathroom floor, or have to wait for their mom to call them from jail. They should not have to say “Mom is in rehab. Again. She was sober for years but she relapsed and now she’s a mess”. I can’t even begin to tell you all about the times my kids didn’t have their parents with them for important events. Or the times when we were there but not mentally present. 

You stared at him in silence as he spoke. He had already told you about his addiction, how he had struggled, but he had never really spoken about the impact it had on his daughters, on his family. Tears were falling down his cheeks as he spoke and you could tell the memories were still vivid. 

And when I say that addicts are shitty parents, I’m just talking from my experience, he continued. No matter how much I’m trying now, no matter how long I’ve been sober, it doesn’t erase everything the girls have been through. And I can’t, in good conscience, have another child. Being an addict doesn’t mean you don’t love your kids to death. But it means that they have to put up with a lot and might end up having to care for you when, really, you’re the one who should take care of them. And I won’t even get into the bad genetics they might inherit. When I got back from the hospital, the girls had to take care of me. And throughout the years, they’ve had to take care of Kim, too. 

I know, you said. And I’m so sorry you had to go through this but… You were mean to me. You were cruel. 

I never meant to say you wouldn’t be a loving mother, he explained. Because there is absolutely no doubt in my mind about this. And I know it’s a sensitive subject for you. What I really meant to say is that, even though you’ve worked so hard, even though you’re doing so good, there is no certainty you won’t relapse at one point or another. It doesn’t mean I don’t trust you, it doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t be there for you if something happened. It means that it’s scaring the living shit out of me. I wouldn’t be able to handle having a kid with anyone, but if I’m being honest, I couldn’t handle the pressure of having one with you especially, because I’d be even more scared. 

You nodded sheepishly. When he put it in these words, it made more sense. You were still hurt but, in a way, you would see where he was coming from. 

But I realize that… It’s a me issue, for the most part, you know ? He finally said. And I guess that, just because it’s the way I see things doesn’t mean it has to be true for you. I know we’re in different situations. 

Yes, you said with tears in your eyes. Because for me… It was three months, Marshall. I only used for three months. And it doesn’t change the fact that I made mistakes. But I don’t want to be thought of as an addict for the rest of my life. Because that’s not who I am. It shouldn’t have to define who I am. And I will not have you think of me as a charity case.

I know, he agreed. I fucked up. I’m sorry. But I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you. For the record, I don’t think of you as an addict. And you are not a charity case. You have never been. Even at the beginning, we bonded over the topic of addiction and I wanted to be there for you, but it was never about charity or whatever. Or maybe it was, but with me being the damn charity case. 

I never saw you like that, you said. 

Before I met you, I was a fucking mess, you know ? He said. I was sober for fifteen years, I was doing good on paper, but I wasn’t… I wasn’t happy. I never really thought I could be. Content, maybe. But happy ? No. You’re the one who showed me what true happiness looks like. You were never a fucking charity case, Y/N. You’re the air I breathe. 

You could see the sincerity in his eyes. He was holding your hand in his and staring at you. Things seemed a bit clearer now but you weren’t ok. Maybe he didn’t actually mean all the things he’d said, but you still took them to heart. You stared back at him, not saying much. And if you weren’t pushing him away, you weren’t exactly making a move in his direction either. You were just sitting in bed, feeling emotionally drained. 

I’m really sorry, you know, he reiterated. I know I’ve said that a hundred million times tonight, but I mean it. Can you forgive me ? 

I… I don’t know, you said blandly. 

I’ll do whatever it takes, Y/N, he said. I swear to God, all you have to do is tell me what to do and I’ll fucking do it. I’ll jump in front of a train, I’ll sell a kidney, I’ll take my heart out of my chest and offer it to you. Anything. 

Can you… Leave me alone ? You asked. 

He looked absolutely heartbroken and you didn’t want to hurt him but, at the same time, you didn’t want a sacrifice. What you wanted, what you really needed was time and space. You looked at him as he swallowed dryly. There was a hint of panic in his eyes. 

Please don’t leave, he pleaded. 

I need time, Marshall, you explained. I need space. 

Please, he begged. 

He cupped your face and whispered to you how much he loved you, how much he needed you. “I can’t lose you”, he kept on saying. He then proceeded to kiss your forehead, your cheeks, your lips… He seemed virtually unable to let go of you. You burst into tears as soon as his lips touched yours and he held you as you sobbed in his arms, repeating how sorry he was. Your tears were getting his tank top wet but he didn’t seem to care. He kept on spilling soft kisses on your face, holding you close. You let him kiss you as you clutched his top. His hands slowly started to wander, gently stroking your thighs. “Let me show you how much I love you”, he whispered before kissing you. You enjoyed his touch, the warmth of his embrace… But something was still off. You didn’t feel in the right headspace. You knew he loved you, but you didn’t feel safe on an emotional level. 

Marshall… No, you simply whispered. 

Are you alright ? He asked. What can I do ? 

Please, just leave, you asked with tears in your eyes. 

He bit his lower lip but eventually nodded. He stroked your cheek with a worried look before getting up and walking towards the door. He took one last look at you as you muttered an apology. After he closed the door, you let your head fall onto the pillow. 

MARSHALL’S POV 

After leaving Y/N alone in the guest bedroom, Marshall was unable to sleep. He had fucked up big time, he knew it. And now, she might leave his sorry ass. For good, this time. The perspective of her walking away from him again was making him sick to his stomach. He kept on thinking he’d done everything wrong in their relationship, perhaps from the start. All he wanted was to give her the very best in life but he kept on fucking up, on saying the wrong things, on letting his anger and past trauma take over. Perhaps he was right when he said he’d end up alone. He was consumed by self-loathing and self-hatred, with absolutely no clue as to how he could possibly make things right (assuming it was even possible). His mind kept on going to the darkest places. He’d always been prone to weird, dark and intrusive thoughts but it’d been a long time since he had felt this way. Ever since they had gotten back together, life had been sunshine and candy. Now, it was the contrary. He kept on filling pages upon pages in his notebook with words, rhymes, schemes, phrases… If anyone ever found this, they would probably call a psych ward to have him committed. His lyric sheets had always resembled the scribblings of a mad man - something a lot of people made fun of him for - but these pages were something else. They were deeply disturbing. Probably because that’s exactly what his thoughts were. Disturbing. After a night alone in the living room, staring at the ceiling and writing, he decided not to go to the studio. Whenever he was having a bad day, going to work and keeping up with his rigorous 9 to 5 schedule usually helped but, this time, he didn’t have it in him to get ready, get in his car and go to work like nothing happened. Not when Y/N might be gone by the time he would come back. So much for their first holiday as a family. For the perfect future he had planned for them. For all the places he wanted to take her. All the plans he wanted to make. He couldn’t imagine facing his family and telling them that he had fucked up. He could already see the look of disappointment on his daughters’ faces. They had managed for Y/N to get back to him only for him to ruin everything. 

He was laying on the couch when he heard her come down. He immediately went to see her. 

Hey, he said. 

Good morning, she replied. 

Did you sleep well ? He asked in a sad attempt to make small talk and connect with her. 

Not really, she admitted. Aren’t you late for work ? 

I’m not going, he said. Not today. Look… Can we talk ? 

I came to talk to you, actually, she said. I have made up my mind. About leaving. 

For a few seconds, she didn’t say anything and time seemed frozen. He found himself unable to breathe as he stared at her, waiting for her to elaborate and put him out of his misery. He needed to know. These few seconds were absolute torture. The nine circles of hell. 

So ? He asked nervously. 

I don’t want to leave, Marshall, she said. I want to give us a chance. 

Thank God, he sighed as he went for an embrace. 

But, she said intently as she put distance between the two of them, I need time. 

O-ok, he said. Sure. Whatever you need, baby. Whatever you want. I told you, I’ll do anything, I’ll give you whatever you ask for. 

Would you consider therapy ? She asked carefully. 

I already do therapy, he replied with a puzzled look on his face.

You haven’t been to therapy since we came back from Europe, she pointed out. And I know that it’s mostly addiction counseling. With everything you told me yesterday, it’s clear that you have unresolved trauma that you should work on. So that you don’t take it out on me. And so that you can move on. 

I-I don’t think it’s something you can move from, he said honestly. But yeah, sure. If that’s what it takes, I’ll do it. 

Ok, she said. Thank you. 

Is that all ? He asked nervously. 

And I’m taking over the guest bedroom, she added. 

You want to sleep apart ?! He blurted out. 

I told you I need time, she said. Marsh, I… I love you. With all my heart. And I know you’re sorry. But I’m still hurt. And I have a lot to process. I’ll still be in the house, I’m not moving out. 

Ok, he sighed. 

He wasn’t happy about the prospect of spending more nights away from her, but at least she wasn’t moving out and that was enough for him to be able to breathe properly again. He would just have to suffer through it and do his best not to fuck things up. Y/N went to her appointment and he waited patiently, not too sure what to do. When she came back, she informed him that Talia would be coming over. No offense to Y/N’s best friend, but he had absolutely no wish to see anyone, so he simply decided to retreat in his home studio, trying to at least do something with all the lyrics he had written. Putting together tracks and getting the words out of his head was therapeutic, more so than any amount of time he would spend in a shrink’s office. He’d seen therapists before. When he started addiction counseling, he’d been advised to seek help regarding his childhood trauma, but he wasn’t too keen. So therapy had mainly been focused on his anger issues, his anxiety regarding work and addiction. He wasn’t a big fan of therapy, but if that’s what it took for Y/N to forgive him, he would bite the bullet. When he went back to the living room, at the end of the day, he was spent and his voice was raspy. He had been yelling in the mic a bit more than he usually did but, at least, his mind was a bit clearer. He found Y/N and Talia on the couch, drinking tea and looking at bridal magazines. 

Hi Em, Talia said with a huge smile before hugging him. 

Hey, he said. How’s wedding planning going ? 

Lots to do, she said as she gestured to the pile of notebooks and magazines on their coffee table. By the way… Are you free two months from today ? 

I’d have to check with Tracy about my schedule, he shrugged. Why ? 

Because I’m getting married, she shrieked ! We have a date ! 

That’s… soon, he pointed out. 

Well, I told Y/N not to tell you, and we’re not telling people yet, but you’re Jamal’s best man so you might as well know… We’re having a baby ! 

He looked at Y/N who was standing behind Talia, gesturing to him not to say anything. Obviously he wasn’t supposed to know. He smiled and congratulated her. He could see a sullen expression on his girlfriend’s face while Talia was talking about how Jamal took the news. Apparently, he was surprised but overjoyed and they decided to get married before she started showing. Y/N was smiling but he could see that she was not doing too well. Given everything he knew about how hard losing her own baby had been for her, it wasn’t too surprising. 

So, anyway, we’re going to need all the help we can get, Talia said. Can we count on you, Em ? 

Sure, he sighed. But don’t count on me to help pick flowers or stuff like that… 

Can you at least hook Jamal with one of your stylists so that he has a decent tux ? Oh, and if you know a venue we can use, too… I mean, I bet you’ve visited a few between Hailie’s engagement and Alaina’s wedding. 

None that can fit your guest list, he chuckled. Jamal has told me about it. Nothing that’s available two months from now can accommodate 350 guests ! 

Believe it or not, they have actually agreed to shrink it down, Y/N said with a slight grin. We’re down to 50 guests. 

Only because we’re having a second wedding after the baby is born, Talia warned. This is basically eloping. With a few guests, a party and an actual ceremony. 

So it’s an actual wedding, he said. 

Y/N and Talia went back to their wedding planning. From what he gathered, his girlfriend would have her hands full for the next two months. He went to chill in his office for a bit, listening to some music. When it was dinner time, he went to see Y/N and ask if she wanted to have dinner but found her on the couch, curled into a ball. She was crying and seemed in pain. Talia was gone. 

Baby, what’s wrong ?! He asked as he checked on her. 

Nothing, she mumbled. I got an IUD inserted this morning and I’m having contractions and cramps. They said it’s normal, though. 

I’m sorry, he said. Is there anything I can do ? 

Don’t worry about it, she said. 

She tried to move and pick her phone from the table but even that seemed too hard to do for her. 

You seemed fine, earlier, he commented. 

They gave me pain medication immediately after but it’s starting to wear off, she explained. Plus, I didn’t want to worry Talia, you know ? 

Right, he said. Don’t you have any pain meds you can take ? 

They prescribed some for me but they warned me it was pretty strong so I didn’t pick up the prescription. 

Oh, he said. Do you want me to take you to the doctor ? ER ? 

It’s fine, she said. Don’t worry about it. 

Maybe you should have taken the prescription, he commented. I don’t like seeing you in pain. 

I still don’t fully trust myself, you know ? She said as she nervously played with her sobriety pendant.

You’re stronger than you think, Y/N, he replied. I mean it. 

No you don’t, she huffed. 

Yeah I do, he insisted. Remember, when we started hanging out, when I told you nothing would happen between us ? I thought your sobriety was too new and I was scared But you proved me wrong. You’re doing so good. It’s impressive. 

Thanks, she said sheepishly. 

You never cease to amaze me, you know ? 

She blushed and smiled a little. Watching her act so shy made him realize what an asshole he’d been for failing to protect that smile. She was too precious and she had absolutely no idea about it. All he wanted to do was to take care of her. And that was exactly his plan. 

I wanted to know if you were hungry. Do you want to eat dinner ? He asked. 

Sure, why not, she said as she started to get up. 

Stay here, he said. I’ll cook. 

I can do it, she assured him. 

You’re not in the state to cook, he pointed out. Let me take care of you, ok ? 

Before she got a chance to protest, he went to get her hot water bottle, her favorite blanket, a hoodie and the book on her bedside table and brought them to her before heading to the kitchen and preparing something to eat. They ate in relative silence. He couldn’t speak for her but he wasn’t too sure what to say. At that point, he’d apologized enough times that she knew for a fact how sorry he was. She was a bit distant but, at this point, she didn’t seem too mad either. Ever since they started dating, it was the first time they had an argument that wasn’t solved in the next hour. With anyone else, he wouldn’t have cared too much but with Y/N, he hated it, probably because he realized it was his first serious, loving relationship with someone who had a rather healthy outlook on relationships. No shade to Kim, he had truly loved her but, looking back, he knew they’d been doomed from the beginning, always scheming and playing games. Y/N, on the other hand, had always been brutally honest, when she made it clear that she was attracted to him, or when she broke up with him to stay true to her dreams. He’d always been used to his partners bending their own rules in order to be with him, wanting to be with him at all costs even if it meant that the whole thing would be unhealthy and disingenuous, but Y/N was not like that. She was honest and true. She would rather leave than take bullshit and, even for his fifty-two year-old self, it was intimidating. 

Thank you for taking care of me, she said softly. 

I take my job seriously, he said with a slight smile. I promised to care for you and I fully intend to stick to the plan. 

You don’t have to, you know ? 

I want to, he replied. How’s the pain ? 

The water bottle helps, she shrugged. I think I’ll go to bed, though. I’m tired. 

Before she could get up, he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up before carrying her up the stairs. She gasped in surprise but let him. She was securing herself with her arms around his neck. 

You know… I could have walked, she pointed out. 

Oh. Too late, he said innocently - enjoying the contact with her far too much. 

He let her down on the bed in the guest bedroom. For a split second, he considered bringing her to their bedroom but he wanted her to see he respected her decision, however strongly he might disagree with it. He wasn’t sure how he could be expected to sleep well without her. Last night had been a nightmare, just like any night without her. In retrospect, it was a miracle he hadn’t ended up in the hospital in the six months they’d been apart. He had gotten so little rest. To be fair, he had Talia and Jamal to thank for keeping him somewhat sane and healthy. He wouldn’t have been able to release the album and tour otherwise. Hopefully, this time, he wouldn’t have to sleep without her for the next six months. 

So, do you need anything ? He asked as he tried to hide his nervosity. 

I think I’ll be fine, she replied with a soft smile. 

Look, I saw the look on your face, earlier, when Talia was here, he said. Are you sure you’re alright ? 

I’m triggered, that’s all, she said as she looked down. These contractions are bringing memories. So does Talia’s pregnancy. If I’m being honest, I’m having a bit of a… hard time rejoicing for her. 

Tears were welling in her eyes and he could not resist the urge to hold her. He sat on the bed and pulled her in his arms. She looked at him with a sad look on her face. 

I’m a terrible person, she muttered under her breath. My best friends are having a baby and I’m thinking about myself. 

You’re not, he assured her. Considering what you’ve been through, it’s absolutely understandable. And I guess I didn’t really help last night, with my shitty remarks…

Not really, she admitted.

You’re a great friend, Y/N, he said reassuringly. You just need a little time. 

I guess, she shrugged. Plus, they deserve to have a happy family life, you know ? That’s everything Talia’s ever wanted. They’re going to be amazing parents. 

They are, he nodded. And they’re pretty lucky to have you, too. 

You think ? She sighed. 

Of course, he said. You’re always there for people. Look, you’re even putting together their wedding at the last minute. 

That’s the least I can do, you know ? They’ve always been so good to me. I just want to make them happy. 

He pressed a kiss to her temple and she gave him a weak smile. 

I think I should sleep, she said softly. 

Ok, he replied. Call me if you need anything ? 

Sure. Thanks, Marshall. 

They stared at each other in silence. Sleeping in separate rooms felt unnatural and he could tell she felt it too. He reluctantly left her and went to their room, though he knew for a fact he wouldn’t be able to sleep. 

In the following days, things seemed to ease up a little. Y/N was still a little distant and keeping to herself but, from the looks of it, she could see he was making efforts. He tried not being too obvious and not sucking up to her too much but he also wanted her to see that he was serious when he said he would do whatever it takes. They managed to have small talks and ate dinner together in front of the TV before going to sleep - still in separate rooms. As for physical intimacy, it was sparse. The only thing he got away with was holding her hand. It was incredibly frustrating - having her so close but so far away at the same time while trying his best to get her to forgive him. He was nervously beating around the bush, avoiding the topic but it was driving him crazy. In all of his previous relationships, it would have led to angry sex and the matter would have been settled and buried only to be dug up for the next argument. Not very healthy but, at least, he wouldn’t have to sleep alone. Thankfully, the evening before Thanksgiving, the universe seemed to be on his side. When he got back from the studio, he found Y/N in the home theater, preparing to watch a movie. 

Hey, he said. Mind if I join you ? 

Sure, she replied with a smile. How was your day ? 

It was alright, he said. What are we watching ? 

You can choose, she offered. I just wanted to get my mind off flower arrangements for a minute. 

Horror movie ? He suggested. I bet we can find one where a bridezilla gets killed, that might comfort you. 

Hey, Talia’s not that bad, she giggled. But yeah, let’s go for horror ! 

She seemed in a good mood, which was a good sign. They settled on a movie and he joined her on the couch. In all honesty, he couldn’t care less about the movie - all he wanted was to be with her. And the only reason he had suggested watching a horror movie was because he knew she was chicken-hearted and, at that point, he would take any excuse and opportunity to hold her. If that implied relying on a jumpscare scene, so be it. He usually had better moves than that with the ladies, but this felt like a last resort. Sure enough, a scary scene came up and he saw her jump up a bit. He tried to hide a smile and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She muttered a “thank you” and focused on the movie. Every time the atmosphere got tense in the movie, he could feel her squirming and nervously bite her lip. And every single time, he pulled her a bit closer to him, until her legs were practically over his. He was almost brought back to the times when they were just friends and every brush against her took his breath away. Being with her, he had gotten used to the proximity, but now that she had deprived him of her touch, it felt the same as before. She took him by surprise by reaching for his hand and interlocking their fingers. He was feeling like a teenager on his first date at the movies. Should he try and kiss her ? Or would it ruin the moment ? It was stupid how much power she had over him. How nervous she could make him, and her ability to make him fall for her all over again just by holding hands. Another jumpscare scene occurred and she let out a small scream before hiding her face in his neck. God bless horror movies. He couldn’t contain a small laugh. 

You’re enjoying this, aren’t you ? She whispered accusingly. 

I missed this, he admitted. I missed you. 

I missed you too, you know ? 

She looked at him and he could not resist the temptation to capture her lips with his own. She immediately kissed him back, her lips feeling softer than ever. Four days without her touch was way too long. He could feel his heart rate increasing as her lips parted and their tongues found each other. He ran his fingers through her hair while she traced his shoulders with her fingers. Her touch was electrifying and he simply couldn’t get enough. He kissed her over and over again. 

I love you, he whispered. I love you so much. 

I love you too, she said emotionally. 

I need you, he pleaded. Let me make love to you. 

Ok, she whispered, her breath accelerating. 

As soon as she spoke, he did not waste time and got up before taking her hand and leading her to the bedroom. Their bedroom. He closed and locked the door behind them, making it clear that she was not going anywhere. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to want to. She was looking at him in anticipation. He went back to her and kissed her passionately before pushing her on the bed. He took his time making love to her, enjoying her soft moans and the sensation of her legs around his waist. Her nails scratched his back as she cried his name when they both reached their apex. He wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her neck as they caught their breath. 

You’re incredible, he said lovingly. And I’m never letting you out of this room ever again. 

Really ? She giggled. 

Try me, he said with a grin. 

She gave him a playful look and tried to get out of bed but he held her even closer, causing her to struggle a little. She tried wrestling him, but to no avail. Eventually, she gave in to his warm embrace and let her head roll onto his chest. 

So… I guess I have no choice but to sleep here tonight ? 

Don’t tell me you were seriously thinking about sleeping in the other room ? He groaned. 

Not really, she confessed with a small smile. I don’t like sleeping apart. I hate being mad at you, you know ? 

And I hate it when you’re mad at me, he replied. I’ll do better. I promise. 

I know, she shrugged. Sorry it took me a while to cool off. 

I really hurt you, he said. I understand. But just so you know, I want to do everything I can to deserve you. 

In all fairness, it wasn’t just you, you know ? She explained. It was a lot to process in very little time. I was triggered and brought back to some tough memories. I needed a little time on my own… 

I get it, he said. I missed you, though. 

I missed you too, she said. 

I don’t want to lose you, Y/N, he said in all seriousness. 

I know, she said. I’m still here. 

He nodded and closed his eyes, relaxing a bit as she traced the outline of his tattoos with her index. She let out a small giggle as she looked at his stomach tattoo. 

What ? He asked as he opened an eye. 

I just remembered I’m meeting the woman whose name I see every time I go down on you, she said with a smirk. 

He was a bit taken aback by the comment. She was smiling but it was the first time she commented on Kim’s name being tattooed on him. He’d had these for so long that he tended to forget about them anyway. Now that she mentioned seeing the tattoo every time she went down on him, though, he was feeling a bit self-conscious about it.

Is that a problem ? He asked with a raised eyebrow. The tattoo ? 

Not really, she shrugged. I don’t really see it, most of the time, you know. It’s just kind of funny, when you think about it. 

Right, he hummed. So… You’re not too stressed out about tomorrow ? 

I don’t know, she said. It’s still weird but, realistically speaking, I don’t have anything to worry about, right ? 

Of course not, he said. 

I’ll be fine, then, she replied. I guess I’m curious, though. 

About what ? He asked with his eyebrows furrowed. 

About her, she said. You had a complicated relationship with her. 

That’s one way to put it, he said. But, you know, as far as I’m concerned, she’s more like an old friend, and I know it’s the same for her. I’m just good old annoying Marshall. So, really, you have nothing to worry about. 

I know, she said with a smile. And when I start freaking out about it, I remember that you’re not married to her anymore. 

She was smiling softly, visibly at peace with the situation. That was encouraging and a good sign for the next day’s celebrations. However, he was starting to feel his anxiety rise once again. Right when he thought everything was getting back to normal and that he could enjoy Thanksgiving in peace, his past had to come and bite him in the ass. Y/N was looking at him lovingly and he could not find it in himself to contradict her. The only problem was, by saying nothing, he was lying to her face. He was still very much married to Kim.

[soapssuds]

Infinity

Yandere ! Gojo Satoru x Female ! Reader

Part 10 | what is yours, is mine

Warnings | blood, gore, death, yandere satoru, yandere sukuna, etc.

Notes | this fic will be using she/her pronouns for y/n. Also this is a reincarnation fic, so Gojo's name will not be "Satoru" in this part. And please let me know if you want to be in a taglist for this series !! ^-^

Summary | And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you.

Infinity Masterlist

GOJO SAYAMI had a problem.

A problem that decided to pop up when he least expected it to.

And that problem was a grotesque monster named Ryomen Sukuna.

The first time he met Sukuna, he had married y/n, and apparently the damned man turned into a curse not long after her death. Then, as Sayu, he hadn't the chance to meet Sukuna as he had killed y/n rather quickly in that life and then was executed shortly after.

And now, as Sayami, he was wondering what he should do.

Despite being the next head in the clan, he wasn't gifted with the six eyes, in this life. Such a gift was so rare that not all of his lives were able to receive them. In other words, he wouldn't be able to fight the curse known as Ryomen Sukuna.

At least, not in this life.

Don't get Sayami wrong though, he wasn't going to kill himself or y/n to start over in hopes of getting the six eyes in the next life.

Now, even though he wasn't particularly gifted in this life, there were two things he did have. His intellect and y/n. It wasn't easy oursmarting and making the people as his stepping stones, and it definitely wasn't easy getting y/n either.

But, either way, he was finally in a good spot in his life, and he wasn't about to let the newly renowned King of Curses, Ryomen Sukuna, ruin it.

Not now. Not ever.

"So what should I do ..."

[...]

"You're quite the fool."

"Am I now? Even after I came to meet you?"

"You took y/n away from me!"

"You're still mad about that? That was two reincarnations ago, you need to learn to let things go," Gojo taunted as he stood before Sukuna's throne.

In all of Sayami's thinking, he didn't once imagine a scenario where he would actually come and greet the King of Curses himself. He was in uncharted territory. If Sukuna wanted, he could kill Gojo right here, right now.

But Sukuna wasn't like that. (Ok, he was, but Sayami was sure he would be interested in what Sayami had to offer.)

"Mad? I'm fucking livid, you took the one person I ever cared about away from me. All because you're a selfish prick who couldn't go one life without her."

Sayami saw his opportunity and took it.

"Which brings me to this ... let's make a deal, Sukuna."

The curse paused, his towering figure standing from his throne and descending the marble steps, scattered bones being crushed underfoot as he walked.

"A deal?"

Gojo looked up as Sukuna looked down at him, his eyes calculating.

"Yes, a deal. It's as you said. I'm a selfish man who can't go a single life without y/n. You see, I don't understand why she and I keep reincarnating - who knows, I probably cursed the both of us at some point. In each life I knew her, she was never mine, so the deal I want to offer you is simple... let me have her in this life and then she's all yours in the next."

"All mine."

"Of course, though, you are a curse now, so I don't know how easy it'll be for you to woo her in that regard, but I guess that'll be for you to figure out."

[...]

"I do."

To say how overjoyed Gojo Sayami was as he said those two little words would be an understatement.

Sukuna accepted the deal.

Nothing could ruin this moment.

"And do you, Y/n L/n, take Sayami Gojo as your lawfully wedded husband."

Her eyes seemed to shine as she looked at him. Her hands grasped his own, her head tilted up.

"I-"

And in a moment that happiness seemed to shatter.

It all happened too fast for Sayami. His head seemed to be spinning as he fell to his knees. His hands immediately shaking as he looked down to look at the severed arms that he was holding.

"I decided to back out on our little deal, Gojo Sayami. I think I would much rather prefer killing you and taking y/n for myself in each life that you both live."

He looked to his right. The room was a bloody mess as curses went on a rampage on his and y/n's family. Their screams were loud and clear. Blood-curdling.

"So why did you kill her?"

He couldn't bring himself to look at her dead body, cut to ribbons.

"Why? Because you tainted her. I didn't want a woman that was in love with you. Much like how you didn't want a woman who was in love with me."

Sukuna came to stand before him. His four eyes always looking down at him, "I look forward to meeting you in the next life. Let's see who gets to y/n first, yeah?"

Sukuna didn't let him reply as he severed Gojo's head in one broad stroke of his sword. The metal slicing through easily.

It was time to start again.

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[talesofesther]

sweet calamity | ch 2

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Series Summary: It was something people described as the sweetest pain, the feeling of when the soul that's destined to find yours is closer to you. Wednesday saw it as a curse, promised herself she would hate whoever was chosen for her; but it's easier said than done.

A/N: Slowly, the story is shaping itself, hopefully y'all will like it. Also thank you so much for 7.5K followers, love ya. <3

Masterlist | Read ch 1 here

It was rare the times where you woke up before your alarm, given that you weren't exactly a morning person. But you could barely sleep last night, excitement and apprehension twirling inside your stomach; so it was no surprise when you woke up with the birds this morning.

Today was your first official day at Nevermore, the place where, supposedly, you belong. You were lucky to already know a few of the students here, Eugene for one, who had given you a basic tour of the school yesterday.

To say that Nevermore was big would be an understatement, the ancient, castle-like structure had your anxiety spiking as soon as you walked through the gates. It was a given that you'd take your sweet time getting lost here.

Just as you are right now.

You were leaning back on one of the stone walls on the quad, cell phone in hand as you read one of your mother's latest texts; have a good first day darling, remember to make friends and don't isolate yourself, love you.

With a soft sigh, you typed back the generic response you always gave your mom, a sweet thanks and I love you that usually did the trick so she wouldn't press the matter.

Stashing your phone on your backpack, your gaze roamed over the hallways and doorways, searching for any clues on where the hell botany class was supposed to be. Technically, you could just ask someone. Your fellow outcast colleagues came and went, passing by you nonstop. Yet part of you didn't want to be the lost newbie.

You pushed yourself away from the wall, turning around on the spot, forcing your peers to dodge you as you took a slow step backward to get some new perspective.

And that's when it happened again, so suddenly this time that it got you stumbling on your own feet.

It reminded you of when you accidentally touched that hot frying pan when you were seven. The burning, sharp and angry against your skin; right on the pulse point of your wrist. The same one you felt for the very first time just yesterday, and maybe that was the main reason for your restlessness today.

Your mother always talked with you about soulmates, about how she was lucky to have found hers and that maybe you would be too. But at the end of the day, she was also a realist. She had never once allowed you to dream too big, hope too much. Because she knew it wasn't a reality for everyone.

You grew up in a world of maybes. Maybe you will find yours, maybe you won't; both are okay. And that was your truth, you were content with any outcome.

Until yesterday.

It's strange how a few seconds can change a lifetime.

You had never cared much about having a bond with someone, but then you felt it. It was almost palpable if you focused enough, that fragile red string tied around your finger, sending shockwaves to your heart and changing its rhythm.

Overnight, the thought of breaking this bond became almost unfathomable.

Your backpack bumped into someone when you lost your footing, you quickly turned around with an apology on your lips, but the person spoke first;

"Whoever it was, do it again and I will break each of your fingers." She spoke lowly, with a bite to her tone that gave you goosebumps.

You could tell she straightened her tie before turning around to face you, and once she did so — ever so slowly — any words you had tangled on your tongue faded completely.

She was all raven black hair and smooth pale skin, her lips had a dark shade of burgundy to them, shaping the lines to perfection; if you squinted, you could see freckles over her nose; her eyes were just as dark as her hair, lashes kissing the corner of her cheeks as she blinked once, twice and then kept her gaze on you with a faint frown to her eyebrows.

Something about her got your heartbeat going haywire. It was addictive.

Only when the silence was bordering awkward that you found your voice again; "shit, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to bump into you." It didn't help your nerves that you could feel the eyes of the passing students on you, as if they were watching a live decapitation ceremony — plus the ever-present ache on your skin.

Talk about an eventful first day.

All the girl did was angle her chin up, her eyes skimming up and down your body. "Stop walking backwards and maybe it won't happen again."

You pursed your lips, nodding once. Touche. "That's great advice, actually." You attempted a smile, but when you got no response back, you continued; "uh anyway, I have to go to botany class so, I see you around?"

If you looked closely, you could tell she acknowledged your words with a nod of her own. Figuring that's all you were getting, you turned around and took a step the opposite way.

A beat or two passed, almost as if she was considering if you were worth her time of day or not.

"I'm heading to botany as well," the raven-haired girl's voice called after you.

You looked at her over your shoulder.

"And that is not the way." She told you pointedly, raising a perfectly styled eyebrow at you.

Good one, idiot. Was all you could think to yourself.

You stood in the middle of the hallway with six feet between you and the girl whose name you were already itching to know, unsure if she wanted you to tag along or not.

"I'm not gonna wait on you forever," she said then, impatiently, and you scrambled to fall into step beside her.

You followed by her side as she left the quad, passing through Nevermore's gardens — which were breathtaking this time of year, the huge trees with a mix of faded green and yellow on their leaves, some of them already forming a blanket on the grass beneath them, old stone paths for you to walk on and a cold breeze in the air, countered by warm sunlight; you could spend hours out here — until you saw the big greenhouse in the distance.

"Thank you for this," you spared a timid glance at the girl beside you, "really, I would probably still be walking in circles if it wasn't for you."

There was no response other than a blank look in your general direction; you wanted to hear her voice though. "I'm Y/N, by the way." The question about her own name went unsaid.

Did you always have the need to speak so much? Wednesday wondered.

By no means, she was one to care enough in helping newcomers find their way around. They could be bothersome, asking too many questions and delaying her routine.

Yet there was something about you that got her feeling uneasy when she considered parting ways. For a second, she wondered if it was your soul that was doomed with hers, but you had already bumped into her and the cursed burning was still there; with no pattern to it, ever unpredictable, resembling the push and pull of waves on the oceanside yet never going away entirely.

And Wednesday wanted to be annoyed, she should be annoyed, shouldn't she? Because the sooner she finds out who her other half is, the sooner she can put an end to it.

She wasn't. She wasn't bothered that it wasn't you. Because the thought of hating you was slightly unappealing.

Her jaw was tight, sunlight framing her profile and reflecting on her pupils as she said; "Wednesday."

Were you going to be another Enid? Talking her ears off every given minute only to warp your way inside her cold heart eventually?

Wednesday let out an indignant scoff at the mere thought of it.

Her response lit you up like a Christmas tree; "Enid's roommate?"

You reached the greenhouse and Wednesday stopped in front of the glass doors. She turned to face you, her eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

"Uh, we're friends," you were quick to elaborate, eyes focused on the way Wednesday's fringe flowed with the wind, "well, our parents are friends so we became friends too, she talked a lot about you on vacation. I almost feel like I already know you."

To that, Wednesday sharpened her gaze daringly, sure that Enid's version of her had the potential to be twisted into something sweetly inaccurate.

And was it bad that your panicked face was somewhat adorable?

"Not trying to imply that I do," you hurriedly said, eyes a tad too wide, "I'm just saying that I've heard a lot about you."

You amused her; the same way a cat finds it amusing to play with its prey. There was a ghost of a smile on Wednesday's lips; "yes, we do share a room."

The greenhouse was already partly filled with students when you walked in together, its glass walls almost entirely covered by plants, allowing only little bits of sunlight to come through as the smell of several different flowers engulfed your senses.

There were a few seats empty, but when you settled on a table at the back, Wednesday felt compelled to follow suit, making herself comfortable on the chair beside yours.

You kept surprisingly quiet during most of the class, taking notes in your notebook and occasionally tapping your pen against the paper but other than that, quiet. Wednesday felt strangely at ease in your company.

Wednesday had her hands neatly resting on the table, half listening to the new teacher's boring explanation about a poisonous plant and half counting the new species added to the greenhouse since she last came here.

She had counted twelve by the time her attention was captured, by you, no less.

There was a potted orchid resting by your side, it was a small thing, its soil a little too dry and its petals a little too pale — apparently the new teacher wasn't as attentive with her plants.

Wednesday watched the way you raised a hand to the poor flower, fingertips grazing the tip of its petals, and from each place you touched, a burst of life erupted. Slowly, the flower regained its bright colors, the leaves standing tall again in a deep shade of green at the same time that a loving smile came to your lips.

"Interesting," this time, Wednesday was the one to break the silence.

Her voice made you flinch, as if you had been in your own world for a moment. You took a deep breath before saying; "she was looking a little sad."

With her eyes still on the colorful orchid, Wednesday asked; "you make things come to life?"

"Uh, plants mostly," you shrugged, like even you didn't know the full extent of your abilities, "but yeah."

You looked up at Wednesday, not expecting to find her eyes already on you; dark as the night, if you looked closely, you could find galaxies in them to get lost in. You couldn't remember ever becoming this quickly infatuated with someone before, so much so, that it got you wondering — hoping — what if it's her?

The hairs on your arm stood up, a shiver going up and down your back. Could it be her?

"Enid always loved it," you forced out, at the same time that you forced the what-ifs out of your head — because you could almost hear your mother saying; hope is dangerous, don't ever let it overcrowd your senses. "She used to tell me that I'm lucky, that I could just conjure up any bouquet I'd want when I find my soulmate," you grinned at the memory, "and I always told her it was not that simple, that I can't make things out of thin air."

"Enid can be naive," Wednesday stated, tone a tad too tight, "she often times sees the world through rainbow lenses."

You chuckled, "do I sense some disdain?"

There's a beat before Wednesday says anything; a beat where she just looks at you, wondering when you got so comfortable with her, and why she let you.

"Quite the contrary," she tells you then, "Enid is one of the few people I tolerate here."

You smiled faintly, eyes downcast and focusing on Wednesday's hands instead of her eyes, "not for Enid."

Wednesday blinked slowly as understanding downed on her, she straightened in her seat; "most people fail to realize that having your soul linked to another is nothing short of a burden." Her words rolled off her tongue easily, that was her truth.

You nodded, not agreeing but acknowledging her view, "why would it be a burden?"

"Because no one asked for it, it's an inconvenience that's forced upon you. And people expect you to just accept it, love it, even," Wednesday told you, her eyebrows scrunched together in anger, "why would I ever want something like that?"

Your lips parted as you felt her hatred as if it was choking you, her black nails tapping against the table at the same rhythm your heart pumped blood. "What happens if you meet yours?"

"For their sake, I hope it never happens."

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Read ch 3 here

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I'd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @gayestfeels26 @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @user284747 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @witchyhs-blog @tobylikesfire @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @maria-403 @pompompuri @halleest @wandaromanova @marveloussimp @rainbow-hedgehog @left-and-right-up-and-down @get-the-fuck-outta-here @awolfcsworld @elduster @alexkolax @georgi-salva @imdumbhi @ladey @youralphawolf72 @reginassweetheart @justyourwritter69

[die-pink-maus]

A Weekend in Vienna 🇦🇹

While vacationing in Germany, Chantelle’s (OC) best friend, Adrian (also an OC), books an impromptu trip to Vienna to visit extended family. Chantelle decides to join her for the last few days of her trip, where she meets an interesting friend of Adrian’s family who offers to show the two around the city for the weekend🤭

TW: Pretty much none, not for this chapter anyway, but things will get 🌶️spicy🌶️ in the next parts. Also there is an age gap between OC and König, she is 25 and he is about 36-37.

CW: FemOCs, female pronouns used, while both characters are technically OCs please feel free to imagine them however you’d like, ultimately the main character is the reader, I just didn’t want to use “Y/N” so I gave them names 🙈

Word Count: 1,516

*DISCLAIMER*

This is my first time EVER writing any kind of fan fiction so please go easy on me 😭 if you like where things are going, likes and reblogs would be greatly appreciated! If you’d like to see anything in particular in the next part or part(s), I’d love to hear it!

This version of König is based on the above interpretation drawn by @lettaniko (I hope you don’t mind me using it! I absolutely love this drawing it’s perfect! 🫶🏼)

I like a nice build up to the smut so if you like to get right into it this is probably not going to be for you…but if you can wait I it out I promise it’ll be worth it 😂

Enjoy! 💋

7:30am. There’s approximately 30 minutes before my train departs for Vienna, and I still haven’t reached the train station yet. I scrambled as I dashed out of my hotel room, hoping I’d left the place in a somewhat decent state and I hadn’t forgotten anything valuable as got into the elevator. I’ve been exploring Munich for the past two weeks and I’ve been having the absolute time of my life. Although traveling alone can be quite scary, oddly enough, I’ve never felt more at home. Munich is such a vibrant city, filled with all kinds of exciting things to do and I’ve met so many incredible people, it’s definitely been the experience of a lifetime. To say that I am not looking forward to going back home to Vancouver would be an understatement, but all good things must come to an end. I’d spent about a year and a half learning to speak German, and promised myself that I would plan a trip in celebration of achieving fluency, so here I am! Now, Vienna wasn’t initially on my list of places to visit when I decided to come to Germany, but my best friend, Adrian, ended up booking a spur of the moment flight last week to visit extended family in Austria and suggested I come hangout with her during the last few days of my trip. Seeing as its only a 3-4hr train ride from Munich, I figured why the hell not! I’ve heard Vienna is beautiful, and Im at all not opposed to exploring another city.

Upon arrival at the train station in Vienna I was greeted by Arian, excitedly jumping up and down while holding up a large white sign that read “Willkommen in Wien, Schlampe!” I rolled my eyes and shook my head, laughing as I got off the train and ran over to her, tackling her in a tight embrace as she laughed hysterically. “Did you have to let the whole station know that I’m a bitch or…?”

“Honestly, they should’ve known the moment they saw you.” She said jokingly. “How was the ride over?” She asked.

“Amazing, I haven’t slept that well in years. It also didn’t feel like a 4 hour train ride.”

“Trains in out here are quite quick so I wouldn’t be surprised if it somehow took less time. They definitely shit on the ones we have back home.”

“Oh for sure.” I agreed as we began walking over to the car.

“So a family friend of ours just came back from a mission in the states, he’s in the military bee tee dubs —“

“Yeah kinda pieced that together when you said ‘mission’.” I chuckled.

“I don’t drive out here so he’s gonna give us a ride back to my aunts, cool?”

“Sounds good.”

“He’s also a lot more familiar with Vienna than I am, so he offered to show us around a bit later on this evening.” Aw how nice of him. Knowing Adrian, the first place she’ll want to be taken to is the nearest bar, that girl can drink! If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my time in Germany, and my 10 years of friendship with Adrian, it’s that Europeans love their liquor. There are people from all parts of Europe in Germany and that’s one thing that remains quite consistent across the board. I also love my liquor, which is probably why I ended up fitting in so well.

We finally arrived at the car and opened the trunk to begin loading all of my luggage inside. I’d brought a small carryon suitcase, a duffle bag, as well as a large suitcase that was full of clothes I’d over packed from home, and a bunch of other clothes and souvenirs I’d bought in Munich. “Okay this one’s gonna be a tad heavy.” I warned as Adrian grabbed hold of the handle on the top. I reached forward to try to help her lift, but neither of us could manage the weight. “I got it.” His voice was low, but gentle. He had an accent, but it wasn’t overwhelming or harsh, nor did it make anything he said hard to understand. I wasn’t expecting to see the person I saw when I’d finally caught a glimpse of him…I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man like this in my entire life. Adrian and I stepped back as he grabbed hold of the suitcase, lifting it with absolute ease, as if it were light as a feather. His arm muscles bulged within the confines of his olive green long sleeved shirt as he tossed the suitcase inside the trunk. My heart began to race, It felt as if I was watching him move in slow motion. “Easy peasy.” He smirked as he turned around and looked down at me, his dazzling dark blue eyes awash with amusement at Adrian and I’s prior struggle. Jesus Christ…This man is an absolute unit. He’s gotta be at least 6 foot 7, if not taller. He’s incredibly easy on the eyes in a rough and rugged kinda way — a nice low trimmed beard, medium length dark brown hair, and a smile that is captivatingly dangerous to say the least. His presence alone exudes a confidence that causes me to grow weak in the knees. “I’m König,” he smiled knowingly as he stretched his hand out towards me. I know I’m definitely not the first woman to look at him the way I am. Even though I’m trying to keep my composure, it’s very clear that he can see right through it. “And you must be Chantelle?” He asked, eyes slowly roaming about my frame from head to toe. He bites his lip slightly as they return to my gaze, suggesting so much without saying any words at all. “I — yes.” I blushed, sheepishly brushing my hair behind my ear as I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.” He said. “Oh yeah, König Chantelle, Chantelle König.” Adrian yelled from the backseat. He laughed and shook his head as he closed the trunk.

We arrived at Adrian’s aunts house about 45 minutes later. König helped us load all of my things into the foyer before letting us know he’d be coming back in a few hours to take us out to this bar that he and a few of his buddies on his task force frequent whenever they’re home. I’ve been thinking about him ever since he left — those mysterious blue eyes, the way he slightly bites his lower lip just before laughing at something ridiculous Adrian has said, the way his arm muscles swell beneath his shirt with the slightest movement…God, he’s sexy. I could think of a million different ways I’d want him to ruin me. The thought alone of being trapped beneath his large brawny frame writhing in pleasure as he thrusts into me over and over has me clenching around nothing. Though I’m not usually one for a one time fling, I have a feeling he’d be able to convince me. “So, you wanna tell me what all of that was about?” Adrian asked as she helped me settle into the guest room. “What are you talking about?” I asked. “Since when are you a shy girl?” She giggled. Sigh. I figured she was referencing my unusual silence during the car ride over here. “He’s hot as fuck but I’ve never seen you like that before.”

“Ugh!” I groaned as I covered my face with a pillow. She’s right. I’m not very easily intimidated. I’m quite the confident woman and I ensure everyone in the room knows it, but this was different. Almost as if our energies were fighting for dominance, and mine didn’t stand a chance. “Hey if it’s any consolation, my jaw dropped the first time I saw him without his mask too.” Mask?

“Mask?” I asked.

“Yes…the last time I was here he was on base training recruits, so I’d see him often in full tactical gear. He’s a snipper, so he wears a mask to hide his face in the field. I mean, that was hot too, but in a Ghostface kinda way”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the comparison, but I was curious to see what his entire ensemble looked like. “How old is he?” I asked.

“I think he’s in his mid to late 30s? I’m honestly not too sure, and it doesn’t matter to me either way.” She winked. “I was sensing some unspoken vibes between the two of you in the car though. Don’t think I didn’t see both of you stealing glances at each other every now and then.” She smirked.

“Stop,” I scoffed. “A man like that is definitely not single, and even if he is…I don’t know” I blushed. “I didn’t see him looking at me..”

“K well I see everything, he definitely likes what he sees, and clearly the feeling is mutual on your end as well. Looks like tonight will be interesting.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen, Adrian.” I laughed as I rolled my eyes. Nothing’s gonna happen…right?

PART II 👉🏽 A Weekend In Vienna 🇦🇹: PART II

PART III 👉🏽 A Weekend In Vienna 🇦🇹: PART III