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ilalos · 3 years ago

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Worth it (Anthony Bridgerton x reader) Part 1/2

Summary: You’re Simon’s cousin and you are ready for your first social season, excited for the courting and dancing. Your plans are shattered when you find yourself in an arranged marriage to none other than Lord Anthony Bridgerton, the one man who avoided love like it was the plague.

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, arranged marriage, tiny bit of angst, Anthony is an idiot, if you think of anything else please let me know.

Word count: 2.5k

It was the second season the duke and duchess had the pleasure of enjoying together in their London home. The duke’s household had been rejoicing in the arrival of baby A for a year now and the family was also preparing themselves for the birth of their second child. One might think that they would rather spend these blissful moments away from the chaos that the social season brought, and one might be right.

Simon and Daphne had opted to miss this social season in view of the fact that Daphne would be heavily pregnant when the summer started and would be at risk of having the baby in London instead of the comfort of her home. They chose instead to visit the Bridgerton home before the season started so Daphne could be with her family for a couple weeks with no added stress.

But their plans changed when Simon’s aunt, seeing that they were going to London, decided to ship you, her daughter, with them so you could be part of the social season and hopefully find yourself a husband. The couple had agreed to take you to London and also to chaperone you throughout the social season.

You were a good, polite, and well-prepared lady; your mother had sent you to the finest finishing school in the country to make sure you were molded into the perfect bride. Despite the extensive preparations your mother had subjugated you to, there was one thing they couldn’t take away from you and that was the desire to marry for love. Everyone told you that what mattered was how well you could marry, that you’d eventually grow to tolerate your husband and that your children would give you more than enough joy; but that just didn’t seem enough for you. It didn’t matter how you felt about a loveless marriage though, your mother had been clear when she told you that you had this one season to find a husband and if you didn’t she’d choose for you whomever she seemed fit.

On the day of your arrival you learned she didn’t intend to give you even one season and, with no previous notice to you or him, you were introduced to Anthony Bridgerton as his bride.

Violet Bridgerton had grown tired of her son’s refusal to marry and after pressing him about the matter he admitted he was looking for a wife this season; she didn’t trust him to choose well and when Daphne wrote to her mother about you, she decided it was the perfect opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. And so, with your mother’s blessing, Lord Bridgerton was given your hand in marriage.

“I beg your pardon?” Anthony was shocked, to say the least.

“You heard me, son, this is Lady (y/l/n) and she is to be your bride”

You couldn’t think, move or do anything but stand there staring at the man you were supposed to marry. Your mouth opened and closed like a fish and Daphne had to guide you to take a seat because she feared you might faint. Anthony then excused himself and fled to his study with Simon hot on his heels.

“I’m deeply sorry for throwing this at you with no warning, your mother warned that if you were told before you got here you might have refused to come at all” Violet apologized taking a seat in front of you and taking one of your hands between hers.

“Anthony is a wonderful man and I’m certain you will learn to like him, maybe even love him” continued Daphne.

Meanwhile, in Anthony’s office, a similar conversation was being held.

“What excuse do you have now to reject her?” Asked Simon

“I don’t know her, that’s enough to not want this marriage”

“You said you didn’t wish to love the person you had to marry, so I don’t see the big deal in not knowing her” Simon served himself and Anthony a drink as he spoke.

“Even with that being true, I also said she had to be smart and at least interesting to talk to” he took a small sip of his drink “and also that it wouldn’t hurt if she happened to be beautiful”

“And isn’t she?” Simon raised a brow behind his cup before continuing “She is incredibly smart, kind and she also attended the best finishing school available in the London area, which means she is as proper as a lady can be”

“Well yes, but-”

“Your only problem with her is that your mother forced her upon you”

“My only problem is that I saw in her face she had no idea she was betrothed to me, it is not fair for her to be forced to a short and loveless marriage like ours will be” Anthony finished his drink and slammed the cup on his desk, he knew there was no way out of this.

“She, as any lady in the country, knows that her duty is to marry well” Simon placed his cup softly besides Anthony’s “You’re the most desirable bachelor this season, there’s no better man for her if we look at status, money, and age”

Anthony limited himself to roll his eyes and remained silent, he knew Simon was right but it still stung that because of him you were now forced to be married to a man you didn’t love.

“Well, she’ll be a young widow so she’ll eventually have a chance at finding love”

A knock on the door interrupted Simon’s answer and he was thankful because he was quite frankly tired of Anthony’s certainty that he would die young, he understood that Edmund’s death had been hard for him but it was still tiresome to hear him speak like that constantly.

“Yes?” Called Anthony from his desk, prompting Gregory to enter.

“Mother requests both your presences in the dining hall for supper, now”

The rest of the day was uneventful, Anthony refused to speak to you and you were too shocked to utter a single word to anyone. After supper you excused yourself and went to bed early, when you had laid down Daphne entered your room and gave you a letter from your mother before saying good night and wishing you sweet dreams. You sat up and decided to read the letter before bed, maybe it would bring you some comfort.

“My dearest daughter,

If you’ve received this letter it means that you know about your engagement to lord Bridgerton, we couldn’t find a way to tell you because we feared you might refuse to travel to London if you knew. I hope you understand that all I’m trying to do is securing your future, the viscount is a kind man and you’ll be safe with him. I sincerely wish for you to be happy by his side, and maybe even learn to love him.

I know your father is looking down at you proudly and I’m certain he’ll bless your union with happiness, you were his sunshine and he’ll always take care of you no matter where he is, as will I.

Love,

Your mother who loves you”

You couldn’t help but feel angry at your mother for lying to you like that as if you were a child with no control over your own emotions. It would’ve been nice to know about your fate before you got here, it would have saved you from daydreaming about balls and love matches that you now knew were never going to be possible. Still, you were grateful that they had chosen Anthony, they might as well had promised you to an ugly old man. So you fell asleep that night disappointed on the false expectations you were allowed to have, but grateful for having secured the best bachelor in the season without even trying; it might not have been a love match but at least it was a good one.

-this time jump is brought to you by Roma, my golden retriever-

“If we are to be married no matter what, shouldn’t you spare me the pain of courting her?” Anthony was straightening his tie as he spoke to his mother.

“Courting, in this case, isn’t meant to convince her to marry you, it’s so society can see your intentions are respectable” she took over his hands and settled the bow tie once and for all “this ball is the perfect opportunity for everyone to see you both as a couple”

“And you act as if you weren’t already attending for Eloise” Benedict entered the room also dressed for the ball.

“Chaperoning, not dancing” clarified Anthony.

“It’s only one dance, my lord, it will be over before we know it” you had entered the room without anyone noticing and Anthony was a little taken back by your beauty, but recovered quickly enough.

“The dance might be, but the ball will be unending” with that he left the room to go and rush Eloise, they were going to be late.

You frowned a little looking at his retreating form, he hadn’t said anything about the way you looked, not one single compliment for his future wife. Benedict must have noticed your disappointment because he swiftly stepped in to make you feel better.

“You look positively stunning (y/n)” he kissed your hand with a small wink “My brother sure is a lucky man”

“That he is” called Daphne from the door “Here you go darling” he placed a tiara on your head, “I told you it would look wonderful with your dress, now let’s go” she patted your back softly “Simon’s waiting for us in the carriage”

“We’ll see you at the ball, my dear” called Violet seeing her daughter to the door.

The ball was beautiful and you felt overwhelmed by the number of people in the room. Simon and Daphne guided you through the room and you felt everyone’s stares on you, you hadn’t presented before the queen because you were already in courtship with Lord Bridgerton so everyone was seeing you for the very first time.

Daphne had begun to feel tired and Simon had left to fetch her some lemonade while she found somewhere to sit down for a while, leaving you unchaperoned and praying no one would approach you while they were gone.

“Excuse me, miss?” So much for prayers.

“Yes?” Yo faked a smile as best as you could looking at the old man in front of you.

“I see you have so much space in your dancing card, perhaps I could book myself the next dance?” Your card was in fact empty because your darling fiancé had yet to appear.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible Mr. Wyatt, since she’s dancing with me,” said Anthony who had gotten to you just in time.

“Perhaps the next one, then?” Persisted Mr. Wyatt.

“That would be my dance” this time it was Benedict who saved you “Would you look at that? Her card is full, maybe you could try on the next ball” You hadn’t even noticed them scribbling all the Bridgerton’s names on your dancing card until it was full, but it now was and you were thankful for it.

“Thank you so much, I don’t know what I would’ve done if I had had to dance with that man” you thanked Benedict.

“What are brothers for if not to protect future sisters-in-law from dancing with horrid men?” He joked back, making you giggle.

“Well then, let’s have our dance and get this over with” Anthony broke you from your fit of giggles.

“Remember you two, you have to look madly in love” at his brother's comment Anthony only managed to huff some curse words under his breath, dragging you to the dance floor by the wrist.

Once on the dance floor, you both got in position, and when the waltz started you began gliding through the dance floor gracefully.

“For someone who says he doesn’t like balls, you are an exceptional dancer,” you said in a playful tone.

“Mother made us take classes when we were little, any respectable man should be a decent dancer”

“They paid off, it’s a pleasure dancing with you” he didn’t respond to anything so you continued “Are there other talents you are hiding from me, Lord Bridgerton?”

“Not that I’m aware off, miss (y/l/n)” his answer was short and it was clear he didn’t care for conversation.

It had been like this since the two of you had been introduced, any attempt you made to get to know him better was quickly shut down by him. It was as if he wanted to remain a stranger to you, but you were to be married and you at least wanted to know a little about him besides his name and his clear lack of humor.

When the dance ended you left the dance floor and met with Colin by the beverages table.

“Why so sad, love?” The pet name caught you off guard but you assumed it had something to do with the alcohol you could smell on his breath.

“It’s nothing, Colin” you attempted to smile as you served yourself a small glass of lemonade “Have you seen my cousin?” You asked before he continued asking questions.

“He is by those tables with Daphne, a ball is no place for a pregnant lady” Colin pointed to the other corner of the room.

You thanked him and walked to where he had pointed, you were ready to leave, and also what Colin said was true, being in this ball was very stressful for Daphne so the earlier you left the better. Soon you spotted your cousin, his wife, and, to your horror, Anthony.

“Cousin! What are you doing here? I thought you’d be dancing with Benedict” said Simon.

“I was thirsty so I went to get some lemonade, here” you handed a glass to Daphne “I brought you some”

“How nice of you, thank you” she took a small sip “shouldn’t you be having fun? It’s your first ball dear”

“I think I’m quite tired already” you turned to look at Simon “Perhaps we could leave, cousin?”

“If you wish” he looked you up and down, making sure you were alright “Why don’t you and Anthony promenade around the room while I send for the carriage? Just to end the night right, at least in the eyes of the people”

You simply nodded and watched the way Anthony rolled his eyes as he offered you his arm. His plain rejection of you always hurt you, you knew he didn’t love you but never did you expect him to despise you. You walked by his side with a soft smile planted on your face but on the inside, you were hurting because with each day you saw your future clearer, and what the future held for you was being married to a man who could not stand you and would never love you. But then he lead you to your carriage and kissed your cheek when you were out of everyone's view, maybe he didn't find you so bad after all.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hi! I hope you enjoyed reading this, if you like it let me know i love the feedback. I’m kind of in love with Anthony atm so that’s why this is the second story I’ve written of him. Thanks for reading! :)

#anthony bridgerton #bridgerton #bridgerton netflix #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton imagine #bridgerton imagine #my writing

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introloves · 4 years ago

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idk what this is! but have it anyway :3

— mutual masturbation + pining + friends to lovers + male masturbation + male p.o.v + omg they were roommatesss trope once again + feelings of guilt + hand job + aone masturbates to the thought of you <3 + mentions of unrequited feelings (or so he thinks >:)) + f! reader

— word count ; approx 1.9k

aone doesn’t know how his thoughts always trace back to you.

when he’s alone, you’re always on his mind. it’s curiosity, he thinks to himself, you’re such good friends that it’s all curiosity, it’s natural to wonder what your friend is doing late at night. wondering if you’re content and asleep.

but friends dont think of eachother in the way aone thinks about you.

— when he’s alone, he thinks of your body, your lips, he thinks of how your small hands would look wrapped around his dick.

it’s all he can do, he’s too shy to do anything about the way you make him feel. so he sits by himself, and wonders, he dreams about you.

he wonders if you touch yourself.

it’s dirty and disgusting of him to think about you that way, but it’s a secret he’s harbored for a long time.

he wonders how you would feel under him, he wonders what your pussy looks like, he wonders what it’s heat would feel like, sucking his cock in deep.

you have him wrapped around your finger and you don’t even know, you don’t know how much he wants to stuff you full with his cum.

it’s a secret he swears he’ll carry forever, it’s never going to leave the confines of his room or head, but it’s not all unbridled lust that as him attracted to you.

its your laugh, the way you look when you’re fighting off futakuchi for saying something, or how shy you look when you’re looking up at him, lips curled up in a smile, your hand coming up to brush a stray hair from your face.

once again he focuses on your hand, he wonders if your short little fingers are enough to bring you any pleasure when you’re alone. he knows that his fingers could do so much better, he wants to stuff you full with just them, prepping you for a cock he knows is almost monsterous in size, but in his fantasies you’re begging for even more of him.

it’s all too much for aone, he’s dizzy when he blinks and sees his cock in his hand. he’s embarrassingly hard. against his pale skin, the throbbing of blood in his cock paints a painful hue of red and almost purple splotches all over it, the angry colors concentrate on his head that’s weeping with precum.

this happens every night, somehow his thoughts loop back to you and then he’s fucking his fist, biting back moans because even though you’re his friend... you’re also his roommate...

maybe that’s why you’re always on his mind, living in such close proximity with someone, it’s bound to happen, right?

he wants to laugh because he knows the answer to that.

there’s guilt etched in the very being that he is when he’s panting your name, shaping your name into the night.

he shivers at a particularly nice pull of his fist over himself, the build up is fast, he knows that with every slap of his palm against his pelvis, the higher the chance of you to catch him like this.

it’s thrilling, the idea of you walking into his room, to ask him... something, anything, and seeing how he’s leaning against the headboard, thighs splayed out, almost glistening with the moonlight.

he likes thinking that you’d clench at the sight of him, hands reaching down to tug that oversized shirt you wear to bed down, covering those tiny shorts that he loves- lusts over. he wants to pull those to the side and have a peak at what’s underneath.

his hips cant up at the thought, he hisses out into the stagnant air. he cant stop the rumbling of his groans as he lets your name tumble past, louder than intended.

he stops everything to listen, making sure you haven’t woken up, or heard the way his bed was groaning at the thrusts of his hips.

he swallows tensely, a hand coming up to run through his short hair.

aones so caught up with himself that doesn’t hear the soft padding of your feet walking towards his door.

you’re still warm with sleep, but after hearing the soft noises coming from his room, you rub the drowsiness out of your eyes and make your way to him, checking to see if he’s okay.

your pulse quickens as you reach it, the only light that’s present is the one filtering in from the moon, everything else is doused in a pitch black.

if he’s hurt then you’re screwed, having someone like him as a roommate makes you feel secure, he’s like a never ending beacon of safety and you’re not sure what else could be the cause of what sounds like pained gasping.

you reach out and push the already ajar door open slightly.

your eyes widen immediately, hand coming up to cup your gasping mouth.

you should turn away, you should close your eyes, you should do something other than just standing there gawking. but that shock turns into something hot and heavy, it’s almost suffocating in how much it turns you on, seeing aone like that.

his head is thrown back, thick neck prominent with veins and you can see he’s sweating. you look down to where his hand is pumping himself roughly, it looks like it hurts, looks like he’s doing that with the sole intent to cum, and not to enjoy it.

you’re almost panting, seeing him like this for the first time, you have a white-knuckled grip on your shirt, while your hand is still clamped firmly around your mouth, the only time you move your eyes from his dick is when you notice his movements have stopped.

your eyes flutter back to his face, and you nearly trip backwards when you make eye contact with him.

he looks like he’s ready to run, his expression mirrors your own, he can’t think of anything other than the pure mortification of you seeing him.

this is all so wrong, this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen- no, it was never supposed to happen. he was going to keep to himself and let you go.

there’s an error between his mind and actions, he thinks that he should cover up and immediately offer you his apologies, explain to you that he gets a wild need at night, nothing more.

but finally seeing you and not the you he’s created in his head gives his cock a twitch, it’s embarrassing how violent it is, the pulse of him watching you. he squeezes, hard, to keep from cumming. his upper body coming forward, in a feeble attempt to shield himself from you, and the only thing he can do is spit out a,

“sorry.”

it’s a pathetic rumble of words, aone should be offering himself to you, no wait- begging for you to turn around and leave, but in that moment it’s all he can do, so dangerously close.

it’s all been a crazy night, because when you step closer to him, he can hardly believe it.

you’re soft when you finally make his way to him, a hand just barely there- but warm against the milky skin on his back.

your knee is right next to him, he realizes, gulping when the weight of you is transferred onto his bed.

you’re right there, he can feel your body heat, it’s so nice.

he doesn’t know what to do when you finally break the heavy silence.

“i can help you.”

it’s nothing more than a whisper, words that hold more weight than they should, and yet you offer yourself to him.

it gets him to look at you, those intense eyes that you know so well look so pleading. in favor to save the jumping of your heart at the way he looks at you, you look down at the heavy dick still hard in his hand.

“can i touch you.” you inquire, still not brave enough to say it louder than just a small whisper.

he’s almost ashamed to admit the fact that you’d be the first, it builds already on the weight of his turmoil thus far.

but aone knows he wants it.

he keeps his eyes on you, letting them roam your body and how you’re really, actually here with him, looking at him with hungry eyes.

he moves his hand, and he’s so hard that his dick doesn’t fall.

he hates how eager he is to have you actually touch him, hates how well the picture of you touching him matches with the real you, just like in his head, your fingers barely touch eachother while you take him in your small hand.

he’s wet already, even wetter with the beads of precum that are rolling down his shaft, it makes your job easy.

“do you do this every night?” you ask, thighs clamping together because the weight of him feels so good in your hand, he’s so big.

he nods, sucking in breath after breath while you twist your hand over his swollen head.

he didn’t even do that, he didn’t know touching himself like that would feel so good.

he’s so receptive, so good in how you can feel the small rocking of his hips up into your hand.

it makes you travel on of your own into your sleeping shorts.

the sound of your fingers slipping messily over your obviously wet pussy has aone staring. he looks, looks at your hand and the movement underneath your covering.

he swears at that, there’s a loud ringing in his ears while you pump him.

“what do you think about?” your voice is wrecked, whiny and high strung. he thinks you sound beautiful.

“you.”

it’s too much, too much, too much.

you’re swollen and the confession he just gave you goes right to your cunt, there’s a moan that seeps out of you, and aone realizes that you’re cumming.

you shake while you continue on, tugging at him with the same desperation he had while you walked in, you want to see him come undone, you know the wield for him is going to be so good, you can almost taste it.

aone doesn’t think he’s ever been so lucky, so deserving, to marvel at the beauty that is you while you’re mid orgasm.

it was enough when you walked in and saw him, but now that you’re touching him and he can feel you with the shake of the bed, it has him wrecked.

his hands are digging into his thighs, just a little more of the pressure against them he might actually break skin.

he doesn’t ask your permission to touch you, but does so anyway, he clasps a hand over the one weakly working at him, guiding you so it’s just how he likes it.

there’s so much cum, the force of it has where you’re touching him covered, even with his hand over yours, it paints your own white, landing on his tensing stomach.

you don’t think you’ve ever seen anything so attractive.

you both sit there in a sort of daze, not sure how to process what happened, there’s a heavy pause when you touch base with reality.

and while aone has always held back, walked cautiously like he’s been advised his whole life because of his stature and face, he decides to be openly greedy and selfish.

aone grabs you, his eyes looking for you and kisses you hard.

he thinks that if there’s any part of his life where he’d break the many rules he’s set for himself, he’s going to say, “fuck it all” with you.

and just like the many times previously during the night, he thinks he’s dreaming when you kiss him back with the same intensity.

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bluecookies02 · 4 years ago

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Kinktober2020 -ending kink fest

Dabi,Hawks,Shigaraki(separately)-❗️NSFW❗️

warnings: consensual gun play(dabi), wax play(hawks), public sex(shigaraki)

/masterlist/

pic credit:birf on twitter. follow her, fucking follow her you'll thank me

He will put a gun to your lips, make you loll your tongue out and drool over the barrel, his finger jolting and twitching on the trigger all while his face holds a nerve-wracking smile that you can't figure out.

The truth is, you look so beautiful, your knees sore and red, slightly spread apart on the floor while the small vibrator buzzes against your clit.

He can still see the glimmer of trust behind your eyes, your eyelids hooded and pupils blown wide.

"You're so fucking crazy, you know that?" He comments as his shoe slips between your legs, your sweet juice coating the once dry leather.

You nod, reaching your arms to his pants, clawing at the fabric in attempts to finally get him out of his clothes.

The gun slips out of your mouth, the now wet pipe gliding over your tits in small circling motions, stopping briefly at your hard nipples.

It then goes back under your chin, your eyes meeting Dabi's once he kneeled down to your level, his lips hungrily pushing against yours, his tongue going as far as it can reach, a hum leaving his throat once you feverishly grip at his shirt.

His free hand slips past your slick folds, adjusting the small vibrator before filling you up with his digits.

Fuck...You're too beautiful to be left living...it's a thought that often plays in his mind, but he's selfish, wants you to himself for as long as he's alive.

His fingers expertly find your G-spot, his lips leaving yours as he takes his time looking at you, praising you and waiting for you to finally fall apart after undoubtedly agonizing hours of waiting.

"Lose yourself for me, doll."

And you do. Your orgasm is ripping through your body, your chin being held up only by a shaking gun against skin.

You manage to look at him through your almost closed eyes, his jaw tightened and his chest heaving, his whole arm trembling as you ride out your high.

He places the gun on the floor carefully before pouncing on you, trapping you beneath his arms and the floor, rubbing his clothed length against your damp hole, groaning at the way it seeps through the layers.

"I'm gonna make you wish I pulled that trigger" You smile up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer, your mouth ghosting over his ear.

"Please."

pic credit:kawaiitentacles on twitter!

You're shivering under the heat, droplets of hot wax slowly cooling off on your skin, his wings spread open and waiting as the last droplets of melted wax fall over your chest.

Your body convulses at the new wave of pleasurable pain, your chest rising and falling as you try to catch your breath.

He chose red...he always does, there's something that makes the setting ever so intimate, like you're slowly becoming his with every pearly stain on your chest.

Your pussy is smeared with drying wax, his fingers made sure your clit was completely covered in it, smearing the now barely warm liquid from your chest down to you puffy nub.

Your tits were a piece of artwork that he was sickeningly proud of, trails of red running down between them and to your belly button, some patterns obviously made by his fingers guiding the wax.

He settles the candle on the bedside table carefully, placing it back on the ceramic plate.

His cock is straining against his boxers, the perfect petal looking trail leading to your hole looks sinfully erotic, red beads all centering to your tortured clit.

You whine under his gaze, bending your legs to your knee, inviting him to slip inbetween. He does, his boxers now long gone as his cock head ghosts between your folds.

He watches the wax crack apart almost unnoticeably, each time he spreads the lips apart with his length.

He finally prods inside your heat, groaning when your legs hook behind his back.

Sometimes you wonder why he refuses to tie you down during these, but if you were to know that it's because he loves to see you jolt and shake, you would clearly tease him for being so sadistic.

Instead his arms pin yours on both sides of your head, plowing deeper in you when his chest presses against yours. It's almost too deep, fitting snuggly against your cervix and still pushing the tight walls wider.

His hips begin to move, his lips latching on your neck as he rocks his body into yours. It's passionate somehow... he can feel the wax brushing against his chest, each roll of his hips sending him even deeper in the crook of your neck.

His low rumbles and moans are so close to your ear, sending your mind into a frenzy. You're so close, so so close, yet you need just a bit more, wriggling your hips you try to find the perfect angle, getting frustrated when it takes you so long with no success.

You fight his hands while he's lost in chasing his own high, your arm freed from his grip with little struggle, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him to look at you.

The angry look on your face made him smirk, his next thrust perfectly hitting that soft patch inside.

"There you go my greedy little bird..." he whispers, moving the hairs away from your cheeks as he cups it into his palm before digging the pads of his fingers into your jaw.

His thrusts sped up, abusing the spot inside you, the clacking sound of your wet pussy filling the room. He was so close, the veins of his cock throbbing and pulsating, the fingers on your jaw tightening.

The build up became too much, headboard banging into the wall, the knot in your belly threatening to snap loose any second. Finally you felt your ears buzzing, hot waves crashing under the surface of your skin, your muscles giving out as you rode the high.

In a blink you were suddenly empty, hot ropes of cum splashing on your chest in continuous spurts, your boyfriend's groans and ruffling of feathers filling your ears.

There's a strained growl that leaves his throat when he lays next to you, his wings falling onto your chest, helping your body to stay warm as you begin to cool down.

He loves you. He can't stop saying it while he holds you to his chest, delaying the clean up just so he can say it as many times as possible.

You'll murder him if he makes you fall asleep like this, so he wills himself into getting up, not exactly agreeing to move away from you. He is picking you up and leading you to the bathroom, sending his feathers to prepare everything so he doesn't have to let go. He won't mind that you're practically asleep in his embrace...leave everything to him, he's got you.

You should've known really....

The famous wanted villain doesn't just ”feel like cinema date”.

You had your hopes up, imaginably high...Dressing up all cute and pretty. Spending hours to get ready and be perfect for your first public date.

You knew the risks, but the thought of enjoying a normal afternoon like a normal couple blinded your eyes.

None of that stopped you from spreading your legs even further apart in your seat, the lace of your panties tugged to the side as long slender fingers rubbed between your fold, smearing your arousal over your pulsing clit.

You were holding your skirt up to your tummy, one of your fists securely gripping your panties as you pushed your hips against his hand.

His intention was to get you worked up, pull you to the bathroom and have his way with you, yet he found himself lost in you muffled moans, your plump lips turning red and bruised as you dug your teeth in them.

It shouldn't matter, you were at the far end of the movie room, a few empty rows separating you and the group of guys that also came to see the film.

His other hand pulled at your chin, separating your lips and sending you a glare.

He didn't want you quiet. He wanted those bastards to turn around, be angered by the fact that a freak like him is having such a messy little slut on his sleeve.

Wetness seeped into the material of the red chairs, making the cloth a few shades darker. Your arms were now wrapped around one of his, hugging it to your chest as low whimpers left your throat.

You were squirming in your seat, making the screws screech with every movement of your hips. The sounds of your slick pussy seemingly at least 10 times louder in your ears.

His digits were now steadily pumping in and out of your warm cavern, never faltering when one of the men fake coughed, adjusting in his seat.

The movie wasn't even halfway through when you felt your high approaching.

The palm of his hand bumped into your clit with each thrust, your concerns pushed to the back of your mind the more his pace picked up.

You were now more than sure that the whole room knew, your slick cunt producing sinful sounds that were impossible to match anything else.

Tomura could feel your nails digging into the muscles of his arm, the wrinkled material of his shirt almost giving out and ripping under your clawing.

He's grinning from ear to ear, yet you can't seem to know why, his efforts doubling as he stares to the side.

You don't have the strength to move or to question his motives when you feel the electric pleasure in your stomach, the muscles there convulsing and flexing as you reach your high.

It comes not as pleasurable as it's embarrassing, the guilt eating at you as soon as you've reached your peak. Coming down from it proved even harder, Tomura’s long still fingers waiting for you to calm yourself before slipping out, cleaning them up on your skirt.

He's pulling you from your seat seconds later, rushing you out the room and out to the hallways.

”What the hell Tomura?” You try to question as you run behind him.

There's that grin again, his eyes squinting and his teeth showing only a bit.

”Cameras, they had cameras” you weren't supposed to be shocked, it's normal and pretty common, you were supposed to be aware of that.

What pisses you off is that grin that still hasn't left his face, making your brows furrow and cheeks puff up.

The nerve.

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nanamixxkento · 4 years ago

Text

“never letting you out of my sight” (Nanami x Female Reader)

Rating: T

Content Warning: Referenced past sexual harrasment from an authority figure

Word Count: 2,002 words

A/N: this is my first time writing for the JJK fandom! Please be nice ✨

You had gone with Nanami to the mall to grab a bite before heading for Jujutsu High to meet Gojo and Itadori.

Nanami was not in charge of you, and you’d long since graduated Jujutsu High. He tended to act more like a friendly guide and yet, unbidden, the ‘sensei’ honorific would slip out despite your intentions sometimes.

Like now.

Nanami didn’t look offended, he rarely did. He simply regarded you out of the corner of his eyes, body lax. “I have to wonder, do I really look like a teacher figure all that much? I didn’t think so before you and Yuji.”

And you’d almost stammered with embarrassment as you apologised.

“I sure do hope it’s not a bossy attitude on my part,” Nanami mused, sending you into another round of hasty but heartfelt apologies.

“Relax, y/n, I’m just messing with you,” he cracked a small smile. “I think it’s cute.”

Cute. The word thundered in your ears for a moment as your stomach swarmed with butterflies. You mused that it would be wholly inappropriate to respond with ‘I think you’re cute’ and refrained from making that comment.

Instead, you said: “Please don’t tease me, Nanami-san.”

“Ah,” he said lightly, with an airy chuckle. “I’m starting to think I prefer sensei. Maybe it’s growing on me.”

Nanami led you up the escalators, eyes scanning cursorily around. The mall was unusually crowded for this time of the week, but you should still be able to grab what you needed in time before your meeting.

You weren’t really paying attention to your surroundings, your entire focus taken by Nanami’s commanding presence. That was your first mistake.

Your second mistake was pausing by the elegant display of evening gowns to admire the sleek, black dress on the mannequin. Nanami, in his unique brand of kindness, suggested you stay behind to take a look while he ordered your food.

Unfortunately, you were too busy dwelling in the warm, fluttery feelings this man inspired to notice just who else was in the shop.

The familiar voice reached you several long minutes into your trip, sounding just a few racks away.

Your entire body went cold, and instantly numb as you recognised the nasally tenor of your ex-boss. Blood rushed loudly in your ears, and for a few moments that felt like a small eternity, fear left you too paralysed to even move.

This was the man that had tried to ruin your life and very nearly succeeded. The man who had abused your need for a job to get away with doing whatever he wished. The man who had ... who had ...

Your eyes stung with the memory of hot, clammy hands on your shoulders, touching you without heed to your feelings or consent.

The voice drew closer, slamming you into your body with another jolt of trepidation.

You did not want to see him. You never wanted to see him again.

Spinning around, you dashed behind another rack, heart hammering. He was sniggering loudly with someone on the phone, bringing back more unpleasant memories of all the times you’d ask him to stop being inappropriate only for him to laugh loudly, like your request was silly. “Y/n we’re friends,” he would say condescendingly. “This is what friends do, no?”

You turned another corner, trying to make it to the exit unnoticed, when in your haste you knocked over a mannequin. You stood frozen, shocked and mortified, as you stared at the mess you’d made.

That was your third mistake.

“Y/n?”

It would be wholly undignified to start crying, wouldn’t it? You thought cynically as you slowly turned around to face that monster.

You refused to waver, to show your fear. “Yes?”

“It is you!” He cried, taking a step closer and instinctively making you take a step back. “Long time no see!”

He took another step forward, which you mirrored again by taking a step back. His face was twisting into an ugly smile that barely hid the underlying sneer. “Come on now don’t be like that, is this how you treat your friends? Come on and give me a hug, sweetheart.”

You opened your mouth to snap at him, to say ‘over my dead fucking body’ when a gentle palm settled over your shoulder.

You barely managed not to jump.

“Y/n,” Nanami’s self-assured baritone washed over you. The sudden all-encompassing relief it bought nearly toppled you off your feet. “Your food is starting to get cold.”

Looking at him made your heart shake. He had an unreadable expression on his face, a slight pinch to the corner of his mouth. He must’ve read your fear in your eyes for his features hardened as he turned to regard your company. “And who might this be?”

Opening and closing your mouth, you floundered, no words passing from your lips but for the hesitant mutter of Nanami’s name.

Your ex-boss, in his usual arrogant fashion, nearly sneered at Nanami as he addressed you. “Aren’t you going to tell him sweetheart?”

It was enough to set your blood boiling with anger. With Nanami at your side, the fear receded to allow indignation to take its place. “Don’t call me that.”

Nanami’s hand tightened imperceptibly on your shoulder.

Your ex-boss didn’t heed your wish. “Aw don’t be like that, sweetheart—“

“I think,” Nanami said icily, cutting him off. “That she just told you to not call her that.”

The frigidness radiating off him made your ex-boss straighten and regard Nanami curiously.

And then a sick smile slowly spread over his face, his eyes taking in Nanami’s suit, his hand on your shoulder, his expensive watch and finally his eyes. “Ah,” he said like it all suddenly made sense. “He’s your new boss isn’t he? Gone to play toy to another man, y/n? Does he treat you better? Does he pay you better to use your—“

You gasped as Nanami smoothly stalked forward, grabbing your ex-boss by his meticulous oriental-tie and yanked him closer, nearly lifting the man off his feet.

“Okay, let’s make one thing clear here,” Nanami said, voice unwavering but body coiled with what you recognised as anger. “I don’t know who you are. Frankly, I don’t give a fuck who you are. But this conversation is over. Turn around, and walk away. I won’t give you another chance.”

You watched as your boss glared at Nanami hatefully for a long moment as your heart raced and raced, and more butterflies—and crap, maybe some arousal too—flooded you.

But then his hateful gaze settled on you and he opened his mouth to no doubt make another scathing remark.

Sooner than he could talk, Nanami’s long fingers were framing his jaw and forcefully directing your ex-boss’s gaze back to him. “Don’t even look at her.”

Your ex-boss finally relented, yanking Nanami’s hand away and stepping back to fix his suit. “Fine,” he spat. “I hope you enjoy your useless toy. Pathetic.”

You and Nanami watched him walk away silently. There was shame now as the anger receded.

What did Nanami think of you now?

You stared at the toppled mannequin, the death grip you had on your bag, and finally to Nanami, who looked more than a little ruffled now that your ex-boss was gone.

He turned to face you, and you opened your mouth to apologise, “I’m—“

“Are you okay?” He grit.

You blinked. “Um. Yes. I think. Are ... are you okay?”

He didn’t look okay. He looked angry. You couldn’t even remember ever seeing Nanami angry. “No,” he said shortly. “Who was that? What did he do to you? Did he hurt you?”

The barrage of questions left you a little dazed. You had no idea how to even answer but you attempted to anyway, stuttering under Nanami’s gaze. “That was ...” you swallowed thickly. “He was my ex-boss.”

You hated how it came out as a weak whisper, but you hadn’t wanted to utter his name ever again.

Your mouth opened and closed over all the things you wanted to say but couldn’t—all the things you never told anyone about. Nanami watched you struggle for words, and his expression only darkened. “Y/n. Did he hurt you?”

You stared at your feet as shame nearly overwhelmed you and you choked out, “Yes. But I— I let it happen— I had no choice, I needed the money, I couldn’t just— and he wouldn’t ever listen when I said to stop—“

With a jolt you realised you were crying, and with another jolt you noticed Nanami loom closer.

A gentle hand cradled the back of your head and pushed you into Nanami’s study chest, not quite a hug, one you could easily break if you wished to.

“I’ll kill him,” Nanami vowed softly, the icy softness still there but overshadowed by the gentleness of his tone. “I will.”

You shook your head, shuddering as your arms snaked around his middle and you unabashedly buried your face in his shoulder. “Please stay.”

“I’m here,” he soothed, still speaking in a hushed tone you’ve never heard before. “You’re okay. You’re safe now. I promise.”

The security of his presence washed over you again, tempting your knees to give out.

“I won’t ever leave you alone again,” he added, stroking the hair at the crown of your head. “Would you like me to cancel our meeting?”

You shook your head mutely. “I’ll be fine,” you managed to croak and reluctantly broke from his embrace to wipe hastily at your tears. “Sorry I ruined your shirt.”

He glanced down distractedly at the small wet spot on his dress shirt. “Don’t be silly,” he chided. “I’m sorry I didn’t come back sooner.”

“You couldn’t have known,” you whispered, wiping at your eyes one final time and taking a settling breath. “We can go now if you want.”

He studied your face closely for any signs of deceit. “We really can cancel the meeting,” he said slowly. “Gojo would understand.”

You bit your lip, tempted. You still felt shaken and unfocused and all you wished for was to go home and curl under your covers.

Nanami apparently took your reluctance as an answer for he immediately whipped his phone out. He sounded strange as he spoke to Gojo, his words short and his tone barely keeping the anger out.

When he finally ended the call, he looked at you. “Would you like me to take you home now?”

“Um,” you said, embarrassed yet again but feeling warm to your toes. “I... I would prefer it if I didn’t have to be alone so soon.”

Nanami simply nodded. “Very well.”

You stared in surprise as he offered you his hand but you took it with only a moment’s hesitation, feeling his large palm completely engulf yours.

“I told you,” he said in answer to your silent question. “I won’t leave you alone again. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

Now you were sure you were blushing as he led you out of the shop, hand in hand, uncaring for the toppled mannequin or anything else. His grip on you was firm but not tight, and he radiated safety with every step until all the poisonous feelings bled out of you.

“Y/n?”

“Mhm?”

“You would tell me if someone bothered you again, wouldn’t you?”

There was no resisting the smile now, tentative and affectionate. “Yes.”

“Even if that someone was me.”

You looked at him, surprised.

He elaborated: “If I ever do anything that makes you uncomfortable, you have to tell me.”

More warmth flooded your chest. “I will.” You promised.

He squeezed your hand, raising it. “Is this fine?”

“More than fine,” you admitted, face warm. “Really, Nanami-sen—err, Nanami-san.”

A humorous smile softened his features. “You know what? I don’t think I mind that honorific too much. Not from you.”

And it made your heart skip a beat. “Why not from me?”

“Easy,” he said, and turned to regard you with a rare affable expression. “Because you’re my favourite.”

#Jjk #Jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #kento nanami #nanami kento x reader #fanfiction #one-shot #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #My writings

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annmarcus63 · 3 years ago

Text

He wanted to say "I love you"

Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

Here's on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34237159

Injured Jaskier

"Blessed silence"

"Would you shut up, bard?"

"If you don't stop within the next two minutes, I swear, I'll break that fucking lute and shove it down your throat"

"Jaskier, shut up!"

"Alright! I'll stop, there's no need to be such a brute" replied Jaskier while tucking the lute, currently on his hands, on the brand new case he bought a couple of days ago to a retired musician living his last days on White Orchard. It's gorgeous, orgasmic, almost as sexy as the lute.

The music notes slowly fading in Geralt's ears, leaving a weak hum behind. Geralt sighed relieved, and a suspicious feeling that may resemble guilt. But there's not time to dwell on it. He's trying to sort the potions and required ingredients to complete the contract which he needed to follow up that same night. Witchers were trained to tune out every sound to be able to concentrate. He could meditate for days with not a single thing to bother him, but Jaskier's chatter is a powerful contrary spell to the calmness he was used to. It's a possibility that Jaskier fell upon his path with the sole purpose to test his limits. He is good company but sometimes Geralt wonders if it's worth the trouble.

He needs Arachnomorphs' venom and Griffin's feathers and blue mutagen to brew the antidote to the potent venom of the Endrega warrior he's goin to face. Methodically he starts with the preparation, grind and mix, smell, taste, it hurts...it's ready.

Three weeks ago he received a letter from Eskel asking to meet for pressing matters. Geralt doesn't know what he may want, it maybe a problem with a powerful beast or just a call to drink, which is unlikely because the message seem urgent. So Geralt had to hurry if he wanted to catch him on time, he was two days late and if he doesn't kill the Endrega he'd be three days late. Traveling with Jaskier prevent from a fastest pace, and the reason of those two days were, of course, the bard who asked him to stay longer on White Orchard to wait for his new lute case. Geralt ponder all this with an edge of bitterness towards Jaskier, it's unfair and uncalled for. He feel like shit. He ponder it still.

Jaskier is capable of recognizing when he's being a nuisance. Or well...he can recognize when someone has reach their limits regarding him. He can be too much, he speaks too much, he moves too much, he whines too much, he thinks too much. He's considerate you see, when Geralt snaps at him he understands. He can't help it. Is what he is, and he's not going to change, he tried once for his father. It didn't work, Jaskier was giving too much away for the acceptance of one person, he conclude it didn't worth it.

He understands really, but today Geralt has been a little over the edge, and has crossed the line between banter and plain rudeness.

So the logical response is to be more annoying.

Jaskier can be awful too when he wants.

He prod the wild and stressed animal with meaningless chatter, why does the fire moves like that? is the color of my fingernail normal? have you ever wonder how it'd be to become a fish?

the wild animal spill one or two drops of the antidote while pouring it from the small wood plate in which the ingredients got blend. Jaskier swear have saw how the vein on Geralt's forehead pop.

Ups…

"Would you SHUT UP for once in your fucking life?” ok he seen that coming “I can't even hear my own thoughts, bard. When we reach Velen you're going to stay there. Do you understand? Not following me around anymore”

To be fair he has caused this. It's what he does, always, being and idiot with and incessant mouth. He has push too far this time, even so that tone on Geralt's voice put him on edge, angry even. That ungrateful witcher and his never ending foul mood. What would he give to see him smile more often?

Everything.

A heavy atmosphere settled on the camp, Geralt's angry and now Jaskier's too, offended to be more accurate. Jaskier hated these often-occurring moments, as if the bard were a stranger and not a years friend.

Are you though?

Whoever sent the letter is Geralt's friend. What give it away? the eagerness to travel fast for instance. Jaskier send a letter once, asking if he wanted to meet at Novigrad, he never received a response nor Geralt went there.

Geralt packed his things, secure the sword straps and with a particular tenseness on his shoulders he turn to Jaskier.

"You're going to stay here. HERE Jaskier. I don't want you anywhere near the nest, the poison..."

"I know"

"Then I want you to repeat it"

"What? Really? I'm not a child, Geralt" but the Witcher kept his stance, waiting, and Jaskier's a sucker for pleasing.

"I'm going to stay here, quiet and still. If I get near the nest there's a high chance to get poisoned, even a small dosis could kill me. And get my body back and bury it would be a big hassle for you Are you happy now?"

"Hmm. I'll be back by midnight"

Geralt disappeared between the trees and Jaskier watch him go with a big lump on his throat. Not five minutes later he started cleaning the broth pot to fill it again with clean water to drink to warm up his bones. How he wish to have tea or coffe to add.

· · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·· · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·· · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·

Wind's howling, Jaskier reflected, feeling the chill colouring his cheeks and breaking his lips unpleasantly. Besides the wolfs living on the wind, there was silence, a sepulchral silence that caused him feel unsafe. Even Roach looks in distress. An hour ago she was lying on the grass getting ready for a good night sleep, and now she's looking everywhere as if she can sense something lurking in the shadows, and that is scary. By the position of the moon Jaskier could guess the time, one and a half hour past midnight. That idiot witcher should be here by now. He knew that, Roach knew that, so why he's not here?

He couldn't think straight, the worry was eating him up from the intestines and it wasn't fair or unnormal, worrying for Geralt is like worrying for the sun to never come up again. It may happen but is unlikely, impossible.

Geralt is fine, he is, or at least is what he kept repeating himself for the past hour like a mantra that no one would ever listen.

Something went wrong, I'm sure. He'd be here by now so why he's not here? What if the Endrega chew his head off? that's sudden and crude Jaskier, what's wrong with you? He can't be dead, I mean I didn't even get the chance to apologize, to clean his wounds, to buy him breakfast, to tell him I love him with all my beating foolish heart.

Agh, but he's not dead, so stop that train of thought right this instant, young man.

For some reason the voice sounded like his dead mother.

"I need to go there only to see if he's safe" said Jaskier to Roach

"But he said rather rudely to you to stay put and not bother him." replied imitating Roach voice like a tired housewife.

"I know what he said" said with an air of petulant child. "And what about you come with me to keep me in check"

"It's dark you can't see and it's dangerous"

"But you can!"

"Fine, hop on me" he loved winning arguments.

He saddled Roach efficiently, Geralt rarely let him do it but he was a quick learner. He put out the fire with a kick of dust, took a small blade that Geralt kept at the bottoms of his bag just in case, he also lit the only torch they carried for emergencies, a beacon of light that Geralt could see if he was in trouble and rode Roach towards the clearing next to the main road from which people get disappearing and getting eaten.

He trusted Roah to guided him, she was a clever one who also worried for her master.

The cold kept biting his skin even under the small fire, he left his cape at camp in case he needed to run, but they're getting closer. A wooden statue with flowers and canisters at it’s feet appear by his right, the notice board said the location of the insect was near that god statue.

He stoped Roach and dismount then he took the short blade wishing he didn't have to use it, before leaving he remembered the possibility of encounter with poison, according to Geralt Endregas not only spit venom but also exuded poisonous gas equally lethal. So he took his undershirt to cover half his face, this might prevent breathing it.

The turned out the torch because the light would attract the Endrega and distract Geralt.

He walked slowly to north realizing how much he was trembling, it wasn't that cold. It was fear and the soft hum of the adrenaline waiting on his brain for being triggered.

And then a rancid and potent smell reached him despite the undershirt. There. A thick unnatural mist and a series of small mountains piled some meters away. No, not mountains, bodies, Endrega bodies lying on the ground slaughtered with efficiency. A witcher’s work.

He almost missed it because of the mist, but there he was, Geralt, lying on the ground in a tragic pantomim of his foes. Jaskier hurried to him almost tripping in the process, he kneel by his side and got shocked by the hardened veins on the witcher's forehead, his levels of toxicity must being dangerous high. But he wasn't dead and if Jaskier wanted to keep him like that he needed to take him away from the mist to help his body fight the secondary effects of the pocions.

He looked the number of bodies surrounded them, more than six when the contract said one Endrega.

He have to be quick so he wrap Geralt by the armpits and with all his strength started to drag him towards Roach, he couldn't risk bringing her here in case of the poison or another insect near by. Geralt was a big guy, he has always being attracted to that, now not so much. Sweating, weary and scared.

Sweating, weary and scared the bard dragged the witcher to Roach when he started to feel dizzy followed by an annoying scratching under the skin. Roach stamped her feet two times before getting closer, she nosed her master while Jaskier catch his breath, then the lovely girl crouched down and wait patiently.

In a matter of a blink, his head started to pound violently and his vision to get blurred. That wasn't good.

The poison, it's the poison.

With all the strength he got left he pull Geralt on his belly over Roach, the position wasn't ideal but it was all he could do before collapsing on his knees.

"Go Roach. Go" She stood with must carefulness, Jaskier watched her go feeling a rush of pride and victory, he saved Geralt, he'll be alright and that was all that matter.

Jaskier fell backwards hitting his head with the ground, his body started convulsing or at least that's what he thought before lose consciousness.

· · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·· · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·· · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·

An insistent poke on his ribs brought him to wakefulness followed by a fall and a sudden sharp pain on his side. A few seconds later the witcher take in his surroundings. Roach neigh by his side, he had fall from her. The heavy cloud from exhaustion and toxicity still rested on his brain.

He felt the bitter tang on the back of his tongue of venom running thru his system and the hollow pain that remained. There were eight Endregas...yes, the Endregas, he had fainted on the clearing knowing well that he might not woke up again if he kept on breathing that mist. How did he get there? Roach answered with a distressed stump of her foot.

"What?" he asked the horse, and she neigh.

Jaskier

"Fuck."

he search on his pouch for White Honey to swallow it in a big gulp.

Awareness returned quickly and despite the injuries and aches on his lef side he took Roach's reins and guided her back to the clearing.

Back to Jaskier, he hoped to not be late, please let him be on time, he begged to no one in particular.

The contract said one Endrega, imagine the surprise and horror he felt when encountering a nest with full grown ups monsters which position were stronger and their hunt abilities an excellency when attacking in pack. He drank the three vials of antidote he carried and a dose of Swallow that burned his stomach and shot the toxicity levels to a mortal point. The Endregas were all dead, but tired and injured he collapse defeated. The position of the moon indicate that was dead for at least two hours during which he continued to breathe the poisonous gas, half and hour more and he'd be dead for good. Jaskier went for him, he could smell him on Roach, his fear and urgency. Idiot, that idiot.

Geralt tried with all his might to not think him dead.

· · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·· · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·· · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·

At the feet of the statue was Jaskier, body bent in an awkward angle. Geralt removed the undershirt on his face, recognizing it as a clever tactic. The mist did not reach that area but the purple and green tone on the bard's skin indicate high levels of poison, he must have went thru the mist to reach Geralt drag him back to Roach.

“Fuck, Jask” said Geralt with a trembling voice and without thinking carried Jaskier to Roach, there'll be time to check for injuries for now he have to take him back to safety. Jaskier's heartbeat was slow, very very slow. Geralt fret but he did not relent.

He laid Jaskier's frigid body on the bedroll and with Igni he started the fire, he located the water Jaskier used for tea and used to clean his hands of the grime and dirt. A choking noise alerted him and Roach who was nosing the bard.

From Jaskier's nose a dark liquid started to flow, he was drowning from the inside which meant that he had breath the poison and it was filling his lungs with thick mucus.

He put Dandelion on his side and encouraged him to vomit with his fingers to clean his airways as soon as possible. Jaskier throat convulsed on his fingers followed by a steady dark flow. Geralt reached for the pot by the fire to put it under his mouth, which soon was filled to the brim.

"That's it Jask, that's it" Geralt whispered even though the bard couldn't hear him. With a clean cloth, he wiped the bard's mouth once the flow stopped and her lungs sound clear. It was then that Geralt noticed with overwhelming fear that the other had stopped breathing.

"No, no, Jask come on come on"

He acted fast by lifting Jaskier's chin and placing his clasped hands in the center of his chest and began to push down hard more times than he could count.

“Jaskier come back!” he growled when his shoulders felt like jelly, he was getting tired and Jaskier wasn't breathing. He wasn't breathing. He remembered Renfri choking on his arms a reflection of what was happening here. Not this again, not these again. Jaskier's mouth opened follow up by a weak gasp and a weaker heartbeat.

But he came back, and Geralt almost cried right there and there, but he didn't know how. There's nothing else he can do, he had no medicine of herbs for poisoning that could help humans, everything he had was lethal. He instantly regretted overlooking the possibility of this happening. He was traveling with a bard and the most responsible and considerate thing he could do was prevent and buy at least herbs just in case. But he didn't. They were at least a day and a half away from the next town and being that far from the capital meant fewer healers. Jaskier wouldn't survive the travel, not on this conditions.

If the poison hasn't killed him by now then it means that he could survive on his own, or at least that's what Geralt hope.

He put Jaskier in one of his shirts and covered him with all the available clothes they had, his cape and even the blanket with which he covered Roach.

Exhausted he started removing his armour to clean the now faint slashes on his chest and abdomen, then he walked like death to Roach to remove the saddle and pet her gently thanking her for her help.

It was an hour before dawn, but Geralt did not rest, he could not even if he wanted to. He sat next to Jaskier to check his breathing and keep the fire burning.

The fever hit the bard a couple of hours later, he was burning dangerously high, Geralt dipped a cloth on clean water to place on his forehead, from time to time raised Jaskier's head to feed him with water.

His heart didn't stop again which was a blessing amongst the terrible situation. Jaskier didn't deserve to die like this, not for Geralt or monsters.

Then the hallucinations began, feverish and confused, Jaskier babbled under his breath while trembling furiously. He smell like sickness and decay and in that exact moment the witcher missed the natural perfume of the bard's skin. Like sea breeze and orange tree. Like Jaskier.

By day two Geralt got assaulted by an all consuming wave of guilt. He had yelled at the bard for being...well, himself. He was so upset and it was so easy to insult and threaten to leave him in the next town.

Jaskier hated to be left behind.

"Why did you came for me, you idiot?"

"I don't deserve it" whispered before taking the now warm cloth to dip it once again on cold water. Instead of improving, Jaskier's condition began to deteriorate. Painful spasms convulsed his body for hours, the fever did not subside and his breathing were shallow and slow. Geralt lay next to him that night to keep the tremors at bay, he hold him carefully alongside his body.

"You do remember the night after Posada when we make camp and you asked me to cuddle you because you were cold?" He whispered into the night "I didn't. If you were awake I'd never hear the end of this. You'd love it"

The bard moaned softly and shook slightly under his grip. "Come back to me, Jask." He meant to say how sorry he was, he doze off instead.

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First he felt heat on his face, then a relentless pressure on his head as if a heavy stone was on top of it Little by little he maped his body and the multiple aches that alarmed him. On his chest underneath the skin his ribs screamed with fire as if he have been kicked hard multiple times, also his lungs burned like hell, his shoulders were stiff and sore, his belly hurt faintly.

What happened? Where is he? What, what, what, what

"Jaskier Jaskier. I'm here, breathe thru your nose, I'm here." Suddenly he realized that he was sitting up and wide-eyed. It was noon. "Jask" kneeled next to him was Geralt with a worried frown and a canister fill of water. He snatched it from Geralt's hands and drank as if a desert was kept inside his lungs.

"Easy"

“Not…your…horse” Jaskier flinched at how raspy his voice sounded. Beside him, the witcher chuckled and then stretched out his hand to put it on his forehead. Before Jaskier could react at the soft touch tha hand was gone.

"Fevers down" uh, did he sound happy?

"I had fever?" Geralt looked at him with such intensity, a expression he had never seen and therefore didn't know what it meant.

"You almost died" he answered softly. She saw Roach grazing without a mount a few feet away, she also noticed that Geralt was in his small clothes. The camp was a small mess like when they stay on the same place for more than two days.

"The Endrega"

"Endregas, yes"

"I went..."

"Yes"

"I... i'm sorry"

"No, don't be, you saved me" It was a shock when Geralt straightened a lock of hair from her forehead. His fingertips were warm.

"Are you hungry?"

"I don't know. I don't think so"

"You have to eat. I cooked rabbit broth, it'll do you good"

He could only swallow a quarter of the broth before starting to feel nauseous, Geralt said he had vomit enough for the past days before taking the pot from him. Roach came to say hello and Jaskier felt his heart swelled with affection. He wanted to do and ask more, but suddenly he felt tired, very tired, his eyelids fluttered and when Geralt saw him, he helped him lie down and put his cape over him. He was soft and calm, tender even. At that moment Jaskier knew that he must have been in a bad shape if Geralt was acting like this, like Jaskier always imagine on his wildest dreams.

He wanted to said thank you but it felt so meaningless at the moment, Geralt didn't look that good, slump and with drop shoulders a clear sign of exhaustion. if Jaskier still breathed, it was all thanks to Geralt, despite how defeated he was from the contract, he took care of him.

I love you seem something meaningful to say, every feeling and thought Jaskier have had of the witcher, taking form into three little words.

Sleep took him away before he could have the courage to say it.

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The next morning Jaskier insisted he was fine and he wanted to travel to the next town , of course he was a liar Geralt always knew when he lied, because he wrinkled his nose in a cute but irritating way. With a small smile, he pinched the bard's nose back to normal.

“No, you’re not ready” Jaskier let out a laugh as he smack the witcher's hand away. and before Jaskier could protest Geralt added "But we need go there to get you to a healer and reastock"

"Your letter Geralt, don't forget about your letter"

"Uhmm"

Before setting off on the journey, Geralt made sure that Jaskier could endure the journey. He applied what was left of a soothing balm to Jaskier's chest for the pain and bruises that remained after the compressions. Riding would be painful, but they have to get to the healer in case of a relapse or permanent damage. Jaskier let him applied the balm and he couldn't believe the patience and care the witcher put on his motions as if Jaskier could break if enough force was used. He was crumbling in tiny little pieces, melting, but from a different source. The witcher is going to be the end of him one day of these.

I love you, we wanted to said. He put on one of Geralt's shirt instead, it smells like onion and Roach and Geralt and smoke and safety. It smells like home.

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Riding Roach was painful and tiring, walking was out of the question He kept waiting for Geralt to get upset by the multiple stops they made but that never happen, in fact the witcher was the one who plannified and suggest to rest every one or two hours.

Something has changed between them, but the bard does not know what to name this new atmosphere, but he sure welcomes it. For the first time in all the years they have travel together Jaskier felt wanted, cared for, treasured! With a rush of happiness and satisfaction, Jaskier acknowledged that the walls Geralt has built around him to keep him out and stranded, have collapsed. He finally was someone to hold on to. Jaskier was sitting on the bed roll with a warm tea canister on his hands while the witcher set up camp to sleep the night. A day and a half away from the next town has become two days, they'll be reaching the inn (if it were any, Jaskier hope there would be) by night fall.

Geralt was stoking the fire when a mad idea occurred to him, he crawled to Geralt and before he could voiced his displeasure the bard embrace him in a tight hug. Two seconds later, Geralt hugged him back almost urgently, nuzzling his face where Jaskier's shoulder and neck met. He withdrew with a goofy smile on his face and his heart hammering on his bruised ribs, he couldn't care less. But he didn't get any far, he was a selfish man. Geralt was smiling too, a soft and crooked smile, when he straightened the bard's hair over his forehead and ears, he then, like under a spell trace his thumbs over his eyebrows and eyelids. Jaskier could die right here and then from happiness.

Their faces were so close. I love you, Jaskier wanted to say, he took Geralt's hands instead to place a kiss on each dirtied palm.

"You reek" of course Geralt would know how to break the moment.

"You too, mister. For once Roach smells better than us"

“She always smells better tan us” Jaskier snorted getting back to the bedroll pondering on how lucky he was despite the near death experience, he was a lucky men.

By the next afternoon Jaskier was beyond exhausted, every single one of his bones scream with pain, he felt as if he was about to pass out at any moment.

"Geralt..."

"We have to get going, Jaskier, only for a few hours and we'd get there"

"I can't"

"Please, Jask, I'll take care of you when we get there"

Please, what a strange word to express how much you care.

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Geralt practically carried him up the stairs to the room, Jaskier fell face first on the bed already half sleep. Geralt was placing his things when the bard murmured “Wake me up before you go in the morning." The thing is that even if he were on time to reach Eskel, Geralt didn't want to go anywhere.

Jaskier woke up sometime in the night when the mattress sagged next to him.

followed by a strong arm curling around his belly.

"Grlt'?"

"Sleep"

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Jaskier woke up to the chirping of birds on the windowsill, it was still early, the sun was not up yet. Not even the drowsiness could prevent the joy he felt and finding himself tuck to Geralt chest, they're facing each other naturally as if they have sleep like this forever.

And like a bucket of cold water thrown over him he remembered the letter "Geralt" he called softly "Geralt it's morning"

"Hmm, I can see that" came the sloppy reply, but instead of getting up Geral cuddled him more, practically tucking his face against the other's.

as if sensing his distress Geralt added "I'm not going anywhere"

"But your contact..." he withdrew (a few inches) to make a point. Geralt opened his perfect eyes and hold him under them.

"Eskel, my brother. I already send a letter, he'll understand"

"I'm sorry" a kiss was place on his forehead

"Don't be, I want to be here"

"You...you didn't want to" Geralt sighed ashamed

"I know and i'm sorry. Now I know where i belong"

"Here?" replied Jaskier with a snort

"With you"

"With me?!" Now was Geralt's turn to snort happily, resembling Roach when they feed her apples.

"You risked your life even though I was an asshole to you, even when I told you that the poison would kill you if you got anywhere near the place. I...I'm sorry"

"You were an asshole, yes" Geralt gifted him with a smile full of teeth "To be fair i was behaving like a brat at the time"

"You are a brat, yes"

"Hey"

Jaskier wanted to say I love you, instead he kiss Geralt's lips softly.

Geralt wanted to do better, so better he did.

#geraskier fic #geraskier #jaskier #hurt jaskier #injury #jaskier x geralt #the witcher #geralt of rivia #geralt x jaskier

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fossntwriter · 3 years ago

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Don’t Look Down

Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: you’re in the elevator in the Washington monument when it malfunctions

You sighed, checking your phone one last time for a message from Peter that might tell you anything about where he is before putting it in the bucket with all your other belongings. Nothing. You chucked it in the plastic bin with your backpack as it got scanned by the security guards who worked at the Washington Monument.

Under other circumstances, you would be really excited to be doing this tour with your team. But after Peter suddenly left without telling you why or where he was going, you just were worried about him and a little angry.

“You okay (y/n)?” You snapped out of your thoughts of Peter, looking to meet Liz’s concerned face, “You seem a little down today.”

“Oh yeah, I’m fine, I promise.” You offered her a small smile, trying to convince her that you were fine. “Just a little tired is all.”

She nodded, “Well we just won Nationals! Cheer up! This will be fun!” She grabbed your arm, smiling as she guided you with her to the elevator that you and the rest of your team would take to the top of the monument.

You genuinely smiled at how caring Liz was. She always tried to keep everyone happy and you appreciated it.

The elevator closed after your guide stepped in. She introduced herself, starting to explain just a little bit about the Washington Monument. Moments after she finished her introduction, she hit the ‘up arrow’ button on the dashboard of the elevator and you all started moving up.

You and Liz payed close attention to the guide as she explained all about the monument, it’s history, significance and all the fun details about it. The tour actually did start to lift your mood, you were a junkie for history and doing a tour of one of the most significant monuments in all of America with your friends was something that helped take your mind off the fact that Peter mysteriously left.

Climbing to the top of the monument, the elevator jolted and everyone inside stumbled a little, trying to catch their balance after the surprise stop.

“What’s going on?” Your teacher, Mr.Harrington, asked the guide obviously concerned and skeptical.

“Everybody stay calm please,” the guide tried shouting over the panic that consumed you and your teammates, “This sort of thing happens all the time, I can assure you that all will be fine!”

With that, she opened the emergency latch and a panel slid open in the roof of the elevator. She pulled herself out of the metal compartment and onto the top of it.

“There’s a floor we can stay on right here,” she called down, “We will lift everyone out one at a time and we’ll wait here for help.”

Everyone nodded, and rushed towards the hole in the top as they tried to be the first one out of the stopped elevator.

“Me first! Me first!” Flash shouted as he crammed his way to the center of the crowd of students wanting to get out. He held up the trophy from Academic Decathlon, and beckoned the tour guide to take it and help him up after.

You rolled your eyes at the scaredy cat nature of the guy who always talked highly of himself.

You and Liz, being the caring students you were, helped lift everybody else out of the elevator before you became concerned with yourselves. You would rather your friends got out safely, if anything happened to them and not you, you would feel guilty and responsible.

After lots of lifting and teamwork, all who were left in the elevator were you, Liz, and Ned.

“Liz, you next.” You said, wanting your best friend out of the elevator.

She gave you a look that said she wanted you to go next instead of her, but before she could say so, you interrupted, “please.”

Reading the concern in your face, she nodded. Just as you and Ned were getting ready to lift Liz up, the elevator jolted again and this time you were falling. The three of you screamed as the elevator started falling fast.

Seconds later, when you were least expecting it, the elevator stopped abruptly, sending the three of you to the floor hard. After the shock of not dying, you groaned, as did the others, and got up.

Looking through the hole in the top of the elevator, you were surprised to see Spider-Man holding you three and the elevator up with one of his webs. He looked way smaller in person than on TV.

“Yes!” Ned shouted, jumping up and down causing the elevator to creak with the added pressure.

“Woah, woah, woah, woah!” Spider-Man shouted, struggling to hold onto the elevator when Ned jumped, “Hey big guy! Stop jumping.”

Ned immediately stopped, “Sorry, I’m just happy you’re here.”

You nodded in agreement, relief flowing through you at Spider-Man’s appearance. You were so relieved you didn’t even realize how coincidental it was that the New York super hero happened to be in Washington DC at the time your team needed him.

“Okay, there’s an open floor here, I can get you all up here and safe.” He explained.

“Ned, then Liz, and then me.” You instructed the other two in the elevator who hesitantly agreed, just wanting to get out, not risking another near death experience.

Spider-Man used multiple webs to web the elevator to the wall, so it would be supported while he got the three of you out.

He reached down through the hole and grabbed onto Ned, lifting him out of the elevator in minutes. His strength was impressive, making it look effortless to lift Ned out. He wasn’t even out of breath moments later when he showed up again to take the next person.

“Liz, your turn.” You told her motioning for her to take his hand.

She nodded, worried etched into her face for you considering you would still be in the elevator after she was out.

“I’ll be okay.” You reassured her before she took Spider-Man’s hand and he hoisted her out of the metal container and brought her to the next floor, where Ned was waiting.

You only had to wait for a minute until you saw the man clad in the red and blue costume come back down for you.

“Ready?” He asked you, with a voice that sounded a little familiar. However, you didn’t concern yourself with his voice at the moment, more worried about the two of you getting out and not falling to an early death.

You nodded, and just as he was about to take your hand and lift you out, the webs holding the elevator snapped and you were falling again. You shrieked, closing your eyes as you fell at an alarmingly fast rate.

Just as you thought it was over for you, something gross wrapped around your hand and the elevator kept falling while you seemed to be frozen in mid air. You had gone right through the hole in the top. You saw a white web stuck to your hand. Following along the web you saw Spider-Man holding it, and holding onto another web with his other hand that was attached to the floor where Ned and Liz where waiting.

“I got you.” Spider-Man soothed you as your body shook with hard breaths, tears sliding down your face at the stress of the situation. You looked down as the elevator hit the floor of the shaft with an ear-deafening crash. The blood in your veins ran cold at seeing how high you were dangling in the air, being held up by only a single web.

“Hey, hey,” he called your attention back to him. “Look at me okay? Don’t look down.”

You nodded, holding eye contact with his wide masked eyes. He started pulling you up to him. You let him. Even though you didn’t know the man behind the mask, you trusted him with your life. Not that you really had a choice right now, but if it came down to it, you would trust him no matter what.

When he pulled you up to him, you grabbed onto him, wrapping your arms around his neck and he wrapped his arm around your waist.

“A-Are you okay?” He asked, concerned.

“Yeah, I- I think so.” You stuttered out, still afraid of falling, although you knew you were completely safe with him.

“Good,” He breathed out, “I’m going to pull us up now.” You nodded at his plan, holding onto him tightly.

Keeping your face buried in his shoulder and neck, you let him pull the two of you up to the nearest floor where you knew you’d finally be safe for the first time in what? Ten minutes? Twenty?

A couple of minutes later, your feet hit solid ground and you looked up. You were on the same floor as Ned and Liz, but you saw your Decathlon teammates, teacher and tour guide rushing down the stairs from a couple floors above.

You were immediately bombarded with questions, people frantically wondering if you were okay and what it was like to be that close to Spider-Man.

You assured them that you were fine, just a little shaken is all. After a couple minutes of catching your breath and reassuring your friends, you turned to Spider-Man, wanting to thank him.

But he was gone. You looked out the window and saw him webbing from building to building as he gracefully went to wherever he was needed next.

#reader insert #spiderman #Peter Parker #Peter Parker x reader #Spider-Man x reader #Spider-Man homecoming #elevator scene #marvel #marvel fanfiction

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maplecornia · 3 years ago

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chapter 12

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 2.04K

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You watched them from the sidelines ever since you were a young teenage girl. Now you’re grown up, they’ve returned after 2 long years and everything has changed. What happens when you pull back the mask and find the darkness within? What happens when you see that they’re broken?

𝔞/𝔫: i've been doing this all day, omg and i'm hardly near to catching up ;-;

You move too fast.

Taehyung practically races down the halls of BigHit as he tries to catch up with you, flash drive clenched tightly in his hand, heart beating fast in his chest. He’s scared, he’s nervous. The only thing keeping him going is the adrenaline that still manages to course through his veins.

For some reason, the sight of you at that moment, the chance encounter, is too good to be true. It's something that he can't ignore. He’s seen you three times already, too many for it to be a coincidence.

What was the saying again?

Three coincidences are proof that your encounter was fate.

Taehyung never believed in fate before.

He never thought that his life was set and made in the stars. He never imagined that there was someone out there especially made for him.

As he turns the corner, he catches sight of you at the end of the hall. As soon as he sees you, he stops in his tracks, frozen.

His heart jumps as your eyes open and flickers over to him, but they don't see Taehyung standing there. It's as though you look right through him. As though you're so involved with the world you've created in your mind that you don't even register you've just glanced his way. As you turn your eyes from him and retreat down the corner, he starts, his heart pummeling with panic as you disappear from his sight.

“Wait!” He calls after you, but if he expects you to hear him, he's out of luck. He could have run after you, he could have called out once more. But the thought of talking to you, seeing you, for the first time since that moment on the bridge, causes him to fall short. His feet root firmly to the floor, refusing to take him forward. He almost wants to turn back. He’s not sure if he’s ready to see you again, this time without the mask.

Will you see him as he is like you did the first time you met?

Or will you only see the star?

Trying to put the thought out of his mind, he shakes his head, cursing himself softly under his breath. He turns the corner and watches as you enter an elevator, the doors closing tightly behind you just as he reaches them.

He runs straight into the metal door, the elevator dinging cheerfully at the encounter. Glaring up at the large slabs of metal, he grits his teeth.

It's almost as though the elevator is laughing at him too.

Angry, he punches them with both fists, cursing out of frustration.

The sound of the bang causes you to look up from inside the elevator, surprised, but it's already retreating down to the lobby floor.

Taehyung steps back, looking up at the arrows atop the elevator door. When he sees the down arrow lit up, he bounces a bit before turning around swiftly and dashing to the stairs, almost running into a couple on the way. Calling an apology behind him, he pummels down the stairs, his legs moving faster than he thought possible. Surprisingly he doesn't fall, even though he runs into the wall at each turn.

Once he reaches the lobby floor, he kindly pushes through a group of girls before scanning the room, freezing in place out of shock.

It's unbelievably crowded with tourists, staff, and trainees.

Out of panic, his eyes flash to the large clock behind the receptionist's desk.

4:00 pm.

He curses softly under his breath before turning back to the crowd. This is rush hour for BigHit. There's hardly any chance of him reaching you in this throng of people, he knows that. But he can't give up.

Taking a deep breath, he frantically tries to push through the mass crowd of people, his eyes never straying from the cute little ribbon you have placed in your hair. The ribbon which tells him it's you.

As tourists are being led through the building and catch sight of him, it's all the tour guides can do to remind them to leave the idols to their job. It doesn't stop some fans in the waiting room, to stand up and try to receive an autograph or photo with him.

Taehyung politely declines each inquiry, pushing past each fan.

He’s been warned before to avoid the lobby during this time, but he has to reach you. He has to talk to you, he can't let you leave.

Not after everything.

Thankfully, he emerges from the building a considerable few minutes after you do, and as he stumbles out, he scans the busy street for you.

As he glances to his left, he can't see any sign of you, passerby's brushing past him almost as though he weren't even there. Each time it happens, he tries to stand out of their way, mumbling apologies, which they just wave away.

Most people in the city don't care who he is, they see idols every day. Seeing him, especially at his company building, is nothing new to them.

Tourists are different.

Glancing behind him, he can still see the multiple ARMYs behind the window, gushing over him. Some press themselves against the window as though that would help them get closer to him. As he glances their way, some scream, others faint, even more, burst into tears.

Turning away, he can't help himself from sighing.

Sometimes he wonders if they love him, or the mask.

He scans the right side of the street and starts a bit as he sees you, waiting a bit ways down amongst a crowd. You're waiting for the light to change so that you can cross the street. He smiles to himself at the sight of you and jogs a bit down the street after you.

This time, he almost reaches you too.

The light changes, just as he nears the crowd, and you move with it, crossing the crosswalk. He curses, quickening his pace until he falls in step with the crowd, almost merging with it as he tries to catch up to you. He angles himself past a couple here. Sidesteps an elderly woman and her granddaughter there.

Despite his efforts, he isn't able to get remotely near to you.

He has lost you.

He was following the wrong girl with the same ribbon in her hair, and as she turns to greet a friend beside her, he realizes that her face doesn't belong to you.

He comes to an abrupt stop, much to the disgruntlement of the people behind him who deliberately sidestep around him. Panicking almost, he frantically scans the dozens of people wandering the streets of Seoul, peering at each person's face, just trying to find yours.

You're nowhere to be found.

You've slipped out of his hands once more.

Hopelessness gripping his heart like a parasite, he bows his head, continuing down the street.

Past multiple people.

Past the crowd, the noise.

As he passes a cafe, he catches sight of his reflection in the window. Silently, he stares at his reflection.

His eyes.

His nose.

His jaw.

Things people all over the world have memorized, able to recognize without so much of a second glance.

Almost resigned, he pulls a hat out of the backpack on his shoulder, positioning it securely on his head. It's a simple black baseball cap, one that covers his facial features enough for him to pass as a normal person in the crowd.

He doesn't care where he’s going.

Doesn't even notice as the city streets around him transform into more suburban-like ones, canopies of trees appearing above his head. Or when the crowds morph into small patches of people. Nor the teenagers who pass by him, having escaped from the confines of school and laughing as they roam down the sidewalk.

One of them bumps into Taehyung in his absentmindedness, pushing him to the left side of the sidewalk and causing Tae to drop the flash drive still secured tightly in his fist. The young man apologizes, bowing respectfully before his friends call him over and he darts away.

Taehyung watches him with a blank expression.

He remembers when he was the same as that young boy. Carefree and hopeful, ready to take on the world no matter what. Filled with a dream, a goal, something he would have given everything to achieve.

Now he’s living his dream, fighting every day to accomplish a new goal, to conquer a new barrier, to defeat a different obstacle.

When do the trials end?

When will he be satisfied?

When will he reach the light at the end of the tunnel?

Turning away, he leans down to pick up the flash drive, turning it over in his hands as he plops down on a bus bench not too far away.

It's not because he's waiting to ride it somewhere, but rather because he's tired of wandering around the city he’s been in since his trainee days. Right now, he doesn’t even know where he wants to go.

Where else can he go that he hasn't already seen?

He stares at the flash drive in his hands, the mere presence reminding him of your voice, the enchanting way you caught his attention.

Perhaps that is what made you so special to him.

That when you opened your mouth to sing, everything inside of you seemed to flow out and fill your voice to the brim with powerful emotion. With that simple gesture you were able to make him feel things he had kept inside, trying to hide from everyone else.

At that moment, your walls came down and everything spilled out, leaving you bare.

He saw you, and only you.

And it was beautiful.

Sighing almost in frustration, he tilts his head back, not even noticing the woman who sits next to him.

You stare to your left as the strange man beside you sighs, a bit confused at the action. You almost want to ask if he’s okay, but you decide against it. Every person has their bad days, you know you sure have.

You turn back to your phone, anxiously waiting for the bus to pull up. You are trying to get to a park, one that holds the same type of flowers you saw outside the window at BigHit. Well, according to Google. It's essential to you that you find another replica so that you can finish your drawing, and you weren't keen on waiting in that crowded lobby back at the company building.

However hard as you may try though, you can't seem to look away from the man sitting next to you.

Even though his hand covers his face, you can tell that he's handsome. With his sharp jawline, defined throat, and lean but muscular frame, any girl would be fawning over him without even looking at his facial features. The way he holds himself, even the delicate hands that rest over his eyes against his soft cheeks, exuberates beauty and perfection. It would be hard for anyone to force themselves to look away.

When he moves however, you panic, immediately snatch your eyes away from him, turning back to your phone. You continue to watch him from the corner of your eye, hoping that it isn't as noticeable as it seems.

Inwardly, you thank God for your excellent peripheral vision.

Tired of feeling sorry for himself, Taehyung stands. As he does, his phone clatters to the bench, but he doesn't notice. Instead, he continues to move away, back the way he came. He would have made it quite far without even noticing, but you hear the phone fall.

Your attention snaps to it as the man begins to walk away. Panic rising in your throat, you quickly stuff your phone in your satchel, removing one earbud out of your ear. You snatch his phone off of the bench and jog up to him.

As you tap him on the shoulder, he turns around, slightly annoyed. However, when his eyes rest on you, they immediately widen.

You’re saying something, staring at the phone which you hold in your hand, but he doesn't register it.

He’s too shocked.

For a moment he doesn't even know where you came from. How did you show up right here? But as he glances toward the bench, he realizes.

You were next to him all along.

His eyes flash back to you, but as yours raise to his, a glare from the sun against the bus pulling to a stop blinds your vision for a moment. You turn to the bus, shielding your eyes half in confusion. They widen when you realize that this is your ride. The doors to the bus open, and wait for any passengers to board.

Quickly, you turn to Taehyung. You take his hand in your own, and place his phone in it, securely wrapping his hands around it.

“As I said, you dropped this. You should take better care of your phone.” You hurriedly say, before glancing towards the bus. Thankfully, it has not pulled out of the bus stop, waiting for some students to board.

“I’m sorry, but I have to go.” You say, bowing slightly before running over to the open doors of the bus. Taehyung watches you walk away, but it takes you boarding the bus to wake him up from his stupor.

You were right there.

You were talking to him, only a few feet away from him.

You took his hand.

And what did he do?

He just stood there.

“Kim Taehyung, you idiot!” he hisses, as he rushes to the bus, climbing up the stairs just moments before the doors start to close. He pays his fee, nodding to the driver before turning to the rest of the bus. As he takes it in, he groans inwardly.

Why must everything be crowded today?

You are wondering the same thing as you sit on a bench close to the window. You hold your satchel tightly in your hands, not trusting anyone with the precious contents you hold inside. You were unlucky enough to find an empty spot in the back where many people begin to fill in, pressing you closer and closer against the window. Sighing slightly from the slight case of claustrophobia, you lean your head against the cool glass.

Taehyung scans the bus for you, before securing his hand on a safety bar amongst many others who weren't able to secure a seat. Even as the bus lurches forward, he searches for you, longing to find your face and that adorable little ribbon that rests in your hair. It's no use, however, as you are completely hidden from his view.

Rolling your eyes at a creepy man leering beside you, you carefully secure your other earbud in your eardrum, closing your eyes slightly as the music plays, inserting itself into your mind. You lose yourself in it, find your lips moving along to the words. Find yourself slightly humming along to it, a sound that is lost within the crowd, but can't be any clearer to you.

Across the way, Taehyung has done the same and pulls up his music. He smiles slightly as he listens to it, recognizing the song that comes up on his shuffle as the one you sang. To him, your voice was better than the original, and he tries to tell himself that this viewpoint isn't biased.

Who knows, maybe it isn't.

As the bus pulls to a stop once more, you immediately stand, recognizing the trees outside as the same trees in the pictures you found on Google Maps. After successfully stepping past the perverted man and his friends, you make your way through the crowd, murmuring apologies as you brush past some people, bumping into others.

Catching sight of the exit, just a few inches away from you, you dash for it, but some lady decides at that moment that she should get off too. As she stands abruptly, she bumps into you.

You let out a small, meek shriek as you collide, your already testy balance having been thrown off by your slight relief.

The next few moments happen fast, almost too fast for you to comprehend.

You stumble at the sudden impact. If you had more room, perhaps you wouldn't have had as much trouble, you probably could have caught yourself. As it so happens, you trip over more than just your feet.

Some guy decided it would be a smart idea to set his briefcase down on the floor.

So, as you spin-off from the lady bumping into you, your foot hooks on the briefcase, and you fall. With no knowledge of whether or not you’ll be caught.

You notice, in the back of your slightly panicked mind, that the lady looks at you, almost indignantly. She moves on without so much as a sorry, which immediately puts her on your list.

Well excuse me for being in YOUR way you little--

But that's not important.

What's important is that you don't fall, at least not into the welcoming hug the floor has provided you. Instead, careful, strong arms catch you from behind. You weren't expecting to have anyone catch you, so when they lift you to your feet, righting you and almost fixing your balance, you find your heart beating rapidly.

You hold your arms in front of your chest as though in a defensive gesture. As you straighten yourself up, your hands press against his chest, steadying you and your shaky legs. You hardly notice that as soon as they do, his heart begins to pound rhythmically beneath your touch. You don't notice the way his breath shortens or the way his pulse begins to speed up.

As you raise your eyes to his face, your mouth already forming a fumbled apology, you find your words all fall short.

You know those eyes.

Eyes that are etched into the background of your memory.

Eyes that stare at you every time you open your phone.

Eyes that you have devotedly drawn. The careful curved line before you brought it down, connecting the top eyelid to the bottom. A beautiful hazelnut brown, one that is almost amber, an eye color that you have grown to love, grown to recognize.

Ever since you were a young girl, buying his albums.

Ever since you first heard his voice, first saw his face.

They stare deep into your own, as though they are searching through you. Trying to find some hidden message, some hidden meaning which you don't know.

“Kim Taehyung.” You whisper, almost breathlessly.

𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: someone give me a cookie

chapter 13 here

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xxdragonwriterxx · 4 years ago

Text

🔥Drunken Mishaps🔥

A/N: Hey guys! So as just a fun little extra to my stories, I’m going to add a music recommendation at the top of each of my fics like this! I just like to listen to music while I write and thought I might as well share some of my favs! Feel free to ignore this if you want, it’s just for fun! (Side Note: the songs may or may not have anything to do with the topic of the fics. They are just going to be random songs I like. Some of them might relate but others might not).

🐉 Song Recommendation: “One Night in Bangkok” By: Murray Head 🐉

~~~

(Y/N) grumbled to herself as she drove to the bar down the street from her apartment building, her movements stiff with frustration. She had told him several times to drive himself to the bar with his friends, knowing he would get bored halfway through and want to come back home, but Hanji and Erwin had insisted on carpooling together, bringing her grumpy flatmate Levi with them. She would’ve gone with them, but she had a big test the next day she needed to study for. Hence her frustration at being pulled from her study session to pick up her sour roommate when all of this could’ve been solved by simply having him drive alone.

(Y/N) parked and wasted no time in entering the surprisingly well kept establishment, the only bar that was clean enough for Levi’s standards, fuming as she made her way up to her friends.

“Oh hey, (Y/N)! Finally decided to join the party, huh?” Hanji asked when she saw the angry girl, making (Y/N) pause.

“Hanji…, you were the one who called me to tell me that Levi wanted a ride home because his phone was dead and he was bored. If this was all some trick to get me to come here, I’m going to kill you.”

“Oh no, no, no, nothing like that, I know how busy you are,” Hanji said, waving her hands in front of her. “I was just happy to see you, that’s all.”

(Y/N) growled something under her breath that all three of her friends ignored and stalked over to them, her eyes flashing when she caught sight of Levi leaning against the bar, slumped over in his seat.

“This is why I told you to drive yourself,” (Y/N) said by way of greeting when she finally reached them, slapping the wooden surface of the bar with her palm to emphasize her frustration.

To her surprise, the normally observant raven-haired man snapped his head up in shock with a quiet yell, almost as if he hadn’t known she was there, despite her being two feet in front of him.

“Levi? Are you okay?”

The sudden dazzling smile that broke out across his face left a very bewildered (Y/N) reeling, his eyes softening when they focused on her.

“Hey, princess! I was wondering when you’d finally meet me here. I missed you.”

(Y/N) let out a squawk of surprise when Levi suddenly latched onto her arm and pulled her into him, nuzzling his face into her neck and breathing in her scent as if he had done this a thousand times. Her blush intensified tenfold when she heard him quietly mumble, “so warm…” into her skin. Turning to Hanji and Erwin, who were struggling to hide their laughter behind their hands, (Y/N) gritted her teeth and silently wondered why she put up with them sometimes.

“You guys seriously had to get him drunk?” (Y/N) hissed.

“Well yeah!” Hanji said in between barely suppressed giggles. “He needed to relax, you know how he is, always so pent up all the time. He needed some time to really unwind so we challenged him to a drinking contest. You know how good I am at holding my liquor.”

“You better not be driving, Hanji…,” (Y/N) mumbled, still glaring at her friends.

“Oh don’t worry, I didn’t drink tonight, I just wanted to watch the chaos unfold,” Erwin said with a wink, wrapping a large arm around his girlfriend’s shoulders. “I’ll make sure we both get home safe and sound.”

Hanji beamed at her boyfriend before turning back to (Y/N), her grin widening. “Besides, he was being stubborn and wouldn’t admit his feelings for you even though it’s super obvious he loves you. So we decided to…, loosen his tongue a little.”

(Y/N) blushed but shook her head. She knew Levi had absolutely no interest in her, they had nothing in common. She was a psychology major while he was aiming to become an accountant, the two of them only meeting in their shared statistics class in the second semester of freshman year. They were only roommates because they worked well together, having done several projects together for their shared classes that ended in success, eventually leading to a surprisingly sturdy friendship between the two. He was sarcastic and grumpy while she was sassy and cheerful. He was cold and isolated while she was warm and confident. She had always found him undeniably attractive, but she knew that he would never look at her in the same way. He had even told her himself once that his attractions leaned more into the quiet, anti-social type, the kind of girls who were cold and reserved like him so he wouldn’t have to think of pretty words to say.

“Hanji, that’s stupid.”

“But true!” her friend cooed in a singsong voice, smiling even more when Levi suddenly wrapped his arms around (Y/N)’s waist, holding her tightly against him with a happy sigh.

“I’ve got to be honest (Y/N), when Hanji first brought it up, I didn’t think much of it either, but look at how he is acting now. And he’s only done that with you so far. Even drunk, when Hanji tried to give him a hug, he pushed her off of him, grumbling about how she wasn’t the one he was waiting for,” Erwin said, chuckling at the uncharacteristic behavior of the normally reserved young man.

“Guys, he’s only doing this because we share an apartment. We’ve sat together to watch movies before, he’s let me lean on him when I’ve had a long day at work or in class and needed a break, he’s sat in my bed beside me when helping me study and vice versa. He’s only latching onto me like this because I’m the only person he can remember being even remotely close to physically.”

“Sure, whatever you say (Y/N),” Erwin said, huffing a laugh at the thunderous look (Y/N) threw him.

“(Y/N), you seem so tense, are you feeling okay? I bet I can make it better, if you let me…,” Levi’s words stole (Y/N)’s attention away from Hanji and Erwin again, her eyes widening at the sight of Levi leaning in to caress her neck with his lips, even letting his tongue dart out to swirl along her soft skin, forcing a squeak from (Y/N)’s lips.

“Umm, Levi? Why don’t we continue this at home? I’ll ummm, drive us back to the apartment and then we can hang out there, okay?” (Y/N) said in hopes that he’d buy it and let her go long enough for her to bundle him into her car.

“Ooooh! Gonna continue at home, (Y/N)? Shameless.”

(Y/N) flipped Hanji off then, her blush turning her entire face red as her friends laughed at her expense. Levi groaned in frustration but peeled himself away from (Y/N), allowing her to help him to his feet and leaning on her once he was finally up. Praying that he wouldn’t vomit all over her, (Y/N) kept her movements slow as she told her friends goodbye and helped Levi to her car, stuffing him in the passenger seat before getting behind the wheel and pulling away from the bar.

Thankfully, Levi was mostly quiet on the drive home, keeping his hands to himself and merely looking out the window at the buildings that passed, only speaking to occasionally point out a pretty light he saw, or a dog being walked as their owner took advantage of the cool evening air to be outside. (Y/N) couldn’t help but giggle at his drunk antics, her traitorous heart thumping loudly in her chest when he flashed her a smile in response. She had never seen him smile so many times in one night, and it was getting harder and harder to keep her composure when those normally rare smiles were directed at her.

Although he kept mostly to himself in the car, (Y/N) was once again thrown head first into shock and embarrassment as soon as she had helped Levi into their apartment building, her roommate immediately clinging to her like a lost puppy.

“Mmmm, (Y/N),” Levi purred, rubbing his face into the space between her shoulder and her neck, making it hard for her to focus on getting the door unlocked. Her face was rivalling that of molten lava as he groaned, his eyelashes tickling her neck when his eyes fluttered closed. “You’re so soft…”

(Y/N) finally got the door open and shoved him inside, quickly locking the door behind them. Once she was sure the deadbolt was secure, she went to turn around only to find Levi pressed against her again, his tongue once more coming out to flick along her throat down to her collarbones, making (Y/N) freeze at the feeling.

“Gods kitten, you have no idea how long I’ve waited for you,” Levi murmured in between licks and kisses.

“Levi, you were only out of the house for a few hours, we haven’t been away from each other that long.”

“That can’t be right,” Levi said with a shake of his head. “I’ve been waiting for you for years, not hours.”

Suddenly (Y/N) understood what he meant and felt the flames immediately rekindle in her cheeks. While part of her was overjoyed that he shared her affections, the other part of her knew it was too good to be true. He was drunk, he had no idea what he was talking about, he was just spewing bullshit, saying what the alcohol was telling him to say. Hell, for all she knew, he could be imagining she was a different woman entirely. He had yet to say her name, he could be thinking that she was someone else from one of his classes, and was using her to realize his fantasy since the star of his desires couldn’t be here.

“Levi, I don’t think you have the right person, you’re drunk and obviously not in the right state of mind, why don’t you just go to sleep so you can have a clear head in the morning?” (Y/N) said, trying to guide him to the couch.

“No, I know it’s you,” Levi said with a frown, leaning to drop another kiss on the dip between her collarbones, his lips lingering after he parted from her skin. “I’ve waited too long for this, I’d never mistaken you for anyone else. You’re the one I want.”

(Y/N) felt like squealing and crying at the same time but she swallowed both impulses.

“Levi, you’re dreaming. I’m not who you think I am, so stop kissing me. I’m the wrong person, and the last thing I want is to ruin our friendship because of some stupid drunk mishap!”

“No, I know you’re (Y/N). I could never forget you. I love you, there’s no way I’d ever not recognize you.”

(Y/N) breath hitched at his words, even when she had to suppress the smile that tried to appear on her lips when he gave a cute little hiccup after his impassioned speech. So he really was fantasizing about her. She wanted to leap on him and smother him with kisses but she held herself back. She knew better. Just as she had told her friends at the bar, this was all just some drunken whim spurred on by her close friendship and living situation with the young man, the alcohol taking advantage of his hazy memories to make her seem like some kind of long lost lover to him. She smiled as she thought about all of the teasing she was going to be able to do in the morning, even while her heart simultaneously broke at the thought of his disgusted face when he heard about kissing her when he was finally sober.

“Levi, you need to go to bed now. You’re going to need all the sleep you can get for when you have to deal with your hangover in the morning,” (Y/N) said. To her surprise, he stubbornly shook his head again.

“Not a chance. I finally get to have you after all this time. I’m not letting you leave this bed until you’re screaming my name.”

Gods, he was so far gone. (Y/N) opened her mouth to respond when all of a sudden, she felt his hips press into hers, her eyes widening almost comically when she felt his arousal nudge against her. Immediately, her entire face turned red, the color even creeping down to her neck and spreading out over her collarbones where Levi was still leaving small nip marks, soothing them over with his tongue before moving back up her throat.

“L-L-Levi!” (Y/N) squeaked.

His smirk against her skin made her spine tingle. “Now you’re starting to get the right idea.”

His words were followed by another hiccup, making (Y/N) snap out of it again. He’s drunk. He had no idea what he was saying and doing. As his roommate and friend, she knew he hadn’t had a lover in ages, at least not since he was dumped in his first semester of sophomore year. This was all just the result of the whiskey in his system combined with his pent up sexual frustrations, his body instinctively looking for an outlet. She just happened to be close by.

(Y/N) had to bite on her lip to keep from moaning as Levi dug his hips into hers again, his length pulsing a little through his pants as he ground against her, his panting moan sending her stomach into a state of butterflies. But this was wrong. Quickly pulling herself together, (Y/N) shoved aside her own needs and placed her hands on his chest just as he reached for her shirt.

“Levi, stop. You need to go to sleep.”

“(Y/N)? What are you-”

“Levi, it’s time to go to bed, come on.”

“(Y/N), wait! Please don’t leave me, I’m sorry if I was being too forward, I just want to show you how much I love you. If you aren’t ready-” He was interrupted by yet another hiccup. “If you’re not ready then we don’t have to take that step yet.”

(Y/N) felt the tears spring to her eyes, anger and sadness flooding her system. She knew he had no idea what he was doing, but she was starting to get tired of him toying with her feelings, even if it wasn’t on purpose. Gritting her teeth, (Y/N) ignored his protests and slapped his hands away, pushing him into his room.

Her heart clenched at the hurt look he gave her when she pushed his hands away but she ignored that too, pulling off his shirt, pants, and shoes, leaving him in his boxers, and tucked him into his bed. To her relief, his eyes finally started to flutter closed as she made sure the sheets were wrapped securely around his body. When she was finished getting him ready for bed, (Y/N) yawned and cast one last look at him before turning to leave, knowing her late night study session was already thrown out the window for the night, more than ready to just get to sleep.

His hand quickly grasping her wrist stopped her and she turned around to see a sad, lonely look on his face, one that made her want to kiss him until her lips turned blue.

“If you’re comfortable, will you stay with me tonight? E-Even if you don’t want me, I just want to h-hold you, even if it’s just for tonight.”

(Y/N) swallowed hard. She knew he was drunk but that clearly didn’t change how he was feeling at the moment, and it was clear he needed someone to be close to right now. Besides, he would have no right to be upset with her in the morning when he woke up to find her next to him, considering he was the one who asked her to stay.

Nodding her head, (Y/N) snatched one of his shirts and quickly changed in his adjourning bathroom, leaving her in just his shirt and her panties. She knew it wasn’t the most appropriate outfit at the moment, but she didn’t have the motivation to go back to her room to change. And again, he had asked her to stay with him, if he had a problem with her wearing comfy clothes to bed, then he could fuck off.

Slipping under the covers with him, (Y/N) had to force herself not to smile when Levi immediately clung to her, his arms looping around her neck and his leg throwing itself over her hip like he owned it as he buried his face in her chest, humming contentedly.

“Goodnight, Levi. You’re going to have one hell of a hangover in the morning,” (Y/N) said, leaning down to give him a quick, self-indulgent kiss on the forehead before settling down to sleep.

________________________________

Levi groaned in pain as the light from the window shone in his eyes, his pounding head doing nothing to help his already growing irritation. What had happened last night? He couldn’t remember anything, but something must’ve happened considering he felt like shit. He had an awful taste in his mouth and he felt like he was going to be sick. Lifting a hand to his face, he was massaging the bridge of his nose when a voice beside him made him freeze.

“Morning, Levi. Sleep well?”

“(Y/N)!!!” Levi cried out in shock, shooting up and scooting back to the edge of the bed in shock. “What the fuck are you doing in my bed!?”

“What? Don’t remember last night?” (Y/N) teased, her eyes flashing mischievously as she smiled.

“No! What the fuck did I do?” Levi asked, dread creeping into his belly as he scrambled to remember what had gone down the night before.

“Hmm, well, let’s see, first you went and got shit-faced with Erwin and Hanji, apparently it was some sort of drinking competition you and Hanji did. Then when Hanji called me to come get you, you kept nuzzling me and kissing my neck and calling me pet names. Finally, when we got back to the apartment, you kissed all over my neck and told me all about how I was finally going to be yours and you were going to make me scream your name. Oh! And you may or may not have, um…, ground against me,” (Y/N) said, her smile only growing wider at the horror on his face. She loved to tease him sometimes, and this time, it was a good distraction from her aching heart.

Levi, on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to have a giant black hole swallow him up, making him disappear. Or to have a truck run him over. Or to slit his own throat. He knew going out with Eyebrows and Shitty Glasses had been a bad idea, but he had never expected it to go this downhill. He felt like throwing up, and this time it wasn’t just from what he now knew was a hangover. He was absolutely mortified. He had loved (Y/N) pretty much since the day they had met, his small little crush on her developing into full blown desire until he was head over heels for her. He had been looking for a way to tell her, his sanity starting to fray that the seams the longer he waited, but this was NOT how he had expected nor wanted her to find out. Then he suddenly remembered that she was here in bed with him in nothing but his shirt and some panties.

“I-I didn’t f-force you into anything, did I? We didn’t do anything, right?” Levi asked, cursing himself for stuttering.

(Y/N) immediately dropped her teasing manner and looked at him in shock and disbelief.

“Oh gods Levi, no! You were just drunk, that’s all. You were actually being really sweet for most of it, I’m only here because you said you didn’t want to be alone last night. That’s all, nothing happened between us. You’d never force yourself on me, and I’d never take advantage of you like that, when you were incapable of making your own decisions and retaining memory the next day.”

Levi sighed at that, relief washing over him. He didn’t think he could handle it if something like that had happened to (Y/N) and it had been his fault. Soon enough though, that relief was replaced with embarrassment again, his head falling into his hands with a groan as he prayed for someone to just end his misery.

“(Y/N), I am so sorry, I can’t believe I did something like that. Just forget it ever happened, okay? I promise, I will have Shitty Glasses’ head on a stake for this.”

“Does that mean you really didn’t mean it?” (Y/N) asked, the words slipping out before she could stop them. Levi’s head snapped up to look at her.

“What?”

“Nothing! Just ignore me, please.”

“No, did you just ask if I meant it?”

(Y/N) nodded her head slowly, her teeth reaching out to bite at her bottom lip, dragging the plump flesh in her nervousness, making Levi have to suppress a moan at her cute expression.

“Does that mean…, you maybe feel something similar?” Levi asked boldly, trying to ask her before the rest of his confidence faded away, his body practically trembling with the pressure.

(Y/N) hesitated before she nodded slowly again, her eyes darting around the room as she suddenly found the plain ceiling of his bedroom to be very fascinating. Then, his words really sank in. Something similar…

“Wait a minute, you have feelings for me? None of it was an act last night?”

“I don’t lie when I’m drunk, I actually become more honest. Usually to the point where I lose what little filter I have on my tongue. I meant every word of what I said last night, at least, just so long as all of them were about how much I care about you.”

(Y/N) could hardly breathe. She was just waiting to wake up and find Levi still asleep, or in the bathroom vomiting his guts up. This had to be a dream, her brain playing tricks on her.

“What?” (Y/N) asked, her voice shaky and breathless.

“I love you, (Y/N). I’m sober now, and I can tell you with full certainty that I love you. I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable last night, I wish I had gotten the chance to tell you in a more modest manner, but I guess that point is moot now. I love you, and I have for a long time.”

“Oh thank gods! I love you too,” (Y/N) sighed, launching herself at him to plaster her lips to his. Levi chuckled at her response and held her close as he deepened the kiss, groaning at the taste of her paired with the feeling of her body against his and her tongue fighting his for dominance.

Breaking away, (Y/N) gave Levi a coy smile that sent his heart pounding against his rib cage, his silver eyes staring at her intently as she ran a finger down his shirtless chest.

“You know, Levi. Now that I know we are both on the same page, and you’re sober now, do you think I could take you up on the offer you gave me last night for a certain activity you had planned?” (Y/N) asked, a different kind of teasing tone in her voice, her hues sparkling as she eyed the light dusting of pink that accented his cheeks.

Levi growled, his chest swelling with love and pride as he looked at the woman he had wanted for so long. Arousal immediately stirred in his loins at her words, but his hands were gentle as they wrapped around her hips and dragged her into his lap.

“Fuck yes, now that I’ll remember it, I’ll do anything you ask,” Levi purred, looking into her eyes for one last confirmation of permission before swooping down to devour her lips with his own.

The two were so mixed up in each other that neither of them noticed both of their phones go off on the bedside table, two messages sent to each of them from a certain four-eyed freak and tall ass tree that read:

“You’re welcome.”

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mostlycompetentwriter · 4 years ago

Text

You Can STAY - Part 12

Pairing: Y/N x Felix (Side Pairing: Y/N x Stray Kids)

Genre: Fantasy AU; OT8; Scarlet Heart AU

Warnings: Lots of Angst; Major Character Death

A/N: This is the final part of You Can STAY. I have determined that I am very bad at writing series, and I apologize for the ending...I imagine that many of you will express mixed emotions.

However, there is a epilogue coming soon in the future! And I will, of course, add all of the parts together into one easily accessible story for future readers!

Nine Months Later

If I were to tell the end of my story, I would want it to go something like this: “At the edge of the Kingdom, secluded in the northernmost woods, a former Castle Mage lived with her husband and unborn son, dreaming about the King who stole her heart.”

I don’t like sad endings, but sometimes there are sacrifices whose consequences are too grave to ignore. While Felix ruled the Kingdom exactly as I had once urged him, I did my part by spending long hours tucked away inside a little cabin as my stomach grew rounder and the days grew shorter.

Jisung was good company, when he was around. In between his visits, he worked on the margins, watching over Felix and working with Chan to secure our borders and alliances. He was still very much ostracized from political life, and Felix, to my knowledge, had never forgave his brothers for their part in the rebellion that changed the Kingdom.

“I can deal with his wrath,” Jisung told me one morning. “I’m perfectly content.”

I managed a smile in return, but it was half-hearted. I knew that Jisung was referring to our marriage, one that only existed on paper, so that he could support me in isolation. He was more than content to live with me and provide anything that my heart desired.

But my heart’s most fervent wish lived in the Castle beyond the horizon, and I could easily glimpse the tops of the tallest towers, wondering if Felix ever looked out from the balcony and thought of the woman he once loved.

Of course he does, a voice at the back of my head reminded me.

“Hyunjin tells me that Felix speaks of you often,” Jisung added, even though it didn’t do much to assuage my guilt.

Thankfully, Felix had accepted Hyunjin back into the Castle as a personal advisor, likely because Hyunjin had nothing to do with Jisung, Jeongin, and Chan’s plan to overtake the Kingdom and dispose Changbin.

It seemed like a distant memory, and I sighed at the nostalgia of those memories: occasions where I walked through the hallways of the Castle, exploring the gardens and distant grounds, thinking of the day when Felix and I would finally both be free to love without constraint.

It belongs in that past, those sort of thoughts, and I had long ago given up on the prospect of a complete family where I could simply exist as someone who wanted to love and be loved.

Of course, there was also the issue of my health.

Despite early good reports on my pregnancy, our doctor had recently decided that my prognosis wasn’t as easy as he had initially perceived: “You might have difficulties,” he told me. “During the birth.”

“Oh,” was all I could manage, and I barely felt Jisung squeezing my hand as everything changed in a single moment.

One day, along the bright edges of the morning, Hyunjin came to visit.

“You look well,” he told me, accepting a drink from Jisung who then came to sit next to me.

“I feel good,” I said, even though there was still a prickling of doubt at the furthest reaches of my subconscious - a reminder that my future was suddenly difficult to presume.

“I’m glad,” Hyunjin replied sincerely, and he turned his attention to Jisung. “I just got back from a meeting with a Southern convoy. Things are turning around.”

“Good,” Jisung said, reaching out to take my hand. “We were worried for a while.”

I forced a smile, barely listening as they continued talking, discussing the same politics that I could barely stand since they had cost me everything.

“Where are you going this weekend?” Jisung asked, and I was faintly aware of Hyunjin’s response, but more than anything, my attention was suddenly preoccupied with a sharp pain in my abdomen.

I winced immediately, and Jisung noticed my discomfort, falling down onto his knees in front of me. “Y/N?” he asked, tone hesitant.

“Hurts,” I managed, and I could see Hyunjin getting up from the corner of my eye.

“Do you need the doctor?” Jisung asked, and I managed a nod, keeling over when it felt like a thousand knives were piercing me all at once.

“I’ll go,” Hyunjin volunteered, but his voice sounded distant, like I had abruptly been submerged beneath the water, struggling to hear.

“Y/N!” Jisung repeated, and his eyes were frantic as they found mine. “You’ll stay with me, right?”

I tried to say something, but there was a peculiar pull to the dark that was far more compelling, and I fell under its spell while Jisung became nothing more than a distant shadow.

When I woke back up again, the shapes and figures surrounding me were difficult to discern.

My stomach rolled and my skin felt like it burning! I groaned at the discomfort, attracting the attention of the two men standing at the door. “Y/N,” Jisung’s familiar voice spoke through the reverie, and he was at my side within moments, taking my hand in his own.

“Hello again, dear,” another voice said, and I recognized the doctor as he released a tired sigh. “Seems like we’re at a difficult point.”

I nodded, opening my mouth to speak, but ultimately deciding to remain silent. “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Jisung whispered to me, and my heart ached at the pain in his eyes. “Do you feel like seeing a visitor?”

Not really, but I agreed nonetheless, expecting Hyunjin to enter the room. But nothing could’ve prepared me for the sight of a familiar mess of red hair and bright green eyes. “Y/N.”

“Felix,” I said, voice hoarse and gravelly, but there were tears falling even without my awareness, and I quickly noticed that Jisung and the doctor had vacated the room.

It was a little awkward though, after all this time, looking back at Felix as he looked back at me, gaze heavy with something striking. “Y/N,” he whispered, and I was shocked to see him breakdown, making it to my bedside before falling onto the edge of the mattress.

“Are you okay?” I asked, instinctively, reaching out without hesitation to card my fingers through his hair.

He sniffled in response, looking up at me with tear-streaked eyes and a beautiful smile. “I am now.”

My heart stuttered at his sentiment, and I wanted nothing more than to curl myself into Felix and lose myself there in his embrace. “I missed you,” I whimpered.

“I know, love,” Felix said, and he pressed a kiss to the back of my hand.

“I’m sorry I left,” I whispered - as if it were an afterthought.

“I understand,” he replied, looking at me to expose the truth - he was aware, despite what I had burdened myself with believing. He knew why I had to leave, and there was nothing but peace left between us.

Peace and Love.

“At first, I was angry and confused,” Felix said. “But I read your letter, and I had Hyunjin to help guide me. He helped me realize that you left so that I could fulfill the destiny I had been denied as a child. It was painful without you, but our circumstances were far from trivial.”

“Yes,” I exhaled, tightening my grip on him. “I never wanted to leave.”

“It’s okay,” Felix reassured me, and his eyes were soft as they paused on my lips. “We’ve always been tethered at the soul. Together, even if it couldn’t be in the way we truly desired.”

He kissed me then, igniting a furious passion that had laid dormant inside of me for months. “It’s yours, you know,” I said, pulling back to graze the pretty line of his lashes. “The child is ours.”

Felix inhaled abruptly, looking down at my swollen stomach. “Truly? Hyunjin said that you were pregnant, but I didn’t want to assume-”

“It could’ve never belonged to anyone else,” I interrupted him. “It’s always been you.”

Felix nodded, allowing one hand to smooth down over the sheets, following the outline of my stomach. “This is more than I could ever ask for.”

I smiled at his pretty words, but then I felt a cold sweat break out against the back of my neck. “Felix,” I said. “The doctor told me that the pregnancy might bring some complications.”

He shivered, and I was surprised by the unfiltered grief written across his expression. “I know that too.”

“If I don’t survive-”

“If,” Felix growled, emphasizing that nothing could ever be certain.

“If,” I agreed. “I want you to raise our child. He deserves to be with his father.”

Felix visibly swallowed, looking away as if having trouble completing such a promise, but I forced him to look at me again. “Alright,” he eventually conceded. “If such things manifest.”

“And you need to forgive your brothers,” I said, holding him at attention in case he tried to move away again. “After all this time...”

“Y/N,” Felix sighed. “Why does this sound like a goodbye?”

I held my tongue, glancing down at our intertwined hands. “Think of it as a start to the next chapter.”

Felix chuckled, affectionate gaze meeting mine. “I’ll be here until it’s over. When you can rest for as long as you want.”

“Thank you,” I said. “And you will always have me. In one way or another.”

“I can rest easy,” Felix said, and he started murmuring something soft and sweet to the unborn child inside of me, and I found myself able to breathe a lit bit easier for the first time in months.

I even managed a smile, knowing that I could still give Felix a piece of me after I was gone. Unlike our complicated time together at the Castle, our unborn son would be free of those heavy restrictions, and perhaps it was the better outcome. Because, when I really thought about it, our son wouldn’t just be a piece of me. It would be a little part of Felix as well, and I felt nothing short of triumphant when I imagined a world with the right combination of Y/N and Felix. Together at long last.

Victorious until the bittersweet end.

#stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #lee felix fanfic #felix fanfic #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz imagines #skz scenarios #felix imagines #felix scenarios #scarlet heart au #mostlycompetent

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slasherscream · 5 years ago

Note

You don't have to if you feel uncomfortable but may I have a request where JD, Hannibal, Billy and Candyman react when they found out the woman they love who always cares and smiles for others, just a ball of sunshine coming from a dysfunctional broken home. Even when they find her with a black eye due to an argument, she still smiles and ensures she's fine

Jason Dean

JD never saw it coming. He figured you came from some perfect, little suburban dream family. A loving Mother, a doting Father he didn’t know what else could produce someone like you but a stable home life.

He had a childhood that was less than ideal, putting it lightly, and you two shared almost nothing in common. Where he was pessimistic you were looking on the bright side. When he pointed out the nastiness in others you’d somehow find a way to make him see the good in the people around you two as well.

Though sometimes he thought you were a little naive it endeared him to you more than you could know. No matter what he did you’d come back swinging with that positive, happy-go-lucky outlook and it was beginning to rub off on him, just a little.

He smiled more when you were around. Everything felt more worthwhile. That was, of course, when the illusion went tumbling down.

He crawled through your window ready to see you and surprise you as he’d gotten your address from one of your many friends at school.

He climbed through the window he guessed was yours only to find you curled up on your bed, clutching your pillow and trying to block out the sounds of loud fighting going on downstairs.

Multiple voices screaming back and forth, you flinching at every sound bleeding through your door. But that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst was when he made a noise finishing coming through and you turned to look at him, startled.

Your eye was swollen and already beginning to discolor but immediately upon seeing the expression on his face (rage and heartbreak mixing together) you raced to him trying to reassure him you were fine.

He asked who touched you but you just kept reassuring him that everything was fine. You hugged him close and tried to soothe his nerves, all the while, the fighting downstairs got louder.

You can say it’s fine all you want but JD will never forget and he’ll get his answer eventually. He’ll punish your family for hurting you all these years when there was no one around to protect you. You were everything that was good about the world, and if he had to burn it to ash to see you safe and happy the way you deserved to be? He’d do it in a heartbeat.

Hannibal Lecter

Hannibal is probably the closest to seeing something off right from the start of things.

It’s not that you aren’t convincing, or even that you’re faking your joy and general love for the world around you. He hates people that aren’t genuine and he can sniff them out easily.

It’s just that sometimes there is a sadness to you that he is always trying to trace back to something. You are a puzzle that he is trying to solve and somewhere along the line he falls in love with you.

He notices how you dance around the topic of family, keeping your comments vague and going a bit quiet whenever he brings up wanting to meet the people who’d raised such a wonderful, young woman.

For some reason his mind does not jump straight to abuse. There are plenty of strained parental relationships that are not out right abusive and outside of those tiny moments where you seem to break a little at the seams you’re so bright.

Love is blind, he’d thought the expression only true for others, he hadn’t ever imagined himself being in love in the first place. He couldn’t have imagined his own assumptions towards you blinding him to the obvious.

When you show up to a lunch date with him wearing sunglasses he tries to spend the meal ignoring them but finally asks, for the sake of manners, for you to remove them as you are at the table. He’d never known you to be rude.

Slowly you take them off and the world goes still. Your face is pointed downwards towards the table but it doesn’t stop him from being able to see your eye. He rushes from his side of the table to cup your face and everything clinks into place immediately.

“Who did this to you, dearest?” his voice is devoid of judgement, calm the way he is during his sessions. But inside he’s engulfed with rage.

“My (family member) didn’t mean to. Our fights just get so bad and I’m always making them so angry-” He pushes your head into his chest, stopping your onslaught of excuses for a person who wouldn’t be in the land of the living very much longer. There was no need for you to think of them anymore.

Billy Loomis

What draws him to you is how good you are. At first it annoys him because he thinks you’re faking it. No one could possibly be as sweet and kind as you’re pretending to be.

He can stand few things less than he can stand a fake and at first, frankly, his interest in you is finding out everything he can about you so he can kill you and mentally torture you while he does it.

It’s while he’s learning everything he can about you and stalking you that he starts to fall in love with you, little by little. Stu keeps asking him when they’re going to off you and he keeps answering ‘not yet’ every time. Eventually Stu stops asking and starts to focus on the next victim.

Billy doesn’t lose focus. He can’t think of anything but you. He starts stalking you more and more, the need to see you and hear you only worsening by the minute.

Eventually he gets sloppy and slips up and you see him. You’re walking alone at night for some reason in a town with an active serial killer but you look like there’s no other place you’d rather be. He wonders why you don’t go home but just barely, he’s grateful you’re usually so easy to keep track of.

When you spot him you recognize him from school and call out to him. He’s got no choice but to approach you casually, pretending he’s also out for a late night walk. “We should walk together to be safe!” Before he knows it you’re looping your arm through his and walking together.

You stay out nearly the whole night together and he asks you out the very next day. It’s not long before he’s calling you his girlfriend and stalking you less. You spend so much time with him he’s actually pretty secure in the relationship and what you mean to each other. Sometimes he’ll do it just to check up on you but it becomes a rarity.

One night he follows you home, just to make sure you get there without incident, and he starts hearing strange loud noises from inside the house. He sneaks into your bedroom window just to make sure you’re okay. You run in crying right as he’s making his way to the door, clutching the side of your face protectively.

He’s on you in a second, locking the door and prying your hands away. You don’t have time to ask him what he’s doing there before he sees the early signs of your eye bruising and falls into shell-shocked silence.

With more gentleness than you knew he was capable of he kissed your head, got out a bag, and began to pack away some of your things. You watch him quietly, trying to convince him it’s okay but he silences you with one intense look that he disappears quickly, replaced by the saddest eyes you’ve ever seen. “I’m gonna take care of you, okay?” He crosses the room, cupping your face gently, thumb grazing the skin beneath your bruised eye.

Once he’s done packing he guides you carefully out the window and into his car. He’s going to take you to Stu’s where he intends to share their big secret. Then he and Stu are going to make a night out of killing your family.

Candyman

He is a spirit, roaming and untethered, when he sees you and is first struck dumb by your beauty. He never thought he’d love again but the minute he sets eyes on you he knows he can grow to love you. That he could cherish you for the rest of your natural life and beyond.

He wants you. Needs you. He begins to visit you in dreams. Never nightmares. In your dreams he is a princely figure that loves you already, that has loved you more than anyone in your entire life.

You’ve never slept better than in the months where he woos you, and makes you fall in love with him, this phantom created by your own mind.

Part of you thinks you’re going crazy. How could you be falling in love with a man that isn’t real? But you’re a romantic and can’t deny the pull you feel within yourself. They may be only dreams but they make you happy. Daniel, makes you happy.

You don’t have to wonder for long if you’re losing your mind because he whispers to you in a dream that he can be real. Real as flesh and blood if you say a name three times in a mirror. Candyman.

You wake up the next morning feeling silly but can’t help doing it. Part of you desperately hoping that your escape from your real life could become your real life, if there was really some magic in the world.

It works of course and the minute you feel his arms around you, you start to cry tears of joy. But you’d forgotten about the fight you had with your family the night before. In your dreams you are always perfect and beautiful, your skin unmarred by the abuse you endure every day. But now, away from your dreams, Robert can see that someone has dared to harm you. His love. His darling.

He doesn’t need you to tell him who’s done this. One look at you and he seems to know. He knows you better than anyone else.

His hand, the human one, the one that isn’t for killing or hurting, touches gently your damaged skin. He presses a kiss to your forehead.

He has been summoned and there’s a price of blood to be paid.

#hannibal lecter x reader #jd x reader #billy loomis x reader #candyman x reader #slasher x reader #LOVED THIS SPICY PROMPT #revenge upon your family nonny!!!#Anonymous

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cannibal-witchh · 4 years ago

Text

"I'm No Hero, Lady"

Reader(fem) x Carlos Oliveira

Written by cannibal_witchh

Contains: Violence, gore, vulgar language, some fluff

Notes: I previously wrote a fluff fanfic about Carlos snuggling the reader in bed during a storm. The reader had a nightmare about the past which was the incident in Racoon City. This is the scenario that occurred when the reader is saved by Carlos before the end up together.

The previous story:

The city was cast in flames, the fire resembled an angry ocean of embers, quickly devouring collapsing buildings and destroyed vehicles. The decaying humans once recognizable, slowly met the fate of existing as the undead, as putrefing skin consumed them. There were several minutes of sickening screams, gnashing of teeth, buildings crumbling, and the blazing of an angry sea of heat. And the following after that was stilled silence, painful, vacant, lifeless, and numbing. The air almost seemed heavy, ears desperate and clawing for a sound to be stirred.

Several hours had past since a violent rage of a deadly pandemic disturbed Racoon City. You had been locked away in your supervisor's office at the museum, alone and terrified. You possessed no expierence in defense, you were simply a staff member of the local museum. It wasn't until an unfamiliar face offered you help, it was an incredibly risky gamble to take, but it was either be supposedly 'saved' or stay under a desk in a poorly protected office for however long.

"Y/N, I'm gonna need you to stay close to me, there's too many of those freaks roaming around, and from the little knowledge disclosed they are very contagious. A bite, maybe a scratch, will cause a nasty infection.", Carlos informed as you nervously followed closely behind. He was leading you through the south wing of the museum where the dinosaur fossils were displayed. It was eerie, the entire large room completely in darkness, and Carlos' gun light being the only illumination you both had. " Relax, I took all these fuckers out already. You're safe, lady. " he looked over his shoulder at you and gave a warm grin. It was hard to find complete emotional relief but he certainly was charming. His shaggy dark hair brushing on his forehead and above his brown eyes, his olive muscular figure, and his scruffy beard. He definitely was handsome and unusually young to be working in this field. " How many of them were there?", you whispered, darting your eyes all around the room, examining for any movement or noise.

" Maybe twenty, there wasn't too many."

" What about how many survivors you and your team found?"

" Sadly, just fifteen. Either civilians refused help and barricaded themselves in. Or they were found too late and turned into one of those monsters."

" That's awful.", you felt the sting of reality flood through your body. Just fifteen. You continued pacing attentively behind him as he held his rifle close against his chest. "Walk carefully over here, this is where I had to clear a group of them out.", he muttered as you both managed to enter the corridor leaving the fossil room. There were adleast ten dead bodies scattered along the ground. Gore staining the white tiles, the stench of expiration filling the narrow hall, and decoral tarnished and destroyed everywhere. Discomposure deluged your body, you froze, standing idle, and quivering. It was an electric feeling of absolute fear that paralyzed you. You would have to maneuver around carcuses that could still possibly be alive, and you were not in proper attire to protect yourself at all from their attacks. You dressed in a tight grey houndstooth pencil skirt, and a silk mint collared blouse. Definitely not fit for an apocalypse. Carlos turned facing you, realizing you had stopped following him. His expression was serious for a few seconds, and a few times he would glance behind him confirming nothing was there. " C'mon, Y/N, we don't have much time." He beckoned

" I can't, I'm afraid."

"I cleared all this hallway, I promise. I won't let them hurt you.'

"I'm sorry Carlos. I'm too afraid...", you admitted with humiliation.

" Lady, ugh...don't hit me ok?", he playfully smiled and swung his rifle around his back. He plodded over to you and quietly scooped you up against his chest. He let out a awkward giggle and started to regain his balance with your weight. For someone who just witnessed this horrible pandemic, killed the undead, and did this independently he sure was calm. It was comforting, though. "Sorry, but I'm not leaving you behind nor am I wasting time.", he glanced over at you, making brief eye contact. His eyes were soft, it didn't display the slightest fear, and his hair swayed side to side above his gentle eyes. For someone roaming around in rubble, blood, and sweat, his aroma smelled wonderful. He smelled of spices and his own sweat. It was strange but he didn't smell too bad. Carlos coggled back ahead, carefully stepping over corpses, and just as he promised, they really were all dead. Occasionally, he would bounce you up to gain more security when holding you. You draped your arms tightly around his neck to stay supported. His breathing was slow and quiet against your face as he carried you closer and closer to the exit. " Do me a favor, please. Please watch my back.", he requested finally making it to the exit. The exit sign flickered red, static occasionally sparking from the sign, and shimmering down onto the ground. You looked over Carlos' shoulder and with your relief, nothing was there. No rustles and no movements. Carlos was struggling to open the door, he continued to press against the bar of the wide door a few times until he finally gave up. " Fuck!", he quietly shouted as he stepped back from the door. He took a few more steps back until he had a little space between the door and him. He lifted his foot up and kicked out the door. The door rattled loudly and swung wide open. " Thank God,", he sighed in relief as he transported you outside the museum.

"OK, ok, you can let me go. Sorry, for the trouble. ", you bashfully removed your arms from over his neck, and he slowly lowered you to your feet. "Didn't like being held, huh? I'm just kidding, let's keep going.", he teased as he began walking down the alongated museum alleyway. The two of you had finally made it out of the museum, and the alleyways seemed relatively tame. There wasn't too many corpses lurking down it. And the ones that did approach the two of you, Carlos would resolve with a knife to their skull and quickly they would collapse. He tried not to resolve issues with his gun unless it was when it was absolutely out of control. A few minutes of carefully walking down the backstreet, there was an abrupt crash of shattering glass behind you. It startled you and you immediately drew your eyes to the direction of the loud sound. " C-Carlos...", you stuttered backing away in terror. The virus effected animals too. A large dog had launched itself out of the window, snarling and foaming blood from between its teeth. He stood in an agressively pose, not removing its eyes on Carlos or you. " Try staying quiet, Y/N. We don't need to attract more attention."

"P-p....please shoot it..", your eyes watered on the verge of a break down.

The dog darted forward directly at you, something yanked at your wrist pulling you backwards. Carlos had grabbed you leading you both into a full on sprint. " I don't want to fire off in such a small space. I'm not sure if other freaks are around and they'll go towards the sound. We have to be careful." He quickly clarified, dragging you by the wrist to the very end of the alley. The dog continued racing towards the two of you, snarling and barking loudly. "Carlos!!!", the dog jumped forward at you, nearly biting your arm but a bullet dove forward directly into its skull. The dog flew backwards in a pained whimper. " Shit!", Carlos cursed in frustration, he moved his head around examining all directions. " Fuck, fuck, fuck...we gotta go!", he gripped your wrist and began to guide the both of you back towards the middle of the alley. The dead had be drawn to all the barking and the gun shot. Unfortunately, a group was forming on both ends of the alleyway, and blocking any escape. " Y/N, look! ", a broken fire escape ladder hung in the middle of the alley, it was the absolute only opportunity to escape. Carlos squated down, holding his hands together to give you a boost up to it. " Go, go, go, ", he chanted trying to sound as hopeful as he could. You hoped up and grabbed the ladder, with as much strength as you could gather, you began to pull yourself up. The swarm of creatures got closer and closer and you feared for Carlos' safety. Come on climb already! He jumped as high as he could, latching on to the ladder, and pulling himself quickly up. He let out multiple gasps of air in exhaustion and then gestured with his head to continue climbing all the way up. "Let's get all the way up, away from these fuck faces!", you both felt rattling from the fire escape with each step and climb you both took. You felt unsecure having your weight, Carlos', and his equipment. Within a few minutes of climbing up very high, you both managed to get to the roof of the building. Carlos immediately dropped his gun to the ground and laid on his back. For minutes, he laid there breathing heavily as if he ran a marathon. You walked a few feet away from him, dropping to the ground, and covering your face in your palms. So many emotions churned inside your mind, you were exhausted, terrified, confused, and livid. What was going on? Tears began collecting in your eyes, you failed to suppress the tense emotions clenching your chest, your body quivering in shock, and you began to fall apart in your own hands.

"What's wrong, Y/N? Are you hurt?", a large hand squeezed your shoulder.

" No..., I just, I dont know if I can take all this.", you sniffed continuing to conceal your face away from Carlos'. You felt his large arms wrap around you, pulling you close against him, and he rested his head against your's. " I get it. I'm scared shitless too. But you know what, we aren't doing so bad. We've survived this long."

" I only survived because you decided to be a hero and save me! I would've died on my own. I'm useless!", you cried, feeling tears escape between your finger tips. "Woah, no, you aren't useless. Its not like every other day a random pandemic hits and you get used to this stuff. I've never dealt with this shit before in my life. This is new. Everyone is just trying to survive, you made it on your own for hours with no help. Don't be so hard on yourself." Carlos brushed his large hands against your arms trying his best to calm you. He wasn't exactly great with words but you could tell he tried to make effort. You lowered your hands, revealing your tired red eyes, your face sticky and hot from crying. You felt embarrassed but it was just so difficult to keep it together. " We are almost out of here, chin up.", he grinned, squeezing you against him warmly. " T-Thank you, I'm so sorry you're putting up with my shit.", you glanced from the corner of your eyes at him, too embarrassed to completely turn over to show your reddened face. " Stop. Look at me.", you obeyed his request, although it was hard, you turned to face him. " This is what I'm here for. I want to help and I am happy to help you. Its a plus that you're a cute lady running around in a pencil skirt too. " He teased patting the top of your head, ruffling your hair and giving a light hearted giggle.

Unexpectedly, Carlos' walkie talkie beeped and static flooded through for a brief moment. " Carlos, where are you? Are you alive?"

"Tyrell, I'm alive, surprisingly. I'm up on a roof across Racoon City's museum with one survivor."

"Good! I hadn't heard from you for hours wanted to make sure you weren't having too much fun. So you only found one survivor?"

"Just one. I looked in several areas in the B territory but either the survivors were barricading themselves and uncooperative or turning."

" Shit, well, the boss man says we have to make this our last run. Things are getting bad and we are borderline at max capacity. Hurry up! I will stall."

There was a beep following static and it then it ended. " Looks, like we have to go. I have to take you to the exit we made. There will be a bus and they will take you far from this city to safety."

"What about you? You make it sound like you're not coming?"

"My commands remain. I have to stay."

You felt your cheeks buzz with heat, he was directed to remain?

****

Carlos and you had waited on the roof top for adleast half an hour. He had given Tyrell an update before the two of you finally climbed down the ladder. Luckily, all the zombies had migrated else where. The two of you quietly hurried, it took nearly another fourty minutes before you finally saw a buses gathered by an exit. It was filled with a civilians, and surrounded by military workers. You felt relief hit you, as you saw other evidence of survivors and humanity. You looked over at Carlos, he turned to face you completely, and he placed a hand on your shoulder. "It was a pleasure helping you.", he smiled, squeezing your shoulder as he walked you to the bus. A doctor on his team examined you for any signs of infections before you boarded, thankfully, you were ok. Thanks to Carlos. You entered the bus and turned around to properly depart from Racoon City, and to depart from your hero. " Thank you, Carlos. You really are a hero.", you smiled displaying truely appreciation. Carlos chuckled for a second and shook his head. " I'm no hero, lady. Hopefully, I see you around. Hopefully, still running around in a cute pencil skirt! ", he winked playfully, as blush scattered across his face and your's. Was he flirting with you? "Just try finding me at museum then. Well, thank you, Carlos. Really. Thank you.", you leaned forward and pecked his cheek.

"Until then."

The bus door closed, and you moved to your seat. You watched as the bus began to leave, your eyes fixed on Carlos, as your view grew smaller and smaller of the city and him. You hoped maybe one day you would see him again. You hoped your hero would survive this. You believed he would.

#resident evil #re3 #re3 remake #resident evil 3 #resident evil 3 remake #carlos x reader #carlos oliveira x reader #carlos oliveira imagine #carlos oliveira fanfic #carlos oliveira #fanfic #resident evil fanfic

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starsheild · 3 years ago

Text

AuAugust - The Otherworld - Surprise

Ricochet was still shaken, but after the initial shock wore off he was still taking it better than his origin. It took a lot to shake Punch, but this seemed to have done it.

“O’ all tha Pit-damned fools- ‘m sorry Ric.So sor’y.” Punch aplogized, looking at his creation with a mixture of regret and pride. “N’er shoulda let come wit me.”

Well, Ricochet amended, perhaps not as much shaken as angry.

“Ya could’na known. ‘N not like we’d ah let ya come by yerself.” Ricochet countered. It was the truth, and Punch knew it as well as they did. Even if he had forbidden it, Ricochet would have followed him by default, with the complete support of his twin, if not his progenitors as well.

Punch sighed and reached over to stroke his creations helm, marveling at the changes. The darker twin stood taller now, his entire frame more streamlined but just as strong looking. Maybe even more so. It was closer to his merform now, which should not have been surprising. The trident still rested in his hand, Ricochet unwilling to part with it since he had picked it up and the light show had nearly blinded all present.

The priests seemed confused, to a degree, as well. They had hurried the new king and his stubborn origin into the temple, instead of to the feast and festival which had been prepared and waiting. Traditionally there was little delay in the choosing and the crowning and the public celebration. But there had not been a King chosen since before he could remember, so all Punch had to base recent events on were stories that he had been told as a youngling himself.

It was a little unnerving the way the priests kept looking at the Tridet. None of them seemed the least bit interested in trying in to inspect it any closer than with their optics, but Punch was starting to get the feeling that changing shape as it had was not something that was supposed to happen. Or normally happened. Or whatever.

The artifact was now double headed, and taller than Ricochet. It seemed to Punch as though it should have been terribly heavy, but his creation manages it with startling ease, only setting it down to the degree that it rested across his knees when they were finally brought fuel by a temple acolyte.

Ricochet plowed through the first cube he was given like he had not fueled in a orn. He was halfway through the second before he slowed and looked around, addressing the priests huddled across the room debating in low voices.

“So when can ah leave?”

“Leave?” The most senior of the bunch, Adjudicus, turned and stared at Ricochet as though the new King had gone and sprung another helm while the his back was turned. “You are not going anywhere until we figure out what has happened.”

Ricochet went very still, visor dimming a bit, his servo tightening around the Trident across his knees. “Ahm not stayin’ ‘ere without m’ family.”

“You cannot leave-.”

“Which one o’us is ‘n charge now?” Ricochet demanded, cutting off his origin before Punch could get a glyph in edge-wise. For a nanoklik he still looked as though he wanted to intervene, but then thought better of it and simply shifted back in his seat, giving his creation a clear line of fire.

“Well?”

Ajudicus hesitated, the rest of those gathered with him shifting uneasily.

“Well?” Ricochet repeated, tone growing impatient and taking on an edge.

“You are.” Adjudicus conceded, optics shifting down in surrender.

“Then ‘m gonna go get’m.” Ricochet concluded, rising to stand. “N bring ‘em ‘ome. All o’ ‘em.” He added, looking to his Origin with promise, and a hint of a question. If Punch wanted to return to the land, if Sprocket and Rumbler wanted to stay here, that was their choice. If Jazz wanted to as well, perhaps in some lingering hope of some megacycle seeing the fae that had stolen his spark once more, Ricochet was okay with that. But he was determined that staying or coming was to be their choice, and not something forced on them by others.

“You cannot leave…” This time the tone was more desparate request than order.

“I’ll go.” A voice interrupted, drawing the attention of all of those in the room. Frontrunner stepped in, nodding first to Ricochet before addressing Punch. “I r’member yer mates. I’ll take’m the message, ‘n bring’em back safe.”

“M’ brother too.” Ricochet added, studying the other mer. Frontrunner was a Tempest, one of the kin that Punch had introduced him to when they had arrived, and a clan member that his origin had seemed honestly fond of. While Ricochet wasn’t sure just how much the priests knew, Frontrunner knew of Jazz, and knew why only Rico had accompanied Punch.

“All ‘o ‘em.” Frontrunner replied with a small dip of his helm.

Ricochet shared a look with Punch, then the older mech nodded. “We’ll see’s ya when ya get back then.”

*****

“They’ll be fine.” Punch assured Jazz again. “Lotta mer’s are born ‘n the sea. They won’ change yet, but they’ll be fine.”

Jazz steeled himself, trust in his origin finally overruling his own fear as he dropped over the the side of the transport and felt his frame shift instinctively. Legs stretched and twined into a single tail as the other angles of his frame smoothed into the more streamlined mer form he was still becoming accustomed to.

Punch was at his side in an nanoklik, accepting one of the newlings from Sprocket as the Rumbler handed the second one to Jazz.

Less gracefully the two landmech joined their kin and their guide, Frontrunner making sure the pair were secure comfortable with their seapaks before diving downwards.

Jazz was a nervous wreck the first few meters, but after a surpised gurgle, Sunstreaker settled more comfortably against his origins chassis, not projecting the least bit of distress at the change in environment that he found himself in. Across the bond he shared with his other creation, Jazz could sense the same contentment, and it sparked a little wonder in him, that his own creations were so comfortable in a place that was still rather foreign to him.

He caught his own origins knowing grin, and couldn’t help but smile in return. His origin belonged here, and his mates were willing to join him. Perhaps they were all coming home.

Ricochet was waiting for them when they surfaced, surrounded by a small group of strangers. He ignored the looks and the start of a protest from one as he stepped forward, embracing his progenitors and looking a little embarrassed as they oohed and awed over the changes to his frame.

Jazz was less reverent, if no less affectionate, as he accepted the servo his twin extended to help him from the pool. “Let ya alone for an orn an’ ya change yerself all up.”

Ricochet laughed as he pulled his brother up, freezing as the Tident in his hand glowed to life. The light was gentler this time, if no less intense as it spread along Jazz’s frame. As it faded, Jazz’s first concern was for Sunstreaker, but the newling was still contentdly magnetized to his frame, and from all appearances completely unchanged.

The same could not be said of his origin, Jazz’s frame now mirroring his twins shape once more, though still black on white with accents of silver counter to Ricochet's own white on black with gold. In the servo that had been empty was clutched a double ended Trident, identical to the one held by Ricochet.

Jazz stared at his twin, and all Ricochet could do was shrug in return.

“Surprise?”

#AU August 2021 #Otherworld #J/P FaeFormers Bits #My prompts deal with it #i should be sleeping #RoughWrite

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wkemeup · 5 years ago

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By Any Other Name (12)

series summary: When Special Agent Bucky Barnes is tasked with infiltrating the notorious gang Hydra and gathering evidence against its leader, Brock Rumlow, Bucky finds himself drawn to the woman who doesn’t seem to belong in this world of violence, the wife of the head of Hydra… you. pairing: bucky x reader chapter word count: 6.7k warnings: the moment of truth 🌹series masterlist 🌹

It was pitch black outside; the only light surrounding you from the stream of your headlights and the cast of stars gently illuminating your path huddled by acres of trees. The countryside was untouched by the pollution of the city and it was almost unbearably quiet amongst the woods, with only low hum of your engine and the faint chirping of crickets outside the crack of your car window to fill the emptiness around you.

The ink hastily written on the scrap of crumpled paper curled up in your hand was smudged. You couldn’t quite make out if it was a six or an eight in the address, but your GPS had long abandoned you several dirt roads ago, so you supposed it didn’t matter much anyway. There was nothing else around for miles.

When you finally pulled up to what looked like an abandoned warehouse, there was no relief. It looked like something out of a horror film. The paint was chipped on the walls, the name of the metalworks company faded under years of weathering and neglect, tiles of the roof were gathering in piles on dusted, dirt roads. There wasn’t a single light in sight.

You swallowed as you turned off your engine. The headlights stayed on, reflecting on the single silver door. It was rusted along the hinges and looked completely untouched.

You had half a mind to call James to help ease the steadily increasing rate of your heartbeat, but he had been very clear when he asked you to turn off your phone and leave it behind at home. He couldn’t risk anyone tracking your location, so he said. He was acting so strangely lately, but you could sense the heaviness weighing on him.

You didn’t have much in the range of weapons in your car, not that it would have done you much good, but you stuck your keys between your fingers as you pushed open the side door. The air was brisk, sending a chill up your spine as clouds of dried dirt puffed up in clouds with every step you took. You crossed in front of your headlights until you paused in front of the warehouse.

With a heavy inhale, one you weren’t sure you’d let go of anytime soon, you turned the rusted knob and locked your car. The lights flashed off, leaving you surrounded in darkness.

You quickly hurried inside, more afraid of the darkness of the countryside than the unknown of what laid beyond the door. The slam of the door to its hinges behind you was louder than you prepared for and you winced as it echoed through the rafters.

You glanced up to find a group of people stood at the center of the room, all huddled over a long metal table filled high with piles of papers. Their heads turned abruptly in your direction.

One of them separated from the crowd, relief evident on his face as he quickly jogged in your direction; hair bouncing around his shoulders with every step, a half smile on his face though it struggled to reach up by his eyes. Ocean blue, and swarming in something darker, something pulling him under.

James.

But it wasn’t him you were looking at.

The inside of the warehouse was like something out of one of those spy movies Peter used to marathon on Saturday nights. The walls were lined with monitors, some filled with maps of the city, others with profiles and mugshots of men you recognized as friends of your husband, but the one displaying live security footage outside of your home caught your eye.

You could see the driveway, the row of plain, well-kept bushes lining the pavement, the lights on above the garage. One of the security men you snuck past was on a lap around the perimeter and stopped to take a drag of his cigarette before he tossed the butt unto the grass.

An unpleasant shiver swept up your spine; cold and detached, and it nestled deep into your stomach.

“What the hell...” you exhaled, hardly able to take it all in.

You felt a hand graze your arm and you flinched, shocked by the sudden touch before you realized who was behind it. You turned to find bright blue eyes watching you cautiously as James chewed on the healed scar at the center of his bottom lip. He glanced sadly down at your hand, noticing the keys nestled between your knuckles and you quickly released them, slipping them into your pocket.

“I’ve got a lot to tell you,” he said quietly and there was a slight tremor in his voice, a nervousness, as he looked back to the group of people watching him from the metal table ahead of them.

“James, what’s going on?” you asked and he forced a smile to his face, one that was meant to reassure you, though he could hardly muster it.

“Come with me. I promise, I’ll explain everything.” He extended his hand to you, open and waiting, patient, and you studied the lines in his palms, lines you’d come to be familiar with, and suddenly you weren’t sure if you knew much of anything at all.

Still, you took his hand blindly as he guided you further into the room. He pulled out a chair for you at the table, just ahead of a particularly high stack of papers. You didn’t say anything as you glanced around at his friends and took a seat.

The tall, blonde man with broad shoulders and the clear line of muscles visible through the thin fabric of his t-shirt wore a slight frown on his face, though the way his eyes drifted to James protectively suggested he was concerned more than he was angry.

Beside him, slumped down into a chair of his own, was a dark-skinned man with a large, toothy grin, and dimples in cheeks. He smiled at you, like he knew something you didn’t, and you suspected that was more than the case because he was almost giddy with excitement, shifting in his seat and stealing looks at James.

“We don’t have much time before Rumlow finishes up in Harlem,” a red-haired woman to your right said.

You narrowed your eyes, recognizing her short, rounded nose, pointed stare, and perfect curve of a cupid’s bow on her lips outlined in dark red. She was familiar -- they all were -- like you’d seen them in passing but couldn’t place exactly where.

She pointed to a monitor behind you and you turned to find grainy footage of your husband sitting in at a table surrounded by men in suits you recognized from one of the dozens of parties he’d dragged you to over the years. It was from a Chinese restaurant in Harlem you got takeout from once with Peter. You gritted your teeth as you watched him clap a hand on the man beside him, throwing a wad of cash onto the table.

James nodded to his red-haired friend, pulling up a chair in front of you and turning it to face you properly before he took a seat.

“Where am I? Why am I here?” you asked tensely, unable to tear your eyes away from the monitors. You watched as one flickered from your living room to the hallway outside your library, to the staircase leading up to your room. Empty, haunted, in your absence.

A ruffle of papers to your left stole your attention and you found yourself staring at the blonde man with a file rifling through his fingers. A picture of your husband slipped out from the center and fell to the table. Even in his mug shot, his eyes held a kind of possessiveness, an arrogance, that transcended the page.

“Why do you have security footage of my house and—and Brock’s old RAP sheet?” your gaze flickered to the man sitting in the chair, watching you with a familiar kind of look in his eye, and then to the woman who was busying herself behind her laptop. You turned to James. “Who are these people?”

You could feel your breaths increasing in pace, the panic that was starting to take hold, but you stifled it down, buried behind closed doors and cement until it suffocated under the surface and all that remained was a vagrant stare and a jaw wired to stone.

James brushed his lips over with his hand, a heavy breath before he spoke again.

“I’ll be honest, I don’t really know how to say this.”

“Try,” you muttered out, voice like sandpaper.

You didn’t realize your hands were clenched onto the bottom of the metal chair until your fingers started to ache. James’ eyes wavered down to your grip and he nodded quickly. Your heart was pounding so painfully, you wondered if he could see the thump of it through your chest.

He dug his hand into his pocket, let out a breath that looked near painful, and slowly set a shiny, golden badge onto the table. The shine of it reflected in the dim lighting of the warehouse. You dug your hands into the metal edges of the chair until you felt a sharp burn.

“My name isn’t James Karpov,” he exhaled. Blue eyes flickered up to yours, gaging for a reaction on your face he wouldn’t find. He glanced back nervously at the blonde man pacing behind him before he continued. “I’m a special agent with the FBI and I’ve been undercover in Hydra for over a year now.”

Your features hardened over like stone, a protective layer to shield the surge of a storm thundering inside of you; the answer to a question you’d been suspecting for a while without realizing it.

You’d seen the way he flinched at his own name, how he got that kind of solemn look in the blue of his eyes when you talked about your husband, about wanting to escape it all, how he’d promised for things to be different when this was over, if he had more time. Pieces started to fall together and somehow you were still more lost than you’d been in years.

He paused, watching you, waiting for a flicker of the woman he knew to break through the blank stare currently consuming your features, but when nothing came, he let himself exhale. You focused on the soft footsteps of his friend pacing along the wall behind him. It was comforting to use his steps as a metronome, something to ground yourself because you could feel your world pulling apart at the seams.

It was a single string at the very edge of everything you knew. It only took a moment for it to unravel, within an admission of a name that was not his own, and soon the floor at your feet was covered in the broken pieces of what you believed to be true. Tattered and tangled threads.

“It started after Jack Rollins was murdered in lockup. I was assigned to this case to gather evidence against Rumlow and his men, so that we could dismantle Hydra completely; prevent it from ever coming back again,” he continued, his voice even, almost matter-of-fact, and it didn’t sound much like your James at all. It was too clinical, too rehearsed, and you could feel the sharp twist of a knife embedding itself deeper into your chest with every word he spoke.

You listened quietly as he told you of when he first learned your name on a single page in the back of your husband’s file, how he’d known who you were before you even stepped foot into Brock’s office that first evening. He told you how he’d been assigned a cover, a new name and a history, to replace the role of Jack Rollins within Hydra as their enforcer. He’d been Brock’s right hand man for over a year and he was playing your husband like a fiddle.

“Director Fury thought it would be beneficial to the case to, um,” he released a heavy breath, as if the action in itself hurt him, “…to get close to you. He thought you might know more about Hydra’s dealings than you realized and he’d hoped you’d open up to someone who, um, you trusted. Seems he was right.”

You didn’t allow him see the way your heart caved in; jaw clenched, impossibly still, even breaths, and yet the floor had dropped from under you and you were free falling a hundred feet below. Lost to an abyss from which you were certain you’d never return; darkness barreling in and taking you home. It was where you belonged, wasn’t? It was where you had lived for years. Back to the fractured sense of safety, to the shadows lurking in the corner, to the eggshells under your bare feet made of broken glass. To lies and manipulation and deceit and ruin.

You wondered when it happened, when he’d been officially assigned to claw his way into your heart as if you were nothing but a pawn in the scheme of his mission. You wondered if it was before or after he’d gifted you A Farewell to Arms and if it was even his at all; if the scribbles in the margins belonged to his youth or if it was the carefully constructed design of an analyst with the sole purpose of hooking straight through your heart and sinking you to the ocean floor.

That moment was the beginning of it all; when you showed him your library, your most sacred place to a stranger, but it had felt so right at the time.

Was the first moment you’d felt safe with him a complete lie?

There was always a comfort in being with him. A place for you to let down your guard and the walls you held up like stone around your heart. Beyond everything else, the one thing you knew about James Karpov was that he was safe. His presence was the only thing that allowed you to let go of the fear of the shadows of you home and the monsters lurking in the corners. He was a shining light in the darkness that had consumed your life.

You were young and naïve when you met Brock. You were eager for love and fell easily into his carefully constructed trap, overlooking obvious warning signs and the flaws of a man obstructed by the character he played.

For only a moment, you wondered if it had happened again, if you had become so foolish to allow yet another man to manipulate you and spin himself into the version of a man you’d desire until he could rip the floor out from under you just to see you squirm.

A pang burned in your stomach, something stubborn and instinctive, one that urged you to just look at the man in front of you, to notice the way blue eyes nervously sought out your own, to see how his hands were trembling and his voice was strained, to notice that he was scared with every word he spoke. But your world had fallen apart and you could only do so much to stifle the scream bubbling its way through your chest.

So, you held your tongue as he told you about the orchestrated meetings in Brooklyn, how his friends -- his team -- had helped plan what you thought were coincidences but turned out to be carefully constructed operations. Moments when you’d light up upon seeing him, a wash of warmth to your chest on even the coldest winter mornings, and it was a lie.

You realized then why you recognized his friends; it was from the outskirts of coffeeshops, sitting under sunglasses and baseball caps, hiding behind newspapers in the distance. The quiet observers in your life pulling away at the last shreds of dignity you had.

“I was assigned a job,” James said tensely, clenching at his hands, wringing them painfully in his lap as he stared down at the cement under your shoes, “no different than jobs I’ve had before. Take on a new name. Be a new person. I’ve done… terrible things to preserve my cover, things I am not proud of. I’ve hurt people because Rumlow ordered me to. It was part of the job. I kept telling myself that, anyway. Didn’t seem to matter that I never killed anyone he put a hit on, that the Bureau stepped in to relocate my targets and hand me a look-alike that was mutilated just enough so Rumlow could have his proof and I could keep my cover. The blood on my hands is still real.”

There was a lump in your throat, one that burned and ached and was on the verge of choking you completely. You wanted to scream, or cry, or run until your legs gave out completely, but instead, you were paralyzed. Frozen in place. Stone of a statue. A single touch would crumble you.

“But you have to know it was never an act with you, Y/n,” he urged, desperation in his voice. You could hear the grief in his words, the slight tremor in the dissonance, the fear that you might reject him in favor of a man who does not exist.

You could hardly meet his eye.

He paused, watching you for a moment, waiting, longing, for you to tear your stare away from the wall beyond his left shoulder, hoping you’d find your way back to him as you always did, but you gave no inch. You held yourself still, unreadable, and he exhaled a breath that must have weighed immensely on his chest.

“After a while, I started meeting you in Brooklyn when the team wasn’t around, when there was no one to listen in and no agendas to fulfill,” he started, a little softer now as he slumped back into his chair. “I started staying at the mansion long past when I should have, just reading with you in your library because it was the only place I felt like myself anymore. I started forgetting that on Sundays in Brooklyn, I wasn’t who I said I was. You don’t know how easy it was for me to spend time with you and just let myself believe for a while that I really was James Karpov…”

Jaw wired shut, clenched, and you did not respond.

He sighed, a careful look back at his team and he continued.

He told you about the red-haired woman, Natasha, who turned out to be the sales associate from the boutique downtown where you’d bought the lavender dress. She smiled at you in acknowledgement when the heat of embarrassment stung in your cheeks.

You realized that the two men were the same Steve and Sam he’d tell you stories about on your Sundays together; old friends, brothers. A single grain of truth in a web of lies.

“I knew, even before the gala, that my feelings for you had started to cloud my judgement,” he said slowly, laced with guilt, and your gaze flickered up to him, surprised, though he didn’t notice. You watched the shame seep into his features, his hands clenching at his pant legs. Steve and Sam turned away awkwardly as he continued, “I nearly told you everything that night. When we danced on the balcony and we almost--”

Kissed.

You remembered it well. You had committed the night to memory; to the way his hands felt pressed so delicately to your hips, the gently sway of your bodies, the subtle scent of his shampoo and how warm his breath was as it touched your skin. It was a dream, a fairytale, and you wondered if it was just that; a moment meant for the stories in your library, far away from the cruel realities you’d come to know.

James sighed, a hand brushing over his forehead, pushing away the hair from his eyes and exposing the blush in his cheeks. He was staring down at the floor, chewing painfully on his lip. He didn’t notice the way your features had started to soften, your lips slightly parted as you watched him, heart racing.

“I didn’t know how to make it stop… the way I felt about you,” he confessed, a pained kind of humor in his voice. “I’d never compromised myself like that before. I’d always been able to separate myself completely from the case, where a mask and a new identity like a costume and manipulate my targets without remorse, draw on their strings and tug at their levers. It was my job.”

You flinched; subtle, but as you unclenched your jaw you noticed a pair of green eyes watching you from behind a sweep of auburn hair. She smiled encouragingly before you turned back to James.

“But I never did that with you, Y/n, I swear it on my life,” James pressed, raking his fingers through his hair though it fell back into his eyes. “You… you found a way to push yourself through the cracks in these walls I built up and brought out pieces of myself I hadn’t seen in years. You made me smile again, and gave me something worth fighting for outside of my own damn ambitions, made me believe in a world where things could be different – kinder, maybe. You made me want to be myself again instead of these characters I so often lose myself in. You made me want to relearn who I was and stop hiding in the identities of my enemies.”

He rubbed at his eyes, pinched at the bridge of his nose, and exhaled a breath that provided no relief. “Steve almost threw me off the case entirely when he found out I’d started crossing lines between my cover and the man I wanted you to know me as.”

Your heart skipped at that, eyes flickering up to blue and you watched as he struggled to find his words. He was breathing heavy, hands constantly raking through his hair and there was a slight shakiness as he clenching them back into fists at his side. You’d never see him like this before. Scared.

“Please understand, I couldn’t tell you any of this,” he sighed, scratching his nails along the thighs of his jeans. You noticed rather quickly that he stopped trying to meet your eye. “You have no idea how much I wanted to, how much it was fucking killing me that I couldn’t, especially after--”

He clenched his teeth, stopping himself before he could say it, but you knew what he meant; the night he’d put himself on the line for Peter, how he’d kissed you through broken lips and everything changed. It was evident in the way his friends turned away, giving him space, red tips on the end of Steve’s ears.

“The director thinks I’m a damn fool for bringing you in on this,” he continued, “but, I trust you, Y/n, even if I just destroyed any trust you had in me. I know you and I know you want to see Rumlow brought to justice. I know you want to be free of him and for Peter to be out of Hydra’s control. I still know you and... despite all this, I promise, you still know me, too.”

He seemed to have finished as he allowed a deep, unsettling silence take over. You could vaguely hear the soft ticking of the clocks hanging high on the wall and the exhales of breath coming from across the room. He glanced back at his friends nervously, who offered him nothing but clenched jaws in return, before coming back to you.

“Say something... please,” he asked timidly, desperately.

There was something unpleasant churning in your stomach and you weren’t sure what it was; dread, humiliation, betrayal. Maybe it was something more like the edge of relief, so close you could just barely touch it but it wasn’t yours quite yet. Just beyond your fingertips but still there, still visible, waiting.

You swallowed, letting your hands unclench from the chair and you looked up to find his friends busying themselves with the paperwork on the table; various files on your husband and the company he kept.

You glanced over to the door, the weight of your keys heavy in your pocket. There was a pull urging you to the door, whispering in your ear like a siren’s call to leave, to run and never look back, and fall straight into the darkness you knew. It was familiar at least; a demon you knew by name.

But as you turned your attention back to the man in front of you, watched the way he hung his head in shame, accepting the worst of his fears that in your silence you’d rejected everything you now knew him to be, that call urging you to run seemed a little further away. Drowned out by the overwhelming urge to draw him into your arms, you could no longer hear the voice beckoning you away from the man you’d come to adore, perhaps even love, even if he was a man you weren’t sure you truly knew at all.

“I can’t, um, back off the case,” he started, clearing his throat as his words seemed to give out before he could continue, “but I can give you space. You won’t have to see me unless I’m around your husband. I’ll do what I can to keep my distance but—”

“Stop.”

He froze, head lifting abruptly at the sound of your voice. It was then you realized his eyes had glossed over, reflective with unshed tears, his lower lip nearly chewed raw.

You held his gaze for a moment, searching for the man you knew him to be within the shades of blue you’d come to know so well. The darkest part of yourself wondered if there were pieces that reminded you of your husband in there, if he held the same qualities that allowed Brock to manipulate you and lure you into a false sense of security and love and affection before he ripped it away.

But you’d seen the way James smiled at you from across the room. You’d seen the way the lines around his eyes wrinkled when he laughed. You’d seen the kindness nestled into every touch upon your skin, a warmth in his embrace you hadn’t known in years.

You’d seen grief consume him; pain and the guilt sweeping over his features as he told you the truth of who he was. Facets of a complicated man who was more than just one thing; subtle moments one could not easily fabricate.

James was not just the man who lied to you. He was not only a man with a name you did not know and a history wiped clean. He was also the man who reminded you what it was like to laugh again, who reminded you that you were stronger than what Brock led you to believe and that you carried more worth than what your husband assigned to you. He was a man who took a beating that could have killed him to spare your sixteen-year-old cousin and gave over every Sunday he had just to listen to you talk and run errands around Brooklyn.

He was messy and complicated, flawed but human. In the years you’d fallen under Brock’s spell, nothing your husband ever faked even compared to how James treated you. Brock had made himself to be perfectly designed, an impenetrable lie.

James had been the one to break through his cover of his own volition. He had nothing to gain and everything to lose in doing so; the case, his team, his career... You wouldn’t dare allow yourself to wonder if you were within that list.

You took a deep breath, steadying your gaze. “I have questions.”

His eyes widened, surprised, but he nodded quickly, brushing his palms on his thighs. “Anything. Anything you want to know. Just ask.”

“So… you’re not Hydra." It wasn’t a question, but you were still seeking confirmation.

“No,” he confirmed quickly. “I’m not.”

“You’re not a hitman. You don’t kill people because Brock tells you to.”

“I’ve killed,” James replied sincerely, “but never for him. I was an army ranger before I was recruited by the FBI. I don’t take a life unless I have to.”

You nodded, trying to find your ground again now. Those were the easy questions, ones with answers you already suspected to be true. It was the next ones you were about to ask that held answers you were truly afraid of. You pushed out a deep breath through your lips, though it trembled on its way out and you felt the shake of it deep in your lungs.

“The copy of A Farewell to Arms… was it yours?”

The question startled him, eyes narrowing for a moment before a soft smile curved at his lips. “Yes. Sam made fun of me relentlessly for digging through my ma’s house for it. I can’t say it had nothing to do with the assignment, because you did open up more after that but... I didn’t do it just because I thought it would help our case. I just thought you'd like it.”

You nodded, taking in his answer. It didn’t relieve the ache in your stomach, but it was something. A piece of the beginning was still intact.

“How much of it was real?” you asked, surprising yourself. The words stumbled out before you could stop them and it wiped the smile from his face almost instantly. It was like a punch straight to his gut, the wind knocked out from under him.

You swallowed, gripping painfully tight into your sweater and trying to avoid ocean blue eyes and the curious stares of his friends. You needed him to say it, needed to hear it out loud, or you might collapse within yourself entirely.

“The times you’d call late at night and we’d watch dateline over the phone or when we bought the lavender dress downtown or dancing on the balcony at the gala. All you did for Peter, every Sunday we spent together... Tell me it wasn’t just for the cover... to get closer to me so I’d tell you secrets about Hydra I didn’t know I had. Tell me it was real... that it was really you and not some character you played. Tell me you’re real. Please.”

You didn’t realize you were crying until James – not-James – threw himself down to his knees in front of you. His hands reached up to your thighs before he froze, hovering, because he didn’t know if it was okay to touch you anymore.

“Sweetheart, please, look at me,” he begged. He finally sat his hands against your thighs, just in an effort to ground you and when you didn’t flinch away, seeming to relax as your heart rate softened, he began to trace delicate patterns with his thumbs.

“Everything -- and I mean this -- everything was real between us,” he implored. There was a redness in the whites of his eyes, a subtle tremor of his lower lip as he tugged it between his teeth. “There were some circumstances that allowed me to run into you when maybe I otherwise wouldn’t have, that let me spend more time with you, but I swear on my life, nothing I ever said to you was scripted, nothing I ever felt for you was forced. Every second I spent with you was the happiest I’ve been in years. I won’t lie to you again. Not ever. Please believe me when I say that what I feel for you is real. It's always been real.”

Sniffling back tears, you let him brush a hand up over your cheek to wipe the wetness away. His lower lip tugged between his teeth in concentration, purposeful to keep the rough edges of calloused palms from touching your skin. He was so gentle, so tender with you, and it was entirely your James, even if he wasn’t.

“It was real, honey. The important parts, those were all real,” he whispered, his voice so achingly sweet it made your heart clench. There was a desperation in his voice, like the very foundation of his soul was etched into every word, his heart sitting within the dissonance. “I am still the man I was yesterday. I’m still him, sweetheart. You haven’t lost me.”

He smiled sweetly at you, though it didn’t quite make it up to his eyes. No, his eyes were filled with a remorse that consumed him whole. The guilt always sitting on the surface, the hesitation in his hands but the longing in his stare, the pain in the pleasure; it made sense now.

When you set your hands on his forearms, it startled him, his eyes darting down to where your touch met. Without a word, you let your hands wonder along his arms, sliding up his shoulders, his neck, to finally cup the sides of his face. Rigid muscles relaxed as you passed them by, his body caving into your touch with ease as his eyes fluttered closed, like he was sinking into the palms of your hands.

You just needed to feel him, remind yourself that he was real, that he was solid and tangible, and right under your fingers. The slight bristles of his beard scratched under your palms, the wrinkles of a shirt creased in his drawers, the divots in his skin from old wounds.

You let out a heavy breath, grazing your thumbs along his jawline, over the healing scar on his right cheek and the discoloration that had long faded to a soft, light pink. Marks of a man who was everything you always believed him to be.

“I don’t know what to call you,” you confessed, a whisper of a smile touching at the edges of your lips and you felt it in your palms as he choked back a sob of relief, jaw trembling under your touch.

He nodded, his hands coming up to rest on your own as he turned his head just slightly enough to press a kiss to the heal of your palm. His eyes were red and glossy, but there was a smile on his lips; it was aching and tired, but it was swollen in relief, like yours.

“For now, just call me James.”

You shook your head. “It’s not your name.”

“It is, actually,” he countered, with a nervous chuckle. He gently pulled your hands from his face and set them into your lap, though he didn’t let go. “It’s technically on my birth certificate and it’s just a coincidence this identity and I shared it in common, but it’s not what my friends call me. It’s not what I want you to know me as when this is finally over.” He paused, a deep breath in a beat later, “I would... I would give anything to hear you say my real name.”

You took in a deep breath, trying not to focus on the gravity of what he said, but it hit like an anvil to your chest. You wondered what his name was, how he might act around you without Brock hanging over your shoulder, how it would feel to be with him in the light of day; no restrictions, no hiding in the shadows, nothing holding you back from one another.

“You… you still want this— us— when the case is over?”

James paused, a sad kind of heartbreak in his eyes that you would even ask such a question. He nodded slowly before he lifted your intertwined hands to his lips and kissed sweetly at your knuckles. “I told you, honey, everything between us was real. I’d give you my whole life if you asked.”

A tear slipped past your eye as a breathy laugh escaped you, a strange mixture of awe and surprise and relief washing through you. You stayed there with him, reveling in the feel of his hands encasing yourself, the touch of his lips to your fingertips, watching as he started to come back into himself, as the guilt faded from his eyes and he was smiling at you with that flicker of light in in the blue of his eyes.

James pulled up a chair beside you, freeing his knees on the hard, cement floors, and you tugged yourself closer to him; thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder. He was still yours.

“So, what happens now?” you asked, glancing to the papers on the table curiously.

“Now,” a voice called from behind him, deep and commanding, and Steve stepped forward, setting a file on the table ahead of you, “you help us bring down your husband.”

You narrowed your eyes, intrigued, and pulled the file into your lap. You thumbed through the pages, eyeing the transcripts, glanced over names of men and women, over the date in the top left corner and the address of the pier scribbled in James’ handwriting.

You set the file back on the table. “You’re planning a raid for the shipment at the end of the month.”

It wasn’t a question and Steve seemed surprised by how quickly you’d gathered that from the information he presented you with. There was no doubt in your mind, you’d do anything they asked if it meant putting Brock behind bars where he belonged.

“What do you need from me?” you asked, hand seeking out James’ and he squeezed it back lightly.

“That we’ll decide when the opportunity presents itself,” Steve responded. “In exchange for your help in this and frankly, all the evidence we’ve gathered based on your unknowing intel… uh, James,” Steve cleared his voice, clearly having to remind himself to use the cover’s name, “has arranged for your immunity.”

Wide eyes met his and he offered you a shy, reassuring smile. The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind. You always assumed that the price it took to bring your husband down meant sinking the ship with you inside. You knew he held a number of charges over your head; it was why you stayed complicit for so long. But now...

“You just have to sign the papers,” James said, sliding a pile of folders across the table to you. There were two stacks and you looked at the second suspiciously before James answered your unspoken question. “I got the judge to sign off on immunity for Peter, too. It was part of my condition before I handed over the shipment log for the raid next month. Wasn’t that hard of a sell, honestly. Peter’s a good kid.”

Lost for words, heart pounding tight in your chest. “You-- what?”

James nodded casually, a slight purse of his lips like he hadn’t just doused you in a relief you hadn't known in years. “Yeah, well, no jury was ever going to convict him anyway, but I figured it was best to cover our bases. I told you I’d watch out for him, didn’t I? Wasn’t going to let you down on that promise. Plus, a kid as good as Peter didn’t deserve to be caught up in all of this. The judge could see that pretty easily.”

He was smiling softly at you but you could hardly breathe. You knew he cared for Peter. It was obvious the night he took a brutal beating for your cousin, but this was something else entirely. This was something far beyond his cover, the identity he wore like a mask, this was him at his core; a man who was true to his word, a man who was decent and kind and good.

He was your James, regardless of his name or the badge he wore.

Without the proper words to thank him, you surged forward, despite his friends standing at the table surrounding you, and kissed him. Hands pressed to his cheeks, lips communicating what words could not, and you only pulled away when you felt him searching for a breath.

His cheeks were burning pink, eyes a little wide as he nervously glanced up at Steve, who had conveniently turned his back. Natasha was smirking in the corner as she attended to the files in her hands, and Sam was sprawled out in the chair across the table, sparing no expense and grinning wildly as he winked at James.

“So, we bring down Hydra,” you said with a proud smirk upon your lips and James’ whole face seemed to light up. “We put Brock behind bars. We end this.”

Steve stepped out from behind the shadows, a hand extended in your direction. Stone cold expression melting into a soft smile, the blue of his eyes kinder than the façade he put forth.

“It’s good to have you on board, Y/n.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you

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